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But one day he took very sick,
So eight years passed; dear Mammy kept up well;
THE LITTLE DIGO GIRL.-ROBERT C. V. MEYERS.*
Written expressly for this Collection.
Under her little chin,
“ Home sweet home,” the air,
With false notes here and there,
Very tired she was,
She had played all day, alas!
But a dollar must be earned
For the Padre, ere she turned
Her fingers had grown numb,
But she had not quite the sum
In the murky crowded street,
To the tramp of hurrying feet,
There were hundreds passing by,
But she could not catch an eye-
Hungry up to bed,
With blows on back and head,
So she played her song of bome,
Still hoping, trusting some
And she thought of Italy,
And the sun there, and the free
Through the sharp electric light
Came a man with eyes as bright,
His palm had caught the itch
Of the passion to be rich, And he saw the way to riches that he sought. *Author of the popular recitation, "Jamie," in No. 23, also, “ If I should Die To-night," "Our C'lumbrix," " The Sentinel of Metz,” “Eunice," " The Masque," &c., in previous Nunibers of this Series.
There was money, not his own,
He might take, and take unknownWas not his reputation more than fair ?
He might build a mansion then,
Be foremost among men,
He would do it-now-this night!
He clasped his two hands tightHe would do it!-none would know, for none could know!
He felt no bitter cold,
For the fever in him rolled Like lava in the crater's fiery flow.
So he came along the street,
The echo of his feet
For the joy that lay in store
When care he'd have no more,
When all at once there fell
Upon him a strange spell-
He was back, years back, in some
Green lane he called his home,
The skies were bright above,
His heart was full of love, And standing in a humble cottage-door
Was a woman, and she sang,
As up the lane he sprang, -
She sang the song of home,
The song of “Home, sweet home,
And she smiled on him, her eyes
With love grown more than wise, And her voice was old, but sang of “Home, sweet Home.*
He cried out “Mother!"—there
In the crowded thoroughfare; And something wet his cheek like a tear.
Then be heard a violin,
And he saw a little thin
He was in the street again,
The old home faded then,
“ God bless her!” said he, and
He dropped into her hand Sparkling, jingling coin, and more than one.
That night he asked for strength,
I had come to him at length,
And he dreamed of the old lane,
And the song birds, and again
With her little violin
Under her shawl so thin,
Gave the money, had a sup
And a crust, and then went up To her bed to dream of home and—Italy.
WOMAN.-ELLA WHEELER Wilcox.
One's a term
Who would be The “perfect woman" must grow brave of heart And broad of soul, to play her troubled part Well in life's drama. While each day we see The “perfect lady,” skilled in what to do, And what to say, grace in each tone and act ('Tis taught in schools, but needs serve native tact), Yet narrow in her mind as in her shoe. Give the first place, then, to the nobler phrase, And leave the lesser word for lesser praise.
MR. EISSELDORF AND THE WATER PIPE
“ Hans, dot vater bipe giffs no vater alretty, und you vos petter sent oop dot blumber to vix id vonce more.”
This remark was addressed to a highly respected German citizen as he sat in front of his cosy grate. He received the announcement with evident disfavor.
"Vot! Dot vater pipe again? I vas shoost congratulatin' meinself dot de ice vagon comes no more, und dot new hat vos paid for, und dot Christmas vas a long vays ahead-und now von off dose blumbers ! Mein gracious, Gretch en! I got no money for blumbers. I vix. es id myself. Joe!” addressing his ten-year-old son, “vere vos dot leak?”
Then Joe proceeded to explain that the leak was under the house, where the stout frame of his worthy ancestor could hardly go.
“Neffer mind, neffer mind. You gets me some bipe und a monkey wrench, und I save dot blumber's bill.
So the next day Joe got the pipe and the monkey wrench, and his father, having divested himself of all surplus garments, entered the hole, pulling the pipe after him. It was a tight squeeze, and after lying on his back to convenience his position, he proceeded to discover the leak. Very little water was now coming from it, as he had taken the precaution to turn off the tap. He hadn't turned it quite tight enough and yelled;
“ Turn off de vater.”
Joe didn't know his right hand from his left, nor the philosophy of screws, and turned it on.
The old gentleman's mouth was under the leak. He was wedged in. He sputtered and swore and swore and sputtered, but his wild yells to Joe were muffled by the sound of deluging water and Joe was intent on a dogfight across the way, as he sat on an empty nail keg and chewed gum:
He looked over his shoulder and saw the old man with