“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. 44 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, "Apple-blooms whiten, and peach-blooms fall, "The days are longest, the month is June, "Just take us betwixt your finger and thumb- And Margaret, picking as fast as they can! O dear! if you only knew how it shocks And this is the story the small lips told THE FRENCHMAN AND THE FLEA POWDER. A FRENCHMAN once-so runs a certain ditty- And teach his neighbor, rough John Bull, to dance. 66 Poor Monsieur landed at starvation's gate. He thought he heard himself in anger called : In not a very mild or tender mood, From the same window where before she stood: I'll let you dirty, thieving Frenchmen know, How dared you tell me that your worthless stuff “Ah, madame! s'il vous plait, attendez-vous— My powdare gran'! magnifique ! why abuse him? THE HEATHEN CHINEE. BRET HARTE. Which I wish to remark And my language is plain— And for tricks that are vain, 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, 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 Which we had a small game, 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, 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,"— In the scene that ensued I did not take a hand, Like the leaves on the strand With the cards that Ah Sin had been aiding In his sleeves, which were long, He had twenty-four packs- Yet I state but the facts; And we found on his nails, which were taper, 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, 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. |