Imatges de pàgina
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“When the swallows fly home to the old brown shed, And the robins build on the bough overhead,

Then out from the mould, from the darkness and cold Blossom, and runner, and leaf unfold.

"Good children then, if they come near, And hearken a good long while, may hear A wonderful tramping of little feet,—

So fast we grow in the summer heat.

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Our clocks are the flowers; and they count the hours Till we can mellow in sun and showers,

With warmth of the west-wind and heat of the south,
A ripe red berry for a ripe red mouth.

"Apple-blooms whiten, and peach-blooms fall,
And roses are gay by the garden wall,
Ere the daisy's dial gives the sign
That we can invite little Pearl to dine.

"The days are longest, the month is June,
The year is nearing its golden noon,
The weather is fine, and our feast is spread
With a green cloth and berries red.

"Just take us betwixt your finger and thumb-
And quick, O quick! for, see! there come
Tom on all fours, and Martin the man,

And Margaret, picking as fast as they can!

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O dear! if you only knew how it shocks
Nice berries like us to be sold by the box,
And eaten by strangers, and paid for with pelt,
You would surely take pity, and eat us yourself!'

And this is the story the small lips told
To dear Pearl Honeydew, six years old,
When she laid her head on the strawberry-bed
To hear what the red-cheeked berries said.

THE FRENCHMAN AND THE FLEA POWDER.

A FRENCHMAN once-so runs a certain ditty-
Had crossed the Straits to famous London city,
To get a living by the arts of France,

And teach his neighbor, rough John Bull, to dance.
But lacking pupils, vain was all his skill;
His fortune sank from low to lower still,
Until at last, pathetic to relate,

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Poor Monsieur landed at starvation's gate.
Standing, one day, beside a cook-shop door,
And gazing in, with aggravation sore,
He mused within himself what he should do
To fill his empty maw, and pocket too.
By nature shrewd, he soon contrived a plan,
And thus to execute it straight began:
A piece of common brick he quickly found,
And with a harder stone to powder ground,
Then wrapped the dust in many a dainty piece
Of paper, labeled; Poison for de Fleas,"
And sallied forth, his roguish trick to try,
To show his treasures, and to see who'd buy.
From street to street he cried with lusty yell,
'Here's grand and sovereign flea powdare to sell !"
And fickle Fortune seemed to smile at last,
For soon a woman hailed him as he passed,
Struck a quick bargain with him for the lot,
And made him five crowns richer on the spot.
Our wight, encouraged by this ready sale,
Went into business on a larger scale,
And soon throughout all London scattered he
The " only genuine powdare for de flea."
Engaged, one morning, in his new vocation
Of mingled boasting and dissimulation,

He thought he heard himself in anger called :
And, sure enough, the self-same woman bawled,

In not a very mild or tender mood,

From the same window where before she stood:
"Hey, there!" said she, “you Monsher Powder-man
Escape my clutches now, sir, if you can!

I'll let you dirty, thieving Frenchmen know,
That decent people won't be cheated so.

How dared you tell me that your worthless stuff
Would make my bedstead clean and clear enough
Of bugs? I've rubbed those bedsteads o'er and o'er
And now, the plagues are thicker than before!"
Then spoke Monsieur, and heaved a saintly sigh
With humble attitude, and tearful eye,

“Ah, madame! s'il vous plait, attendez-vous—
I vill dis leetle ting explain to you.

My powdare gran'! magnifique ! why abuse him?
Aha! I show you, Madame, how to use him.
You must not spread him in large quantité
Upon de bedstead-no! dat's not de vay:
First, you must wait until you catch de flea;
Den, tickle he on de petite you see;
And when he laugh-aha! he ope his troat;
Den poke de powdare down! Begar! he choke !!"

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THE HEATHEN CHINEE.

BRET HARTE.

Which I wish to remark

And my language is plain—
That for ways that are dark,

And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar,

Which the same I would rise to explain.

Ah Sin was his name ;

And I shall not deny

In regard to the same

What that name might imp1y,

But his smile it was pensive and childlike,
As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye.

It was August the third;

And quite soft was the skies;

Which it might be inferred

That Ah Sin was likewise;

Yet he played it that day upon William
And me in a way I despise.

Which we had a small game,
And Ah Sin took a hand:
It was Euchre. The same

He did not understand;

But he smiled as he sat by the table,

With the smile that was childlike and bland

Yet the cards they were stocked

In a way that I grieve,

And my feelings were shocked

At the state of Nye's sleeve :

Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers,

And the same with intent to deceive.

But the hands that were played

By that heathen Chinee,

And the points that he made,

Were quite frightful to see

Till at last he put down a right bower,
Which the same Nye had dealt unto me.

Then I looked up at Nye,

And he gazed upon me; And he rose with a sigh,

And said, " Can this be?

We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor,"—
And he went for that heathen Chinee.

In the scene that ensued

I did not take a hand,
But the floor it was strewed

Like the leaves on the strand

With the cards that Ah Sin had been aiding
In the game "he did not understand."

In his sleeves, which were long,

He had twenty-four packs-
Which was coming it strong,

Yet I state but the facts;

And we found on his nails, which were taper,
What is frequent in tapers-that's wax.

Which is why I remark,

And my language is plain

That for ways that are dark,

And for tricks that are vain,

The heathen Chinee is peculiar

Which the same I am free to maintain.

SHAMUS O'BRIEN, THE BOLD BOY OF GLINGALL.

A TALE OF '98.

LE FANU.

JIST afther the war, in the year '98,

As soon as the boys wor all scattered and bate,
'Twas the custom, whenever a pisant was got.
To hang him by thrial-barrin' sich as was shot.
There was trial by jury goin' on by daylight,
And the martial law hangin' the lavins by night.

This admirable Poem is here given complete. The main body of the piace by Le Fanu; the P. S. is supposed to be of American origin.

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