DE QUINCY'S DEED.-HOMer Greene, Red on the morn's rim rose the sun; Bright on the field's breast lay the dew; Loud on the sweet air rang the call, Blast from the bugle and quick command; Swift to their saddles they vaulted all, Sat with the reins in hand, Spur to the steed's flank, fears in thrall, "Straight to the hill-top! Who's there first, We or the foe, shall win this day." So spake De Quincy; then, like a burst Of splendor, he led the way, He and his white steed both athirst For the mad sport of the fray. "Charge!" What a wild leap! One bright mass Whirls, like a storm cloud, up the hill; Hoofs in a fierce beat bruise the grass, Clang of the steel rings shrill, Eyes of the men flash fire as they pass, See! from an open cottage lane Sallies a child, where the meadow dips; Straight in the path of the charging train, Under the iron hoofs! Whose the fault? Killed? It is naught if the day be won. On! to the "Halt!" How he thunders it! "Halt!" What has De Quincy done? Checked, in a moment, the swift assault, Struck back saber and gun. "Back!" till the horses stand pawing the air, Throwing their riders from stirrup to mane. Down from his saddle he bends to where Lifts her with care till her golden hair Bears her from harm as he would his child, The fight? Did they win it? Aye! victory smiled IN THE DIME MUSEUM. A woman, on whose face deep lines had traced the words, "old without age," walked about in a dime museum leading a boy. "Hoo, wee!" the boy exclaimed, "look there." "That's the fat woman." "What made her so fat?" "I don't know." "Eating so much?" "I don't know, I tell you." "Will you ever be that fat?" "I hope not." "Why?" "Because I don't want to be so fat." "Does it hurt? "No-I think not." "Then why don't you want to be so fat?" "Because I couldn't get around." "But you wouldn't have to get around. Papa could get a big table an' you could set on it and "Hush!" 66 Why?" "If "Do you don't hush I'll take you out of here." "No." "But "Yes.' 66 you have to pay to go out? you had to pay to come in, didn't you?" 'Why don't "If you don't you have to pay to go out?" "Oh, look there! What's that man doing?" "I don't know." "Then how do you know he's spinning it?" 66 'If you don't hush this very minute I'll spank you when we get home. You trifling little rascal, you annoy me almost to death." After a short silence. "Ma, what's annoy?" "Bother." "What's bother?" "Are you going to hush?" turning fiercely upon him. 66 'Oh, what's that?" "The Circassian lady." "What's the matter with her hair?” "Nothing, it's natural?" "How natural?" "It was always that way." "When she was a little tiny baby?" "Gracious alive, no!" "Then how could it be that way always?" She then took hold of his ear. "Ouch, now!" "Don't you cry here. If you do I'll whip you when we get home." Why mustn't I cry here?" "Everybody would laugh at you." 66 Would the fat woman laugh?" "Yes." "Why?" "Are you going to hush?" "Yessum. What are them men doin'?" "They are cowboys, showing-" "What's a cowboy?" "A man that drives cattle out on the plains." "If he's a man, how can he be a boy?" “Didn't I tell you that I'd whip you if you didn't hush." "Yessum. Are there any calf boys?" "I think not." After a slight pause. "Mamma, then little children would be calf boys, wouldn't they?" "I suppose so." "Am I a calf boy?" "No." "Why?" "If you don't hush this very minute I'll take you home. You shall never go anywhere with me again, never, never so long as you live." "I couldn't go after I quit livin', could I?" "No." "I'll be an angel then, wont I?" "I suppose so." "Will I look like a bird?" "I don't know." "Like a chicken?" "Merciful heavens, no!" "What will I look like?" "I don't know. Now, hush!" "Wont I fall?" "No." "I can ketch birds, can't I?" "I don't know." "But if I can fly fast I can, can't I?" "I suppose so.' "Will I go around and wrestle with people?" "What? You trifling rascal, what do you mean, say?" 66 Why, you read in the Bible that Jacob wrestled with an angel." "I'm going to tell your father to whip you just as soon as we get home. You'll see, sir, mind if you don't. You promised to be a good boy, but you have been meaner than you ever were before." "Please don't tell him." "Will you be good?" "Yessum." After a few moments of silence. "Look at that man, got on woman's clothes." "No." "Why?" "I don't-look here, didn't you tell me that you would be good? You give me the horrors." "What's the horrors?" "Come to me." She seized him, and, as she was hurrying from the house, a man addressed her, saying that the performance bad begun down stairs. "Ma, what's the performance?" She jerked him through the door and dragged him away. THE AUCTIONEER'S GIFT.*-S. W. Foss. The auctioneer leaped on a chair, and bold and loud and clear, He poured his cataract of words,-just like an auctioneer. He scattered round his jests like rain, on the unjust and the just; Sam Sleeman said he laughed so much he thought that he would bust. He knocked down bureaus, beds, and stoves, and clocks and chandeliers, And a grand piano, which he swore would "last a thousand years; He rattled out the crockery, and sold the silverware; At last they passed him up to sell a little baby's chair. "How much? how much? come make a bid; is all your money spent?" And then a cheap, facetious wag came up and bid, "one cent." Just then a sad-faced woman, who stood in silence there, Broke down and cried, "My baby's chair! My poor, dead baby's chair!" *From "The Yankee Blade," by permission of the Author. |