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OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 
 (L^ 
 
 THE PARISH OF GRUMBLETON. 
 
 EDWARD HOPPER. 
 
 RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE MERCIFUL 
 PHILOZOIST, HENRY BERGH. 
 
 " A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast."' 
 
 Solomon. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 PUBLISHED BY KURD AND HOUGHTON. 
 
 1869. 
 
T^ 
 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the 3-ear 1S69, by 
 
 Edward Hopper, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New 
 
 York. 
 
 RIVERSIDE, CAUBRIDOE: 
 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
 
 H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Grumbleton 3 
 
 The Parish Horse Market 7 
 
 The Deacons' Duel 27 
 
 The Situation 4q 
 
 The Choice 43 
 
 Old Parson Prynn 48 
 
 Old Gray and the Ravens 54 
 
 Parson Young 58 
 
 Backed Out g3 
 
 The Home Love 7q 
 
 Refuge 73 
 
 Sequel 75 
 
 The Living Fields 77 
 
 FJJ^is 80 
 

 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 GRUMBLETON. 
 
 SSTS'AR and away, among the hills, 
 
 Remote from city goods and ills, 
 An ever-flowing stream upon. 
 
 In days a-gone, sate Grumbleton. 
 
 The woodman's axe first found the place. 
 
 And thrift soon followed on apace, 
 
 To see, with joy, the virgin plain 
 
 Quickened with living fields of grain, — 
 
 The little hills alive with flocks, 
 
 The farmyards vocal with their cocks, 
 
 And rows of hives, of honey bees. 
 
 Foretelling future industries. 
 
 The fishes, swarming in the streams, 
 
 AVere sporting with the sun's bright beams 
 
 And birds of song and plumage rare 
 
 With joy and beauty filled the air. 
 
 Upspringing here sweet Sharon's rose 
 
4 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Breathed heavenly balm, for human woes, 
 
 And pointed to the higher bliss, 
 
 Lest men should set their hearts on this. 
 
 Then did the wilderness rejoice, 
 
 With anthems of a purer voice 
 
 Than nature tuned for man's dull ears, 
 
 To lift his heart, and dry his tears : 
 
 And the sweet vale, to simple eyes. 
 
 Became a gateway to the skies. 
 
 The gentle shepherd led his flock 
 To water oiushino; from the rock. 
 And pastures fresh with morning dews. 
 He guarded them from flill, and bruise. 
 And prowling wolves, by night and day : 
 And if one ever went astray 
 He searched it out through sun and rain, 
 And brought it to the fold again, 
 To heal its torn and bleeding wound ; 
 Rejoicing that the lost was found. 
 O, happy shepherd ! peaceful fold ! 
 With gate so near the heavenly wold ! 
 
 Times change, and men change with the times. 
 In Christian as in heathen climes. 
 Art, passing, saw this goodly land, 
 And touched it with her magic wand, 
 When lo ! the space was gone between 
 
GRUMBLETON. 
 
 The distant mart and this fair scene ; 
 And monsters of the iron path 
 Came thundering like the day of wrath ; 
 And restless demons from below, 
 With fiery eyes, glared to and fro. 
 Scattering wealth, and death, and woe ; 
 And city breath, that taints the air. 
 Rushed, with the snorting monsters, there. 
 
 The changeful men change with the times. 
 
 In Christian as in heathen climes ; 
 
 So when the golden tide flowed on 
 
 The humble plains of Grumbleton, 
 
 And lusty Greed, and flaunting Pride, 
 
 Came, sailing on the swelling tide, 
 
 To raise the standard of revolt. 
 
 An itching palm drew back the bolt 
 
 That guarded the fair citadel; 
 
 While, from the walls, the sentinel 
 
 Cried out the treacherous, " All is well ! " 
 
 Then sprang to arms, good father Prynn, 
 The Parson, who had fought 'gainst sin 
 Until his locks were white and thin. 
 He, now, when he was weak and old. 
 Must meet these foemen stout and bold ; 
 And fight, to save his simple fold 
 From Fashion, Pride, and lusty Gold. 
 
6 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 And Piynn, to make the story brief, 
 
 Did in the battle come to o-rief. 
 
 For Gold, full-armed, with wings and stings, 
 
 Has power beyond all eartlily things. 
 
 And Pride, behind her brazen front, 
 
 Flaunts boldlj^, in the battle's brunt ; 
 
 And if o'erwhelmed, in her distress, 
 
 Retreats behind thick fastnesses. 
 
 Where, though besieged, disdains to yield. 
 
 But hopes, once more, to take the field ; 
 
 And e'en half starved, in rags, will strive. 
 
 And struo;<]fle on, till skinned alive. 
 
 And Fashion hath a thousand heads, 
 
 Witli which her champions she weds ; 
 
 So when one falls, with fresher face 
 
 Another springs into its place ! 
 
 And hence the parson who would fight 'em. 
 
 Must battle on ad infinitum. 
 
 Tlie sheep are scattered in the fight, — 
 Some fall, the prey of wolves, by night ; 
 And some are lured, the silly pates. 
 Within the foemen's tempting gates, 
 Nor know, amid the pleasant rambles, 
 That they are fattening for the shambles ; 
 Some, straying flir, grow wild in breed, 
 And will not follow more, nor heed 
 The shepherd's crook and i)iping reed ; 
 
THE PARISH HORSE MARKET. 7 
 
 But, nature changed, the sheep now lead, 
 And shepherds follow, in their need. 
 Through stress of hunger, or for greed. 
 But few remain within the fold, 
 To shepherd faithful, as of old 
 The sylvan prophets had foretold. 
 
 Good father Prynn, thus sorely tried. 
 
 Thanked Heaven that his sweet May had died, 
 
 Ere such a blight had fallen upon 
 
 Their long-nursed flower of Grumbleton. 
 
 Though, surely, were she living now, 
 
 To drive away the cares that plow 
 
 Such cruel furrows in his brow, 
 
 His heart were stronger for the strife ; 
 
 And sweeter were his cup of life, — 
 
 Such sweetness was in May, his wife. 
 
 But to her gentle soul was given 
 
 To leave their sacred flower unriven. 
 
 And on its fragrance rise to heaven. 
 
 THE PAKISH HOESE MARKET. 
 
 In halcyon days when men were few, 
 With just enough to eat, and do. 
 And did their travelling by stage. 
 Their progress they could always gauge 
 
8 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 By change of horses on the route. 
 
 And so could Grumbleton, no doubt, 
 
 In those good days we write about. 
 
 By changing off their parish jade 
 
 They showed the progress they had made ; 
 
 But whether it was up or down, 
 
 We'll see, perchance, as we pass on. 
 
 A trifle ! some Mosheim may say, — 
 
 But trifles empires, sometimes, sway ! 
 
 A feather shows what wind is blowinrr ; 
 
 A straw which way the tide is flowing; 
 
 A little rudder steers the steamer; 
 
 The tongue is small, but what a screamer ! 
 
 E'en gold but specks of shining dust is. 
 
 And yet it turns the scales of justice. 
 
 And even modifies men's notions 
 
 Of holy doctrines and devotions ; 
 
 It years tall spires to raise men's eyes 
 
 To endless beauty, in the skies ; 
 
 And paves the way to heaven with " tin," 
 
 So that the rich may enter in ; 
 
 Who thus allured, so crowd the door, 
 
 There's scarcely room left for the poor ; 
 
 For nearer to heaven you build the steeple 
 
 The nearer to heaven you'll get the people. 
 
 A great advance on times, whilom. 
 
 When rich men scarce to heaven would come. 
 
 But generally left the welcome door 
 
 fl 
 
THE PARISH HORSE MARKET. 
 
 To be monopolized bj " the poor, 
 And needy, wounded, sick, and sore." 
 Tlius little things are cause of great ones. 
 As early saints were unlike late ones, 
 And little Muse, like mine, of all things, 
 Must not despise the day of small things. 
 But more anon, the bell has rung. 
 And shows the power of one sharp tongue 
 To drive from house into the street 
 The people who of needs must meet 
 In sacred church, to meditate. 
 And criticize, and contemplate. 
 And vote, and choose, or else refuse 
 To buy the coming candidate. 
 An honest horse-market, of course, 
 And not like jockeying for a horse. 
 For, now assembled, Grumbleton 
 Must choose a horse, in place of one 
 Worn out in parish work, they said, 
 And living when he should be dead. 
 
 Horse-owners came from far and near, 
 With nags of all sorts, cheap and dear ; 
 How many truth wont please to tell. 
 Nor why each had a horse to sell. 
 The parish heads were getting sore ; 
 They'd met some twenty times, or more, 
 And still were vacant^ as before. 
 
10 OLD nORSE GRAY. 
 
 S(^ hard a thing is parisli choice, 
 Which needs majority of voice. 
 
 Titus, the deacon, number one, 
 
 And richest man of Grumbleton, 
 
 Esquire and owner of much land. 
 
 Was chairman of the judge's stand. 
 
 And called the order of the day. 
 
 " Trot out the Sorrel ! next the Bay ! 
 
 And next tlie Brown! But take away 
 
 The piebald nag, and that young Gray! 
 
 Wliat were such horses made for? drot 'em. 
 
 They've neither wind, nor speed, nor bottom 
 
 Now trot 'em out, the harness in. 
 
 To see wliicli horse the race shall win ! 
 
 Trot 'em out fairly I 
 
 Show 'em off squarely ! 
 
 Then let us know their pedigree ; 
 
 For parish horse must perfect be; 
 
 A gentle horse, though horse alive. 
 
 And one that women folk can drive. 
 
 And one that has some decent speed. 
 
 And one that's easy on his feed; 
 
 In fact we want an easy keeper, 
 
 In the long run it makes him cheaper. 
 
 Beside, we want no horse that shies 
 
 At everything that meets his eyes; 
 
 A horse trained as he ought to be. 
 
THE PARISH HORSE 31 ARRET. U 
 
 Knows what, and knows what not, to see. 
 
 But most^ we want a horse to draw : 
 
 The finest horse eye ever saw 
 
 To parish is not worth a straw. 
 
 Though from all faults and failings free, 
 
 Perfect in form and symmetry. 
 
 Age, sire, and dam, and pedigree, 
 
 Limb, wind, and bottom, color, and sj)eed 
 
 To distance every other steed. 
 
 If he can't draw^ in chaise or dray, 
 
 All sorts of loads by night and day — 
 
 My word you may rely upon. 
 
 He's not the horse for Grumbleton. 
 
 So trot 'em out, and let us try. 
 
 And see, what horse is best to buy. 
 
 And let the nags know that all eyes 
 
 Are looking on to criticize. 
 
 And let us have no jockey-ruse. 
 
 That all may fairly judge and choose, 
 
 And no one say that I've been rash 
 
 In laying out the parish cash. 
 
 Now trot 'em out fairly ! 
 
 Show 'em off squarely ! 
 
 Wind, limb, bottom, and dash ! " 
 
 Thus Titus spake. The reason why 
 Good Grumbleton a horse would buy 
 Was on the housetops, far and nigh ; ^ 
 
12 
 
 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 (And crows discussed it, on the sly, — 
 
 Brother to sable-coated brother, — 
 
 With heart to prey, and longing eye ;) 
 
 They'd turned their old horse out to die, 
 
 And so of course must have another ; 
 
 And as for that, — a parson too ; 
 
 For change of horse had much to do 
 
 With change of parsons, in the place : 
 
 These two had aye kept equal pace ; — 
 
 A parson new came with new horse 
 
 In Gmmbleton, as thing of course, 
 
 And what made deacon Titus say, 
 
 The parish would not try a gray, 
 
 And piebald horse refuse to iDuy, 
 
 Was that tliis color palled his eye. 
 
 Beside, the horse turned off to die. 
 
 Was gray ; and oft, the deacon said, 
 
 Had haunted him, upon his bed. 
 
 With nightmare's hideous shapes and screams, 
 
 Half horse, half human, in his dreams : 
 
 And oft-times crossed his path by day ; 
 
 And Titus did not like the gray. 
 
 More pity that so good a man, 
 
 The chief and leader of the clan. 
 
 And richest, did not like the jade. 
 
 Much difference it might have made 
 
 In old horse Gray's declining years ; 
 
 For good men's love dries many tears; 
 
THE PARISH HORSE MARKET. 13 
 
 And e'en a horse, worn out and old, 
 
 Is better for a rich man's gold. 
 
 And gold when given to help the poor 
 
 Brings angels to the giver's door. 
 
 With benedictions from their Lord ; 
 
 And groweth more than miser's hoard ; 
 
 And like the farmer's scattered grain 
 
 Comes back in golden sheaves again. 
 
 True, the old Gray was lame and slow, 
 
 And couldn't go as he used to go, 
 
 And couldn't draw as he used to draw; 
 
 Yet all confessed they never saw 
 
 A horse, do more than what he could, 
 
 And live upon so little food ; 
 
 Nor one more willing, kind, and true, 
 
 To do what e'er he had to do; 
 
 Nor one more faithful to his trust; 
 
 Nor less deserving to be thrust 
 
 Upon the parish-road, to die. 
 
 Old men remembered, with a sigh, 
 
 How he had toiled long years gone by ; 
 
 And children, with a moistened eye, 
 
 Brought tufts of grass, and clover sweet. 
 
 And, prattling, stood to see him eat. 
 
 Poor horse ! poor jade ! worn out and old ! 
 
 The coming winter, with its cold. 
 
 And pelting storms, and grassless soil, 
 
 Will end his life of want and toil : 
 
14 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Such is the history of the Gray, 
 
 Who now gives place to Brown or Bay. 
 
 The custom was, in Grumbleton, 
 
 To have a horse which every one 
 
 Could ride and drive ; and all should own. 
 
 And by Church Records it was shown 
 
 A parson new must come, of course, 
 
 Whene'er the parish bought new horse ; 
 
 The old horse out, the new horse in. 
 
 Was now as it had ever been. 
 
 To bring a young and fresher face 
 
 Into the wrinkled parson's place. 
 
 These changes always went together; 
 
 Nor was it long debated whether 
 
 They should depart from their old course. 
 
 That linked the parson with the horse. 
 
 'Tis true that deacon Goodale dared 
 
 Defend the Gray; but, then, he fired 
 
 Like one who sweeps, with broom, the tide ; 
 
 For he was poor, and old beside, 
 
 And shaky in his voice and word. 
 
 And not like deacon Titus heard. 
 
 Good deacon Titus, answering, spake, 
 With voice that did not quail nor quake, 
 " Parson and horse have had their day ; 
 
THE PARISH HORSE MARKET. \ 5 
 
 And both are old, worn out, and gray; 
 And should be left to go their way ! 
 True ' they haye heat and burden borne 
 For Grumbleton,' ere they were shorn 
 Of strength to bear them, but their strength 
 And youth haye passed away, at length; 
 And neither has the power to draw^ 
 And hence should yield to parish law. 
 Beside 'twould cost as much to feed 
 The two old jades, and more, indeed. 
 Than younger ones, with better teeth 
 And smaller stomachs underneath; 
 And all the parish, by the bye. 
 Knows corn and hay are very high:' 
 
 Then deacon Goodale rose, and spake. 
 With words which, once, forgot to quake: 
 " In with the young nag ! let him fill 
 One half as well the parish thill 
 As the old Gray, — as patiently. 
 When weak, through lack of food, as he ; 
 Nor balk beneath the heayiest load ; 
 And stand the kicks, and cuffs, and goad 
 Of parish tongues as he has stood ; 
 With work twice measured for his food ; 
 And he will earn a better fate 
 Than the old Gray has had of late ; — 
 At least he'll earn the right to live, 
 
16 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Which Grumbleton will grudge to give." 
 
 He ended : and a murmuring breeze ' 
 
 Began to sway the sighing trees 
 
 And chafe the sullen waters gray ; 
 
 When, suddenly, the trolling Bay 
 
 Came tlumdering by to win the day. 
 
 The rising winds, at once, subside ; 
 
 And, changing, turns the changeful tide, 
 
 And wrangling waves hushed, soft, and sweet , 
 
 Submissive kiss the conqueror's feet. 
 
 Young, sprightly, graceful, full of mettle. 
 
 He's just the candidate to settle ! 
 
 The ladies praise his shiny coat. 
 
 And legs, — on which the angels dote: 
 
 And " O ! " they say, " such lovely eyes ! 
 
 They must have dropped down from the skies. 
 
 Indeed the Bay will be a prize ! 
 
 We ought to buy him just to show 
 
 The neighbors what they ought to know. 
 
 That Grumbleton 's as good as they, 
 
 By odds, and better, any day ! " 
 
 t 
 
 At length good Titus reappears. 
 
 And ladies' tongues are turned to ears : , 
 
 When Titus speaks the audience hears ! | 
 
 The richest man of Grumbleton, 
 
 And parish deacon number one 
 
 (With mute assent of old and young), 
 
THE PARISH HORSE MARKET. 17 
 
 Was, by this right, the parish tongue. 
 
 Ascending, now, the pulpit stairs. 
 
 For logic grave, and rhetoric airs. 
 
 He cleared the way with sounding sneeze. 
 
 And handkerchief, the more to please. 
 
 Then, hand stretched forth, spake words like 
 
 these : 
 '' My friends ! We, now, have come inside. 
 To vote upon the horses tried. 
 I hope this time for unity: 
 That is, I hope we'll all agree ; — 
 In short, that you will think with me. 
 A Church divided, you all know, 
 Is like a clock that cannot go. 
 Freedom of speech and use of tongue, 
 Is parish right to old and young. 
 And always rather overdone. 
 In this good town of Grumbleton. 
 Wielding more power than a king, — 
 This voting upsets everything ! 
 When I say yea and you say nay, 
 The thing brings discord and delay. 
 Therefore let all do as I say, 
 And follow where I lead the way. 
 In fine, I think the three-year Bay 
 Is the best horse we've tried to-day. 
 And just the nag we ought to buy - — 
 (Unless his price shall prove too higJi).'*^ 
 
18 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 He paused, with oratorio pause, 
 To wait for breath and the applause, 
 And time to think what next to say ; 
 When, forthwith, shoutings for the Bay 
 Rose, clamorous, from every pew, 
 With clappings neither faint nor few, 
 While wavino; handkerchiefs declare 
 (Embroidered, scenting all the air,) 
 The sweet approval of the fair ; 
 And smiles and noddino-s feminine 
 Arouse the gender masculine 
 To cheers for Bay, and such love-proofs, 
 Till all the shingles on the roofs 
 Seem cracking with that horse's hoofs. 
 Applauding thus the speaker's choice. 
 Then silence. Then a questioning voice. 
 That trembled with its venturous task. 
 Arose, and meekly begged to ask 
 Tlie horse's price, as if in fear 
 His figure might be found too dear. 
 
 Good Titus answered, in reply, 
 " The price must suit, or we wont buy ! 
 His owner must be brought to terms. 
 To suit the purse of feeble worms. 
 The horse has passed examination. 
 And meets my perfect approbation — 
 That is, he meets the parish views, — 
 
THE PARISH HORSE MARKET. 19 
 
 Is just the horse we ought to choose, 
 
 Sound every way, as all can see, 
 
 In limb, wind, bottom, pedigree. 
 
 Age, color, — all except his price ; 
 
 This, owing to his owner's vice 
 
 Of greed, is much above our purse. 
 
 But, still, I know we might do worse, 
 
 I told him, ' we're a chosen few. 
 
 With little means and much to do,' 
 
 Which brought him down a peg or two — 
 
 Say ten per cent., — but still his view 
 
 Of self-denial, for the cause, 
 
 Is measured by mere worldly laws ; 
 
 In fact, he dared to say, ' we ought 
 
 To buy a horse as others bought ; ' 
 
 His words were, ' If your purse is small 
 
 Tlien huy a cheaper animal! ' 
 
 Such insult thrown into my face. 
 
 Showing a heart devoid of grace. 
 
 We must forgive, in such a place. 
 
 Because the horse is worth far more, 
 
 I know, than we can buy him for ; 
 
 Besides, example has its force. 
 
 E'en vvhen a parish buys a horse ! " 
 
 The people, pleased and profited. 
 Applauded all the speaker said ; 
 But learning what they had to pay. 
 
20 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Their love grew lukewarm toward the Bay, 
 
 And during recess, for the higgling, 
 
 Browbeatincr chafFerino:, and wrio;o-lino[, 
 
 About the horse's parts and price, 
 
 And duty of self-sacrifice, 
 
 For sake of comfort in the sky. 
 
 Showing that ha}^ and oats were high. 
 
 Which made it difficult to buy. 
 
 Proving the Church's lack of means. 
 
 Through failure of last crop of beans ; 
 
 Proving the owner's duty plain. 
 
 To suffer loss for parish gain. 
 
 And to the excellent of earth 
 
 To sell the horse for half his worth ; 
 
 Their murmurings began to rise 
 
 Above the pew^s, like buzzing flies, 
 
 Or bees that swarm on blossom trees ; 
 
 Except that stings pertain to bees. 
 
 And parish-tongues have none of these. 
 
 Some, silent, brooded serious thought. 
 
 Which peeped much sooner than it ouo;ht ; 
 
 For peeping thought, when hatched, with word? 
 
 Soon flies about,' like fledgeling birds. 
 
 '' That bay horse feels his oats too much ! 
 
 Too good for common folks to touch ! 
 
 The nag's too proud to know his station ! 
 
 There's more tlian one horse in creation ! 
 
 The parish can afford to wait ! 
 
THE PARISH HORSE MARKET. 21 
 
 The sorrel has a better gait ! 
 
 The switch-tail, if his wind was good, 
 
 Or Bob — (but he takes too much food). 
 
 Or Brown himself, if only he 
 
 Could show a proper pedigree ; 
 
 Or almost any horse would do ; 
 
 But hang the Bay ! and let him go ! " 
 
 As when a tribe of swarming bees, 
 Excited, fly from trees to trees. 
 Filling with busy noise the air. 
 Will light, at last, no one knows where ; 
 And show, beside their buzzing wings. 
 And honey art, and such sweet things, 
 They also have the gift of stings. 
 Unless some timely drum or kettle 
 Shall sound the place for them to settle, 
 So now the buzzing Parish hive 
 With dire confusion was alive. 
 
 Just then old Gray, who chanced to pass 
 Through grave-yard gate, to crop the grass, 
 Was seen, by tombstones hid, almost ; 
 And seemed that horse's walking ghost. 
 So lean, so pale, so woebegone. 
 So friendless, in the world alone ! 
 Yet faitliful nags as Gray had been, 
 Have power to move the hearts of men ; 
 
22 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 And weaker tilings, whilom, were known 
 To shake a Diotrephes' throne. 
 
 A wag cried, '-'-G-ray, luho nears Ms doom, 
 
 Is choosing for himself a tomb ! " 
 
 Hearing his name, the honest Gray 
 
 Pricked up, and whinnied forth a neigh; 
 
 His neigh inflamed the kindling fire ; 
 
 And cheers for Gray rose high and higher; 
 
 And tongues of flame flashed old Gray's name, 
 
 As fitful as the tongues of Fame ; 
 
 And posans rose, from good and bad. 
 
 For qualities he never had; 
 
 While he, unconscious of their praises, 
 
 Silent, among the grave-stones, grazes. 
 
 But mid the graves his virtues bloom, 
 
 Like beauty rising from the tomb. 
 
 At length one, springing on his seat, 
 
 Harangues, with voice more loud than sweet, 
 
 '' There's more good substance in the Gray, 
 
 Twice told, than in that dandy Bay ! 
 
 And far less shadow any day ! 
 
 He's good for ten years, yet, of life ! 
 
 Let's call him back and end the strife! " 
 
 Thus did the parish bees divide. 
 With ebb and flood of chano:ino- tide : 
 Nor Titus could, by drum of kettle, 
 
THE PARISH HORSE MARKET. 23 
 
 Induce the buzzino; swarms to settle ; 
 
 And war was imminent to all ; 
 
 When, timely, in came Deacon Small, 
 
 Who drew, from each contending clan. 
 
 All eyes to see the little man. 
 
 This Deacon Small his life began 
 
 And ended on the smallest plan : 
 
 In name, and size, and nature, small ; 
 
 A little chap, at first, like all. 
 
 He aye remained a little chap; 
 
 And aye unweened from love of pap ; 
 
 Nor larger man could clutch so soon, 
 
 The handle of a public spoon, 
 
 Nor hold it for a longer spell, 
 
 Than Deacon Small, when Small was well. 
 
 His mouth was made of cream and cakes, 
 
 His eyes, though small, were bright as snakes ; 
 
 His cheeks were maiden cheeks, unfringed ; 
 
 His lips white hlies, slightly tinged; 
 
 Absent of mind, the little elf 
 
 Seemed always looking for himself; 
 
 Not so, in sooth, for even now 
 
 His eyes were fixed on Titus' brow, 
 
 To save that ruling man, his master. 
 
 From loss of head and such disaster ; 
 
 For Deacon Small had always said. 
 
 That Titus was the Parish head. 
 
 Ere since, behind the grass he heard 
 
21 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 That godly deacon's solemn word, 
 
 As if inspired of the Lord, 
 
 " Upon the Church walls write Upharsin, 
 
 Unless we get another parson." 
 
 And as a faithful pup his master 
 
 Follows, to warn off all disaster, — 
 
 Though barking dogs do seldom bite us, 
 
 The little deacon followed Titus. 
 
 To topmost pulpit's sacred height 
 
 He clomb, to bring himself in sight; 
 
 As little men had climbed before. 
 
 And will till pulpits are no more. 
 
 For little cocks, not always shiest. 
 
 Do strut the most and perch the highest. 
 
 Ambitious, and to lift himself 
 
 To favor with the man of pelf. 
 
 With hair well oiled, and oily tongue. 
 
 He spake in favor of the young. 
 
 His voice, though like the voice of child, 
 
 And feeble, was not always mild. 
 
 But harsh whene'er it took the whim, 
 
 And lisped, at times, in spite of him ; 
 
 And from his little throat ejected 
 
 Words lofty, and high up inflected. 
 
 Like popguns blurting on the ear. 
 
 That, nolens volens, each should hear, 
 
 With gestures meant to match, intense. 
 
 The little man's grandiloquence. 
 
THE PARISH HORSE MARKET. 25 
 
 *' I ri-th," he said, " in the name of Pea-th ! 
 
 To bid the raging billowth cea-th ! 
 
 I wish to be, as 'twere, the grease 
 
 On creaking parish wheels ; to be 
 
 The oil upon the troubled, sea 
 
 Of Grumbleton, this stormy day ! 
 
 The wind that sweeps the chaff away ! 
 
 And so forth ! Friends, I've nought to say, 
 
 And no one has, against old Gray. 
 
 He hath been faithful, and his name 
 
 Is writ upon the scroll of fame. 
 
 There to remain, beyond the tomb, 
 
 Until the awful crash of doom ! 
 
 But, friends, a worn-out horse, or man. 
 
 Hath never drawn, and never can ! 
 
 A horse that's kept till he is old 
 
 Cannot be traded off nor sold. 
 
 Then what on earth are we to do, 
 
 Who need a horse and can't keep two. 
 
 But just to let the old ' one go. 
 
 And buy a young one ? that is so ! 
 
 I'm for a young horse, when we get 
 
 A nag to suit us, but not yet : 
 
 There's money saved if we delay! 
 
 At least, the cost of oats and hay. 
 
 Meanwhile, by trying, as we ought. 
 
 In faith, a good horse can be bought 
 
 For half his worth ; for so they say 
 
26 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Our flitliers bought, when young, tlie Gray, 
 
 And better horse could not be found, 
 
 If they had searched the country round ! 
 
 His owner, given to pious Avays, 
 
 Sold him for half his cost to raise. 
 
 Now, when the Parish wants are known, 
 
 We'll get a horse, as I have shown. 
 
 For half, or say, two thirds, his w^orth, 
 
 If piety still lives on earth. 
 
 And if it don't, why then, I say. 
 
 We'll save enough by the delay. 
 
 To keep one full a year in hay ! 
 
 Moreover, there's a score of steeds 
 
 For every one a parish needs : 
 
 Some the best nags that walk the earth, 
 
 And some, as Titus saith, not worth 
 
 A hooter ! Which, with jockey-ruse. 
 
 Who rush so when they hear the news. 
 
 It seems impossible to choose ! " 
 
 Thus bravely spake the little man 
 For Titus, leader of the clan. 
 With tricky aim, to help his plan ; 
 Nor ended ere a darkling sky. 
 And wind-gust told a storm was nigh, 
 Which caused the parish to disperse. 
 Ere matters bad had come to worse. 
 
THE DEACONS' DUEL. 27 
 
 THE DEACONS' DUEL. 
 
 That evening Gooclale made his way 
 
 To Deacon Titus, to allay 
 
 The wrath he saw instead of grace, 
 
 In that good Christian brother's face. 
 
 The wrathful Titus saw his motion, 
 
 And knowing Goodale's secret notion, 
 
 He thus forestalled his friendly greeting, — 
 
 ''You spoke quite fierce, to-day, in meeting! 
 
 Quite fierce, sir ! And, sir ! I am free 
 
 To say you lack in charity ! 
 
 You don't possess a Christian spirit. 
 
 And never did ; nor nothing near it ; 
 
 You mean to split the church in two; 
 
 A thing, sir, you shall always rue ! 
 
 Don't say ' you do7iH ! ' you mean to do it ! 
 
 You spoke^ sir ! and you know and knew it ; 
 
 And he that splits a church shall rue it ! 
 
 Tell me I'm talking in a fog ! 
 
 What ! drive a wedge into a log, 
 
 Then say you didn't mean to split it ? 
 
 If you don't like the church then quit it ! 
 
 What will the world say of your course. 
 
 To split the church on an old horse? 
 
 You'd better leave than stay to fight us ! " 
 
 Said the indignant, irate Titus. 
 
28 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Goodalc, uncowed and with a smile, 
 Replied with neither gall nor guile, — 
 " What will the world say of our course, 
 If we shall starve our faithful horse ? 
 All I have asked for,* is some way 
 Provided for our poor, old Gray, 
 Now turned out on the road to die, 
 Before another horse we buy. 
 The world don't treat its servants so, 
 Though churches sometimes do, I know ; 
 I have no fields, but I will give 
 My mite to help the poor jade live ; 
 And if we all should do the same 
 We'd save his life and our good name." 
 
 By this soft answer mollified, 
 Good Titus, reasoning., now replied, — 
 " You know, good brother (with a sigh), 
 I do not wish the Gray to die ! 
 No man 's a softer heart than I ; 
 I couldn't deprive a thing of breath ; 
 I dread tlie very name of death ; 
 Nothing should die, had I my way, 
 In all this world, much less old Gray ! 
 How then can you suppose that I 
 Could wish the poor old jade to die ? 
 To starve and freeze to death with cold! 
 But, then, you must know he is old; 
 
THE DEACONS' DUEL. 29 
 
 He's lost what jockeys call ' the go ; ' 
 The amount of ^ go^ that's in a horse 
 Is what we buy him for, of course. 
 When that is gone, you know, my friend, 
 His usefulness is at an end. 
 Then what are we to do, I ask. 
 But let the poor jade quit his task ; 
 And set him free, to go his ways 
 In peace, the remnant of his days ? 
 We could not sell him, I engage. 
 For all the country knows his age ; 
 Nor swap him, without more to boot 
 ^Than our poor parish-purse would suit. 
 Then what, as honest, pious men, 
 Are we to do, I ask again. 
 But open wide the stable- door 
 To show him he's not wanted more ? 
 There isn't room enough for two. 
 Nor work for more than one to do. 
 It seems to me that such release 
 Must give the jade a sense of peace ; 
 As when from life a man is driven 
 His soul is glad to go to heaven. 
 Besides, the pasture on the road 
 For miles and miles is very good ; 
 Nor is there any other horse 
 Turned out in all that distant course. 
 And sure in wandering through the town, 
 
30 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 He'll often find some bars left down; 
 And if, perchance, he should go in, 
 When hungry, it would be no sin ! 
 'Twould be a cruel thing, indeed. 
 And one to make my spirits bleed. 
 If Gray should ever come to need. 
 But we can trust kind Providence 
 (Who walk by faith and not by sense), 
 That He who doth the ravens feed. 
 And crows, and such, will give good heed 
 To our good Gray, somehow or other : 
 'Twere sin to doubt it, my good brother ! " 
 
 This reasoning, clear and eloquent. 
 
 With pious breath, was vainl^^ spent. 
 
 Old Goodale still was unconvinced, 
 
 Though in the Titus-grasp he winced. 
 
 For Titus had a steel-trap way 
 
 Of clinchino- what he had to sav. 
 
 By clutching tight, on victory bent. 
 
 His foeman's arm in argument ; 
 
 And from his eyes shot arrows fierce. 
 
 His foeman's panoply to pierce. 
 
 But trembling Goodale stood his ground, 
 
 And by the effort courage found ; 
 
 And braver grew the more he fought. 
 
 As he who fights for justice ought. 
 
THE DEACONS' DUEL. 31 
 
 '' The man who trusts in Providence 
 Does well, if he use common sense," 
 Said Goodale, with a gentle frown. 
 To brace himself from backing down 
 On old horse Gray ; while Titus stared, 
 Amazed at what his foeman dared, 
 Silent as when a thunder-cloud 
 Is loading for a crash most loud. 
 " For Providence will never fill 
 A horse's mouth by miracle. 
 And He who teaches us to pray. 
 Give us our bread, day after day, 
 Has also, by the apostle, said, 
 A man must work to earn his bread. 
 Suppose, to prove, now, what you say, 
 You keep your horses' feed away ; 
 Would angels bring them oats and hay, 
 In pity, lest the poor beasts die? 
 Or to yourself your rule apply ! 
 It might be well if angels should 
 Bring down from heaven our daily food, 
 And carry it from door to door; 
 'T would be a great help to the poor. 
 And parsons, and that sort of men. 
 Who eat no one knows what, or when ; 
 And would, beside, the parish free 
 From poor-fund tax and salary, — 
 Two things that press upon the people 
 
32 OLD nORSE GRAY. 
 
 More than tlie weight of tallest steeple. 
 But this is not the angels' way 
 Toward parsons poor or horses gray ; 
 We've got to feed them, or they'll die ; 
 'Tis plain as daylight in the sky ; 
 'Tis no use trusting Providence 
 Without the use of common sense ! " 
 
 Good Deacon Titus, thus addressed, 
 
 With pent-up thunder was oppressed, 
 
 Like one with food he can't digest ; 
 
 And, holding in too long, at last 
 
 On Goodale burst a fearful blast ! 
 
 " How dare you talk this w\ay to me^ 
 
 You splitter of society ! 
 
 What ! don't believe in miracles ? 
 
 Then why not join the infidels ? 
 
 A pretty Churchman, I declare ! 
 
 Enouo-h to make an ano;el swear ! 
 
 Deny the faith before my face ! 
 
 I swan to man ! if 'twan't for grace. 
 
 You heretic ! I'd throttle you ! 
 
 Don't say, ' Be careful what I do !^ 
 
 I know what I'm about, you scamp ! 
 
 You Achan in our troubled camp ! 
 
 I know, now, who has cursed the place. 
 
 And kept away the showers of grace. 
 
 While rain has fallen everywhere, 
 
THE DEACONS' DUEL. 33 
 
 And left our vineyard parched and bare, 
 So that we owe to Prynn and Gray 
 Two years back salary to-day, — 
 Much more than we shall ever pay. 
 Don't say, ''You^ll try to do your shared 
 And try to look the martyr there ; 
 Some son of Belial, or the Devil, 
 Has on the parish brought this evil, 
 To curse the church of Grumbleton, 
 And^ Croodale^ you're the Evil One!''* 
 Thus saying, to show himself sincere, 
 He bellowed loud in Goodale's ear. 
 And, that he might more emphasize, 
 Shook his clinched fist before his eyes. 
 
 The adage says that "e'en a worm, 
 
 If trod upon," is apt to squirm. 
 
 And Deacon Goodale, though as mild 
 
 And meek in spirit as a child. 
 
 Not being perfect saint nor fool. 
 
 Was no exception to the rule. 
 
 But seeing Justice by his side. 
 
 And Wisdom ready for his guide. 
 
 He whispered them to save " the cause " 
 
 From broken heads and broken laws. 
 
 Still, in a world of strife and din, 
 
 'Tis hard to tell what might have been 
 
 But for the timely coming in 
 
34 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Of Deacon Small upon the scene. 
 For cufts and combats, now and tlien, 
 Have happened to the best of men ; 
 And when (as ancient history shows), 
 In argument 'twixt friends or foes, 
 One shakes his fist at the other's nose, 
 Debate is apt to end in blows. 
 
 By instinct canine for its keenness. 
 Though void of any doggish meanness. 
 Small smelt the bone of their contention ; 
 And duty bound for intervention 
 Sprang in (than Small none could be braver), 
 To bark, as 'twere, in Titus' favor. 
 Instead whereof, without intending, 
 He stayed the battle then impending ; 
 For as the rod, on steeple high. 
 Draws down the lio;htninoj from the skv. 
 The little man drew on himself 
 The anger of the man of pelf. 
 
 " You bantam ! " (Titus thus began. 
 
 Fierce turning on the little man. 
 
 With awful strides and glaring eyes, 
 
 That seemed to shrivel him in size, 
 
 As fire shrivels up a shrimp,) 
 
 " What brought you here, you little imp ! " 
 
 (Then aping Small), " Fve come to say 
 
THE DEACONS' DUEL. 35 
 
 Tm on both sides! Tm Brown! Tm Gray! 
 I would and wouldn't ! I ivill and won't ! 
 I wish ! ah ! no ! I do and dont ! 
 But if and — an; and if, I say, — 
 Perhaps, — I think, — we might — delay, — 
 Till we can get a little hay !'^ 
 
 Thus Titus emptied out his gall, 
 
 Sneering ineffably on Small, 
 
 " A pretty way to make a choice ! " 
 
 (Resuming now his natural voice,) 
 
 " A pretty, whiffling, cunning fox I 
 
 Big champion of the orthodox ! 
 
 A pretty snarl to get us in ; 
 
 Then come to yap how smart you've been ! 
 
 No, sir ! your counsels are all evil ; 
 
 They're like yourself, sir, of the Devil. 
 
 By just your kind of sage advice, 
 
 Adam was driven from paradise. 
 
 Yes, sir ! a church split up with strife 
 
 Will haunt you, like a ghost, for life. 
 
 Had you not had an itch to speak. 
 
 But thrown yourself into the creek, 
 
 To oil the troubled waters there, 
 
 Or hung yourself up by the hair. 
 
 Or anything to keep you quiet, 
 
 Instead of having another riot 
 
 We might have had a horse to-day. 
 
36 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 But you, sir, barked, sir, for delay ! 
 Don't answer, sir ! The case is clear. 
 I'll leave it to old Goodale here : 
 We might have got some horse or other ; 
 Is that not so, my erring brother ? " 
 
 Goodale, surprised, with kind intent 
 Replied the thing was evident. 
 
 Thus Small, whose thought had been to rise 
 High in the golden deacon's eyes, — 
 The little fellow's earthly heaven, — 
 By shrewd advice so timely given. 
 In lieu thereof now found himself 
 Appointed by the man of pelf. 
 To be sent forth, at setting sun, 
 The scape-goat of all Grumbleton. 
 
 Now wrathful Titus was appeased ; 
 And Goodale not a little pleased. 
 Amazed, amused, and edified. 
 To see how Titus turned aside 
 The battle on his supple friend. 
 To bring their duel to an end. 
 
 Strange duel this ; like scores of others 
 'Twixt foemen, fi'iends, and Christian brothers, 
 They slur, throw mud, defy, deflime, 
 
THE DEACONS' DUEL. 37 
 
 And haggle one another's name, 
 (Like boys who hack with vandal knife 
 Some work of art worth more than life,) 
 Till their courageous breath is spent ; 
 Then, struck by fear, they both repent, 
 Confess, make friends, shake hands, embrace. 
 With smiles that death cannot efface ; 
 Or, glad to escape each other's blow. 
 They turn upon some common foe ! 
 
 So two stout bulls, ere they engage 
 
 In deadly fight, to whet their rage, 
 
 First paw and throw the dirt around. 
 
 Bellowing till the plains resound. 
 
 Then in the conflict's awful shock 
 
 Crash their hard heads, and crooked horns lock, 
 
 With glaring eyes, with foaming breath, 
 
 Pushing and struggHng to the death. 
 
 If now some whipper-snapper cur, 
 
 Attracted by the unwonted stir, 
 
 Come barking on the battle-field. 
 
 The bulls at once their conflict yield. 
 
 Their horns unlock as if by magic. 
 
 And comic scene succeeds the tragic ; 
 
 With one consent, and tails high up, 
 
 Both bulls dash on the meddling pup ! 
 
 And hence it verily seems to me 
 
 That pups had better quiet be. 
 
38 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 But often tliey have more to say 
 Than grown-up dogs of deeper bay. 
 
 When Small had gone, the sullen day, 
 
 Like guilty culprit, slunk away ; 
 
 And all the stars of heaven looked out. 
 
 To see what now the champions stout 
 
 Of Grumbleton would be about ; 
 
 And all mankind, both far and near, 
 
 Stretched forth their eager, curious ear, 
 
 The news from Grumbleton to hear : 
 
 For Grumbleton was, for its size. 
 
 The largest place this side the skies. 
 
 Hence all the worlds, both low and high, 
 
 Stretched telescopic ear and eye, 
 
 To see what horse that church would huy. 
 
 Good Titus, finding Goodale game, 
 Went home to bed to hide his shame. 
 Goodale, surprised at his own pluck, 
 Laid half his victory to luck. 
 But said his prayers, resolved, that night. 
 Henceforth to stand up for the right. 
 However weak himself might be, 
 However strong his enemy. 
 
 For Tiiith is ojame, like fio;htino;-cocks. 
 Ready to give and take hard knocks, 
 
THE DEACONS' DUEL. 39 
 
 And if knocked down (see Bryant's pen), 
 Or " crushed to earth, will rise again," 
 And crow defiant as before, — 
 Cheering to meet his foe once more. 
 But Error, like a dunghill fowl, 
 Delights in farm-yards fat to prowl, 
 And struts, with plumage briglit and gay 
 To lead the silly hens astray ; 
 But bring him fairly to the fray. 
 He soon turns tail, and runs away. 
 Or, standing, squawks if hurt a bit. 
 And dies if he be fairly hit. 
 
 Thus had the deacons' duel sped, 
 
 With clanging tongues, till each had said. 
 
 Thrice over, all he had to say. 
 
 In favor and against old Gray, 
 
 With other things mixed in and out. 
 
 Zigzag, criss-cross, and round about ; 
 
 And in the end each mail-clad man 
 
 Stood where, at first, the fight began. 
 
 Though Titus, in his dreams that night. 
 
 Felt like a dunghill put to flight ; 
 
 And Goodale woke, next morn, to scan 
 
 Himself the game-cock of a clan. 
 
 With half the parish cheering o'er 
 
 His victory of the day before. 
 
 And the other half half-stupefied 
 
40 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 To tliink that Titus was defied ; 
 While all were in profound amaze, 
 That Goodale had the pluck to raise 
 His spurs against Titus in a figlit, 
 And put the golden cock to flight. 
 Such honors, thrust upon him then, 
 Have turned the heads of youno;er men ; 
 But he was old, with higher aim, 
 TJtat trembled at the gift of fame. 
 
 THE SITUATION. 
 
 A SWAMP-MIST, like a curtain, hung 
 O'er Grumbleton, and every tongue 
 Was clanging, like a fog-bell, loud. 
 To guide the wanderers in the cloud. 
 Crows, clamorous black-coats of the air, 
 In flocks were flitting here and there. 
 By instinct drawn whereby they know 
 Where food is waitincr for a crow. 
 Their sable prophets had foretold 
 That Gray would fall when he was old ; 
 And hence their watchmen looked to see 
 Fulfillment of the prophecy ! 
 So when, from tower of nei^hborino; tree, 
 They saw old Gray turned out to die. 
 
THE SITUATION. 41 
 
 They forthwith telegraphed the cry 
 
 From rook to rook, nor coukl withhold 
 
 The news, once loosed, till all were told. 
 
 No crow with less had been content ; 
 
 For vacant stables they can scent 
 
 Half-way across the continent. 
 
 And now, in old Gray's fate, each saw 
 
 Food for a poor crow's hungry maw : 
 
 Hence with their caws the mist resounded, 
 
 And Grumbleton was worse confounded. 
 
 Additional, from far and near 
 
 Came men, and letters drawn by fear 
 
 "That the dear flock was shepherdless," 
 
 With offers kind the fold to bless 
 
 With the best shepherd ever known. 
 
 Since sheep were yeaned or fleeces grown. 
 
 For parsons in old times, you see, 
 
 Could also scent a vacancy : 
 
 And candidates left in the lurch, 
 
 Were always looking for a church. 
 
 " These came in clouds " (old Goodale said), 
 
 " Like crows before old Gray was dead ; " 
 
 And added, with a blushing face, 
 
 " These black-coats seem a hungry race." 
 
 Thus mist and clouds hung o'er the town 
 
 Of Grumbleton, now upside-down; 
 
 And none could tell what was to be, 
 
 As when a drifting ship at sea. 
 
42 OLD nORSE GRAY. 
 
 With half the crew in mutiny, 
 The captain bound, the chart unknown. 
 Sails rent, masts sprung, the compass gone, 
 Now tossed by storms, and now befogged, 
 Rolls near the breakers, water-logged, 
 Her anchor foul and handled rawlj, 
 Tlie times, at least, look rather squally. 
 
 Good Deacon Titus grew distraught, 
 
 Witn troubles more than he had thought ; 
 
 For sometimes haply 'tis the fate 
 
 Of heaviest blows to reach the pate 
 
 That did the fioht orio-inate. 
 
 And Titus, shrewd, advancing man, 
 
 Gold-headed, leader of the clan. 
 
 Had long ago laid secret plan. 
 
 Unknown (of course) at first to all. 
 
 Save to his smallest shadow, Small, 
 
 Approved (why not ?) by every one, — 
 
 To modernize old Grumbleton. 
 
 ''''And 7101V to have the upshot such!'''' 
 
 Said Deacon Titus, " His too much ! " 
 
 'Twas also said he swore a bit ; 
 
 But this was only in a fit 
 
 Of anger, or by accident, 
 
 And not with any ill intent ; 
 
 At least, not as a had man sivears, 
 
 But taken at odds or unawares : 
 
THE CHOICE. 43 
 
 A nice distinction made at times, 
 And hard to be explained in rhymes, 
 But known to courts ecclesiastic. 
 And reason in its flights fantastic. 
 And civil courts, throughout tlie nation. 
 By help of mental aberration. 
 So when a good man, bearing pelf, 
 Swears, lies, or steals, Jie^s not himself ; . 
 But some foul sprite, outside or in, 
 And not himself, commits the sin. 
 Whereby the muse is glad to show, 
 What all the world is glad to know. 
 That when good Titus did aught evil, 
 'Twas not the deacon, but the Devil ; 
 And when aught good he did to speak on, 
 'Twas not the Devil, but the deacon. 
 
 THE CHOICE. 
 
 Now many heads had Grumbleton, 
 
 In place of former golden one ; 
 
 And every head seemed polygloted. 
 
 So much they pished, and pughed, and drotted. 
 
 For many heads have many views. 
 
 When parish-horse they have to choose ; 
 
 And pampered tastes, in man or brute, 
 
44 OLD nORSE GRAY. 
 
 Will make the palate hard to suit. 
 
 The mist still hung upon the place, 
 
 And hooded every human face ; 
 
 The crows still gathered round old Gray, 
 
 Cawing, impatient of delay. 
 
 And watching for their time to prey. 
 
 (Where they all came from no one knows, 
 
 But all the air seemed filled with crowds.) 
 
 And horses still came fast and thick ; 
 
 And all resolved to stay and stick. 
 
 Because the parish needed 07ie. 
 
 Six months the equine course had run, . 
 
 And yet the race seemed scarce begun. 
 
 The jockeys played keen trick and ruse, 
 
 Which made it harder yet to choose ; 
 
 For who that has a horse to sell, 
 
 Is ever known the truth to tell ? 
 
 The nags they liked, refused to stay : 
 
 One, when he smelt around old Gray, 
 
 Kicked up his heels and ran away. 
 
 Another at the oats and hay 
 
 Turned up his nose, and neighed for feed. 
 
 Broke loose and tore with frantic speed, 
 
 As if a spectre in the manger 
 
 Had seized him for a flying ranger. 
 
 The Bay, we know, though choice and true, 
 
 Would cost too much, and wouldn't do. 
 
 The Dapple, prancing on the sands, 
 
THE CHOICE. 45 
 
 Was voted off by show of hands. 
 
 The Bob, though famed for wind and speed, 
 
 Was terrible on hay and feed. 
 
 The Brown was perfect as could be. 
 
 But failed in point of pedigree. 
 
 Then came a long, lank, Sorrel screw, 
 
 With backbone, ribs, and rump in view, — 
 
 A Rozinant for Grumbleton, 
 
 Like him who bore the famous Don, 
 
 Ready to tilt right gallantly 
 
 'Gainst every windy heresy. 
 
 And snorting loud, like horse of war, 
 
 That smells the battle from afar. 
 
 The screw was sound, and cheap to buy. 
 
 But young folk raised such hue and cry 
 
 Against his awkward .gear and gate. 
 
 It sent him drooping with his fate. 
 
 To call another candidate. 
 
 Next day of trial came, and brought 
 
 '^ A horse which all the luorld had sought,'''' 
 
 So said his owner to excite 
 
 The parish, with a jockey sleight, 
 
 Like fisher who to get " a bite," 
 
 Throws bait that hides the hook from sight. 
 
 And tempts the fish's appetite. 
 
 " A horse," said he, " sound, willing, gay, 
 
 Kind, fast, and cheap, — a chestnut bay ; 
 
 A horse that I have taught to know 
 
46 OLD HORSE GRAY 
 
 Just how to draw, and when to ^o/" 
 In fact, he made as good a show 
 As any horse they yet had tried. 
 When lo I the inspectors' search espied 
 The horse s hair and mane were dyed ! 
 The horse was grai/, — an iron gray, — 
 But came, upon his trial day, 
 In color, a bright chestnut hay I 
 Dyed jockily, and thus disguised 
 Because the Gray was ostracized. 
 Of course this ^vas the end of him, 
 And Grumbleton was still more grim. 
 Thus week by week, on invitation, 
 Nag after nag came on probation, 
 To fill the parish vacancy ; 
 And none knew yet what was to be : 
 When lo ! by strange fatuity — 
 Inexplicable mystery ! 
 For such is fate, it came to pass. 
 The parish settled on an ass ! 
 Mysterious phenomenon. 
 Unheard of save in Grumbleton. 
 Hovve'er tliis fact was brouMit about, 
 Men differ, but the fact stands out; 
 From scores of nags to choose and pick, 
 From high and low, from thin and thick, 
 And after months of meditation. 
 On everv kind of horse creation. 
 
THE CHOICE. 47 
 
 Yet, in the end, it came to pass, 
 
 The parish settled on an ass. 
 
 Mysterious phenomenon. 
 
 Unheard of save in Grumbleton : 
 
 Hard truth, indeed, for fate to weave, 
 
 In her dark web ; hard to beheve ! 
 
 For ne'er before was such event 
 
 To any godly parish sent. 
 
 By choice, or fate, or accident : 
 
 Nor since has been in any land. 
 
 Nor shall be while the world shall stand. 
 
 Some laid the blame to mist and crowds. 
 
 That flocked from where nobody knows ; 
 
 And some to witches, elves, and sprites, 
 
 Hobgoblins, nightmares, and such frights ; 
 
 Some to the stingy oats and hay; 
 
 And some, alas, on poor horse Gray ; 
 
 And some on Titus, who, sore pressed. 
 
 Had said an ass would suit them best; 
 
 And some on Small, who, 'n times like these, 
 
 Did revel like a worm in cheese ; 
 
 Then old friend Goodale's turn came next, 
 
 Because good Titus he had vexed; 
 
 And last they laid it, still perplexed, 
 
 Upon the parson's farewell text, — 
 
 " Behold your house (foretelling fate) 
 
 Is left unto you desolate." 
 
48 OLD HOUSE GRAY. 
 
 OLD PARSON PRYNN. 
 
 But Parson Prynn had stood aloof 
 
 From clattering tongues and horse's hoof, 
 
 In retrospection living o'er 
 
 His happy life of years before, 
 
 Or looking to the life in store. 
 
 Upon the wings of hope sublime. 
 
 Above the clouds and storms of time, 
 
 He rose to the immortal clime. 
 
 He calmly rode upon the storm 
 
 That lashed his venerable form : 
 
 Amid confusion unconfused ; 
 
 Philosophizing, half amused. 
 
 At earth's foundations out of course 
 
 Because the church would buy a horse, — 
 
 At theologic monkey-shines 
 
 Of laymen aping learned divines, 
 
 Puffy with pharisaic leaven, 
 
 And walking on their heads to heaven. 
 
 Still striving, with experienced hand, 
 
 To heal the troubles of the land ; 
 
 Amazed at fate of old horse Gray ; 
 
 Amazed at crows that flacked to prey ; 
 
 Amazed to see his friends so scant. 
 
 And his good church so militant, 
 
 (For nearer to heaven they pressed cacli day, 
 
OLD PARSON PRYNN. 49 
 
 Fighting each other by the way ; ) 
 
 Amazed to find his hopes and town 
 
 In his old days turned upside-down, — 
 
 He yet stood calmly, looking far. 
 
 Like pilot on the northern star, 
 
 Who, wrecked and tossed upon the sea, 
 
 Yet bravely waits his destiny. 
 
 And while he prays. Thy will be done. 
 
 Fears not the settino; of the sun. 
 
 No fatalist w^as Parson Prynn, 
 
 But held that all things that had been. 
 
 And all that should hereafter be. 
 
 Were fixed from past eternity; 
 
 Yet also held that man was free, — 
 
 That souls, like ships launched on the w^ave, 
 
 Must find a haven or a grave. 
 
 Not with the hardness of the Turk, 
 
 Who torpid waits his destiny, 
 But with the Christian's heart for work, 
 
 Whate'er his Father's will might be, 
 He strove his gap of life to fill 
 With love to God, to men good-will, — 
 Still carrying sunshine to the poor. 
 And bread of life from door to door : 
 He kept not back the heavenly meat 
 From them who grudged him crumbs to eat ; 
 The timorous soul, in arms of prayer. 
 He bore from dark pit of despair 
 
50 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 To heaven's bright gate, and left him there, 
 
 Till Mercy rose and let him in, 
 
 A culprit pardoned of his sin ; 
 
 To sick men's agonies and fears. 
 
 To widows' loneliness and tears. 
 
 To orphans in their helpless years, 
 
 And to the homeless wanderer, 
 
 He did, with Christ-love, mmister ; 
 
 Beauty for ashes of the dead 
 
 He gave to hearts whose hopes had fled ; 
 
 And with the dying, side by side, 
 
 He walked down to the silent tide, 
 
 As far as living man can go. 
 
 To that sad bourn of human woe, 
 
 As near as mortal feet may tread 
 
 The noiseless river of the dead. 
 
 And there did watch the flickering flame. 
 
 Until the dark-winged angel came, 
 
 To bear away the precious prize, — 
 
 A ransomed soul to paradise. 
 
 With heart and works like these, good Prynn 
 
 Scarce heard the parish noise and din ; 
 
 Scarce felt the tempest's angry wave, 
 
 That might yet bear him to the grave ; 
 
 Nor saw the sly approach of Want, 
 
 That, secret, came grim-eyed and gaunt ; 
 
 The walking ghost of parish rage, 
 
 To haunt him from the parsonage ; 
 
OLD PARSON PRYNN. 51 
 
 Half heedless of the ragged coat, 
 
 And dingy kerchief round his throat, 
 
 And breeches old, with patch and tear, 
 
 Which parish thrift gave him to wear. 
 
 To prove him old and antiquated. 
 
 And Lazarus-like dilapidated. 
 
 Unfit to bring for any one 
 
 The news from heaven to Grumbleton, 
 
 Unfit to preach to well dressed sinners. 
 
 Or eat the remnants of their dinners. 
 
 Ripened by clouds as well as sun, 
 
 By sufferings like the Holy One, 
 
 He trod his way, and nearer God 
 
 Approached by every step he trod. 
 
 And with him would have taken his people. 
 
 Could they have looked above the steeple. 
 
 As streams do from their fountains flow, 
 
 And fruit from its own trees doth grow, 
 
 And from sweet buds sweet flowers blow. 
 
 And golden sheaves from golden seeds, 
 
 E'en so from good men's hearts good deeds. 
 
 Like grows from like. Weeds spring from 
 
 weeds. 
 The devil in man breeds devilishness, 
 Vile scorpions that crawl forth to oppress, 
 With stings of death, the human race. 
 But Christ in man sends forth sweet grace. 
 To walk earth's grave-cleft, mouldering sod, 
 
52 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Like Enoch when he walked with God, 
 
 In paths the Blessed Feet once trod ; 
 
 To lift men from the miry clay 
 
 Up to the light of endless day. 
 
 In Prynn's good heart Christ had his dwelling, 
 
 A fount whose streams were ever swelling, 
 
 A sun whose beams were ever glowing, 
 
 A tree whose fruits were ever growing, 
 
 A flower whose sweets, to heaven ascending, 
 
 Were with celestial odors blending. 
 
 Indwelling Christ, the Christ in man, 
 
 As God in Christ ; mysterious plan ! 
 
 Nought else survives the grave's dark portal. 
 
 Nothing but goodness is immortal. 
 
 It matters little what we gain. 
 It matters little what we lose ; 
 
 For pleasures always die in pain. 
 
 And Death is sure to claim his dues. 
 
 The rich man's palace, like the cot. 
 Is shadowed by the passing cloud ; 
 
 Both meet, at last, the common lot, — 
 The grave, the coffin, and the shroud. 
 
 The rich and poor, life's struggles o'er. 
 Are found at last of equal worth, 
 
 Whate'er their wealth or want before, 
 A bed and coverino; of earth. 
 
OLD PARSON PRYNN. 53 
 
 Man's only good on earth is heaven ; 
 
 His greatest joy blooms on the rod 
 By which his wandering soul is driven 
 
 Back to his happy home with God. 
 
 When earth, with all its pomp and pride, 
 Shall fade at last to great and small, 
 
 Then heaven's bright gates will open wide, 
 With equal welcome unto all. 
 
 With such good thoughts did Father Prynn 
 
 Solace himself for parish sin, 
 
 Of starving him and his good Gray 
 
 (A gentle hint, as if to say, 
 
 " Now die, old horse, or go away "), — 
 
 A mode peculiar to that day. 
 
 But not without solicitude 
 
 Did he look on his old Gray, good, 
 
 Now weak and lean from lack of food. 
 
 And even Titus said 'twas " guilt 
 
 That no asylum had been built 
 
 For parson or the parish jade. 
 
 When eleemosynary made ; 
 
 For other paupers pains were taken, 
 
 But these, more sacred, were forsaken." 
 
 It made that golden deacon's eye 
 
 Flow watery streams of piety. 
 
 And flushed his honest soul with rage. 
 
^^ OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 "That parish servants, in old age, 
 Had not an almshouse where to %, 
 Instead of staying there to die, 
 Where sinners made it an excuse 
 To slur the church with their abuse, 
 And rail the righteous for their riches, 
 Like sons of Belial and the witches." 
 
 Old Goodale held that poor Grav's case 
 "Was tougher, and less lined wi'th grace. 
 Than e'en his master's ; for good Pryim,' 
 When starved to death, would leave "all pain, 
 And rags, and go at once to rest. 
 Like Lazarus to Abram's breast. 
 But every truant school-boy knows. 
 The horse that starves on highway goes, 
 By transmigration, into crows." 
 
 OLD GRAY AND THE RAVENS. 
 
 Thus simple and half desperate. 
 
 To save old Gray from such black fxte. 
 
 By superstition urged, and love. 
 
 And conscious power of right to move, 
 
 Old Goodale schemed, and laid his course. 
 
 To cheat the crows, and save the horse. 
 
OLD GRAY AND THE RAVENS. 
 
 In sooth, of Gooclale one might say, 
 
 He loved a horse; and with old Gray 
 
 His life was in full sympathy. 
 
 The horse was old, and so was he ; 
 
 Was poor, and he knew poverty ; 
 
 The horse was legs for Parson Prynn, 
 
 And he his right hand long had been. 
 
 And for the parish, ere the strife. 
 
 Had been a pack-horse half his life, 
 
 And knew as well as old Gray could 
 
 The power of parish gratitude. 
 
 Moved thus in pity for the jade, 
 
 A pious pilgrimage he made. 
 
 Ere yet the frost had killed the grass, 
 
 And ere the church had stalled the ass. 
 
 From house to house, day after day. 
 
 A-begging for the poor horse Gray, 
 
 A peck of oats, a tuft of hay, 
 
 A sheaf of straw, a little meal, 
 
 With eager eloquence of zeal. 
 
 And action suited to appeal. 
 
 Nor did he always ask In vain : 
 
 Some gave and bade him come again. 
 
 So that old Gray's hay, straw, and grain, 
 
 In answer to old Goodale's toil, 
 
 Were like the widow's cruse of oil ; 
 
 And even Titus, at the sight. 
 
 Gave what he called " his widow's mite ; ' 
 
5G OLD HOUSE GRAY. 
 
 And thus, like parson sent adrift, 
 Old Gray found refuge and a shift. 
 
 In Goodale's yard a woodshed old 
 
 Was thatched, to shield him from the cold 
 
 And there safe-housed at home was he, 
 
 Groomed, fed, and rubbed by charity. 
 
 And yet the horse, with horse-like torpor. 
 
 Ne'er dreamed himself a parish pauper, 
 
 Though whinnying, with expressions meek. 
 
 The gratitude he could not speak. 
 
 He always knew the welcome tread 
 
 Of Goodale with his daily bread, 
 
 And raised his voice as if to bless 
 
 The hand that pitied his distress ; 
 
 And Goodale answered voice for voice. 
 
 With words that made old Gray rejoice, — 
 
 " A parson's horse has far more sense 
 
 Than many men of providence." 
 
 Nor was he fed and. stroked in vain, 
 
 But throve, and felt his oats again. 
 
 And seemed his colt-hood to renew, 
 
 So well in looks and streno;th he ^ivqw ; 
 
 Then restless grew not to be known 
 
 As sacred pauper of the town, 
 
 And, pawing, longed to take the 'road. 
 
 With willing back beneath the load. 
 
 Which bv lonii use had come to be 
 
OLD GRAY AND THE RAVENS. 57 
 
 His nature and necessity ; 
 
 For horse and man must have employment 
 
 To gain the hill-top of enjoyment. 
 
 And Gray no Idler was, but one 
 
 To spend his strength till strength was gone, 
 
 And die, at last, with harness on. 
 
 Like his old master, Parson Prynn ; 
 
 For horse and man so long had been, 
 
 And oft, on parish rounds together. 
 
 They were but parts of one another : 
 
 So when at length again old Gray 
 
 Was harnessed to the parish dray. 
 
 And Goodale gave good Prynn the reins, 
 
 For farewell round through parish lanes, 
 
 They both looked like themselves once more, 
 
 And younger than ten years before ; 
 
 At least. In Goodale's weakening eyes. 
 
 Who stood, and thus soliloquized: 
 
 " O brave, good horse ! were man as true, 
 
 And faithful to his work as you, 
 
 The world were better for us all. 
 
 And man a better animal! 
 
 O parson good ! if men but knew 
 
 What hfe of theirs Is hid in you, 
 
 They'd drive you not from holy seat. 
 
 Nor grudge you earthly bread and meat. 
 
 Nor let the cold, rough, wintry airs 
 
 Blow rudely thus your thin, white hairs. 
 
58 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Bleached white for tliem by toil and cares. 
 They've plucked the spring-time of your youth. 
 And manhood's summer; now, forsooth, 
 They spurn your autumn, like dumb brutes, 
 That trample on the ripest fruits 
 While reaching green, young, sapling boughs, 
 The half-formed fruit, and twigs to browse. 
 'Noiv go!' they say, when well they know 
 They've robbed you of the strength to go ! 
 They've drained your life out, and now say, 
 'G-o forth, old parson! Qo, old Gray! 
 Through storms, through wintry cold and snows, 
 Go! homeless, hungry, food for crows.' 
 God pity the old parson now ! 
 With that white crow^n around his brow, 
 A prince, and yet a becrcrar he. 
 To live and die on charity ! 
 God pity him and poor old Gray, 
 And us at the great judgment-day ! '' 
 Thus Goodale for the thousandth time, 
 Relieved himself of parish grime. 
 
 PARSON YOUNG. 
 
 Good Prynn still kept the sunny side. 
 Opening his door and windows wide, 
 
PARSON YOUNG. 59 
 
 To let tlie light of heaven come in, — 
 
 The sick heart's sweetest medicine. 
 
 Wrapped in the sun, with cheery view, 
 
 He saw his vine bud forth anew, 
 
 To bless and beautify the land, 
 
 By tillage of a younger hand ; 
 
 And streams renewed of heavenly grace, 
 
 Throuo;h channel of a fresher face. 
 
 'Tis true he felt the winter's cold, 
 
 But then he knew that he was old; 
 
 For good friend Titus long ago 
 
 Had kindly come and told him so, 
 
 And he in simple faith, forsooth. 
 
 Had taken the deacon's word for truth, 
 
 Without the proofs which, in few days. 
 
 Unasked, came by a score of waj^s, — 
 
 From warm debate in parish meeting. 
 
 Condoling words in friendly greeting. 
 
 Sharp gazing at his thin, white hairs. 
 
 That had been gray a score of years. 
 
 And at his coat, which he had worn 
 
 Ten years since first 'twas patched and torn. 
 
 So he good Titus did believe. 
 
 And owned Hwas time for him to leave. 
 
 We know the parish providence. 
 
 Their pious zeal and diligence, 
 
 And works, and patience, and delay. 
 
60 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 To get successor to the Gray : 
 
 The same good angels helped bring in 
 
 Successor to good Parson Prynn ; 
 
 And all the ladies used their eyes 
 
 Becomingly to criticise ; 
 
 And parish daughters, old, and young, 
 
 And middling, aided with the tongue. 
 
 We know the little deacon's plan, — 
 
 A thousand dollars' worth of man 
 
 For half the sum. For Small was willing 
 
 To give his sixpence for a shilling, 
 
 To please fastidious tastes, and, worse. 
 
 To please the stingy parish purse, 
 
 A thing well known among the pious. 
 
 But scorned by men of worldly bias. 
 
 And, in his little garret. Small 
 
 Had hid a model clergical. 
 
 Of what a parson ought to be, — 
 
 Which he had cribbed burglariously : 
 
 Perfect in polished cleric points, 
 
 From head to foot, wind, limb, and joints. 
 
 With soul seraphic understood. 
 
 That needed little earthly food. 
 
 And loved the flock, but not the fleece. 
 
 Small showed it when he spoke his piece, 
 
 To make distinct to every one 
 
 The parson fit for Grumbleton ; 
 
PARSON YOUNG. 61 
 
 So that the parish knew, by heart, 
 
 Just what they needed from the start. 
 
 They needed much a perfect, free, 
 
 And eas}^ talker, pastorly, 
 
 To visit six days in the week. 
 
 The straying sheep and lambs to seek : 
 
 But needed most a pulpit wonder, — 
 
 A Boanerges, son of thunder, 
 
 Apollo with his eloquence, 
 
 St. Paul for argument and sense, 
 
 St. John with loving heart and mind, 
 
 And these so mixed and recombined, 
 
 Artistic, as to make up one 
 
 Good preacher for good Grumbleton ; 
 
 Nice dressed, to suit the modern style. 
 
 And trimmed with small talk to beguile 
 
 The hours that lag in drawing-rooms, 
 
 And rid religion of its glooms. 
 
 And last, not least, important thing, — 
 
 Youthful, a David with his sling 
 
 And stones to slay the Philistine ; 
 
 With face, voice, song, and psalm divine, 
 
 To please the youth ; " for, after all, 
 
 Tliei/ are the people,^' said good Small. 
 
 " A parson young, with heavenly eyes. 
 
 Will surely lift them to the skies ; 
 
 A graceful parson sure will show 
 
 That grace with piety may grow; 
 
63 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 And parishes are always blest 
 When parsons are divinely dressed, 
 Unless, perchance, the well-bred youth 
 Be too polite to speak the truth." 
 
 No one could answer aro;ument 
 
 Of Small, so smooth and provident. 
 
 And many cleric candidates 
 
 Did try their best against the fates, 
 
 Like horses racing for the stakes. 
 
 Spurred sharply for their stomachs' sakes ; 
 
 But, panting, left the prize unwon, 
 
 So hard to win was Grumbleton ! 
 
 Till, tired, the parish made, at last, 
 
 Good Titus head as in the past ; 
 
 And he, to give the parish rest. 
 
 From all on trial chose the best. 
 
 Vain rest ! when parish storms, in store, 
 
 May rise again, as heretofore ; 
 
 And Parson Young may soon grow^ old, 
 
 And never know it till he's told ; 
 
 And sisters love, with pious features, 
 
 To go to church to hear young preachers, 
 
 With praises for the sacred pet, 
 
 And hearts upon the altar set. 
 
 But Titus dreams his war is done. 
 
 And, surely, peace must have begun. 
 
 ^ 
 
BACKED OUT. 63 
 
 But he is not the only one 
 With daughters fair in Grumbleton, 
 Whose hearts, and hands, and heritage, 
 Would grace a youthful parsonage. 
 And what is one among so many ? 
 Whereof few think, perchance, if any ; 
 For each sweet charmer doth expect 
 To be the chosen and elect, 
 And in her sleeve laughs at the folly 
 Of disappointed Grace and Polly. 
 But disappointed dames or lasses 
 Breed little peace for parish asses. 
 
 BACKED OUT. 
 
 But why anticipate the night 
 While day is flooding us with light ? 
 Good Titus saAV the sky was blue, 
 And even clouds had golden hue ; 
 And having in his heart, concealing, 
 More than he needed of good feeling, 
 He ran, with haste, to Father Prynn, 
 To share with him the joys therein ; 
 By which to help him bear his fate. 
 And parsonage hurry to vacate, 
 Or back him out affectionate ; 
 
64 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 For Prjnn was weak, and ties were strong 
 
 That bound him to the place so long; 
 
 And Titus, joyful to the brim, 
 
 With surplusage would comfort him. 
 
 '^ Good-by, old horse ! " (he thus began, 
 
 O'erjoyous, half-forgetful man) — 
 
 " Good-day ! I mean. A slip of tongue, 
 
 From thinking of our pastor, Young ! 
 
 You know, of course, he wants the place, 
 
 Is waitino;; but 'twould be dism-ace 
 
 To put new bird in an old cage, 
 
 Like this worm-eaten parsonage : 
 
 He might break out, you know, some day, 
 
 And, ere we knew it, fly away ! 
 
 The house has leaked ten years at least. 
 
 And isn't fit for man or beast; 
 
 So if you could go out next week. 
 
 Or say to-day, 'twould, so to speak, 
 
 Aid us in doing what we're able. 
 
 To clean, as 'twere, the Augean stable. 
 
 I see, by twitchings in your face, 
 
 'Tis hard to leave the dear old place ! 
 
 But then 'tis wrong for us, you know. 
 
 To set our hearts on thino-s below. 
 
 Besides, we have a better home. 
 
 Where angels beckon us to come ; 
 
 A heavenly mansion where, dear friend, 
 
 Our partings will forever end : 
 
BACKED OUT. 65 
 
 Nor endless cash is needed there, 
 
 To keep the building in repair. 
 
 It must be joy to you, good Prynn ! 
 
 To leave the world of toil and sin ; 
 
 Like man afield, who eyes the sun. 
 
 To see how near his work is done. 
 
 Hard have you toiled here many years. 
 
 For which we've blessed you with our tears, 
 
 And fondly always looked above 
 
 For your reward of toil and love. 
 
 And glad we are that none has found 
 
 Your doctrine, Hfe, or heart unsound ; 
 
 We have all searched, and searched in vain, 
 
 For aught in you to give us pain : 
 
 Except it grieved us all to see 
 
 You saved none of your salary. 
 
 But used it faster than we paid it, — 
 
 I say it now and oft have said it, — 
 
 And so have left us in arrears. 
 
 One half each year, for full ten years ; 
 
 A thousand dollars due to you. 
 
 Which you will have to lose or sue, — 
 
 A parson-like improvidence. 
 
 Just hke their lack of common sense ! 
 
 For even the bees, that gather honey. 
 
 Might teach you how to lay up money ; 
 
 But that you never did, nor would, 
 
 And now I tell you for your good. 
 
66 OLD TIORSE GRAY. 
 
 ' Why dldnH tve 2)ai/ you as we should?^ 
 
 Because, you know, good Father Prynn, 
 
 That when the city tide flowed in, 
 
 We had as much as we could do ; 
 
 We had to build our houses 'skew. 
 
 And dress to suit the fashions new, 
 
 And lay out grounds, or what's their name, 
 
 So that the more the money came. 
 
 Our wants kept coming in the same. 
 
 To cover up as 'twere our sliame. 
 
 And make us decent, in the eyes 
 
 Of people whom we learned to prize. 
 
 But who, you know, could criticise. 
 
 And then your salary to raise. 
 
 You know, we tried all sorts of ways, — 
 
 First prayers, thanksgivings, fasting-days ; 
 
 Then raffles, fiirs, and lotteries ; 
 
 Until you said, ' you'd starve and freeze. 
 
 Rather than live by parish gambling.'' 
 
 This showed us that your mind ivas rambling^ 
 
 AVeakened by age ; and then, perforce. 
 
 We had to buy another horse. 
 
 And leave you suffering, in old age. 
 
 In this old woodchuck parsonage. 
 
 The chimney down, the siding off, 
 
 And daylight shining through the roof 
 
 I hope you'll leave it soon, good Prynn, 
 
 To let the carpenters come in. 
 
BACKED OUT. 67 
 
 And make it fit for Parson Yonng." 
 Thus Titus rattled with his tongue, 
 Like crazj-brained, o'erflowing boy, 
 Dehghted with a new-bought toy. 
 Nor word had answered Father Prynn, 
 Though laughing all the while within ; 
 But said, as Titus left the door, 
 " Your speech is cheerful, deacon, very ; 
 Let us thank God, who made us poor, 
 That He has also made us merry." 
 
 Titus was gone ; but on the wall 
 
 His shadow stood, — good Deacon Small, 
 
 Who came to tell, with parting word. 
 
 What things were false that Prynn had heard, 
 
 About his (Small's) great influence, 
 
 Li plotting Prynn's departure hence. 
 
 " You know," said Small, " how matters stand ; 
 
 Friend Titus owns the purse and land. 
 
 And loves to have the upper hand ; 
 
 And hence, about changing parish horse, 
 
 We had to let him have his course. 
 
 Or true religion would have flown 
 
 From Grumbleton to parts unknown ; 
 
 Which thing, I knew, would break your heart, 
 
 Wherefore, in fact, I took your part. 
 
 My heart and vote have been with you. 
 
 To whom my all below is due. 
 
68 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 You helped me in my swacldling-time, 
 
 To worm out from tlie pit and slime ; 
 
 You taught me, by your text on small things, 
 
 Not to despise myself of all things. 
 
 And that, too, in my days of youth, 
 
 Ere I had reached my present growth ; 
 
 And eloquence, when small and weak, 
 
 1 learned from hearing you^ sir, speak; 
 
 And by your words I hope to crawl 
 
 To seats in hijxhest heaven ! " said Small. 
 
 Thus did the Lilliputian man. 
 
 Disguised as good Samaritan, 
 
 His buttery words for balsam pour 
 
 Into the wounded parson's sore : 
 
 And closed the act with " One word more : 
 
 I trust you see my gratitude, — 
 
 That I've done all things for your good ; 
 
 And that you believe too much in virtue 
 
 To think that I would try to hurt your 
 
 To whom Prynn, with a twinkling smile, 
 
 To ease the little man of guile. 
 
 Said what the ox said to the fly 
 
 Upon his horn, with humor sly, — 
 
 " Why, bless you ! little Deacon Small ! 
 
 I didn't feel you, sir, at all ! " 
 
 Then exit, smiling, tricksy elf, 
 
 And m*andlv conscious of himself. 
 
BACKED OUT. 69 
 
 Scarce had he gone when old horse Gray, 
 Now shining with his oats and hay, 
 Was whinnying at the parson's door, 
 And Goodale entered as of yore ; 
 Not stooping as he did before 
 He Titus gave the drubbing sore ; 
 Nor dodging now the haughty curse, 
 With fears to offend the rich man's purse ; 
 Nor terror in his gentle tones ; 
 Nor cringing of his marrow bones ; 
 But straight and firm, as on the day 
 He rescued from the tombs old Gray ; 
 With backbone exercise erect. 
 And manly, conscious self-respect. 
 The two old friends of twenty years. 
 With prayers commingling meet, and tears. 
 Twin-hearted, linked by sufferings. 
 And joys, and hopes of holy things. 
 And faith, and love of all things good. 
 And ties of endless brotherhood. 
 Goodale, with gentle hand, untwines 
 The tendrils of the parson's vines. 
 That cling so lovingly and strong 
 To the old home they've cheered so long ; 
 Her rose-bush too, nursed with such care. 
 For May's dear sake, still standing where 
 She left it, with the dew-drops wet. 
 And bearing sweet white roses yet. 
 
70 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 But every window, room, and door, 
 And every plank in the old floor. 
 And every tree, plant, bush, and flower, 
 Clung to the parson with strange power. 
 While he was struggling this sad day, 
 Struggling to tear himself away. 
 It seemed a kind of death, at last, 
 Severing him from all the past ; 
 And when, with final pang and groan 
 Known to his silent heart alone. 
 The ties were cut, and Prynn was gone, 
 It seemed the parsonage soul had fled ; 
 Cold, empty, dark, the house was dead. 
 
 THE HOME LOVE. 
 
 A thousand memories bound him there, — 
 The blossoms and the fruits of years ; 
 
 Loves, labors, watchings, hopes, and prayer, 
 And joys, but, most of all, his tears. 
 
 From this old nest his birdlino-s fledixed, 
 Flew forth, with blessings on their wing ; 
 
 And to the sacred roof-tree, pledged. 
 Yearly returned with joy to sing. 
 
t; 
 
 I 
 
 TEE HOME LOVE. 7] 
 
 Sorrow had sanctified the place ; 
 
 For May, his other life, from this 
 Sweet home, she blessed with so much grace. 
 
 Ascended to the hio;her bliss. 
 
 And Parson Prjnn and his sweet May 
 Were one, if ever twain were one ; 
 
 She left him when his hair was gray. 
 But ere his Master's work was done. 
 
 Flesh of his flesh, his life's sweet life. 
 Who long had loved and cherished her. 
 
 The old man's heart died with his wife ; 
 His home became her sepulchre. 
 
 Though buried in the churchyard near. 
 He spoke not of her as the dead^ 
 
 But talked with her as living here^ 
 In an immortal union wed. 
 
 He needed not the limner's art 
 To keep the memory of her face ; 
 
 Her living image in his heart, 
 
 Unchanged by death, still held its place. 
 
 No picture on the homestead wall, 
 No saint in consecrated shrine, 
 
72 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Nor art inspired, could so recall 
 The features of a soul divine. 
 
 Next to his Lord did he adore 
 
 His sainted ^lay, as years grew dim ; 
 
 And most of all he loved her for 
 
 The likeness which she bore to Him. 
 
 He hears her voice, — sweet, soft, and fair ; 
 
 He hears her footsteps go and come ; 
 She kneels with him in daily prayer, 
 
 At the dear altar of their home. 
 
 'Twas this that made that home so dear, 
 Though old, decayed, and little worth ; 
 
 To him, with all his memories here. 
 There was no other home on earth. 
 
 But oftener now he looks afar, 
 To see, within his Father's gates. 
 
 The house where many mansions are, 
 And longs to go, but meekly waits. 
 
 Then leave him till his time shall come : 
 Why open all his griefs afresh ? 
 
 By driving him from that dear home, 
 You wound him deeper than the flesh. 
 
REFUGE. 73 
 
 Perchance, you wound the Christ on high, 
 Who lives in endless sympathy 
 
 With wounded man, and from the sky 
 Cries out, "Ye do it unto me ! " 
 
 REFUGE. 
 
 In Goodale's cot, that night, the sleep 
 Of Prynn was dreamless, sound, and deep. 
 Angels of God still camp around 
 The tent where such good men are found. 
 And poor men's pity for the poor 
 Brings double blessings down in store. 
 To them who give and them who take, 
 The gift of love, for Jesus' sake. 
 Nor ansels left that humble home, 
 Nor frugal plenty ceased to come, 
 While Goodale lived, with staff and stay. 
 And, after he had passed away, 
 His children's children blessed the day 
 When he had rescued old horse Gray 
 And his good master from the cold. 
 When they were homeless, poor, and old : 
 The places where they slept and ate. 
 Seemed blessed thenceforth and consecrate ; 
 While on the sacred parish Fate 
 Had sternly written, Desolate. 
 
74 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Meanwhile the crows had disappeared, 
 The mist from Grumbleton liad cleared, 
 The silent snow lay on the ground, 
 And scarce was heard a living sound 
 When Parson Prynn and old horse Gray 
 Where seen by Goodale on their way 
 To parts unknown to them and him ; 
 But human eyes are often dim. 
 
 All Grumbleton was still asleep, 
 
 In snoring slumbers, fast and deep. 
 
 The roosters crowed with stifled voice, 
 
 As if with light they'd scarce rejoice ; 
 
 The kine their drowsy courses took. 
 
 In silence to the water brook. 
 
 Across the shrouded paths of snow. 
 
 With measured footsteps, soft and slow. 
 
 As if afraid their muffled tread 
 
 Might wake the village of the dead. 
 
 The sky was heavy overhead. 
 
 And heavy on the parson's breast ; 
 
 But clouds were breaking in the west, 
 
 And westward lay the good man's course, 
 
 Whence light shone on both man and horse, 
 
 When they had reached the hill-top high, 
 
 Stamping their profile on the sky. 
 
 Bright token ! which old Goodale cheered. 
 
 Who watched them till they disappeared. 
 
SEQUEL. 70 
 
 That lio-ht shone not on Gmmbleton. 
 God wot if e'er it shine again ! 
 But they who sleep ask not the sun ; 
 And dead men have no sense of pain. 
 
 SEQUEL. 
 
 Old Gray lived many years, it seems ; 
 For ofttimes he appeared in dreams 
 To Titus on his bed at night, 
 Who always trembled at the sight. 
 " No nightmare this ! " Titus would say, 
 " But veritable old horse Gray, 
 Who thus survives to trample on 
 The peaceful rest of Grumbleton ! " 
 But dreams, like fables, are fictitious, 
 And golden heads oft superstitious. 
 
 But this we know, with all the rest. 
 That Parson Prynn was Goodale's guest. 
 Year out, year in, for many a year, 
 And younger grew with Christmas cheer. 
 From distant parish, hale and sound. 
 He came as sure as year came round. 
 For Prynn lived long the world to bless. 
 Nor died the death of idleness. 
 
76 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 And these two friends would sit and chat, 
 Day in, day out, of this and that. 
 With hearts as airy as a feather. 
 And laugh and praise the Lord together ; 
 And living o'er again their joys. 
 Pass backward and become two boys : 
 Then part, with joyous song of praise 
 To Wisdom for her length of days, — 
 With chorus quaint for gray-beard tongue, 
 *' The merry heart is always young. ^"^ 
 
 And Gray, — why, bless him ! old horse Gray 
 
 Was parson's legs for many a day. 
 
 In Prynn's new" parish was no dearth 
 
 Of wisdom to discern his worth ; 
 
 And, popular, no critic dunce 
 
 Could fail to see his points at once. 
 
 Gray knew the rounds his master took, 
 
 And had grave, ministerial look. 
 
 By long experience, which doth tend 
 
 To make e'en horses reverend. 
 
 The people loved the good old horse. 
 
 But loved his master most, of course ; 
 
 And by an annual feast gave thauks 
 
 That Grumbleton had played such pranks. 
 
 And, swine-like, trampled on the gem 
 
 Which else had never come to them. 
 
 Old Gray his pastoral habits showed 
 
THE LIVING FIELDS. 
 
 At every gate-post on the road ; 
 And if he missed a single door, 
 'Twas never cottage of the poor. 
 Thus Gray lived many years, to bless 
 Both souls and bodies in distress; 
 And then — his work-days being over — 
 Lived as he sJiould, and died in clover. 
 
 THE LIVING FIELDS. 
 
 While good men sleep, the living seeds 
 They've sown, into rich harvests shoot; 
 
 They rest from labor, but their deeds 
 Do follow, with immortal fruit. 
 
 Prayers, like the angels, never die ; 
 
 But to and fro, to heaven's sweet bowers, 
 And back, on tireless wings, they fly, 
 
 With blessings for this world of ours. 
 
 And, in the Holy Book, 'tis said 
 
 That sacred vials are kept, in heaven, 
 
 With tears of saints, in sorrow shed. 
 As pledge of souls to be forgiven. 
 
 These poured from windows of the skies, 
 In odorous showers, spread o'er the place 
 
78 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 Wlience tliej exhaled, from weeping eyes, 
 And fill the fields with fruits of grace. 
 
 Thence wafted, like the breath of flowers. 
 Again they rise to realms above ; 
 
 Again to fall, in joyous showers. 
 In a perpetual round of love. 
 
 Thus has it been, through many years. 
 Where long ago, his work all done. 
 
 Good Father Prynn, 'mid joys and tears, 
 Sank down, like setting of the sun. 
 
 That sacred decade of his toil, 
 
 The last and best that he had given. 
 
 With willing hands to willing soil. 
 
 Made his new parish sweet, like heaven. 
 
 He sowed ; the blossoms grew to fruits ; — 
 The fruits, w^ell sheltered from the blast, 
 
 And nourished from the living roots. 
 
 Grew ripe, and safe were housed at last. 
 
 Then came the sowing-time once more. 
 With i)romise of the harvest blest ; 
 
 When lo ! a voice, — " Thy work is o'er ; 
 Servant, well done ! Come, now, and rest I " 
 
THE LIVING FIELDS. 79 
 
 Fair spring had decked the brow of May 
 With pure, white blossoms ; and the birds 
 
 Were singing, all the live-long day, 
 Their anthems of unwritten words. 
 
 White blossoms wreathed the old man's head. 
 As fragrant and as pure as they. 
 
 They asked him why he smiled ; he said, 
 " I hear the song of my sweet May ! " 
 
 'Tis only with immortal birth 
 
 The good man struggles when he dies : 
 " JSe's deadr'' groans out the stricken earth; 
 
 '-'- Re lives 1^'' is answered from the skies. 
 
 Thus passed his soul on spring's sweet breath, 
 
 And in celestial arms of love 
 Was carried from the room of death. 
 
 To sing with his sweet May above. 
 
 He sings, while from the living field, 
 
 That gave the aged exile rest. 
 Full sheaves are borne, which harvests yield, 
 
 To crown the memory of the blest. 
 
 6 
 
^^0 OLD HORSE GRAY. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 And what, the while, of Grumbleton ? 
 A carcass, if the salt be gone, 
 Or if the salt has lost its savor, 
 Retaineth not good smell nor flavor. 
 But rots. And quick the banished light 
 Is followed by incoming night. 
 At least 'twas so in times a-o;one, 
 And likely so in Grumbleton. 
 For records, ploughed up with the sod, 
 Where 'tis surmised that place once stood, 
 Signed by their church clerk, Ichabod, 
 Show that the parish groped about, 
 As if the sun had been put out. 
 When gas was yet too dear to buy, 
 And oil and lamps were scarce and high ; 
 That darkness like a plague prevailed, 
 Bhnd-staggers man and horse assailed ; 
 The crops grew sickly-pale and failed ; 
 The rot seized hold u])on the sheep. 
 And they who watched them fell asleep, 
 Drugged, seemingly, to slumbers deep ; 
 Then dearth crept in with winter cold. 
 Shriveled and pinched the drowsy fold. 
 And made e'en shrunken Titus scold. 
 At lack of bread mid heaps of gold. 
 
FINIS. 81 
 
 Men eked along, on stores laid in 
 
 In plenteous times of Parson Prynn, 
 
 Eating while their provisions lasted, 
 
 And then, when out of food, they fasted ; 
 
 But fasting led to greater bother ; 
 
 For men, grown lean, scarce knew each other, 
 
 And brother fell afoul of brother, 
 
 Battlino; till all were bruised and mangled. 
 
 So much were their affairs entangled, 
 
 That living long on milk and water, 
 
 And braying each other in the mortar. 
 
 And lackinoj wholesome lio;ht and food, 
 
 E'en preaching did them little good. 
 
 In vain they fasted, brayed, alas ! 
 
 In vain. And vainly brayed the ass. 
 
 Goodale's descendants, and such men, 
 
 Went forth, and ne'er came back again. 
 
 Warned by a dream of coming woe. 
 
 Thus much the parish records show. 
 
 And there they end. Hence they who know, 
 
 Say, " Grumbleton has gone helowJ^ 
 
 Besides, no map gives any trace, 
 
 In Christendom, of such a place ; 
 
 And Father Prynn has searched, in vain, 
 
 On every heavenly hill and plain. 
 
 With Goodale's help, for any one, 
 
 These fifty years, from Grumbleton. 
 
82 OLD UORSE GRAY. 
 
 Hence they affirm who ought to know 
 (For where else could the parish go?) 
 Tliat Grumbleton has gone below. 
 That's all. Amen. It may be so. 
 
Old Horse Gray 
 
 AND 
 
 THE PARISH OF GRUMBLETON 
 
 EDWARD HOPPER. 
 
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