So the old lady brung her home to trot around the house, Jest like a deer 'll do sometimes afore he ups an' dies; But yet she'd put her little arms around my big black neck (Don't mind that drop on this 'ere book, water don't leave no speck) An' tell me how she loved us both, me an' my dear old marm, An' loved us both alike, though mother tuk her from the farm. An' so her arms an' little face grew tighter round our love, (Same as them little ones we had that now are gone above,) Till one hot nooning down she dropped jest like a mowed-down flower, An' wilted, an' war dead ez death afore the mornin' hour. But, parson, she war Irish born, an' when she felt to die, She asked me war I willin' she should have a priest come nigh; So out I went an' called one in, (ay! an' I'd do it agen, For all I allers thought they war more like women 'n men.) An', parson, sez he to her, "Dear, you're not afraid to die, Since God has called you to pass through the gate that Christ rose by ?" An' sez she, "No, if my Father"— an' kissed this great hard palm "Is comin' for to lift me up upon his strong right arm, An' put me in the dark to bed, I hain't got naught to say; An' so she went. God save us all, who put her safe to bed! That's all the story, parson, of how we got the start- 1 JIM WOLFE AND THE CATS. WE was all boys, then, anʼ didn't care for nothin' only heow to shirk school, an' keep up a revivin' state o' devilment all the time. This yah Jim Wolfe I was talkin' about was the 'prentice, an' he was the best-hearted feller, he was, an' the most forgivin' an' onselfish, I ever see. Wall, there couldn't be a more bullier boy than what Jim was, take him heow you would; and sorry enough I was when I see him for the last time. Me an' Henry was allers pesterin' him, an' plasterin' hoss bills on his back, an' puttin' bumble-bees in his bed, an' so on, an' sometimes we'd jist creowd in an' bunk with him, not'standin' his growlin', an' then we'd let on to git mad, an' fight acrost him, so as to keep him stirred up like. He was nineteen, he was, an' long, an' lank, an' bashful; an' we was fifteen an' sixteen, an' pretty tolerabul lazy an' wuthless. So, that night, you know, that my sister Mary gin the candypullin' they started us off to bed airly, so as the comp'ny could have full swing; an' we rung in on Jim tew have some fun. Wall, our winder looked out onter the ruff of the ell, an' about ten o'clock a couple of old tom-cats got tew rairin' an' chargin' reound on it, an' carryin' on jist like sin. There was four inches o' snow on the ruff, an' it froze so that there was a right smart crust of ice on it, an' the moon was shinin' bright, an' we could see them cats jist like daylight. Fust they'd stand off, e-yow-yow-yow, jist the same as if they was a-cussin' one another, you know, an' bow up their backs, an' bush up their tails, an' swell around, an' spit, an' then all of a suddin the gray cat he'd snatch a handful of fur off the yailer cat's back, an' spin him around jist like a button on a barn-door. But the yaller cat was game, an' he'd come an' clinch, an' the way they'd gouge, an' bite, an' howl, an' the way they'd make the fur fly, was peowerful. Wall, Jim he jist got disgusted with the row, an' 'lowed he'd climb out there an' shake 'em off'n that ruff. He hadn't reely no notion o' doin' it, likely, but we everlastin❜ly dogged him, an' bullyragged him, an' 'lowed he'd allers bragged heow he wouldn't take a dare, an' so on, till bimeby he jist histed the winder, an' lo an' behold you! he went-went exactly as he was nothin' on but hi- ulster. You ought to a' scen him! You ought to seen him creepin' over that ice, an' dig. gin' his toe-nails an' finger-nails in, fur tew keep him from slip. pin'; and, 'bove all, you ought to seen that—ulster a-flappin in the wind, and them long, ridicklous shanks of his'n a-glistenin' in the moonlight. Them comp'ny folks was down there under the eaves, an' the whole squad of 'em under that ornery shed o' dead Wash'ton Bower vines - all settin' reound two dozzen sassers o' bilin'-hot candy, which they'd sot in the snow to cool. An' they was laughin' an' talkin' lively; but, bless you! they didn't know nothin' 'bout the panorammy that was goin' on over their heads. Wall, Jim he jist went a-sneakin' an' a-sneakin' up unbeknowns to them tom-cats they was a-swishin' their tails, an' yow-yowin', an' threatenin' to clinch, you know, an' not payin' any attention he went a-sneakin' an' a-sneakin' right up to the comb of the ruff, till he got 'in a foot an' a half of 'em, an' then all of a suddin he made a grab fur the yaller cat! But, by gosh! he missed fire, an' slipped his holt, an' his heels flew up, an' he flopped on his back, an' shot off'n that ruff jist like a dart! went a-smashin' an' a-crashin' deown thro' them old rusty vines, an' landid right in the dead centre of all them comp'ny people! sot deown jist like a yearthquake in them two dozzen sassers of red-hot candy, and let off a howl that was hark from the tomb! Them gals-wall, they left, you know. They see he warn't dressed for comp'ny, an' so they left-vamoosed. All done in a second; it was jist one little war-whoop an' a whish of their dresses, an' blame the one of 'em was in sight anywhere! Jim, he war in sight. He war gormed with the bilin'-hot molasses-candy clean deown to his heels, an' more busted sassers hangin' to him than if he was a Injun princess-an' he came a-prancin' up stairs jist a-whoopin' an' a-cussin, an' every jump he gin he shed some sassers, an' every squirm he fetched he dripped some candy! an' blistered! why, bless your soul, that poor creetur couldn't reely set deown comfortabul fur as much as four weeks. MARK TWAIN. PLEDGE TO THE DEAD. I. FROM the lily of love that uncloses That breaks on the kingdom of night— To the heroes who died for the right! II. They loved, as we love, yet they parted ; Left the tumult of youth, the sweet guerdon Gave all for the agonized burden Of death for the Flag and the State! III. Where they roam on the slopes of the mountain Where they muse by the crystalline fountain IV. Divine in their pitying sadness They grieve for their comrades of earth; The rapture of friendship confessing With harps and the waving of wings! V. In that grim and relentless upheaval The garland of peace on the hearse! They were shattered, consumed, and forsaken, Like the shadows that fly from the dawn; We may never know why they were taken, But we always shall feel they are gone. And sweet with the calm Sabbath bells; If Virtue, in cottage and palace. Leads Love to the bridal of Pride, 'Tis because out of war's bitter chalice Our heroes drank deeply — and died ! VII. Ah, grander in doom-stricken glory Who saved the last hope of mankind! And the death that was pale on their faces VIII. To the clouds and the mountains we breathe it, We are true to the cause that they cherish, WILLIAM WINTER. |