LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.^ ^ Shelf il.5-_- - UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. TRANSITION SCENE. " From dusty law-books Avhat an awful stride To tliat briglit seat the beaming: Miise beside ! " p. 94. INSIDE THE BAR OTHER OCCASIONAL POEMS JOHN W. M AY '■J 'Avt insanit homo, mtt versus /aci«."— Horace. f SEP 6 PORTLAND. ME.: HOTT, FOGG & DONHAM. 1884. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, BY JOHN W. MAY, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at "Washington. JOURNAL PRESS, LEWISTON, ME. Auburn, Me., Feb. 1, 1884. Beother Mat : As Secretary of the Androscoggin Bar Asso- ciation I forward you herewith a copy of Resolutions, re- questing the pubhcation of your poems. These Resohitious were offered by Hon. George C. Wing, and were adopted by unanimous vote of the Association at a meeting held at the Court-House, Jan. 16, 1884. I feel that I express the wish of the Association when I request your early action in accordance with the same. Sincerely Tours, H. W. OAKES, SecreUmf. JOHX W. Mat, Esq., Auburn, Me. RESOLUTIONS. Whereas, Brother John W. May has at different times in the past composed a large number of poems on different topics, par- ticularly the Androscoggin Bar, its members and practice, some of which have been published, and all of which have given pleasure to the Bar and afforded satisfaction to its members, therefore Resolved, That it is the wish of the Bar that Bro. May be requested to collect his several poetical etTusions and cause the same to be published in book form, to the end that tliey may be preserved and secured to the Bar and to his many friends, who highly appreciate not only his worth as a man, his ability and integrity as a counselor at law, but his rare and happy gift as a poet. A true copy. Attest: H. W. OAKES, Secretari/. To the Androscoggin Bar Association, by whose com- phmentary vote these waifs have been referred to with a request for collection and preservation, and for the amuse- ment and entertainment of whose members most of them were originally written,— the same having been the work of leisure hours, and suggested, to a large extent, by observations and incidents in Court, and by achievements and characteristics of individual members of the Associa- tion, and intended only for the day and the occasion, — this vohime is respectfully inscribed by one of their number, who is under obligations to them for many ftivors and courtesies, and whose aspirations in this department of belles-lettres, will be sufficiently gratified if he has con- tributed something in his way to their enjoyment. J. W. M. Lewiston, August, 1884. TABLE OF CONTENTS. Orave Doubts, 1 Androscoggin, ss., 5 The Price of the Pig, . . . . 9 ''Owed" to Wing, .... 14 Pa?au for the City, .... 17 Lines to tlie Clipper, . . . . 23 The Dog that Bit McFinnihaddie, . 26 The Bull Case, 28 The Canine Fertilizer, 31 Obiter Dicta, 33 The Adipose Tissue 37 The State Liquor Commissioner Waited Upoi 41 The Short-Han' Feller, 47 Tru Fillossofy ov Korreck Spellin, . 50 Cook's Dividend, 53 The Imp of Fame, .... 55 Phil Sheridan, 59 Id Triumphe, 63 The Juleps, 68 The Poetical Man, .... . 71 Epistle to H. Greeley, 75 Compliments of the Season, 79 Eliza Jane Protests, .... 81 To the Culler of Staves, . . 84 The City Missionary, .... . 86 My Grand Epic, . 88 That Summer Hat, .... . 99 VI John Daley, the Sthrame Over, How it Happened, Ode for the X. Y. Z., Gov. Dunn's New Hat, The Water Campaign in Auburn, To Jenkins, the Janitor, Judge Walton's Thermometer, . Gen. Butler Appears for the Lasten The Auburn Ghost, Finale, 103 107 111 116 119 122 124 126 128 131 OCCASIONAL POEMS. The Burden of the Rhyme, . 137 West Pitch, .... . 141 Memorial Day, . 143 David Barker, . 145 In Memoriam, . 147 The Wood Nymph, . 149 Summer and Sunset, . . 153 Poesy, . 156 The Pearl of Maranocook, . . 161 My Volume of Burns, . 167 Tester-night, . 172 Centennial Poem, . 181 PREFACE. It is perhaps quite unuecessary to make auy remarlcs. explanations, or apologies to accompany the publication of such "effusions" as these. They were written at different times, more for amusement and the entertainment of the writer's associates at the Bar, than with any view to their collection and publication. In responding to the flattering request of our Association, the purpose has been, so far as practicable, to prepare a book which, it is hoped, may commend itself to the legal profession in Maine, and at the same time present some attractions to the public at large. T am aware that its interest is to a considerable extent local, and also, that it contains many personalities : the latter however, I believe it is well understood, were all conceived in good nature and have been used with the kindest intentions. If the volume serves as an occasional cordial to the legal fraternity who have asked its publica- tion, its leading purpose will be accomplished. In reference to the illustrations, I would say, the idea was an after-thought. It was the opinion of some of my brethren of the Bar, that several of the poems were sus- ceptible of illustration, and that additional interest would be given to the book if suitable illustrations could be obtained. I desire to acknowledge my obligations to the artist, .Mr. D. D. Coombs of Auburn, for the satisfactory manner in wliich he has executed his part of the work. J. \V. M. Lewiston, Me., August, 1884. INSIDE THE BAR. GRAVE DOUBTS. There's a measly distemper which sometimes afflicts Gentlemen of the bar and advice interdicts : It defieth the doctors, all physic it scouts ; To-da}' it is on me, — a touch of grave doubts. Have you never had 'em, O brothers, declare, — When you've wrestled and tugged till about to despair, With some tough old conundrum too stubborn to yield To the logic incisive which you and I wield? Have you never heard the low, guttural sound That proceeds from the depths when one struggles pro- found With great arguments j)ro and great arguments con, Till he gropes in the cobwebs perplexed and undone ? Shall I give it up, wlien the burgher of fame. The great Wouter Van Twillor, so noted liecame For his marvelous skill at revolving in mind, And never deciding the issue defined? Nil, nil desperandum ! Aui gloria, aut nil! If I keep from you, brothers, these treasures until Some spirit doth prompt me to launch 'em abroad, You'll lose all the salad, and I the reward. 1 GRAVE DOUBTS. Come out from your pigeon-holes, dainties, come here ! All soiled with the dust and unfit to appear : — Let me brush off the mould and the dingy mildew ; Let me do up the budget, fresh, shiny, and new. Ah ! when I am up on the high rounds of fame, I'll decide upon something, though doubting the same ; Meantime let me ponder and smoke if I crave. And keep up tlie battle with doubts that are grave. If perchance the low guttural sound you should hear, Then be sure, in the depths, there's a tussle severe ; That some problem of doubt on the hip has got hold And hangs fire as it did with the burgher of old. ->^>i^^3^ SETH SAMPSON, ESQ. ANDROSCOGGIN, SS. : OR THE MYSTERIES AND EMOLUMENTS OF THE LAW EXPLAINED. Androscoggin, ss. ! a significant phrase, Interpreted here in divers queer ways : Not a writ, a return, or a record is made, But Androscoggin, ss. is out on parade. Now the huvyers, and sheriffs, and clerk of the courts All know the deep meaning this law phrase imports ; But the vulgar plebeians, they never could guess The full force of the words, Androscoggin, ss. Androscoggin, indeed, is the bailiwick's name ; SS. is the sticker, what meaneth the same? Videlicet, say some,— soft soder, soft soap ;— Such sneer at the law as some sneer at the Pope, Deriding its weightier matters instead of The mint and the anise and cumin we've read of. Others wiser, assert with more serious intent, Seth Sampson, Esquire, is the man who is meant; — Seth Sampson who sits 'tween the l)ench and the bar. And hearkens to catch every lisp of the law. And feeds on such fodder, though he never grows fat, But leaner and lanker, more sharp and all that, — Till he looks like some genius judicial let loose From a case of old law books grown dingy with use, All pickled and dried in the essence of law, And as full of sharp points as the brief that you draw With his long gray hair and his antique clothes, And his ponderous specs a-straddle his nose, ANDROSCOGGIN, SS. And his calf-skin vest so odd you would laugh At the ancient volume thus bound in calf, — Seth Sampson, they say, is the phantom ss. ; Look out for his clutches, you rogues who transgress. In the trial of cases called civil, 'tis true, Androscoggin^ ss. but proclaims the " venue " ; While in criminal causes, by legal intent. Both " venue " and the '•'• populi salus" are meant. The majesty stern of the county at large Stands up and speaks out in the criminal charge ; Making burglars, and thieves, and assassins and rakes Pay the penalties due for their mischief's mistakes. Androscoggin, ss. is a summons of fear When it reaches the precincts of pea-nuts and beer. Disturbing the hucksters and leaving withal A margin for profits exceedingly small. Eliza McM. was most grievously poor ; Androscoggin, ss. had been 'round to her door In the person of two or tliree bright button chaps. Whose call was unwelcome and boded mishaps. High words had been heard in Eliza's abode ; Some guests had gone forth with too much of a load. And the scent of " i^. 6r.," as the button chaps swore. Told a tale of the " slewed" at Eliza's own door. Now these button chaps bolted right into her house. And Eliza showed fight which raised a great touse ; — They looked in the cupboards and smelled of the cans ; She whacked a big bottle right out of their ban's With a blow of the poker, and smash on the floor, Went the " little cold water " she'd kept in her store. They smelled of the bottles and tumblers and jugs, They smelled of the tea-cups and saucers and mugs, ANDROSCOGGIN, SS. 7 Aud the}' searched for a smell amid storms of abuse, But never smelled " 7cater" at all in the house. jhidroscoggin, ss. called Eliza in court On a charge which both keeping and sale did import, And Eliza arraigned faltered faint in distress, — " Not guilty yer honor, it's a lie of ss." "•Are you ready for trial, have you counsel engaged?" Said the judge to Eliza, her grief unassuaged : " No coxinsel your honor;- I am too j)oor, sir, to pay Any laivyer to helpj me." Here fainted away The poor, trembling Eliza, till, touched bv her grief, The judge assigned counsel, which brought some relief. But the jury, despite all the counsel could do. Said : " Guilty of keeping and selling it too." And the judge imposed sentence of hundreds and cost, Or jail for long months in which profits are lost, — A terrible doom for poor 'Liza McM., Convicted, condemned, in X)ersona, in rem. But she had a big pocket down deep in her dress ; She went down to its bottom in this her distress And she brought up a wad of the greenbacks and paid Every cent of the fine and the costs, and she said : "Ye talked well for me, lawyer; it grieves me to say I'm too jwor for your excellent talking to x>ay ; I've but fifty cents left — take that, sir, and ivhen The button chaps p)la.gue vie, — I'll icant ye again." Here she sobl)ed with a sob of more startling distress, Aud she cursed the old cove, Androscoggin, ss. In brief (for in fact, I'm but writing a brief,) Androscoggin, ss. is an arrant old thief : He plundered Eliza, a destitute womau, And treated her, too, in a wav most inhuman ; ANDROSCOGGIN, SS. He took all her profits aud never said grace ; He left for the lawyer who pleaded her case But a fifty-cent scrip, which was meaner than dirt. Now I join with Eliza and boldly assert, (And I rise with authorities strong to sustain The point that I make and now mean to maintain,) That of all the old hogs that root 'round in the street, Androscoggin, ss. is the meanest you meet ; For he grabs for the whole wuth a merciless grip. Leaving scarce for the lawyer a fifty-cent scrip. Here I close in the faith I have made out a case ; Shall I hear a " no7i constat " now flung in ni}' face? The jury may judge and a verdict express. I have argued m}' cause, Androscoggin, ss.. State of Maine, if you please, versus 'Liza McM. : Androscoggin, ss. made the grab, sir, in rem. THE PRICE OF THE PIG. [LEWISTOX MUXICIl'AL COURT, ISTi. KXOWLTOX, J., PRESIDING.] There was a man whose name was H., Lived o'er in Auburn town ; He had two pigs, and each was worth A •' V " or more, cash down. Another man whose name was V., Of that same Auburn town, For winter's pork a pig would bu}'. Fat, kill, and then salt down. The first he was a farmer man, A butcher, too, by trade ; The other was a mason man And bricks in mortar laid. "Now, hang it," saith the mason man, " I'll have a pig 'twill thrive ; Snug-boned, with moderate lireadth of beam, And weight, say, seventy-tive. "I'll have a l)eauty of a pig. As sure's my name is V." "Ha, ha," he laughed for very joy. So fond of pigs was he. 10 THE PRICE OF THE PIG. He saw those pigs scarce four mouths old, Of farmer H., the pride, And one he liked, — he took a week To ponder and decide. One morning at his mason work, Some fearful pork might rise. He saw the farmer riding by. And hailed him in this wise : " Say, do you know where I can buy A good spring pig, 'twill weigh Some seventy-five or hundred pounds? I want to buy to-day." " Don't b'lieve I do," quoth farmer H., " But there's those pigs of mine ; Six dollars, you can have your choice, A bargain 'tis in swine." "Too small, too small," quoth mason V., " Now I don't want to buy A pig that's under seveuty-five, Like those in your pig-sty." " Hout, tout ! " quoth farmer H., "I judge The row-back pig will weigh Full sixty pounds." " Nonsense ! " said V.,- '^ Small pork such price to pay." " Give me six dollars for that pig," Rejoined the farmer, then, ' ' And I will straightway bring him o'er And leave him in your pen." THE PKICE OF THE PIG. 11 "You call hiin sixty ?— well," said V., " Deliver him, 'tis a trade ; " V. chuckled iu his sleeve to thiuk What l)argaiu he had made. Home from his mason work at uiglit He went with spirits high, And in his own peculiar pen The row-back met his eye. • " Faith, lie don't weigh no seventy-five, Nor sixty pounds, I vum ! Wife, bring the steelyards,— well, I know That we've been cheated some." Over into that pen he leaped, Full lively on his taps ; He caught that little, gentle pig. And slung him up in straps. And hung him on the steelyard hook. And poised him iu the air — Squealing and kicking all his might, So fearful was the scare. The steelyard arm he then brought down, And balanced with the weight : When, lo ! the startling fact appeared, The pig weighed forty-eight. " I sw\an," said V., " that's mean enough ; I vow I'll never pay ; The man may go to H-alifax, Who'll use me in that way." 12 THE PRICE OF THE PIG. " Four dollavs is the most I'll pay ;— Wife 5'ou remember that ; We'll keep the pig aud feed him well, And kill him when he's fat." A month or more elapsed before H. called for dollars six ; V. swore he'd never pay but four, As long as he laid bricks. * Now, here sprung up a direful feud, About the pig and pay ; Aud soon in court as litigants, Each party had his day. And lawyers haggled in the case, And argued pro and con ; The hash was settled by the judge, The plaintiff 'twas who won. Alas, for V.'s scant winters pork. Full dear at dollars six ; It cost him over twenty-five. Hard earned at laying bricks. And beans with pork he only had. Not twice but once a week, — A hardship of the direst kind, Of which I grieve to speak. And here this doleful ballad ends, Tho' half remains untold ; The lawsuit was a tougher bill Than twenty pigs thus sold. THE PRICE OF THE PIG. 13 The confidence of mason V. In furmor H. is gone ; But not his confidence in pork, Be hiwsnits h)st or won. Oftinies in dreams at night he sees, Hung dangling in the air, A kicking pig, whose dismal cries. Say : " Mason man, beware ! " Beware of lawsuits on a pig. They bring the pork too high ; Lay bricks and always pay the bill, When e'er a pig you buy. Avoid a suit and save the cost. For it will buy much pork ; Beans, you can have them twice a week, — Backbone for mason work. Now let this tale a lesson be, To every willful man ; Buy corn instead of law for pigs 'Tis far the wiser plan. 'Twill yield more pork, less trouble, too ; And those infernal dreams Of dangling, kicking, squealing pigs Will cause no niglitmare screams. Then pleasantly his days will pass. His barrel aye be fidl : The juicy beau-pot add its cheer, And ne'er his heart sing dool. 14 THE STORY TELLER. "OWED" TO WING. [S. J. Court, Sept. T., 1872. Walton, J., Presiding.] Ob, Wing, you are a ^'' phunny pliellow^'" Your stories fairly make me bellow : You told some rippers ' tother uigiit At the DeWitt, — I laughed outright ; So loud indeed m}^ laughter rung, Two buttons from my waistbands sprung. "owed" to wing. 15 Say, Wiug, you genius, how did you This knack acquire? Pray tell us, do? Was it iu story-telling school You learned the art by rote and rule, Or was it born within 3'our brain ? Come, AYing, m}' chap, this thing explain. B3'rou and Shelley, Burns and Hood The art of verse all understood, And Dr. Samuel Johnson, he Sang big frog's chant to little frog-ee. But when the story part comes iu, With you, O AVing, they can't begin. How Frye and Ludden, Record, AVright, Did shake their sides with huge delight. And Cotton, too, did roar and surge As loud as in a jury splui'ge ; And e'en that upright man, Judge Luce, Marveled like child at Mother Goose ! ' Twas late that night when I got home, The " tuee sma' hours" indeed had come: I laid me down and tried to sleep. But, whew ! 3'our stories tough did keep High carnival, —I was not drunk, Tliough thrice I heard 3'ou say: '■'"Ker-dunk." I tell you. Wing, you ought to shine ! Just treasure up your stories fine And put 'em in a book all told : Hot cakes for lawyers, young and old. Nuts, raisins, sweetmeats, charlotte-russe, Cream cake or jelly, as 3'ou choose. 16 "owed" to wing. I'll buy one of the books aud so Will Frye and Ludden, Record too, And Cornish, Pulsifer and Frost, And all the rest. Don't mind the cost. Let Stanwood bind 'em with a clasp. And keep 'em from the vulgar grasp. And, Wing, one word before I close, — Whene'er you ventilate your views Before the jury or the judge, If argument should fail, don't budge : Your fiddle has another string, You'll take 'em with a story. Wing. 17 A P^EAN FOR THE CITY. [January 1, iSTi. ] The city expands. Do you see how it grows, And what mighty proportions its suburbs disclose? The city, I say, — and I speak it with pride, — Though I'm o'er the bridge, just a little outside. The cit3''s a wonder ! Go out if you will, Bej^ond brick-kilns and shanties, the city's there still ; I defy you to tell, passing out, sir, or in, Where the city doth stop, and the country begin. For a child of ten years, the city's a thing Decidedly big — et ergo, I sing : Now, Muse, flap your wings like a brisk chanticleer And crow for the city a lusty neiv year. There were cities of old demolished by fire, Gomorrah and Sodom. — there were Sidon and Tyre, Both places of note, wliich grew very fast. But their glory burned out like a candle at last; There was great Babylon, sir. a very fast town. With its gardens hung high, but they liad to come down. Now what is the moral? The moral is i)lain : City folks of their city ought not to be vain ; And I mention these things just to show that I am 18 A P.BAN FOR THE CITY. Aware of the fact that town pride is a sham. Brick and mortar do much for a town, it is true; So do fat corporations, and water-power, too : Banks, colleges, saw-mills and school-marms and stores. And high-steepled churches no townsman ignores. Smart men and fair ladies, bright boys, sir, and girls, With their lustrous, dark eyes and luxuriant curls. And cheeks like a plum, which one hankers to taste. (Keep steady, O Muse, and your balance well braced,) Are things which, b}' jingo, I never can see Without dipping my pen for a slight jeu d'esprit. So I crack for this city, which excels in all these : You may find as much fault with my rhyme as you please, And say, better hush up lest mischief betide The chap o'er the bridge, just a little outside. Look at Lisbon Street now, magnificent mart Of fabrics and notions and rare things of art ! Where a suit, or a picture, or paper of corn You can buy with your mone}", sir, sure as your born ; Where the dry goods and fancy make show till one stares As he would if he strolled through the Turkish bazars ; Where the fashions are out, where the horses are fast, And the liver}' of town dashes fearfully past ; Where the barbers' poles shine, and they shave you so snug,— Those knights of the razors, the brush and the mug, — And the}' shave you so neat, and they smile when they're paid, As blandly as shavers who shave on a trade. Look at Lisbon Street, sir! Pray, where is its match? It begins at a church and it ends in '■'■the palch,^' The patch where p-ratees and babies are raised In bountiful crops, — let the good Lord be praised ! A P.EAN FOR THE CITY. 19 Hall, Linkin Street, hail ! Thou region wiiere dwells A vast combination of undefined smells, Which riot abroad on a hot summer's day, And the cold breath of winter scarce keeps them at bay. Walk down, if you please, through that long thoroughfare, And see what a mixture doth congregate there : Hear the parlez vous chat, and the broguers declaim, — Sure, Linkin Street's something, sir, more than a name ! There's business done there, as every one iiuows, Aside from the drunks and the J0II3' old rows ; There are shops where the windows show candy and cake, And holes in the ground where there's '■' suthin' to take" ; For Eliza keeps there, the poor, destitute woman, Whom the button chaps plagued and treated inhuman. With its rabbles and rows, and confusion of tongues, 'To Linkin Street, sir, there's a history belongs ; And Patrick and Bridget, Jean Baptiste and all Make it thrive like an ant-hill in sunshine and squall. From the gas works below, to the store of Yj. Keen, Pigs, puppies, and urchins enliven the scene : And the hul)bub that's raised by young Erin-go-hragh, Resounds through the length of the grand Boulevard. There's another place, too, once headquarters, and still A place of some note, called ^' under the hiW" ; Which rejoices in Keen and the noted Sam Hicks, Who's at home, sir, and up to liis famous old tricks. Buy your beef, sir, of Keen, and your stews, sir, of Sam ; You'll be sure to grow fat and l)e hajipy's a clam. an again And give a big lift for the cit}', — Who knows? — Hush, now ! It is time that this pa?an should close. THE HIGH HANI) OF THE LAW. 23 LINES TO THE CLIPPER. ON THE EVENING OF ARREST, NOV. S, 1873. [The Auburn Clipper, piiblislied a few years ago in Auburn, was styled by some of its coiitemporaries, " The Free Lancein Journalism." It was conducted witli spirit and ability and scored many good points in its locals; but its per- sonalities were carried to sucli an extreme that it soon got into trouble. The language and epithets it used in reference to the Judge of the Lewiston Munici- pal Court were so outrageous that the editors were summoned to answer for contempt and punished by fine and imprisoinnent.J Audacious, spicy little Clipper, Insulting, mischievous, yet chipper ! I fear 3'e took a double nipper Last MondaA' morn. Such as Eliza's old quart dipper Was wont to turn. What makes 3'e pitch into 'em so, An' then your horn defiant blow? Ye should be spanked and taught to know Some better manners : Ye've no respec' for high or low, Not e'en for Tanners. Folks' backs is uj). I hear the3''ve got A warrant out all hissing hot. An' ta'en ye o'er at lively trot To see the Judge, Who for yer sass as like as not Owes ye a grudge. I hear his Honor bound 3'e o'er To answer, — bonds a half a score O' thousand dollars, — so no more Yer pizen slang Ye' 11 sling contemptuous at his door, — T guess ve'll h:tni2; ; 24 LINES TO THE CLIPPER. Or else go o'er awhile to tarry Wi' Tom, the " Cit}' Missionary"; He takes such pupils temporary, An' on long time, But 'lows no swearin', drinkin' sherry, Nor slingin' slime. Yer sins they say are grievous many : Ye never gather up a penny But wi' a dose o' salts and senna. Ye go for some on', Who ne'er perchance has harmed ye any, Au' dare him come on. Last summer when the chivalry Marched down by moonlight to the sea. Ye turned yer guns on Cap'n P., Quite unrefined, An' limbered his artillery " Jn the rear behind.'" Last month ye had a jag for Cheney ; 1 must confess I thought ye spleeny To talk so nide. What did ye mean, ha? Those Baptist fellers, The^^'U serve ye with a fresh subpcx'ua, You and yer sellers. An' now on Gov'nors, Congressmen, The best folks of the upper ten. An' e'en the Journal's busy pen. What writes reports, Ye empty slops from your vile den. All kinds and sorts. LINES TO THE CLIPPER. 25 ' Twas you, not Keiiway, drew the plan About the affair up Svvitzerlan', An' passed it to the Journal man To copy gratis : But he, chaste man, the Clipper's plan Disdained to notice. I 'spect he thought that " interest weirdo To which his columns had appeared To pander, had played out, — I feared The gypsy camp Part of the story was loo weirdy E'er to revamp. Now, Clipper^ as it's gettin' late, I will no more expostulate ; I doubt if any lawyer's pate Can here unravel What is to be your legal fate, What road 3'ou'll travel ; I hopes they will not snuff ye out, Or put yer wits to total rout : Abate some o' 3'er rank sour-krout An' then ye'U go it, An' patrons have enougli, no doubt, Perhaps a poet. Put in the ginger and the spice, — (I charge ye naught for this advice,) Ye well are worth yer sellin' price. Ye little ripper, Yc'll lick 'em all — heed m}' advice, — Two cents a Clipper! 26 THE DOG THAT BIT McFINNIHADDIE. Who would not swear, uor take it back, Tho' at him howled the wolfish pack? The miscreant cur that bites a Mac Shall die by swift shillalah whack, Or pistol shot, McFiunihaddie. No matter whether, big or small. He strays from Breen's or Brophy's stall, Him let policemen prompt o'erhaul : He'd better be no dog at all Than bite the boy, McFinnihaddie. Of all the scabby curs that prowl On Lincoln Street, an' hungry howl An' snap at urchins, pigs, an' fowl, — Not one shall live, upon my soul. To bite the blood, McFinnihaddie. The murthering scamp, they killed him dead ; The gamins shouted when he bled. He bit young Mac: an' now 'tis said The jury have a poultice spread To heal the wound, McFinnihaddie. A dollar for each pound he weighed Was doubled ; an' when this is paid, Then reparation will be made. An' all the pain will be allayed, That stirred the blood, McFinnihaddie. THE DOG THAT BIT McFINNIHADDIE. 27 M}' ftiith ! ]\Iay be the price is cheap ! (Thougli Bieon I fear will count it steep,) I think if well-bred dogs, that sleep On downy rugs, a court should keep, An' try the case, MeFinnihaddie ; The verdict they would render back Would be : No dog, or white or black, That bites a boy an' then makes track, An' 'scapes tlie marshal's pistol crack. Shall dwell with men, MeFinnihaddie: But homeless he shall prowl abroad, A miscreant of the outlawed horde. An' his dead head shall bring reward : An' men shall dock his caudal cord Close to his ears, MeFinnihaddie. Alas for Breeu I With him all's up. — Attached in law and dead his pup. When he at night sits down to sup There's naught but trouble in his cup; He's woful down, MeFinnihaddie. For costs an' damage, items long. Full high, full dear, full steep an' strong, He's got to foot, — an' for his wrong Nobody cares a beggar's song. Who's bit the woi'se, ]McFiiinihaildie? 28 THE ORIGINAL CHARGE. THE BULL CASE. [Cotton for Plf. Record for Deft.] '' Oh, J. B. Cottou ! Say what you should do If you were a woman, hystericky, too, And a rampant bull made a dive at you ? "Should you holler an' scream with vigor intense; Should you take to your heels, or take to the fence And over it go an' battle him thence? " Suppose the critter all unconfined Should lev£l his horn at you behind, — You, a woman to fidgets inclined? THE BULL CASE. 29 " Suppose he should bellow an' lash his tail, An' charge on the fence till the topmost rail Fell over on you, low squat an' pale ; " Screaming an' crying for lielp in vain, Tortured with fear an' tortured with pain. What should you do, I ask again? " You know that a woman so sensitive born, Can't cope with a monster having a horn An' tlireateuing to gore her all forlorn. " You know 'tis unsafe, outrageous an' wrong To let such a Bashan, so savage an' strong. Break loose an' bellow the streets along. "You know, when his firey eyeballs glare And his tail goes up, he's a terrible scare To a sensitive woman so apt to despair. "Now these are the facts explicit, precise; I ask for the law an' care not for the price. Pray give me the best o' your legal advice." " Good madam, I think 'twas malice prepense In the bull, a case of damage immense, To Avhich there can be no valid defense. "The owner or keeper is clearly at fault; See Blackstone or Chitty, title. Assault. The case is as clear as a kick from a colt." But alas for opinions an' legal advice ! Good cases, when tried an' argued so nice. Are oftentimes lost bv subtle device. 30 THE BULL CASE. The jvny, on weighing the. evidence full, Coucludecl somehow, by a pull o' the wool, The woman it was that inveigled the bull. MORAL. So J. B. Cotton, m}- friend, I fail To discover the reason you didn't prevail, Unless 'twas taking the bull b}' the tail. Next time you tackle the Unicorn, Though he bellow an' blaze like a demon hell-born, Don't grab for his tail, — take hold of his horn. 31 ' THE CANINE FERTILIZER. [A new agricultural contrivance once on exhibition at J. G. Cook's drug store in Lewiston. The machine is charged with a cartridge and set in opera- tion by tlie aijplication of a lighted match. The modus operandi may be gathered from these lines :] I laughed all clay, an' wheit abed I still kept laughiu', an' I said: That little dog there made o' lead, Curled o'er his haunches, Drops his fertility uuspread, Small avalanches. Just now I tliought, — Faith, he is done ; Now he will gather up an' run. An' wag his tail an' ha' some fun, — But, Moses' mother ! Ere 1 could wink, he straight l)egun To do another. An' such a string ! Lord, keep my tongue From tellin' lies an' savin' wrong ! I would na' dare to say how long, I did na' measure, But guess 'twould reach if it were strong, Up to the azure. An' tlien he heaped so fast his pile, In such a funny, off-han' style. It seem'd that inside out the while The scamp was turnin'. An' which was dog, an' which was pile, 'Twas hard discernin'. 32 THE CANINE FERTILIZER, Oh, Shucks ! He's hoaxin' us, said I : F'or uo lank pup beneath the sk)', Since days o' miracles went by. No bigger 'u that one, Could string it thus. 'Twould fetch a sigh From any fat one. A regular Ah Sin he is. — I'd like to know what makes his phiz So pensive, — doin' such a biz : What feeds the hopper To that small grinding mill o' his. An' where's the stopper? Oh, I have seen beside the street Vile curs the effort oft repeat An' uothin' do but scrape their feet, An' sometimes bark it, — I've wished the doctor'd come an' treat 'Em with cathartic. An' I've seen bo^'s lock fingers, too, An' pull for dogs, to help 'em thro' In such dilemma, when I knew Those heartless boys Made mockery 'o the dog's ado, Wi' shout an' noise. But this 'ere small on' asks no help. An' never yet since he was whelp Did make a fuss an' whine an' skelp Behind the barn. But braces up without a yelp An', lo, his yarn ! 33 OBITER DICTA. [DEC. 7, 187-2.] lu these short clays, when calls are few And lawyers have not much to do, While briefs arc finished and the Court In chambers tries your case of tort, — AVhose business if one pokes aside The sheep-skin volumes, worn and dried, And from his table sweeps the dirt. And takes in rhyme a little flirt? The outside world moves ou : and why, When other nags are stirring spry. Why should not Pegasus come out And whisk his long, white tail about? Let not the jockeys scoff at him ; — He goes it sometimes with a vim. Nor loses tail, nor hair, nor hide, 'Tho' on a Tam O'Shanter's ride. Behold how gorgeous are the stjdes ! Triumphant millinerj' smiles And flaunts the streets full-plumed to-day. Whose wife is that, so dashing gay. That's shopping fearless thro' the town, Nor cares a fig for husband's frown? AV^hat fur-trimm'd, feathery maidens those Like snow-birds on the wintr}- snows? 3 34 OBITER DICTA. O my ! the nobby seal-skiu hats ! What perfect little Ararats, That tower above the flood o' trash Which cheap folks buy to make a clash ! Ho, sable, mink, and fitch, get out ! You only make tlie fair ones pout. When royal seal skin rules so high; — Ask Getchell if 3'ou think I lie. The city's Temple is complete, A monument that's hard to beat ; And dedicated all so grand, — O townsman, let your pride expand ! '•'■ Exegi monumentum ce- Re jjerennius ! " Did you see The elephant inside the ring Dancing last night the Highland fling? Go down, 3'ou sorehead, double quick. And see your pile o' hard-burnt brick ; Look 'round awhile, look up the sky, — Is it a planet meets your eye. Or streaming meteor all ablaze? Put on your spec's and steadfast gaze : You mutton head ! Why, don't you know That is the steeple glistens so? Shake hands with a policeman now ; Tell him you come to see the show ; Tell him you'd like to just walk in And thro' the Temple, then out ag'in. Give him a rag or two o' scrip : He'll take you then aboard the ship And thro' the halls and all about, — The sights will make your eyes stick out. OBITER DICTA. 36 Compave this proud, imperial day AVith days not long since 2:)assed away, — Days remembered by Doctor G., When woods were here as well as he ; And hunters set their fox-traps where The Doctor rocks in his easy chair. '■'• Historical fact !" The Doctor said; " Tho' most luho know it now are dead." '•'•Oh, Doctor O. ! If, as you tell^ The trails were set there where you dwell," Said Col. B., '•'• I pray you avoiv, What hinders settin'' the traps there notv? Was't ever a fox the hunters caught?" To which the Doctor rejoined in short : " / spoke of traps, and not of game ; Impertinent Col., forshame, forshame!" Scud home now, Pegasus, prancing fleet, "With white tail whisking thro' the street, Scud 'round the corner, down the hill, Into your dungeon, — whoa, be still ! Lie down beside the sheep-skin lore, You mischievous scamp, I'll ride no more. A rescript comes just here from Court, 'Tis gone to the dogs, that case of tort. THE PURE ADIPOSE. 37 THE ADIPOSE TISSUE; AS EXEMPLIFIED IN THE ANDROSCOGGIN BAR. [October, 1877.J [Read at a Bar Supper at DeWitt House, Feb. 7, 1882.] I've thought of a subject that's meat for rh3-nie : 'Tis the adipose tissue, the flabby sublime ; With the good capou lined deep within and without, Like a big bowl o' jelly it dances about. An' shakes its broadsides of superfluous blubber With laughter an' jest, as elastic as rubber. The quintessence of fatness ! Good nature compressed, Bundled up in a lump, like an alderman dressed In a suit o' fine clothes. — No skinny baboon But a man rounded out and full orbed like the moon, A smile from whose luminous countenance comes Like the smile from the heart of a pudding with plums. "Say, who do you mean, you feller of rhymes?" Quoth chaste Brother Luddeu, who swelleth sometimes ; "■ AVhy libel us fat folks for carr3'ing around A close corporation of bowels profound? A spare C'assius like j'ou plotting mischief an' war Will encounter, by an' by, the high hand o' the law." "Oh no. Brother Luddeu, T don't mean you. Your limbs are too shrunk, your bowa>ls too few ; Your cheeks are too shallow, your caput too small, An' your avoirdupois wouldn't answer at all, — I should sooner ha' thought o' one pumpkin called soine, Or snapping j'ou up once or twice on my tliuml)." 88 THE ADIPOSE TISSUE. "Is it Record you mean, with his choker so white That a double D.D., sir, would fit him outright?" " Nay, I turu not on Calvin this greasy lamj)oou ; Too lean an' too slipper'd is his pantaloon ; His waistbands o'erlap an' too loose is his shoe, An' his skirts hang so wide that the wind whistles thro'." "You're thinking of Morrill, Judge Morrill, I ween. An' he, after all, is the man that you mean ; For he is rotund and o'ershadows the ground. An' he sees not the footsteps that trundle him 'round." "Why, Mandeville T., so to speak of the Judge! The thought is absurd, an' I answer you, fudge! "Guess again, Brother Ludden. I'll tell ye by an' by If ye don't guess him right." " 'Tis Congressman Frye," Quoth chaste Brother L. "He's the biggest by far Of all the big guns in the And'scoggin Bar." "What a goony ! Why look I Brother Frye, sir, is slim, An' the adipose tissue hangs lightly on him. " Give it up, d'ye say? Don't ye know there's Judge Wing, Who's fast waxing fat like the jolly old king O' the Cannibal Islnnds? He breakfasts an' sups On none o' John Chinaman's rat soup an' pups, But on cutlets an' sirloins, like great surrogates Who watch o'er the widows' and orphans' estates. "Don't ye know my friend Cotton, who tackled the bull In the High Court arena, an' gave him a pull By the tail? Haven't ye heard o' that wonderful feat. An' how rough and tumble they fought the great heat? How he had him in law so securely entailed. How by sheer force of muscle the Bashan prevailed? THE ADIPOSE TISSUE. 39 " Now, that was a deed out o' which to make fame. And the glory thereof for friend Cotton I chvim : Do 3'ou ask what has fame with the tissue to do? Wh}', it swells a man up to the bigness of two. It distendeth his bowels, inflateth his cheek. Till he seems with the adipose tissue to reek. "'Squire Hutchinson's thin and shows signs of the ravage Of many hard fights. The implacable Savage Looks hungry and lean : They'll never grow fat. — You ma}^ hear their ribs rattle a rat-a-tat-tat : No adipose there, no symptoms of. gout. You were right, Brother Ludden, in leaving them out. " You were right. Bro. Ludden, in leaving out Moore, Always balmy with fun tho' approaching fourscore : But Pulsifer, Bolster, Judge Cornish and White, Judge Dresser and Dana, pray, why did you slight? If their claim to the adipose glory be small. Still the oil of good nature anointeth them all. "As for Coke on Littleton, Chitty on Bills, Mr. Ram on Facts, and Redfield on AVills, — They're jolly good reading to while away time, And stir up the fancy to feats quite sublime : The harder we study, the fatter we grow. — P>ut Avho is our Falstatf, pray, tell if you know? "There, pass me the end of the worsted of rh^'me ! You'll ne'er guess it right to the end of all time ; I shall have to unriddle this subject of meat And the adipose tissue whereof I now treat, And say to the crowd, while the climax I cap. That the man whom I meant all the time was Judge Knapp." 40 THE ADIPOSE TISSUE. Having swung 'round the circle and compliment done To the lights of the bar, sir, omitting scarce one ; Having curveted high and rhymed it full free, — Is any good brother disgruntled with me? If he is, the best solace I know for his woes Is a poultice spread thick of the pure adipose. Oh, the adipose tissue I I sing its renown. Like a cushion of hair, or a pillow of down. Or a spring-bottom bed, it invites to repose ; And for surly dyspeptics, who caw like the crows, 'Tis the great panacea, a big, bottled-up laugh, — Draw the cork and imbibe while this bumper I quaff ! 41 THE STATE LIQUOR COMMISSIONER WAITED UPON. [July 'in, 1879.] Thei'e is ii mau ou Lower ^lain AYhose daring deed 1 uovv relate ; A Greenback mau, commissioned b}^ Good Gov'nor (iarcelon — which is why He wholesales liquor for the State. He put a sigu u[) i)ainted black Upon a board, with letters white ; The letters were three inciies long. The board was nailed up high and strong Behind the store, yet plain in sight. It was no gaudy, gilded sign To lure the tipplers to his door ; "A simple back-door sign," said he, '• Will advertise enough for me My wholesale licjuor dealer's store." He did not put that sign in front, "Because," said he, -"twill catch the eye Of bold Reformers, who will crowd Around my store and clamor loud, — When I don't sell it on the sly." Vain man 1 To think that simple sign liehiud the store would not be known. Last Sunday 'twas the text whereon They preached and speechified, till one Said he would lead to take it down. 42 STATE LIQUOR COMMISSIONER. " 'Twas put up to affront," he cried, "And to offend the public eye. An outrage 'tis, and shall the Club Submit, nor raise one loud hubbub? Wh3% such a Club had better die." But moderate counsels soon prevailed : They chose two champions brave to wait Upon this dealer and inform Him of the dire, impending storm That soon would burst and seal his fate, Unless he took that shocking sign Down from his store without delay ; The Club meant business, and would not Hear compromise nor yield one jot. Down ivith that sic/n, the leaders say. One champion was a dentist, who For thirty years and something more Had treated cases, many such. Which other dentists would not touch. And probed such ulcers to the core. The other was a lawyer, learned In all the law pertaining to The case in hand, and he did look The Maine Law thro', and then he took The Digest down and searched that, too. And then decided and advised That 'twas illegal for the sign To be nailed up. There was no clause That authorized it in the Laws, Nor in the Digest, not a line. STATE LIQUOR COMMISSIONER. 43 So baud in hand those cliampions went Down to this wholesale dealer's store, And held their noses and walked in, — Walked thro' and never barked a shin Against the barrels on the floor. And in one corner, ver}^ sh% They took this dealer and made known Their mission, and they told him how The Club was incensed, and that now The sign he promptly must take down. >sVj frenzy tired this dealer's eye. He looked at them, and simply said : " Be seated, friends. All I can do To calm the Club and comfort you I'll do it, only save my head ! " My stock is choice. Name your desire. T offer freely what I have, So far as I can legally ; A creature of the law am I And nut a culprit and a knave. " But Uncle Samuel asked of me To take a license ere I sold My stock at wholesale ; and he said It was his custom and he made His dealers all, both young and old, "Keep up a sign to advertise Their business to the public eye. If any fail to have the sign, Five hundred dollars is the fine To pay, or else in jail they lie." 44 STATE LIQUOR COMMISSIONER. " Ah," quoth the dentist, " 7s that so? C'est il jjossible, Oncle Sam?" And here the forceps which he plied He put away, but still he cried : ' ' Tish mighty strange indeed, py tarn ! ' ' The lawyer next : " AVhat, are we fools? Invoke for such a thing the aid Of Uncle Sam ? As well invoke The Bible or my great Lord Coke. Show me your law," he sternly said. The dealer then took down the book, And read the statute, line on line. How Uncle Samuel would impose Fine and impilsonment on those Who dared to sell without a sign. The Scriptures also he did cite : ^'- ''Woe unto . . . lazuyers,' -which means you Who wicked and perversely seek A sign — with so much brazen cheek. Armed with the law and forceps, too. " A generation evil and Adulterous once did seek a sign : To them no sign at all was given Save of the prophet Jonas, driven By stress of weather, not of wine, " Into the belly of the whale. Where he three days and nights was kept In durance vile, and tossed al)Out ; Then on the dr}^ land was spewed out, A sorry chap when home he crept." STATE LIQUOR COMMISSIONER. 45 The champions here did mal\e amends, Apologized and kindly spoke. They urged no more the Chib's commands, But with the dealer both shook hands. And said 'twas just one funny joke ; A slight misapprehension only. (The fumes here reached the dentist's l)rain.) " Got bless my soni, these goods are fine! I icaives all scriqjles 'bout de sign; Oh, tchen shall we three meet again!" 47 THE SHORT-HAN' FELLER. D'3'e see bow he does it, tlie shoit-hnn' feller, AYbo sits over there in the corner? How he catches each word on his pot hook an' claps The story right down from those voluble chaps, The witnesses, who, stan'in' up on their taps. Let go the whole truth (spite the devil, perhaps,) Like the sage, Setb Sampson of Turner? D'ye see how he does it, takin' it down. King's English an' glib Irish lingo? Each joke an" each gesture, each laugh an' grimace In the turkey-track record find always a place : He"d Avrite the whole pack, sir, 'n the very small space Where you couldn't write e'en the two spot or ace, — A wonderful feat, b}' jingo I His ears are wide open, his eyes on the mark, He dives in his inkstand an' goes it ; No matter how fast they gabble. — what's said Goes down on the record, an' he keeps ahead : An' oft, when his pen at two-forty has sped. He catches a moment an' scratches his head, Or kerchiefs his nose an' blows it. Is it science or art, is it knack or device, Born in him or was it acquired ? 'Tis a gift which yields profit no doubt very good. An' I think it is plain that it runs in the "blood ; For he raises young short-ban's (as any one would) To transmit a vocation so well understood. By lawyers an' judges admired. 48 THE SHORT-HAN ' FELLER. Since raem'ry is weak an' lawyers dispute, Au' indulge oftentimes in dissensions ; Saying, "Witness said so, as ni}' minutes show," An', "Witness said contra I'd have ye to know; "■ Since judges forget they have charged so an' so. How sweet to the short-han' reporter to go An' settle all hash o' contentions. An' then when the jurors get sleepy an' dull, Hearin' all the whole truth till they're snory, An' their minds wander off to affairs o' their own. An' the issue drops out o' their thoughts like a stone, — How 'n thunder could the}', when so jaded they've grown. Tell which o' the dogs had the right to the bone, Or remember the witnesses' story? But the short-han' feller, he never takes naps ; He's on the qui vive when the jury Wilt down after dinner, and nod in their seats, Like deacons at church in the dog-day heats. If the lawyer fires up, or the witness repeats, No storm o' confusion his record defeats ; He writes the whole fracas like fury. O marvelous man ! A great wonder you be ! You spells it an' makes it good grammar, An' you gets it all in. Not a cough or a sneeze That belongs to the case but you note it with ease. Do you dot all your i's, sir, and cross all your t's When you drive at two-forty, or thirty, 'f you please, In the midst of a hubbub an' clamor? Say, what will you take for to teach us your art, We chaps that sit inside the bar, An' also the judges, who need some relief, THE SHORT-HAN " FELLER. 49' The associates, indeed, as well as the chief? (au't we have the opinions as well as each brief Hereafter writ out in good pot-hook relief. Perspicuous an' clear as a star? Say. what would you take for to do it up luown An' elucidate all that's obscure, — C'omin' right to the point like a fish to the hook, Makin' argument run just as clear as a brook. Then nailin' the thing, with a logical look. More firm thau 'tis nailed in the sheep-skin book? The meshes. I guess, would be fewer. We'd have the great principles settled an' fixed, Beyond peradventure of qucere! The light of the bench, an' the bar should shine forth In a blaze stenographic, — an era have birth When our fees should be up to our services' worth, An' the horn of our Stenos exalted on eartli, — " Momtmenium perennius cei-e." 50 TRU FILLOSSOFY OV KORRECK SPELLIN, AS LADE DOWN BY STENOS. r.IUXE 12, 1875.1 [Many will remember the mania for spelling that overran tlie countrj' a few years ago. The interest in Auburn was so great that public meetiugs were held at Auburn Hall, and persons who were proficient in the art entered the lists and made public exhibition of their skill in spelling. It was reported at the time that our good friend, " Stenos," was one of the champions, and that by some unaccountable slip of the tongue he failed on the common word, "firkin." The fault, however, I believe, was attributable in part to the fellow who put out the words. Hinc illae lachrymae !] Sez J. D. P., in spellin, sez he, The fust rool to be foUered is tliis : Fust, pik out a pheller ov bottom Jiud braue To put out the wurds. Kommand him speke plane ; Ef he klips the sillerbuls, rapp with yer kane An' make him enuushate over agane ; An' then from his phault ef he don't refraue, Jus pile him away with the victims he's slaue, Purnouncin the wurds arnys. Sez J. D. P., I tel 'e, sez he, Thers 2 wa3^s this biznes to du, — vSum spels by the site, an some by the sounde ; The eer's the bes gide m}' experens has founde ; Butt wen a grate speller is lade on the grounde. An phlounders an kicks an dyes with his wounde, Tiz generly bekaws the purnouncin's unsounde, Not accordin to Webbstur an uthers perfounde, But vulghar, deseteful, untru. FILLOSSOFY OV KORRECK SPELLIN. 51 The seckkond grate rool, sez J. D. P., AVeu yuve gut the purnounein set rite, Is, pictur the wiird spekl out in yer ey ; Purnonnce it yerself be i spelliu yu tri. Dotiut spit on yer hans like n jimnast an kri, Yu challenge the wurld in this kontest tu vy ; Butt konsentrate the forse ov yer eere an 3'er ey. Then karmly yer volley ov letturs let fli, — I tel 'e, yu'U spel like a kite. Beware ov the pheller, sez J. I). P.. Who poots the wurd '•\furli71" out thus, — "Who aksents the/»r^' an jumps over the m, Then looks in yer fase with an inuersent grinn. An asks yu to spel. lie's for takin yu in. H's a heethen Chinee, ful as bad as Ar Sinn. He'll trap yu 'f he kan on the sillerbul " in," Then larf at yer Huminucks, yer shame an shagrinn. 1 despize such a mizabul kus. Tiz no sine of a duns, sez J. I). P., Ef the speller shud spel it e-)i. No sine he is bilyous,.or week in the bak, Or unsounde in the l)rane ; no sine ov a krak In his kraniuni, wich holds, as it wer, in a sak His hole budgit ov lore ; no sine ov a lak Ov resurch in the grate Unabridged, in hoos trak He's foUered for j'eres, an lerut the grate kuak How to spel witli his tung an his pcnn. The truth is kwite obvius-, sez .1. 1). P., Tiiat a exi>urt, who deels in sliort han An spels wurds ])y sines kabV)allistic all thru, Very much as they spels in the laud of l.u Chu, Kant oilers kepe sistems distinct in his view. 52 FILLOSSOFY OV KORRECK SPELLIN. He's gut on his side the grate axium, tu, That sum wurds is speld rite in won way an 2, — What a ass is the koxkom who ses tiz untru ! V[mi fm'Jcin would hold such a man. I apele to Jedge Napp, sez J. D. P., Hoose geuyus for spellin is grate, Original, an hily inveutiv, — nay more, Jedge Napp never yit, sir, was lade on the tiore. He spels wurds in wun way, or 2, three an fore, Espeshaly the klassie wurd, 2ng-2Jen phlovre. Wen the Hi Jedge asked, was it pozy or phlore, Jedge Napp set the cort room all in a rore, Speken up, with his har staniu strate : " Pleze 3^er Onner, I say the man is a phool, Who kant spel more waize 'an wun. Thers no such a lunk in th' Andskoggin Baa, From Kotton, Wing, and Hutch down to Hossly's little star ; Wun so feerful dull as that, is tu muddlehead by far Tu pracktis as atturny in a Hi Cort ov Lor." So the Hi Judge larft with a haii\ haw, haiv, An didn't fine Napp for his orthograffic phlaw In his pig-pen tlore. I've dun. 53 COOK'S DIVIDEND. [Lines congratulatory to J. G. Cook, Dec. 5, 1877, on his receiving a diviilend of four cents from the estate of G. S. Plunimer, bankrupt.] Dear Cook : The dawu of better days Is breaking o'er this famished bind : Plnmraer's estate a tribute pays At sight, or promptly on demand. Your chiim of sixteen sixty-seven, Proved 'gainst the assets and allowed, Draws just four cents. Give thanks to Heaven, O lucky man I but don't be proud. Almost a nickel I Hold your mirth, And persevere, for foresight wins : A woman once confined, brought forth And lack'd but one of liaving twins. But here the fee comes back to you, A dollar and four cents besides : Keep up your courage, don't get blue, Kind Providence o'er all presides. A FREAK OF ART. 65 TIIK IMr OF FAME. I read an item in the paper, A brief account of one queer caper. Cut up somewhere in Ohio, Within an artist's studio ; A freak for fun, which by mishap Turned out to have an afterclap. Tlic artist was a fancy man. No one-horse artist, but a span. He drove a black one and a red, Matched up for contrast, as he said ; And with his rare, artistic eye He wrought strange contrasts on the sly. One day into his studio 'Way out somewhere in Ohio, A cuUud youth with woolly head. Flat nose, thick lips lined ruby red, Came saying, " Ise an errand boy. And wants to git me some emplo}'." " No errands," said the artist man : " I only keeps one black and tan. But, Sambo, try your luck in paint : I've thought of something rich and quaint. Five cents for n'ou I here propose If you will let me paint your nose, ^56 THE IMP OF FAME. •' And just one errand for me then Do promptly, like a little man." " Yis, Massa." Sambo laughed to think How easy he should earn the chink ; And soon beneath the magic brush His little nose began to blush, Changing its hue from dark to red As free the pigment on was spread. "There, Bully Boy I Don't sneeze or snuff Don't touch that nose, nor rub it off ; But up the street to number nine Stiver along (you'll see the sign), " Call on the man there, artist Hood, Tell him a youth of royal blood, An imp of fame, before him stands, Ready to do his high commands. Tell him the pedigree he shows Is cullud like his royal nose." Off started Sambo, prompt, intent, On errand and on mone}' bent ; Conning his message o'er and o'er, Tho' '■'•pedigree" oft stuck him sore ; Doing his level best to say It straight, and so secure the pay. Ah, man}^ topers on the street, With noses red, did Sambo meet. And many urchins hooting loud. That jeered him passing thro' the crowd ; And soon a rabble they became. Hard pressing the poor imp of fame. THE IMP OF FAME. 57 They seized and caught him, just as he Stuck on the great word ''■ jiedigree." " No darkey boy," those urchins swore, " Was e'er got up like him before : We must take off that ga}', red nose, Red lips is all the law allows." They took him to a l)oot-blaek then, To have his nose shined black again, — One of those expert boot-black fellers, Who said he'd shine the darkey's smellers For just three cents (a half-price rate). And bring 'em to their normal state. Just here a cuUud woman came And looked upon the im[) of fame. And when she saw his visage mild She screamed aloud : " My bressed child! Put dovm that boy, you brats," said she. " Lor^ bress yer, honey, come ivid me." She took him home and soaped his face, And rubbed his nose till not a trace Of royal blood or pedigree Was left for any eye to see. The artist's skill was all in vain, Lo, Sambo was himself again. But when he told his dismal tale. It made the cullud folks turn pale, And vengeance on the artist swear. They posted to a lawyer there. Friend of the down-trod cullud race. And laid liefore iiim all the case. 58 THE IMP OF FAME. He up and sued the artist raau, Him of the two-horse dashing span, And laid the damage high and strong, And put it to the jury long, And spoke of civil rights, declaring That for a deed so red and glaring, Vindictive damage should be found. The artist should be punished sound ; Compelled to paint his own nose black Or suffer torture on the rack. These weighty words the jury pondered Till half the panel were dumfoundered. They soon retired, discussed, and laid Their heads together, and they said : " Sure, this facetious artist man For his rare fun must stan' his hau' ; I^o darkey boy, whate'er his name, Shall thus be made an imp of fame. " Let dancers pay the fiddler's fee, No matter what the pedigree." So, on a verdict they agreed (Let every artist man take heed) : " Guilty,'^ the foreman made report. '' Fine^ one round hundred,'' said the Court. 59 PHIL SHERIDAN. THE YELLOW DOG THAT FOLLOWS ME. Some (logs inarch boldly thro' the street, Contemptuous of all meu they meet. You whistle them, aud say : '• (jiood pup ! ' They snarl enough to eat you up ; And prowling go like beasts of prey. While cautious folks keep out the way. Such fiendish curs deserve cold lead Imbedded proniptl}^ in the head. Some other dogs play scaly cards As trespassers in folks' back yards, Nosiug swill pails with no misgivin'. Stealing, in fact, full half their liviu'. You say to one : " You scamp, get out ! " The pilferer you may put to rout ; But look for him again next day, No booting keeps such scamps away. But better-natnred dogs there are, Of better principles by far, — Dogs that don't bite and seldom steal, And real fondness for 3'ou feel. Some carry little curled-up tails, Whose wag of friendship never fails : And best of all this class is he, The yellow dog that follows me. 60 PHIL SHERIDAN. He's fat and sleek ; and he can eat More dinner than I dare repeat, And sometimes I have honest fear Dyspepsia may o'ertake him here. To tell his faults is not my whim, I'm not the man to tell on him ; So fast a friend of mine is he, The yellow dog that follows me. He playeth many pretty pranks, Sits np like Major on his shanks, As straight as monkeys or baboons. I know his natural pantaloons Are worn behind almost threadbare : They'll soon be thro' — his only pair — And winter coming fierce will see A shivering dog, I fear, with me. Phil Sheridan is his good name ; That smacks a dashing warrior's fame. But Phil hath a distaste for war, And when there's fighting lurks afar : In peaceful parlors loves to dwell, — Sometimes when callers ring the bell He breaks the peace and is uncivil, And barketh like a little devil. Timid of war, he's fond of fun : Will give all cats that start and run A vigorous chase, till they show fight. Then he retreats with all his might ; Remembering always from the start. Prudence is valor's better part. Ah, once or twice he hath had cause To dread an old cat's teeth and claws. PHIL SHERIDAN. 61 He sits beside nie when I dine. And watches all my bread and wine ; You'd laugh to see the rogue implore And ask, like Oliver, for more. And when I take my hat to leave, He's ready, you may well believe : They never fool'd him yet but he Somehow gets ont and follows me. I stick by him, he sticks by me ; Yet ofttimes when the pesky Hea Is prowling thro' his yellow hair, And worries him so sorely there, — " Phil, catch your fleas ! This is to pay For going with low-bred dogs," I say. "Keep better company, and be Free from your foe, — the pesky flea." THE CHEVALIER. 63 10 TRIUMPHE!! A NEW-YEAR'S RHYME FOR 1874. 1 am the feller, T whisper to yon, AVho crowed for the city in 'seventy-two, — The self-same feller, who New-Year's Day Saddled his steed and passed this way, In the early light of the glimmering morn. To lu'rald the birth of the year new born. Over the bridge, ere the whistle of steam Had startled the town with its matin scream, Or the heavy stroke of the larum bell Had broken the charm of the dreamer's spell, I passed on that strange, fantastical raid, In the hoar-frost drapery white arrayed, — With visor and helm and dancing plume. Careering along thro' the morning gloom Like a phantom knight, who sallies forth F'rom the crystal halls of the frozen north. With mail and trappings reflecting bright The hues of the first anroral light. I cared not a fig U)v the barking curs That followed behind, but, plying the si)urs, I pranced along through the city streets, Tho' alleys and l)y-ways and sly retreats. Past the temple Avhere the button chaps keei). And down b}' the blocks where the mill girls sleep Doubling the corners and riding so brisk, T was gone ere one could ej.iculate, tvhi!'il(le. Apostle Gove, — some dude more modern styled. 92 GRAND EPIC. Oh, don't begin the world in getting started Harping on chaps who have so long departed." A good suggestion, brother, timely made, I'll profit by it and make less parade. There won't be time, 1 plainly now perceive. The whole world's history to rehearse this eve : Besides, 'tis tiresome, and, — I'm getting dry, Although, my friends, a sober man am I. I'll shift the scene, the sentiment, and meter. And my staid Muse, she shall be now discreeter : And while we shift, we'll let the curtain drap. An interlude just here to fill the gap Methinks would come in well, and be the thing To while the time, while we take higher wing. If I permit the tide of song to drizzle, I fear this Epic may turn out a fizzle. Now for a space, list to the serenade : The orchestra will make a little raid With scientific music very brief. Hark, while the minstrel sings : " Hail to the Chief." SONG. [An ancient minstrel here steps out and sings an old version of " Hail to the Chief." He is accompanied by the full orchestra.] All hail to the chief who in glory advancing. Rides fearless and fast with a plume in his cap : May the step of his charger, so valiantly prancing. Quick answer the spur, and ne'er need a huddap. Quick answer the spur, and ne'er need a huddap). GRAND EPIC. 93 Hail, bail to the hero ecjuipp'd and all ready To battle the foe, or to kneel to the fair ; Let him reap bis reward in the smiles of some lady Who never will jilt him, or pull ont his hair. Who never will jilt him, or pull out his hair. A crown for the victor, of laurel and bay. A wreath for the lady so gentle and true ; And for each at the altar a dainty bouquet. And a fig for Dan Cupid. — Sing, Ilalli-ba-loo I And a fig for Dan Cupid. — Sing, Halli-ba-loo ! S (> N Ci . [Till' niiiisiivl clKinge.s the key and sings " Tlie Xut-Brown Maid. "J The nut-brown maid, in the gala masquerade. Was the one that befuddled me with wonder ; Her eye was like a lance, as we tripp'd it thro' the dance, And she riddled my discretion all asunder. And she riddled my discretion all asunder. Oh, the nut-brown maid, the cakes and lemonade. The music and the diamonds and the glitter, — They were too much for me, I had to bend the knee To the maid with the cheek like a fritter. To the maid with the cheek like a fritter. Since then I have a care, and I l)race up like a bear When I see such a posy on the titter ; And I never will again, be smash'd as I was then. By a maid with a cheek like a fritter. By a maid with a cheek like a fritter. 94 GRAND EPIC. [At this point the bard Iiaviiig been properly refreshed re-appears and with becoming dignity resinneth liis Epic ] From dust}" law-liooks what an awful stride To that bright seat the l)eaming Muse beside ! A tall colossus scarce, methiuks, would take vSo huge a step, lest his long legs should break And let him down, e'en with a grand careen. Into some wide and yawning gulf between, — Much less a novice. Pigmy legs and feet Would quick give out, nor gain the blissful seat. I heard a man say (and it made me sad, And half I thought the foolish man was mad), I heard him say, he l)'lieved a lawyer's tongue Was like a trap, bated ere it was sprung ; He b'lieved its hinge was somewhere 'bout the middle, It wagg'd both wa3's, its talk was like a riddle ; That while on either side it would work splendid, For honest truth that tongue was ne'er intended. Confound that man, my indignation muttered! A bigger lie no blackguard eVer uttered. He'd better move to some place far away, Where fell attorneys do not prowl for prey ; He'll get, if caught about the court-house sneaking, A plump rebutter for his evil speaking. When my good brother rises in the court Surcharged with law on contract, crime, or tort, And puts the strong points noted on his brief, — Somebody, sure, is bound to come to grief. Now therefore, if, that is to sa}', now then, If my said brother, speaking, where and when. And so forth, should strain fearful hard to save A desperate case, — shall he be called a knave? GRAND Eric. 95 Forbid it, Muse, tho' all the slnnderors liiss yoii I There's bread and butter pending on tlie issue. Oh, never say he's talking just to win, And for the merits does not care a pin ; But rather say his skill a marvel is, — Exempli (/ratia, take a ease like this : A. versus B. — suit for a nine-tailed eat B. bought of A. She caught full many a rat. Was worth her price. But B. declines to pay Because the cat, as he makes bold to sa}'. Had ten large tails, the which A. stout denies. They join the issue Avhich the court now tries. Poor puss being dead herself they can't produce : Besides, the witnesses are little use ; Their memory fails. Thus stands the contest when B.'s lawyer rising argues for the ten. Nine, says the plaintiff. Ten, B.'s counsel holds. The which to prove his logic he unfolds And argues thus : " No cat has nine tails, sure ; One cat has one : no truth than this is truer ; But one cat has more tails than no cat ; then, The plaintiff's cat you plainly see had ten." The judge he listens, but no man can trace His sound opinion on this knotty case. 'Twould be improper if he should let out What he might think in such a case of doubt : And if he should, nobody would be bound, Because the law is all he can expound. The jury's province 'tis, and aye hath been. To find the facts. Sound argument will win. Charged with the law on the disputed facts. They now retire, and the shrewd f(M-eman acts As spokesman for the twelve : " It must be so. A. has not made out half a case 1 know. 96 GRAND EPIC. That argument is sound ; and I incline To think that cat had one more tail than nine." In which opinion they all coincide, And by their verdict find the plaintiff lied. Meantime B.'s lawyer walks about the bar And shines resplendent as a new-made star, AVhile the outsiders laud him high, of course. Saying, " Sir, he'd prove a dog's tail on a horse." This is a tedious world, I sometimes think, And far too many take to cards and drink ; But something genial must be had to give Our spirits zest, and cheer us while we live. So fun is good. What should we do without it? The very world would rise in arms about it Were it denied. All Hades, too, would rattle With gathering cohorts rushing forth to battle. The air itself would be with brimstone tainted, All damsels faint who'd not already fainted ; Young men who go a wooing would despair, Old baches grin and say they didn't care, — The very beasts would growl and bite and wrangle Were't not for fun this checkered life to spangle. Youth is the season when the heart beats high AYith bounding life, and joy lights up the eye ; Youth is the season when young love first opes Its fledgeling pinions, plumed with golden hopes. Youth is the season and the gala day When every youngster wants a sweetheart gay. And every sweetheart dearly loves to mingle In those bright scenes which set the heart a-jingle. Youth is the season when we're bashful, too. And bashful sprigs make always sad ado In popping questions (which too early popped. Were better checked, or by injunction stopped). GRAND EPIC. 9T I've rode ten miles beside a pretty shawl With heart quite full, 3'et could not speak at all ; And once I rode full twenty with a fair one, Attired in white, ah nie, she was a rare one ! And in an absent-minded fit, I let My horse dash thro' a slough of miry wet, Which so bespattered her bright form, that she Cast withering glances all the way at me. Youth is the season, — but I'll here hold in : To tell the whole would be, perhaps, a sin, 'Twould never do ; and I should rather perish Than compromise the flames I used to cherish. Oh, Robert Burns ! How do my verses vary ! Those pretty lines you wrote your Highland Mary Who went to heaven, — did always seem to me To make it strange you could a drunkard be. Your heart was tender and your soul alive. And when j^our rustic plowshare once did drive A mousie out, or turned the mountain daisy, Yon stopped to rhyme, — for which the world long- praise ye Oh, Robert Burns, why were you e'er so wayward I Alas, 'tis pity cause there was to say word Against your wild, yet most bewitching nature, — Cause to lament you were so weak a creature. But gifted men of noble heart and head. Full oft '^ the primrose path of dalliance " tread ; And some go over to a swift perdition, And ere life's zenith end their earthly mission. This Epic soon must close. Let me pass on. There is a thing that once was in the ton And still hath many ver}^ curious uses, ^\nd oftentimes sensation deep pioduces. 98 GRAND EPIC. That thing is whalebone, which when I was small I used to get and hate the worst of all. 'Twas once, indeed, the staple of the market, And I myself did rather like than shirk it : It made the straight skirts stand out so bewitching, — I used to thiuk I should not fear a switching If such a shield 1 had around my spindles, — A thing which still m}' admiration kindles. I used to think the whalebone made the style : I told the girls, when they did laugh and smile, That I predicted gents would use it soon. Either to i-aise their coat tails to the moon. Or else to make a lattice work of arches. Whereon to train their glorious, long moustaches. I used to tell 'em whales were getting scarce. They'd soou pla}' out, but hone was ne'er a farce. That flesh and bone would long go well together ; But solid meat would sure outweigh a feather. Told them the stuff, tho' somewhat hard to burn up, "Was good to keep. Some new device would turn up. And new devices always pleased the ladies, Ere Lucy spoke, or Barnum thought of babies. I could not close these grand, heroic verses Without this tribute to that source of curses Which pestered me when I was young and i)layful, And took the girls out riding by the shay-full. Here this grand Epic ends. Nunc vates exit : Exeunt omnes; carmen magnum rexit : Which is a modest, classic way of saying. The bard retires, since he has done his bra^ung. The crowd go home. This verse, like Fogg's philippic. Hath had its day. Selah ! Et vale, Epic ! 99 THAT SUMMER HAT. 'Twns the coquettish month of Ma}', — I saw a man go down the street In winter clothes, save on liis head A pauama, quite new and neat, As if to vent some surplus heat. J watched that man go down the street, — 'Twas early in the afternoon : I half inclined to counsel him ; Friend, you are out a month too soon, Pray, save that summer hat till June. But fearing he might say to me, What business is it, sir, to you? I let him pass without a word ; But still the hat so nice and new Somehow ray gaze intently drew. Most of the hats 'twere out that day Were winter hats, that held the heat ; I could not guess why this one man, AVith winter costume else complete. Should sport his i)an'ma on the street. He elbowed thro' the jostling crowd. Conspicuous by his shining brim ; I trembled lest some surly gust (He was a man so tall and slim) Should make a laughing stock o' him. 100 THAT SUMMER HAT. For this coquettish mouth of May, So full of pranks, is such a shrew, She uips us even when she smiles. Beware of her bright sunshine, you, Who sport sombreros nice and new. Behold, my friend hath made a pause ; And o'er the spirit of his dream Hath come a change ! I saw as 'twere. In broad daylight, a meteor gleam, And heard some dozen urchins scream. There was a chase far down the street. The wayward hat kept well ahead ; At times my friend a point did make, . Then veer'd the hat and onward sped Till, ''drat the thing!" half mad he said. Which is the reason why 'twon't do. In this coquettish month of May, To sport a pan'ma brimm'd so wide Upon the street. Wherefore I say, " Friend, keep it for a later day." THE TWO ST. PATRICKS. 103 JOHN DALEY, THE STHRAME OVER: AN' HOW HE SAW THE TWA ST. PATRICKS. [Tlie late Dr. Ezekiel Holmes of WiiUhroi), for many years editor of the Maine Farmer, prefaced a version of the following v'fem published in his paper iu the life-time of its subject, with the following- parajjraph, viz. : "Our neig;hbors in W. are well aci|uainte(t with that gin-a-wine Hibernian, 'Sprig of Shillalah,' Johnny O'Daley, all the way from ' Haillie James Duff in the Emerald Isle,'— social, good-natured, and witty when sober, but quar- relsome and ' orfuUy rantankerous' when the ' craithure is in him.' His mad pranks when in the latter situation arc the cause oftentimes for his finding quarters in the House of CoiTection, which he liumorously calls the ' Orthodox Jail.' Och I but he's a broth of a boy."] Who lives jist below hy the bend o' tlie sthrame? Troth, who l)ut John Daley hini-sel' ; Wi' the brogue o' the bog on his rnttlesonie tongue, An' his mischief o' wit as he whistles along, — This neighborhood knows Iiiin full well. John Daley, ye're chip o' a thriie Irish block, An' ye dhraws as an Irishman can, Contintment an' paice frae the pii)e that ye smoke ; Ye quarrels sometimes, but more often ye joke Like the happiest man in the Ian'. No doubt ye dug ditches lang syne in Connaught, An' thought na' the toil was a burtlien : Tlie skill that ye ha', man, in work o' that kind AYud lave a sprawl Yankee tin paces behind In thrcnchin' a giutleman's garthen. 104 JOHN DALEY, THE STHKAME OVER. I've ne'er heard ye boast o' good looks for yersel'. Nor compliment do the owld ledthy ; But the childer ye used to extol to the skies, Saying : " Darlints more han'some ne'er winked their bright eyes, Nor ga' one a smile ha' so predthy." D'ye mind the owld pistol ye call'd Watherloo? The one ye kep' loa'thed, ye said. To dhrive frae yer house the too troublesome beaux, — Ah ! cruel John Daley to dhrive off the beaux, Despite ye yer daughters have wed. There's one thing I grieve, — ye sometimes dhrink grog : Ye act like the de'il, as they tell, When ye dhrink to excess, — ye're defiant o' men, An' ye seem like a wild, I'anting lunatic then, An' niver John Daley himsel'. Why d'ye do it, owld boy? I doubt na' ofttimes. Ye ha' thought that the Orthodox Jail Was na' place for a sou o' the Emerald Isle, — Yer pious godfather, d'ye think he wud smile To see ye mew'd up in its pale ? In penance ye vowed not to taste it again : Ye'd sooner cut off the owld han', Whose fingers were blawu to the wnnds, — save a stub. Left for loa'thin' the pipe an' definse in a rub, — Ye'd show 'em John Daley could stan'. Why was it, my hearty, ye missed it so oft When roUickin' free and at large? Were yer good resolutions entirely forgot, That ye slipp'd an' went off on yer beer ere ye thought, An' again for the jail were a charge? JOHN DALEY, THE STHRAME OVER. 105 AVas't the toothache that did it, — the toothache, that once Took ye sore in the jaw, as yo said. An' they gae ye a spoonful o' grog for the pain, Which ye held in yer mouth (till ye swallowed again) , Long ago, when a wild Irish blade? Plow oft ha' I heard ye speak up for the faith In serious, — no joking — no fun : An' hould that the church (gie St. Peter the glory I) Goes back thro' the ages primeval an' hoary As far as the light 'o the sun. " Yis, an' farther," ye said, " else did niver John Daley Spake thrue o' the things that he wot of ; Six thousand long years lived the church an' saved sowls Ere the heretic Luther ran off frae the faul's. Or a Protistint Bilile was thought of." I've in mind an owld sthory ye tell o' the days When ye bowed like a saint to the cross In the blissed owld couuthry, far over the wave, Reptile-purged by St. Patrick (his relics God save ! Not a bone o' thim knows of a loss). How in a cathedral, whose dim-lighted arches Smilt howly of incense an' praise, Down stairs ye once went wi' the praist an' a candle, An' he said ye might see, but forbid ye to handle, Bones o' saints who'd long numbered their days. An' a sthrappuu big door he unl)()lted an' swung, Whin ye saw wi' amazement an' dread, A dhry skeleton standin' ciglit foot in his cell, Every bone in its place an' adjusted so well. That the craithure, he hardly seem'd dead. 106 JOHN DALEY, THE STHRAME OVER. " Who is it? " quo' Johu : " None else," said the praist, " Than St. Patrick whose name we revere." So he left the big door an' led on wi' the light To a nate little cupboard jist 'round to the right, Which he opened, saying: " Now, man, look here." An' ye looked in an' saw 'twas the bones of a child, Standiu' jist to yer waist, as ye said ; All perfect an' comely frae toe bone to skull, — An eye like a mouse hole, wi' mischief as full, Lookin' less than the ither like dead. " An' who's this? " quo' John ; an' the praist made reply : '• 'Tis St. Patrick long gone to his joy." " Twa St. Patricks? " cried John ; said the praist : •' under- stan', The first that ye saw was St. Patrick, the man. An' this is St. Patrick, the boy." Long live ye, John Daley, jist down by the sthrame. Crack jokes, if ye will, till ye die ; Kape sober an' scape frae the Orthodox Jail, Make the balance o' life but a holiday sail, Ye'll be wanted elsewhere by and by. Some day in the gioamin' ye'll go o'er the sthrame, An' ye'll niver come back to yer door ; For yer whistlin' an' jokes folks'll listen in vain. An' the songs that ye sing in a high, merry strain Will be heard by the neighbors no more. But far be the day ! An' the meadows grow green While ye tenant the house by the bend. Shure, the patch on the sthrame where the best pratees grow Will miss ye o'ermuch when ye pass from the show An' yer holiday life to an end. 107 HOW IT HAPPENED: A KHYME EXPLANATORY FOR JOHN DALEY. I ha' heard Johu Daley, 3'e'cl jist like to know Who rhymed ye so free in the paper AVithout yer eousiut an' towld rascally lies, — How the wag, if ye caught him, ye'd gie him black eyes To pay for that impudiut caper. Ye'd gie him black eyes? Fie, fie, what a man. When a joker ye are yer own sel' ; Now away wi' such talk an' yer passions control : Come, gie us yer han' an' I'll tell ye the whole. So ye'll know how that mischief befel. Ye see 'twas one night in a dhrame that I had, I was walking jist down by the sthrame. When divers loud voices I heard in the sky, An', sudden, ten rhymers like gol)lins went by, Shouting : " Johnny O' Daley for fame I " An' they rode all along by the banks o' the sthrame, An' belaguered John's premises 'round : From the Dead House the Shanghais gae forth in dismay Such a screech as the very old Nick were to pay Nor a bit o' hot pitch to be found. 108 HOW IT HAPPENED. All' the rhymers gave orders : " John Daley, come forth ! " Not afeard, but reluctant was John : So they bolted right in, took him out o' his bed, Dressed him up in his clothes, put a hat on his head. Brought a horse, an' they bade him get on. Then the man who'd " not knuckle to St. Peter himsel'," He mounted that nag in a minute : Sayiug, " Shure, its not I to refuse a good ride, — The baste is as fine as one nade to bestride, An' I'll go tho' the mischief be in it." An' the rhymers all laughed : " Ha, ha, ha, he's good pluck. He's worthy as Coesar of fame : So we'll take him along without squabble or strife. An' we'll print all the things he e'er did in his life, Since they called him John Daley by name. " We'll tell of his pranks, an' his wit, an' his fun, Of his pipe of contintmint an' paice. Of his Watherloo pistol which killed a man dead, An' his fingerless han' a Philistine might dread. If he caught the dhry knock in his face. "An' we'll tell how he saw the dhry bones o' the two, — St. Patrick the man an' the boy — In the blissed owld counthry, ere he sailed all the way From Baillie James ]3uff to the St. Lawrence Bay In the immigrant craft, Ship-a-hoy. " For the world ought to know o' these wonderful things ; An' the world would laugh hearty no doubt. If it kenn'd but the half what he's said an' he's done. There's a prank he once played both for freedom an' fun Which the doctors might tell for the gout. HOW IT HAPPENED. 109 "' The story goes thus : John Daley ouce lodged ( )ver night in the Orthodox Jail, Quite elastic, indade, but not out o' his wits : 'Twas in times when Maine Law gae the ruinsellers tits Upon proof of unauthorized sale. •' Next day to that jail went the strict selectman, All zeal in the temperance strife : ' 'Tis a sorrowful sight, John, to see ye in here ; If I thought ye'd behave an' the facts could appear, I'd let ye go home to yer wife.' ''John promised full well an' strong facts did disclose, Sliowing plain 'twas one Packard made sale : Said he had grog o' him an' gae tin for it too, An' he'd swear it in court if they'd jist put him thro'. An' John could go forth from the jail. •' So John was released an' next day in the court Swore the truth, like a witness demure : ' Had ye grog o' this Packard arraigned on complaint?' ' Yis, I had.' ' Did ye pay for it? ' ' Niver a cint, I did not, now, Yer Honor, be shure.' •• Then the lawyer so smart : ' Do ye mean to say that? AVhat, did ye not tell the s'lectman Ye had grog o' this Packard an' gave iiim tlie tin ? ' • Ah, Yer Honors, I did : 'Twas to put the grog in. Shure, the tin was me little tin can.' " An' the rliymers kept talking these things to themselves : " Yes, an' there was the journey he made To Kintuck wi' one Hammond, botli back in dispair. Being too abolition to suit 'em out tliei-e. An' suspected perhaps of a raid." 110 HOW IT HAPPENED. An' the rest o' the thuigs, the back bone o' John's fame, All in detail they said should appear : Henceforth wi'the big bugs he'd be an' the kings, His name in the corners o' papers where sings The Muse like a brisk chanticleer. Here the rhymers pranced ott' wi' the haro along, An' were soon wi' the darkness begrimed : I saw them no more ; but the paper next day Had a scrap in the corner, — an' that was the way John Daley, the dabster, was rhymed. Ill ODE FOR THE X. Y. Z. [A literary society wliicli liad been much interestetl in the reading of Hue'! travels in Tartary.] An ode then it is for this Thanlray now what o' tha^? His victory here will make amends and give him great edat. But blaze it not in Tewksbury, for they don't like to hear, — .Such glorv for the General would lU'ttle them T fear. 128 THE AUBURN GHOST. [A few years ago, while a revival was in progress in Auburn, an apparition appeared on several occasions, and created quite a sensation in town. Tlie fol- lowing poem, written at that time, commemorates the experience of a young man who encountered the mysterious presence on his way home from evening meeting. The facts are, substantially, as vouched for by him. The moral is simply a suggestion, showing the danger of too many sweethearts on the arm at one and the same lime.] Now, when the work o' grace is doiii', And many sinners are eschewin' Tlieir wicked ways, — pray, Avhat's a brewin'? Beelzebnb Is plotting mischief, fright, an' inin, Their faith to snub. They cannot keep him chained an' bound ; Still, as of old, he's bummin' 'roujid All pious counsels to confound : His horn an' hoof From scarce one spot o' hallow'd ground Will keep aloof. Sometimes in black, sometimes in white. Disguised, he stalks in broad daylight ; An' sometimes prowlin' late at night, 'Bout ten or 'leven, He waylays meetin' folks, — to fright Their souls from heaven. THE AUBURN GHOST. 129 Seldom he tackles old an' tried ones, Who, steadfast as the glorified ones, .Stand firm, howe'er the evil tide rnns : He chooses rather The tender converts, j^oung, bright-eyed ones, To scare an' bother. Last Monday night, when dim the moon Thro' misty clonds scarce blinked aboon, A young man, hummin' sacred tune, (ioin' home from meetin' With Misses three, fell in a swoon At his rough greetin'. He first smelled brimstone, then he saw ( )ld Nick's grim beldam near 'em draw With one long-jointed, harpy claw Outstretched to grab 'em, An' teeth set in a lantern jaw, Sharp filed, to nab 'em. Full eight feet high, the young man said. At them the specter shook its head With eyeballs glaring fier}' red. Then belched a groan, Wheieat the damsels screamed an' fled. An' he fell down. So terror-stricken an' unmanned. He could not raise his valiant hand Against the foe. nor make a stand, — l>Mt lay there dyin'. Without one tiiought o' happ}- land, Or dnmscls flyin'. !) 130 THE AUBURN GHOST. Now tlmuk the Lord, whose power arose Rioht here ao-aiiist foul fiends an' foes An' saved his lambs ! Alas, who knows How dire the harm, Had he forgot to interpose His strong right arm? Ah, what a frightful tale to tell Had old Nick caught each bloomin' belle, - Had three been seized in that In'ief spell B}^ art Satanic, An' hurried, sudden, off to hell — Oh. what a panic ! JMORAL. Young man ! young man ! Avhen late at night The meetin's out, an' all the light Is Auburn's gas, not extra bright, Escort but one ; Take never three, lest 3'ou take fright An' be undone ! 131 FINALE. The show is over. Here the curtain falls : Yon need not hearken now for caterwauls, — 'Tis past midnight and all the cats have fled. This orchestra is tired and going to bed. Confound the Muses ! I ejaculate : Nunc libera me! Thej-'d keep one on the wake Till lights l)urn blue, when one should snoring be. Not out with them larking it merrily. Confound tluMu all I No solier, nuirricd nuiu Should flirt witli them. He'd better, if he cau, Drive them to roost at early candle-light : They murder sleci). if they get out at night. Then when at morn one hears the bantam crow, He will wake up with vigorous life aglow : Not look blear-eyed, like votaries at the shrine Of ancient maids yclept the Sacred Nine. Considerate bards at night hang up the lyre. And quench awhile the wild, Promethean fire. I follow suit, and with the poker bury The embers deep, for I feel prosy, very. The show is done. Now scatter and disperse ! You will not get from me another verse : Grave doubts still haunt me as when J l)egun. But I shall rallv. now Ihe concert's done. OCCASIONAL POEMS. The foregoiug, it is believed, embraces the "'effusions'' called for by the vote of the Bar Association, and completes the collection intended to be included under the title, •• TXSIDE THE BAE." At the suggestion and request of some friends, and with the approval of the Association I believe, I publish in this connection a few poems of a different character, some of early date, others more recent, several of which are quite outside the legal atmosphere. I need offer no apology here, I think, for these additions to the collection. Whether to couple them with w^hat precedes is strictly in accordance with good taste and that nice sense of propriety which should be observed by one venturing before the public in work of this kind, those who read must judge. If the occasional poems which follow possess any interest, local, personal, or otherwise, for those into whose hands the book may fall, and are not distasteful to the members of our fraternity, it may perhaps be deemed a sufficient warrant for intro- ducing them here. J. W M. 137 THE BURDEN OF THE RHYME. I waut a burden, oue that I can cany, An easy, tasteful burden for my rhyme : A yielding mass which I can shape and vary. And fashion to my whim at any time. I want a burden. — not a cumbrous weight. To weigh me down whene'er I spread a wing. And force my lyre to cries disconsolate. When I, forsooth, should like a syren sing : — No pilgrim's pack, but just a well-poised load, Which I can swing with an elastic tread, — One that shall not niN' freedom incommode. While on I press to gain the prize ahead. I want, — what do 1 want? 'Twere sweet to know One's pressing want in such an hour of need. 'Tis not a legend with romance aglow, 'Tis not a warrior prancing on his steed, 'Tis not a hero. These are commonplace And crowd before us whereso'er we go. 'Tis something nameless my mind's eye would trace And which 1 fain would si)rcad before you now. 138 THE BURDEN OF THE KHYME. For I have wandered in some pleasant fields. By cool cascades, in pathways where the sun A mellow radiance thro' green foliage yields, And soft, responsive voices, many a one, Have whispered me, unheard by other ears ; And strains of music such as only come From sources where one sees no form, but hears Eolian murmuriugs as his footsteps roam ; — Such marvelous strains at times mine ear hath caught. And I have listened till the music's spell Within my soul an ecstasy hath wrought, Such as no earthly minstrel can compel. It is not all a witch note of the aii-. The fitful trembling of some wild harp-strings. That wins me thus and chains my spirit there. As to a fount whence inspiration springs. Not iu such fields and pathways of delight The burden of the poet's song is found : Nor from such sources, fanciful and bright, Issue the rhythmic measures of sweet sound. The burden of the poet's living song Lies not in theme or net-work of a lay : The theme is stale,— unless 'tis borne along By flood of melody that must have way. The ringing note, the echo lingering sweet. The breathing word whose utterance thrills the heart, The earnest thought that doth itself repeat. The tender touch that bids the tear to start, THE BURDEN OF THE RHYME. 139 The flow of numbers gathering force and fire, The stress of song impatient of control, — These are the burden of the poet's lyre. Springing harmonious from his inmost soul. Therefore if something of that magic power Shall stir within. I shall tlu' burden find; Nor, haply, lack the skill for one brief hour To swaj' some heart responsively inclined. Therefore I yield at times, and softh' touch The harp whose strings are with the ivy clad : Tho' my vain effort miss the mark o'ermuch, Yet I rejoice if but one heart is glad. '^^^^u^ WEST PITCH. 141 WEST PITCH. [The falls at the Amlrosfogi,nti at Lewistmi, Me., are diviiled hy a high pro- jection of the ledge, between wliich and the Auburn side is a deep gorge or channel worn tlirough tlie rock, and known as West Pitch. In time of freshet the great bod)- of the water passes down through this gorge, presenting a grand spectacle and constituting the most interesting feature of the falls.] List to the souiul of the cataract's roar ! That deep-toued voice yon have heard before, It hath spoken for ages — its thniideriiig- tongne Is ever attnned to the same old song. It speaks when the spring-time floods come donn, As the ocean speaks when tempests frown ; Then dies awa}' as the snmmer comes To a hiHaby soft as the rivulet hums. See how the waters first pause on the brink. As if from the terrible plunge they would slu'ink, Then shudder and curl — till over they go Like an avalanche hurled on the rocks below ; Sending wreaths of foam and spray afar, In the clash of their elemental war ; While up from tlie boiling tinnult leaps A cloud in whose mists a rainbow sleeps. Stand on the shelf of the rifted rock, Where the current goes down with a whirl and a shock, - Tumultuous, wild, im[)etuous, grand, With a might no barrier can now withstand: 142 WEST PITCH. Gaze on that hell with suspended breath — Think of the suicides' terrible death. And the fiercer hell of the heart which hurled The victims, ruthlessly, out of the world. Ah, what a burden comes now on the song ! List to the howl which the waters prolong : Two poor wretches, — frail, maidenly forms. Together o'erwhelmed in the cataract's arms. Speak not of errors which sicken the heart And madden the brain till reason depart — Your voice, O frenzied waters, to-day Is a demon's howl o'er the strangled prey. And the hoarse refrain all day, all night, Keeps sounding on with terrible might, Keeps ringing its din in heedless ears — The same old song it hath sung for years. No rest for the waters ! Wild, bounding amain. They leap from the mountain o'erwhelming the plain They laugh at all barriers, victorious and free. Like an army they pass unrestrained to the sea. The tempest's loud note they utter, and now 'Tis the whoop of the warrior that tramples his foe ; An anthem at morning they sound in their glee, A requiem at eve as they pass to the sea. 143 MEMORIAL DAY. [Head at the Dedioation of the Soldiers' Moiiumeut in Auburn, May 30, 1882. Bring flowers, fresh floweis, and strew their graves, They fell on many a field, Young patriots, who went forth to die. Their country's flag to shiekl. The l)looming spring, with l»ouuteous liand. By eveiy wayside spreads Her floral wealth. Weave garlands green, And deck their lowly beds. Survivors I who to arms with them Went forth at bugle call, — A\'^ho with them at the front nplield The dear old flag thro' all : Wlio bore them from the gor^' field Of battle's wild affray, — 'Tis meet we join with you and bring These offerings here to-day : That fife and drum should sound again, And bayonets gleam once more In honor of the illustrious dead Who marched witli von before. 144 MEMORIAL DAY. 'Tis meet that from the quarry's bed, In life-like form should rise, The hero of the rank and file, Who made such sacrifice : That many a monumental stone Should bear his image high, Conspicuous o'er the land he saved, P^mblem of loyalty. A grateful country lifts her voice, Whose children while they share The blessings by the brave secured, Shall breathe perpetual prayer. And often as the spring-time comes. And strews with lavish hand Her treasures here, we'll strew these graves, Honored throuwhout the land. 145 DAVID BARKER. [Died at Bangor, September 15, 1874.] I oiil}' knew him by the strain He flung iit random from his lyre : Ambitious not for woi'ldly fame, He kept as 'twere a liidden flame His spark of the Promethean fire. I never read his glowing lines Without a curious wish to know^ How 'twas the lawyer's pen could trace, With humorous or pathetic grace, Such numbers as lie made to flow. In war's dark times, when patriot hearts W^ere forced sometimes a sigh to heave ; He struck his harp to notes of cheer, And sounded forth, high-toned and clear, His tribute to "■ Tiie Empty Sleeve." Some tribute to the bard is due. Who tribute to tlie soldier paid. And lielpcd with stirring song create, For country and for native State, High hopes and courage undismayed, 10 146 DAVID BARKER. How often, iu his jovial moods, He caught np novel themes and sung Spontaneous rhjnnes ! His ready wit Gave laughter the hysteric fit And gaunt dyspepsia's nerves unstrung. What if at times he stepped aside. Discarding all restraints and rules, And let his Muse indulge full free A frolic for his cronies glee. And called fastidious critics fools? Not less a genuine bard was he, Who stamped his impress on his lay : So true he touched the strings at times All hearts responded to his rhymes, And yielded to their magic sway. He joined not with the shouting crowd Who in the victor cur delight : But pour'd in quaint burlesque a strain Of pity for the dog in pain, — Despised and under in the fight : A deed for which, methinks, howe'er The shouting crowd may scoff and jeer. He hath won friends. With modest grace Upon the rolls he takes his place. And will be Ions remembered here. 147 IN MEMORIAM. [Lines written in October, 1S()8, on the death of Hon. T. A. D. Fessenilen, a member of this Bar, who died in Auburn, September iStli, of that year.] Full soon the summer months have fled. — The last brief summer months for him, Our friend and brother ! Who could tell That ere the summer's foliage fell, Should sound his mournful, funeral h^'ran ? And now the harvest days are sad, Too full of grief that must have way : And autumn's tinted mantle spread Seems as a shroud, — for he is dead, — Called hence, alas, ere life's noonda3\ In these accustomed daily walks No more will his familiar face And cordial, greeting hand be known ; And we shall miss the genial tone Of life in his accustomed place. How vain are words! What sympathy Can soothe the sorrows now luisealed? The heart its vigils lone must keej) : Its fitful slumbers are not sleep But restless yearnings unrevealed. 148 IN MEMORIAM. Speak not of other days and hours, When morning time illumed the wa}' ; When manhood's strength and friendship's ties Proclaim'd a man whom we did prize, — All these have quickly passed away : And now the shadow and the gloom, The sudden dimness over all : A blank, where that bright beacon burned, To which the eyes of childhood turned With many a sweet and tender call. Time may, perchance, assuage the pain. But cannot heal the bleeding wound : Thro' months and years which are to come, The memories of the broken home Will cluster tearfully around ; And fair, young features which reveal The semblance of the father's face, Will speak of him as days go on. And bear his impress fixed upon And fashioned to sweet childhood's orace. 149 THE WOOD NYMPH. Away with your tales of the stormy, old sea ! That music that steals o'er the thuudering surge, Is nought but the voice of a demon's wild glee, As it blends with the wail of the mariner's dirge. Tell me not of your bright, coral grottoes that gleam Far down in the depths where the daylight's glad beam Illumines them not, — but the phosphoric glare Of bones that untimely lie bleaching there. Is the only, the dim, funereal light, That fitfully shines thro' the watery night. Say not that the mermaid all gracefully there Is decking with sea-shells her beautiful hair. Whose loose, flowing tresses drip wet with the spray, Or trail o'er the waves as she urges her wa}' : Say not that she sports 'midst the mazes of waters, And smiles to her sisters, the Neried daughters ; That she sleeps on the foam of the white-crested billow, As calm as an infant reposed on its pillow ; While the sailor boy gazes entranced with delight, Till awak'uing, she starts from her dream in affright. And turns on him nought but a love-qnelling frown, — So he weeps when the soul of his transport hath flown. 150 THE WOOD NYMPH. I envy her not. The bright home of my joys Is not where the rage of the tempest annoys ; For the wild winds of ^ohis are awful to me As they howl in their frenzy out o'er the dark sea. I envy her not. Ah, she knows not the bliss Of a bower in the woodland so grateful as this, — Where the soft skies of summer are bending above, All mantled in beauty and radiant with love ; Where the music of waters steals soft on the ear. And the voices of songsters say gladness is here ; — Where the twilight descends on its dim, dusky pinions And broods like a dream o'er my fairy dominions. Till the murmurs of evening wax fainter around. And hush in the silence of midnight profound. Oh, I've a sweet bank by the cool fountain's bed. With its carpet of moss- woven daisies outspread. And above it the wild vines, embracing each other, Weave greenly the web of their foliage together ; Around it the wood flowers are daintily blowing. And beside it the bright, sparkling waters are flowing, - Here in sheltered seclusion, retired at noonday, I recline like a queen in some fairy display. Softly kissed by the breezes whose odorous wings Waft the incense of bloom till the nightingale sings. Here I hie unobserved when my pastime is over. And laugh at the wooings of my young elfin lover, — A rogue whom I tease till his courage is high. Then out of his sight in a twinkle I fly. And here, by the light of the sweet silver moon. With the Genius of Beauty I sometimes commune ; As revealed in the light of an angel of love, She descends thro' the blue fields of ether above, THE AVOOD NYMPH. 151 More soft than a sylph of the twilight, to glide O'er the realms where the graces of Nature preside. Fair Hebe with cheeks of the rose is my guest. With the glory of childhood and iuuoecnee blest ; Aud the blue-eyed Eudymion, who, slumbering at night, Made the heart of Diana throb wild with delight. They come, — not creations of fable and dream. But living realities, fair as they seem : I welcome their coming aud bid them recline On my green, mossy bank 'neath the clambering vine, While stars thro' the foliage j)eep down from on high, And the belted Orion tlames bright in the sky. But not to the woodlands alone am I l)ound : The green, spreading meadows aud streamlets around, The lawns and the uplands, the glens and the groves, Are scenes where my spirit exultingly roves. I am forth at the dawn ere the twilight doth pale. — When the blushing Aurora her charms doth unveil, And the gates of the morning swiug open, and day With its chariot of sunbeams proceeds on its way. At noontide I glide to the skirt of the w^ood ; A moment I stand where the husbandman stood, And I note all his movements, tho' never does he Catch a glimpse, in his wandering vision, of me. I glance at the cottager's little ones at play Seen far thro' the trees in the distance away. And I smile at their frolics as jocund and light As the gambols of fairies at midsummer night. I trace to its source the meandering rill ; 1 pause on the brow of the neighboring hill. And watch till the day god doth close his career, And his bainiers of crimson aud gold disappear. 152 THE WOOD NYMPH. The world hath a sphere close by dwellings of men, Which none but the spirits immortal can l is on the willow bough : The blue-eyed maid retiring, leaves us now. And goes serenely through the welkin blue. Waving to us, as we to all, adieu. *Mr. .Tabcz Bacon, upwards of ninety years ol' ago and the uIiK'tit inlialiil^inl of Wintlirop at the time of the centennial celeltration.