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 A DOMESTIC AFFAIR.. I 
 
 
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Entered according to a A. 
 
 In tire Clerk's Omcc of the Unl,e<j\ f^o^^\- 
 
 the District of Michigan, this ST.ij ) ^^^^-"^ 
 
 For Sale at tlic American Vine ^iit 
 
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A DOMESTIC AFFAIR. 
 
 
 ^^jLhl¥- 
 
TIME, OCTOBER, 18- 
 
 ilJl? 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONtE 
 
 SCENE — MY OWN KITCHEN. 
 
 Characters — My Self, 
 My Wife, 
 
 Four boys — eldest 10 years, youngest 2. 
 lo — a Pointer Dog. 
 Fido — a Cocker Spaniel. 
 Ellen — the cook. 
 The Cat, &c., &c., &c. 
 
Detroit, December 25, 1847. 
 
 To MY FRIEND Edward D. Ellis, 
 
 Editor of the American Vineyard : 
 
 Some years ago I had a friend, who was a gentleman sports- 
 man. He was so ardent in the gratification of his passion 
 for the sports of the " Flood and Field,^' that he dissipated a 
 large fortune in the pursuit ; and, when it was all gone, and 
 he had nothing left except a wife and several very fine chil- 
 dren, he did, (what many a fine, generous hearted fellow had 
 done before,) betake himself to the bottle. 
 
 I used my best exertions to save my early friend and com- 
 panion from a premature grave ; but, his habits had become 
 uncontrollable, and my friend died, leaving a widow still 
 young, though I must say, not a bereaved one, and five chil- 
 dren, penniless. After the funeral was over, the widow, ad- 
 dressing herself at once to the discharge of her duties, was 
 rummaging over some useless sportsman's lumber, in a small 
 garret, and there she found the enclosed doggerel verses, and 
 presented me with a copy, in her own delicate handwriting. 
 She showed an unaccountable enthusiasm for the original, — 
 possibly because it was in the handwriting of her late hus- 
 band. 
 
 If I mistake not its spirit, there is some merit in the pro- 
 duction ; and I authorize and request you to print, and pub- 
 lish, and sell it, in any manner you may think proper ; and 
 should you be so lortunate as to realize any money, over and 
 
above the expenses of printing, &c., and will trust me as 
 your almoner, I will faithfully hand the surplus proceeds over 
 to my friend's widow ; in the hope of cheering her heart, and 
 aiding her efforts to feed, clothe and educate her helpless off- 
 spring ; — and, as she is a perfect lady, I shall conceal her 
 name from you, and leave her alone, quietly to discharge 
 those duties which she performs so well. 
 
 Respectfully, Thine, 
 
 WILLIAM SMITH. 
 
A DOMESTIC AFFAIR. 
 
 Dulce est desipere in loco. 
 
 Hor. Carm. XII, Lib. IV, 1. XXVIII. 
 
 It is delicious to play the fool occasionally. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 Juny and Ned, off to your beds — 
 
 lo, and Fido — down ! 
 You're all tir'd out, young sleepy heads — 
 
 Your eyes are glassy — brown— ^ 
 It's half past eight o'clock, you see 
 
 The long hand pointing down — 
 You've stufPd, and stufPd — you boys, you dogs, 
 
 As if ye wore a crown ; 
 So, wipe your lips, and off to bed, 
 
 There's nothing else to do — 
 Don't lick your chops and wag your tails, 
 
 And point at game birds' bones ; 
 Your loaded stomachs could'nt hold 
 
 The very smallest ones. 
 
 Wife I there's the cat — she's got a cock. 
 
 Half way behind the stairs ; 
 And looks six ways, with her two eyes, 
 
 To manage her affairs. 
 
6 
 
 Scat ! scat ! you purring, growling thief I 
 
 Albert ! go, get that bird — 
 Puss ought to learn to catch her game, 
 
 And not destroy her own fair fame. 
 
 By stealing ^^ yours and mine.^' 
 There's Willy, too, he's got a bird 
 
 In either fist — do see ! 
 And sings and dances on the hearth, 
 
 As merry as a bee. 
 
 Ju! — Ned! — goodnight: Pa, Ma, goodnight 
 
 Boys, all be up at dawn — 
 And if the weather prove all right, 
 
 We'll scamper out of town. 
 Pa, where'll we go! Ju, I don't know, 
 
 Ma wants to see Love-lane ; 
 I lost her whip there t'other day. 
 
 She says I'm much to blame. 
 Ned says, we'll go to Canada, 
 
 And Albert, to Belle Isle ; 
 Take off to bed your sleepy head. 
 
 We'll settle that to-morrow ; 
 *'Yfy"* and I don't borrow much. 
 
 And never borrow sorrow. 
 
 Ellen! those birds must all be pluck'd. 
 And dress'd, and pack'd in ice ; 
 
 Don't open either snipe or cock. 
 They will not eat so nice. 
 
 And, Ellen, mark now what is said — 
 Spare toes, legs, neck, head, bill ; 
 Tranklin's system of orthograpliy. 
 
Strip, but don't mutilate the dead, — 
 
 Shew forth their beauty still ; 
 You know 'tis then ^^ adorn' d the most,'* 
 
 The poet so doth tell — 
 Feathers were made for breasts, nests, flight — 
 
 But not for cooks to roast — 
 
 But if you draw one drop of blood, 
 
 Or dislocate one bone. 
 How can you answer to your God ? 
 
 How can you then atone ? 
 Not all the rain of Noah's flood — 
 
 The soap in all the world — 
 Can e'er wash out that guilty blood. 
 
 Were both upon it hurl'd. 
 Ellen ! you are no Robespierre, — 
 
 You have no King — no Queen — 
 Your kitchen is not France, my dear, 
 
 With her damn'd Guillotine ! 
 No civil, nor uncivil war, 
 
 Is raging round our shores, 
 Nor Jacobin, nor Mountaineer, 
 
 Are any names of ours; — 
 
 And if they were, in mercy spare, 
 
 Toes, legs, necks, bills, unshorn — 
 This empire. Ell, is all your own, 
 
 Maintain your pow'r — sustain your throne, 
 Though subjects, queens, kings — rascals all, 
 
 Should by your kitchen ^'Razor" fall. 
 And half the world should mourn. 
 
 What's that to me ! These birds once lay, 
 
8 
 
 To lo's graceful point ; 
 
 And his fine nose inhaPd the ray, 
 That stifTen'd every joint ; 
 
 Distending muscle — cording bone, 
 As if his frame were turn'd to stone — 
 
 And when these birds, poor things, up fleWy 
 Dissolving lo's charm — 
 
 And Fido, with his nut-brown eye, 
 Paid homage to them in the sky, 
 
 And worshipp'd in the underwood. 
 While lo to his duties stood, — 
 
 The sportsman's lightning struck them through. 
 
 And blasted them with thunder too — 
 They never dream'd of harm — 
 
 And — they are dreaming still you know, 
 They don't know they are dead ; — 
 
 And, dream they shall — Ellen, I vow I 
 You shan't cut off one head — 
 
 And then they go — **/or weal or woe'* — 
 Wings whistling — wheeling — waltzing too. 
 
 With most inimitable grace — 
 Just as they flew to-day ; — 
 
 Birds I ye shall find a resting place, 
 Fromlo — faraway — 
 
 " Yfy!" I'm tir'd — Hus ! so am I, 
 
 Please bolt the kitchen door — 
 That dev'lish cat is lurking round^^ 
 
 Just as she did before, 
 With side long glances on her prey, 
 
9 
 
 To try her chance once more ; — 
 Slam ! there — I think the birds are safe, — 
 
 In just two minutes and a half, 
 I shall begin to snore. 
 
 Boys — Dogs — go slumber in your beds, 
 With twofold blessings on your heads ; 
 For God created Dogs and Boys, 
 To crown their heads with double joys — 
 And frolics are your vested rights — 
 And autumn days bring autumn nights, 
 When you will witness glorious sights — 
 And now, to-night you'll see some scenes, 
 Exhibited in midnight dreams, 
 Fresh, painted, glowing, warm again, 
 Fields, forests, fountains, brambles, glen — 
 Your pulses throb — each bosom heaves, 
 At scamp'ring dogs o'er rustling leaves — 
 While soft bright clouds float gently on, 
 To their own home—^the horizon. 
 
 The birds — the leaves — the thistledown. 
 Will fly again, whirl, tumble down ; 
 While each dog's feet to his own whine, 
 Beats the mock frolic into time — 
 Wer't not for dreams — boys, dogs, you see, 
 Your sleep ** death* s counterfeit* would be. 
 *Tis no such thing — for motions — breath. 
 Are not the images of death — 
 Sweet ^^Swanof AvonP* was one note 
 False, pour'd forth from thy heavenly throat? 
 But, many others warbled thence. 
 
10 
 
 As full of melody as sense — 
 
 To be re-echoed ages hence — 
 
 Yea — while that sun which shone to-day, 
 
 Shall print the mental retina, 
 
 With all earth's glorious imagery, 
 
 In God's own Solar Gallery. 
 
 Imprudent Bird I — thy song half sung, 
 Was heard the heavenly hosts among. 
 Who sent their Angels — swift of wing, 
 To bring thee home — to hear thee sing. 
 
V 
 
r 
 
 LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
 015 861 879 5