Thy pardon, Father, I beseech,
In this my prayer, if I offend!
One something sees beyond his reach
From childhood to his journey's end;
My wife, our little boy Aignan,

Have travelled even to Narbonne,
My grandchild has seen Perpignan, -
And I have not seen Carcassonne,
And I have not seen Carcassonne!

So crooned one day, close by Limoux,
A peasant, double-bent with age.
"Rise up, my friend," said I;
"with you
I'll go upon this pilgrimage."

We left next morning his abode,

But (heaven forgive him!) half way on,
The old man died upon the road: -
He never gazed on Carcassonne.

Each mortal has his Carcassonne!

FROM THE FRENCH OF GUSTAVE NADAUD.

THE MATE OF THE BETSY JANE.

It was the schooner Betsy Jane,

From Boston for Quincee,

And the skipper had hobbled down below

Red was his nose as a carrot tip,

His breath of potations told,

And the only use for water, he swore,
Was to float his vessel bold.

The skipper he turned up from below
With a new light in his eye;

And he looked aloft and he looked alow,
And he gazed at the evening sky.

66

A good fair wind, and an easy sea,
And a fust-rate mate I've got;

I'll finish that bottle of Bourbon," he said,
And his vessel he soon forgot.

Oh, woe for the skipper who filled so full!
The mate was a pirate bold,

And he took a deep oath on a marlinspike
That his aim was gore and gold.

He had read of the deeds of Morgan and Teach,
And he revelled in Captain Kidd,

And he had spent a year on Squantum beach
In searching for treasures hid.

He laughed to scorn the winds and waves,
"I'm the Sea King, and I'll fix

This vessel up as a pirate craft "

(She was loaded then with bricks).

Oh, the chaste, full moon looked down that night On a lad of royal mien,

Who stood at the helm of the Betsy Jane,

Aged just about thirteen.

He aimed to rival the Boy Buccaneer,
And he cautiously looked around,

And matured his plans as the vessel sailed
From Quincy to Boston town.

He would take the Betsy Jane to sea-
Ho, ho, for the Spanish Main!

And the Florida Keys and the Bahamese,
And hurrah for the Betsy Jane!

He would make the skipper walk the plank,
And a plank he accordingly fixed;
He would stand on the end and tilt it up-
Oh, he knew the pirates' tricks!

So he called the skipper up from below,
And he gently led the way

Where the plank was leading from the side
To the waters of the bay.

Full half a foot o'er the raging sea

The end of the plank was fixed

The Betsy Jane sailed very low,

(She was loaded deep with bricks).

And the pirate, armed with a marlinspike,
Drove the captain to his doom;
He tumbled him over into the sea,
Abaft of the main jib-boom.

Then loudly laughed the pirate bold,
And again he laughed in glee,
"Through Shirley Gut the Betsy Jane
Will sail away to sea!"

But alas for the schemes of the pirate bold!
The skipper on board had climbed,

And with a rope's end in his hand

He gently came behind.

The laughter came to a sudden end.

The pirate's reign is o'er!

When he rose from athwart the captain's knee,

He seemed to feel quite sore.

The Betsy Jane sailed on her way

From Quincy to Boston town,

But 'twas fifteen days ere the pirate bold

Found comfort in sitting down.

THE

READING CLUB

AND

HANDY SPEAKER:

BEING

SERIOUS, HUMOROUS, PATHETIC, PATRIOTIC, AND DRAMATIC SELECTIONS IN

PROSE AND POETRY,

FOR

READINGS AND RECITATIONS.

EDITED BY
GEORGE M. BAKER.

No. 11.

Boston:

LEE & SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.

New York:

CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM.