THE THIEF.

Richard Roe was a thief, whose temptation to stealAlways grew more resistless when wanting a meal;Once he entered a store, when no person was by,Took a box of sardines, and attempted to fly;But, although he could slope when occasion required,Like a stag to a stream when the forest is fired,The scoundrel was spotted and nabbed at the door,By officers Murphy, McMannus and Moore;And away to the jail, midst a crowd you should see,Went the thief, the sardines, and the officers three.The next day came his hearing, and people were thereFrom all stations in life, on the prisoner to stare:There were gamblers, street-pavers, stevedores, undertakers,Ship-chandlers, brick-masons, and umbrella makers,Corn-doctors, reporters, clerks, tailors, and teachers,Fruit-peddlers, horse-trainers, clairvoyants, and preachers;A few women also jammed in with the rest,With their bonnets awry, and their clothing sore pressed,And their uplifted faces, perspiring and red,Full ear-deep in the back of some person ahead;And like peas in a kettle, or bees in a hive—Ever shifting position—so they were alive;All impatiently wedging around in a stew,In the hope they could better their chance for a view;This one grumbling because some one crowded so nearThat he shot his hot breath in the depths of his ear;That one cursing because some one’s elbow so rudeOn his ribs was inclined to encroach and intrude;And another one howling and looking forlorn,Just because some one trod on his favorite corn;Over all the hoarse voice of the bailiff did wheeze:“Order! order in the court, gentlemen, if you please!”Six feet two, if an inch, and proportioned in size,Stood the thief in the dock, when the clerk bid him rise;And amongst all that crowd not a man could be foundWith his shoulders so square and a physique so sound.

Richard Roe was a thief, whose temptation to steal

Always grew more resistless when wanting a meal;

Once he entered a store, when no person was by,

Took a box of sardines, and attempted to fly;

But, although he could slope when occasion required,

Like a stag to a stream when the forest is fired,

The scoundrel was spotted and nabbed at the door,

By officers Murphy, McMannus and Moore;

And away to the jail, midst a crowd you should see,

Went the thief, the sardines, and the officers three.

The next day came his hearing, and people were thereFrom all stations in life, on the prisoner to stare:There were gamblers, street-pavers, stevedores, undertakers,Ship-chandlers, brick-masons, and umbrella makers,Corn-doctors, reporters, clerks, tailors, and teachers,Fruit-peddlers, horse-trainers, clairvoyants, and preachers;A few women also jammed in with the rest,With their bonnets awry, and their clothing sore pressed,And their uplifted faces, perspiring and red,Full ear-deep in the back of some person ahead;And like peas in a kettle, or bees in a hive—Ever shifting position—so they were alive;All impatiently wedging around in a stew,In the hope they could better their chance for a view;This one grumbling because some one crowded so nearThat he shot his hot breath in the depths of his ear;That one cursing because some one’s elbow so rudeOn his ribs was inclined to encroach and intrude;And another one howling and looking forlorn,Just because some one trod on his favorite corn;Over all the hoarse voice of the bailiff did wheeze:“Order! order in the court, gentlemen, if you please!”

The next day came his hearing, and people were there

From all stations in life, on the prisoner to stare:

There were gamblers, street-pavers, stevedores, undertakers,

Ship-chandlers, brick-masons, and umbrella makers,

Corn-doctors, reporters, clerks, tailors, and teachers,

Fruit-peddlers, horse-trainers, clairvoyants, and preachers;

A few women also jammed in with the rest,

With their bonnets awry, and their clothing sore pressed,

And their uplifted faces, perspiring and red,

Full ear-deep in the back of some person ahead;

And like peas in a kettle, or bees in a hive—

Ever shifting position—so they were alive;

All impatiently wedging around in a stew,

In the hope they could better their chance for a view;

This one grumbling because some one crowded so near

That he shot his hot breath in the depths of his ear;

That one cursing because some one’s elbow so rude

On his ribs was inclined to encroach and intrude;

And another one howling and looking forlorn,

Just because some one trod on his favorite corn;

Over all the hoarse voice of the bailiff did wheeze:

“Order! order in the court, gentlemen, if you please!”

Six feet two, if an inch, and proportioned in size,Stood the thief in the dock, when the clerk bid him rise;And amongst all that crowd not a man could be foundWith his shoulders so square and a physique so sound.

Six feet two, if an inch, and proportioned in size,

Stood the thief in the dock, when the clerk bid him rise;

And amongst all that crowd not a man could be found

With his shoulders so square and a physique so sound.

RICHARD ROE, THE SARDINE THIEF.

First, around on the lawyers and officers thereHe defiantly gazed with a bold, brazen air;And then, turning around, stared the Judge in the face,As thoughhewas the thief and the rogue in the case.The stern Judge ran his eyes the unmoved villain o’er,From the crown of his head to his feet on the floor—While the rogue seemed to study with critical careThe time-honored “Court,” with his thin crop of hair.For five minutes or more, it’s my candid beliefThat the thief eyed the Judge, and the Judge eyed the thief;As two rivals, long parted, in some foreign landBy mischance blown together, each other they scanned;While there rose from the concourse no perceptible sound,Not a whisper or yawn, even, circled around.But a charnel-house calm o’er the room seemed to fall,Till the flies could be heard on the plastering crawl—Till beneath the rogue’s stare the Court’s visage grew red.But down-choking his rising resentment, he said:—“Richard Roe”—and he spoke quite emphatic and slow,As though weighing each word before letting it go—And inclined his head downward, as men often doWhen they look over spectacles rather than through—“Richard Roe, you have come to the surface once more,Like the ghost to the feast of the monarch of yore;I have lectured, imprisoned and fined you in vain—You will still depredate, and confront me again.From the door of the jail to the till of a storeThere is simply one pace unto you, and no more;As the dog to his vomit, the sow to her mire,You will glide, the born slave of your fiendish desire;By my oath, it’s a sin, a disgrace, and a shame;With your shoulders so broad, and so robust your frame,With your arms like a Hercules, muscled and strong,With your wind like a stag-hound’s, so perfect and long,To earn a support you’re possessed of all means—And yet you’ve been stealing a box of sardines.

First, around on the lawyers and officers there

He defiantly gazed with a bold, brazen air;

And then, turning around, stared the Judge in the face,

As thoughhewas the thief and the rogue in the case.

The stern Judge ran his eyes the unmoved villain o’er,

From the crown of his head to his feet on the floor—

While the rogue seemed to study with critical care

The time-honored “Court,” with his thin crop of hair.

For five minutes or more, it’s my candid beliefThat the thief eyed the Judge, and the Judge eyed the thief;As two rivals, long parted, in some foreign landBy mischance blown together, each other they scanned;While there rose from the concourse no perceptible sound,Not a whisper or yawn, even, circled around.But a charnel-house calm o’er the room seemed to fall,Till the flies could be heard on the plastering crawl—Till beneath the rogue’s stare the Court’s visage grew red.But down-choking his rising resentment, he said:—“Richard Roe”—and he spoke quite emphatic and slow,As though weighing each word before letting it go—And inclined his head downward, as men often doWhen they look over spectacles rather than through—“Richard Roe, you have come to the surface once more,Like the ghost to the feast of the monarch of yore;I have lectured, imprisoned and fined you in vain—You will still depredate, and confront me again.From the door of the jail to the till of a storeThere is simply one pace unto you, and no more;

For five minutes or more, it’s my candid belief

That the thief eyed the Judge, and the Judge eyed the thief;

As two rivals, long parted, in some foreign land

By mischance blown together, each other they scanned;

While there rose from the concourse no perceptible sound,

Not a whisper or yawn, even, circled around.

But a charnel-house calm o’er the room seemed to fall,

Till the flies could be heard on the plastering crawl—

Till beneath the rogue’s stare the Court’s visage grew red.

But down-choking his rising resentment, he said:—

“Richard Roe”—and he spoke quite emphatic and slow,

As though weighing each word before letting it go—

And inclined his head downward, as men often do

When they look over spectacles rather than through—

“Richard Roe, you have come to the surface once more,

Like the ghost to the feast of the monarch of yore;

I have lectured, imprisoned and fined you in vain—

You will still depredate, and confront me again.

From the door of the jail to the till of a store

There is simply one pace unto you, and no more;

As the dog to his vomit, the sow to her mire,You will glide, the born slave of your fiendish desire;By my oath, it’s a sin, a disgrace, and a shame;With your shoulders so broad, and so robust your frame,With your arms like a Hercules, muscled and strong,With your wind like a stag-hound’s, so perfect and long,To earn a support you’re possessed of all means—And yet you’ve been stealing a box of sardines.

As the dog to his vomit, the sow to her mire,

You will glide, the born slave of your fiendish desire;

By my oath, it’s a sin, a disgrace, and a shame;

With your shoulders so broad, and so robust your frame,

With your arms like a Hercules, muscled and strong,

With your wind like a stag-hound’s, so perfect and long,

To earn a support you’re possessed of all means—

And yet you’ve been stealing a box of sardines.

THE JUDGE.

“I have worked my way onward, year out and year in,Among characters blackened and blistered with sin;Amongst men I’d have quaked to have met in a lane,As I would the arch demon, relieved of his chain;But I’m frank to confess, and I’d state it as freeOn a Bible as large as a bed, if need be,In my thirty years’ practice, on Bench or at Bar,A thief more consummate and bold than you areI have never encountered, in county or town,Among whites, copper-colored, or greasers done brown;You’re as prone to purloin as an eagle to fly,Or a salmon to swim, or a lover to sigh;Not an esculent known, or utensil of use,From a cantaloupe down to the quill of a goose,From a tripe in the stall to a fowl in the coop,But at some time or other in your life you did scoop.”And as if in assent, Richard Roe bowed his head,While the Judge wiped his face, and continuing, said:“Here so often, of late, you have taken the stand,To give answer for larcenies, petty or grand,That your face has become as familiar to allThe practitioners here as the clock on the wall;”Here he pointed it out, and a glance at it threw;And bold Richard turned round and regarded it too,While full back to his ears a grim smile slowly broke,For, despite his position, he relished the joke.“I regret that our law draws the limiting line,For it seems but a farce to impose a small fine,Or to send you below for a week or ten days,To recline on a mat and hatch future forays.“But since neither the gloom of the prison, nor fine,Seems to work a reform in that bosom of thine,I will try a new method—throw justice one side,And appeal to your manhood, your honor, and pride;It is said kindness conquers where knuckles will fail,And a pardon may faster reform than the jail;Since the stock-raiser advocates crossing the breed,And the farmer finds profit by changing the seed,Who can tell but a change may regenerate you—So we offer you mercy where none is your due.“Mr. Sheriff! release that purloiner! as freeAs the wind that awakes the dull ocean, is he.But, sir, hark! Richard Roe, ere you mix with the throng,Take this friendly advice from one knowing you long:And in future, whenever your stomach does feelLike digesting a fish, take a rod, and a reel,A few hooks, a fine line, and of gentles a few,And go catch your own fry, as all good people do;For you’ll find it more wholesome to follow a creek,And there angle for trout seven days of the week,Than to strive to obtain by unwarranted meansE’en a box of diminutive, oily sardines.”Subdued was bold Richard, he gazed in surprise,And trembled, while tears welled fast from his eyes,As he vowed that henceforth the right course he’d pursue;And Roe is now honest, trustworthy, and true.

“I have worked my way onward, year out and year in,

Among characters blackened and blistered with sin;

Amongst men I’d have quaked to have met in a lane,

As I would the arch demon, relieved of his chain;

But I’m frank to confess, and I’d state it as free

On a Bible as large as a bed, if need be,

In my thirty years’ practice, on Bench or at Bar,

A thief more consummate and bold than you are

I have never encountered, in county or town,

Among whites, copper-colored, or greasers done brown;

You’re as prone to purloin as an eagle to fly,

Or a salmon to swim, or a lover to sigh;

Not an esculent known, or utensil of use,

From a cantaloupe down to the quill of a goose,

From a tripe in the stall to a fowl in the coop,

But at some time or other in your life you did scoop.”

And as if in assent, Richard Roe bowed his head,While the Judge wiped his face, and continuing, said:“Here so often, of late, you have taken the stand,To give answer for larcenies, petty or grand,That your face has become as familiar to allThe practitioners here as the clock on the wall;”Here he pointed it out, and a glance at it threw;And bold Richard turned round and regarded it too,While full back to his ears a grim smile slowly broke,For, despite his position, he relished the joke.“I regret that our law draws the limiting line,For it seems but a farce to impose a small fine,Or to send you below for a week or ten days,To recline on a mat and hatch future forays.

And as if in assent, Richard Roe bowed his head,

While the Judge wiped his face, and continuing, said:

“Here so often, of late, you have taken the stand,

To give answer for larcenies, petty or grand,

That your face has become as familiar to all

The practitioners here as the clock on the wall;”

Here he pointed it out, and a glance at it threw;

And bold Richard turned round and regarded it too,

While full back to his ears a grim smile slowly broke,

For, despite his position, he relished the joke.

“I regret that our law draws the limiting line,

For it seems but a farce to impose a small fine,

Or to send you below for a week or ten days,

To recline on a mat and hatch future forays.

“But since neither the gloom of the prison, nor fine,Seems to work a reform in that bosom of thine,I will try a new method—throw justice one side,And appeal to your manhood, your honor, and pride;It is said kindness conquers where knuckles will fail,And a pardon may faster reform than the jail;

“But since neither the gloom of the prison, nor fine,

Seems to work a reform in that bosom of thine,

I will try a new method—throw justice one side,

And appeal to your manhood, your honor, and pride;

It is said kindness conquers where knuckles will fail,

And a pardon may faster reform than the jail;

Since the stock-raiser advocates crossing the breed,And the farmer finds profit by changing the seed,Who can tell but a change may regenerate you—So we offer you mercy where none is your due.

Since the stock-raiser advocates crossing the breed,

And the farmer finds profit by changing the seed,

Who can tell but a change may regenerate you—

So we offer you mercy where none is your due.

“Mr. Sheriff! release that purloiner! as freeAs the wind that awakes the dull ocean, is he.But, sir, hark! Richard Roe, ere you mix with the throng,Take this friendly advice from one knowing you long:And in future, whenever your stomach does feelLike digesting a fish, take a rod, and a reel,A few hooks, a fine line, and of gentles a few,And go catch your own fry, as all good people do;For you’ll find it more wholesome to follow a creek,And there angle for trout seven days of the week,Than to strive to obtain by unwarranted meansE’en a box of diminutive, oily sardines.”

“Mr. Sheriff! release that purloiner! as free

As the wind that awakes the dull ocean, is he.

But, sir, hark! Richard Roe, ere you mix with the throng,

Take this friendly advice from one knowing you long:

And in future, whenever your stomach does feel

Like digesting a fish, take a rod, and a reel,

A few hooks, a fine line, and of gentles a few,

And go catch your own fry, as all good people do;

For you’ll find it more wholesome to follow a creek,

And there angle for trout seven days of the week,

Than to strive to obtain by unwarranted means

E’en a box of diminutive, oily sardines.”

Subdued was bold Richard, he gazed in surprise,And trembled, while tears welled fast from his eyes,As he vowed that henceforth the right course he’d pursue;And Roe is now honest, trustworthy, and true.

Subdued was bold Richard, he gazed in surprise,

And trembled, while tears welled fast from his eyes,

As he vowed that henceforth the right course he’d pursue;

And Roe is now honest, trustworthy, and true.

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