ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE.

ASEEDYold beggar asked alms of meAs he sat 'neath the shade of a wayside tree.He was beggared in purse and beggared in soul,And his voice betrayed a pitiful dole,As he sang a song, to a dismal pitch,With the burden, "If things was only sich!""If things was only sich," said he,"You should see what a wonderful man I'd be;No beggar I, by the wayside thrown,But I'd live in a palace and millions own,And men would court me if I were richâ€”As I'd be if things was only sich.""If things was only sich," said he,"I'd be lord of the land and lord of the sea;I would have a throne and be a king,And rule the roast with a mighty swingâ€”I'd make a place in Fame's bright niche;I'd do it if things was only sich.""If things was only sich," said he,"Rare wines I'd quaff from the far countree,I'd cloth myself in dazzling garb,I'd mount the back of the costly barb,And none should ask me wherefore or whichâ€”Did it chance that things was only sich.""If things was only sich," said he,"I'd love the fairest and they'd love me;Yon dame, with a smile that warms my heart,Might have borne with me life's better part,But lost to me, here in poverty's ditch,What were mine if things was only sich."Thus the old beggar moodily sung,And his eyes dropped tears as his hands he wrung.I could but pity to hear him berate,In dolorous tones the decrees of Fate,That laid on his back its iron switch,While he cried, "If things was only sich.""If things was only sich!"â€”e'en allMight the past in sad review recall;But little the use and little the gain,Exhuming the bones of buried pain,And whether we're poor or whether we're rich,We'll say not, "If things was only sich."

SEEDYold beggar asked alms of me

As he sat 'neath the shade of a wayside tree.

He was beggared in purse and beggared in soul,

And his voice betrayed a pitiful dole,

As he sang a song, to a dismal pitch,

With the burden, "If things was only sich!"

"If things was only sich," said he,"You should see what a wonderful man I'd be;No beggar I, by the wayside thrown,But I'd live in a palace and millions own,And men would court me if I were richâ€”As I'd be if things was only sich."

"If things was only sich," said he,

"You should see what a wonderful man I'd be;

No beggar I, by the wayside thrown,

But I'd live in a palace and millions own,

And men would court me if I were richâ€”

As I'd be if things was only sich."

"If things was only sich," said he,"I'd be lord of the land and lord of the sea;I would have a throne and be a king,And rule the roast with a mighty swingâ€”I'd make a place in Fame's bright niche;I'd do it if things was only sich."

"If things was only sich," said he,

"I'd be lord of the land and lord of the sea;

I would have a throne and be a king,

And rule the roast with a mighty swingâ€”

I'd make a place in Fame's bright niche;

I'd do it if things was only sich."

"If things was only sich," said he,"Rare wines I'd quaff from the far countree,I'd cloth myself in dazzling garb,I'd mount the back of the costly barb,And none should ask me wherefore or whichâ€”Did it chance that things was only sich."

"If things was only sich," said he,

"Rare wines I'd quaff from the far countree,

I'd cloth myself in dazzling garb,

I'd mount the back of the costly barb,

And none should ask me wherefore or whichâ€”

Did it chance that things was only sich."

"If things was only sich," said he,"I'd love the fairest and they'd love me;Yon dame, with a smile that warms my heart,Might have borne with me life's better part,But lost to me, here in poverty's ditch,What were mine if things was only sich."

"If things was only sich," said he,

"I'd love the fairest and they'd love me;

Yon dame, with a smile that warms my heart,

Might have borne with me life's better part,

But lost to me, here in poverty's ditch,

What were mine if things was only sich."

Thus the old beggar moodily sung,And his eyes dropped tears as his hands he wrung.I could but pity to hear him berate,In dolorous tones the decrees of Fate,That laid on his back its iron switch,While he cried, "If things was only sich."

Thus the old beggar moodily sung,

And his eyes dropped tears as his hands he wrung.

I could but pity to hear him berate,

In dolorous tones the decrees of Fate,

That laid on his back its iron switch,

While he cried, "If things was only sich."

"If things was only sich!"â€”e'en allMight the past in sad review recall;But little the use and little the gain,Exhuming the bones of buried pain,And whether we're poor or whether we're rich,We'll say not, "If things was only sich."

"If things was only sich!"â€”e'en all

Might the past in sad review recall;

But little the use and little the gain,

Exhuming the bones of buried pain,

And whether we're poor or whether we're rich,

We'll say not, "If things was only sich."

E. L. BEERS.

The opening verses should be given in a low, almost plaintive tone; when the flag is seen, the exclamations should be ejaculated with spirit and rapturous delight. Care should be taken not to give the negropatoistoo broad, or it may prove a defect; where properly spoken it is really a beauty:

MOVEmy arm-chair, faithful PompeyIn the sunshine bright and strong,For this world is fading, Pompeyâ€”Massa won't be with you long;And I fain would hear the south windBring once more the sound to me,Of the wavelets softly breakingOn the shores of Tennessee."Mournful though the ripples murmurAs they still the story tell,How no vessels float the bannerThat I've loved so long and well.I shall listen to their music,Dreaming that again I seeStars and stripes on sloop and shallopSailing up the Tennessee;"And, Pompey, while old Massa's waitingFor Death's last dispatch to come,If that exiled starry bannerShould come proudly sailing home.You shall greet it slave no longerâ€”Voice and hand shall both be freeThat shout and point to Union colorsOn the waves of Tennessee.""Massa's berry kind to Pompey;But old darkey's happy here.Where he's tended corn and cottonFor dese many a long gone year.Over yonder, Missis' sleepingâ€”No one tends her grave like me:Mebbe she would miss the flowersShe used to love in Tennessee."'Pears like, she was watching Massaâ€”If Pompey should beside him stay,Mebbe she'd remember betterHow for him she used to pray;Telling him that way up yonderWhite as snow his soul would be,If he served the Lord of HeavenWhile he lived in Tennessee."Silently the tears were rollingDown the poor old dusky face,As he stepped behind his master,In his long-accustomed place.Then a silence fell around them,As they gazed on rock and treePictured in the placid watersOf the rolling Tennessee;â€”Master, dreaming of the battleWhere he fought by Marion's side,When he bid the haughty TarletonStoop his lordly crest of pride;â€”Man, remembering how yon sleeperOnce he held upon his knee,Ere she loved the gallant soldier,Ralph Vervair of Tennessee.Still the south wind fondly lingers'Mid the veteran's silver hair;Still the bondman close beside himStands behind the old arm-chair,With his dark-hued hand uplifted,Shading eyes, he bends to seeWhere the woodland, boldly jutting,Turns aside the Tennessee.Thus he watches cloud-born shadowsGlide from tree to mountain-crest,Softly creeping, aye and everTo the river's yielding breast.Ha! above the foliage yonderSomething flutters wild and free"Massa! Massa! Hallelujah!The flag's come back to Tennessee!""Pompey, hold me on your shoulder,Help me stand on foot once more,That I may salute the colorsAs they pass my cabin door.Here's the paper signed that frees you,Give a freeman's shout with meâ€”'God and Union!' be our watchwordEvermore in Tennessee!"Then the trembling voice grew fainter,And the legs refused to stand;One prayer to Jesusâ€”and the soldierGlided to the better land.When the flag went down the riverMan and master both were free;While the ring-dove's note was mingledWith the rippling Tennessee.

OVEmy arm-chair, faithful Pompey

In the sunshine bright and strong,

For this world is fading, Pompeyâ€”

Massa won't be with you long;

And I fain would hear the south wind

Bring once more the sound to me,

Of the wavelets softly breaking

On the shores of Tennessee.

"Mournful though the ripples murmurAs they still the story tell,How no vessels float the bannerThat I've loved so long and well.I shall listen to their music,Dreaming that again I seeStars and stripes on sloop and shallopSailing up the Tennessee;

"Mournful though the ripples murmur

As they still the story tell,

How no vessels float the banner

That I've loved so long and well.

I shall listen to their music,

Dreaming that again I see

Stars and stripes on sloop and shallop

Sailing up the Tennessee;

"And, Pompey, while old Massa's waitingFor Death's last dispatch to come,If that exiled starry bannerShould come proudly sailing home.You shall greet it slave no longerâ€”Voice and hand shall both be freeThat shout and point to Union colorsOn the waves of Tennessee."

"And, Pompey, while old Massa's waiting

For Death's last dispatch to come,

If that exiled starry banner

Should come proudly sailing home.

You shall greet it slave no longerâ€”

Voice and hand shall both be free

That shout and point to Union colors

On the waves of Tennessee."

"Massa's berry kind to Pompey;But old darkey's happy here.Where he's tended corn and cottonFor dese many a long gone year.Over yonder, Missis' sleepingâ€”No one tends her grave like me:Mebbe she would miss the flowersShe used to love in Tennessee.

"Massa's berry kind to Pompey;

But old darkey's happy here.

Where he's tended corn and cotton

For dese many a long gone year.

Over yonder, Missis' sleepingâ€”

No one tends her grave like me:

Mebbe she would miss the flowers

She used to love in Tennessee.

"'Pears like, she was watching Massaâ€”If Pompey should beside him stay,Mebbe she'd remember betterHow for him she used to pray;Telling him that way up yonderWhite as snow his soul would be,If he served the Lord of HeavenWhile he lived in Tennessee."

"'Pears like, she was watching Massaâ€”

If Pompey should beside him stay,

Mebbe she'd remember better

How for him she used to pray;

Telling him that way up yonder

White as snow his soul would be,

If he served the Lord of Heaven

While he lived in Tennessee."

Silently the tears were rollingDown the poor old dusky face,As he stepped behind his master,In his long-accustomed place.Then a silence fell around them,As they gazed on rock and treePictured in the placid watersOf the rolling Tennessee;â€”

Silently the tears were rolling

Down the poor old dusky face,

As he stepped behind his master,

In his long-accustomed place.

Then a silence fell around them,

As they gazed on rock and tree

Pictured in the placid waters

Of the rolling Tennessee;â€”

Master, dreaming of the battleWhere he fought by Marion's side,When he bid the haughty TarletonStoop his lordly crest of pride;â€”Man, remembering how yon sleeperOnce he held upon his knee,Ere she loved the gallant soldier,Ralph Vervair of Tennessee.

Master, dreaming of the battle

Where he fought by Marion's side,

When he bid the haughty Tarleton

Stoop his lordly crest of pride;â€”

Man, remembering how yon sleeper

Once he held upon his knee,

Ere she loved the gallant soldier,

Ralph Vervair of Tennessee.

Still the south wind fondly lingers'Mid the veteran's silver hair;Still the bondman close beside himStands behind the old arm-chair,With his dark-hued hand uplifted,Shading eyes, he bends to seeWhere the woodland, boldly jutting,Turns aside the Tennessee.

Still the south wind fondly lingers

'Mid the veteran's silver hair;

Still the bondman close beside him

Stands behind the old arm-chair,

With his dark-hued hand uplifted,

Shading eyes, he bends to see

Where the woodland, boldly jutting,

Turns aside the Tennessee.

Thus he watches cloud-born shadowsGlide from tree to mountain-crest,Softly creeping, aye and everTo the river's yielding breast.Ha! above the foliage yonderSomething flutters wild and free"Massa! Massa! Hallelujah!The flag's come back to Tennessee!"

Thus he watches cloud-born shadows

Glide from tree to mountain-crest,

Softly creeping, aye and ever

To the river's yielding breast.

Ha! above the foliage yonder

Something flutters wild and free

"Massa! Massa! Hallelujah!

The flag's come back to Tennessee!"

"Pompey, hold me on your shoulder,Help me stand on foot once more,That I may salute the colorsAs they pass my cabin door.Here's the paper signed that frees you,Give a freeman's shout with meâ€”'God and Union!' be our watchwordEvermore in Tennessee!"

"Pompey, hold me on your shoulder,

Help me stand on foot once more,

That I may salute the colors

As they pass my cabin door.

Here's the paper signed that frees you,

Give a freeman's shout with meâ€”

'God and Union!' be our watchword

Evermore in Tennessee!"

Then the trembling voice grew fainter,And the legs refused to stand;One prayer to Jesusâ€”and the soldierGlided to the better land.When the flag went down the riverMan and master both were free;While the ring-dove's note was mingledWith the rippling Tennessee.

Then the trembling voice grew fainter,

And the legs refused to stand;

One prayer to Jesusâ€”and the soldier

Glided to the better land.

When the flag went down the river

Man and master both were free;

While the ring-dove's note was mingled

With the rippling Tennessee.

MAY 27, 1863.GEO. H. BOKER.

DARKas the clouds of even,Ranked in the western heaven,Waiting the breath that liftsAll the dread mass, and driftsTempest and falling brandOver a ruined land;â€”So still and orderly,Arm to arm, knee to knee,Waiting the great eventStands the black regiment.Down the long dusky lineTeeth gleam and eye-balls shine,And the bright bayonet,Bristling, and firmly set,Flashed with a purpose grand,Long, ere the sharp commandOf the fierce rolling drumTold them their time had come,Told them what work was sentFor the black regiment."Now," the flag-sergeant cried,"Though death and hell betide,Let the whole nation seeIf we are fit to beFree in this land; or boundDown, like the whining hound,â€”Bound with red stripes of painIn our cold chains again!"Oh! what a shout there wentFrom the black regiment!"Charge!" trump and drum awoke,Onward the bondmen broke:Bayonet and sabre strokeVainly opposed their rush.Through the wild battle's crush,With but one thought aflush,Driving their lords like chaff,In the guns' mouths they laugh;Or at the slippery brandsLeaping with open hands,Down they tear man and horse,Down in their awful course;Trampling with bloody heelOver the crashing steel,All their eyes forward bent,Rushed the black regiment."Freedom!" their battle-cry,â€”"Freedom! or learn to die!"Ah! and they meant the word,Not as with us 'tis heard,Not a mere party shout:They gave their spirits out;Trusted the end to God,And on the glory sodRolled in triumphant blood.Glad to strike one free blow,Whether for weal or woe;Glad to breathe one free breath,Though on the lips of death,Prayingâ€”alas! in vain!â€”That they might fall again,So they could once more seeThat burst to liberty!This was what "freedom" lentTo the black regiment.Hundreds on hundreds fell;But they are resting well;Scourges and shackles strongNever shall do them wrong.O, to the living few,Soldiers, be just and true!Hail them as comrades tried;Fight with them side by side;Never in field or tent,Scorn the black regiment.

ARKas the clouds of even,

Ranked in the western heaven,

Waiting the breath that lifts

All the dread mass, and drifts

Tempest and falling brand

Over a ruined land;â€”

So still and orderly,

Arm to arm, knee to knee,

Waiting the great event

Stands the black regiment.

Down the long dusky lineTeeth gleam and eye-balls shine,And the bright bayonet,Bristling, and firmly set,Flashed with a purpose grand,Long, ere the sharp commandOf the fierce rolling drumTold them their time had come,Told them what work was sentFor the black regiment.

Down the long dusky line

Teeth gleam and eye-balls shine,

And the bright bayonet,

Bristling, and firmly set,

Flashed with a purpose grand,

Long, ere the sharp command

Of the fierce rolling drum

Told them their time had come,

Told them what work was sent

For the black regiment.

"Now," the flag-sergeant cried,"Though death and hell betide,Let the whole nation seeIf we are fit to beFree in this land; or boundDown, like the whining hound,â€”Bound with red stripes of painIn our cold chains again!"Oh! what a shout there wentFrom the black regiment!

"Now," the flag-sergeant cried,

"Though death and hell betide,

Let the whole nation see

If we are fit to be

Free in this land; or bound

Down, like the whining hound,â€”

Bound with red stripes of pain

In our cold chains again!"

Oh! what a shout there went

From the black regiment!

"Charge!" trump and drum awoke,Onward the bondmen broke:Bayonet and sabre strokeVainly opposed their rush.Through the wild battle's crush,With but one thought aflush,Driving their lords like chaff,In the guns' mouths they laugh;Or at the slippery brandsLeaping with open hands,Down they tear man and horse,Down in their awful course;Trampling with bloody heelOver the crashing steel,All their eyes forward bent,Rushed the black regiment.

"Charge!" trump and drum awoke,

Onward the bondmen broke:

Bayonet and sabre stroke

Vainly opposed their rush.

Through the wild battle's crush,

With but one thought aflush,

Driving their lords like chaff,

In the guns' mouths they laugh;

Or at the slippery brands

Leaping with open hands,

Down they tear man and horse,

Down in their awful course;

Trampling with bloody heel

Over the crashing steel,

All their eyes forward bent,

Rushed the black regiment.

"Freedom!" their battle-cry,â€”"Freedom! or learn to die!"Ah! and they meant the word,Not as with us 'tis heard,Not a mere party shout:They gave their spirits out;Trusted the end to God,And on the glory sodRolled in triumphant blood.Glad to strike one free blow,Whether for weal or woe;Glad to breathe one free breath,Though on the lips of death,Prayingâ€”alas! in vain!â€”That they might fall again,So they could once more seeThat burst to liberty!This was what "freedom" lentTo the black regiment.

"Freedom!" their battle-cry,â€”

"Freedom! or learn to die!"

Ah! and they meant the word,

Not as with us 'tis heard,

Not a mere party shout:

They gave their spirits out;

Trusted the end to God,

And on the glory sod

Rolled in triumphant blood.

Glad to strike one free blow,

Whether for weal or woe;

Glad to breathe one free breath,

Though on the lips of death,

Prayingâ€”alas! in vain!â€”

That they might fall again,

So they could once more see

That burst to liberty!

This was what "freedom" lent

To the black regiment.

Hundreds on hundreds fell;But they are resting well;Scourges and shackles strongNever shall do them wrong.O, to the living few,Soldiers, be just and true!Hail them as comrades tried;Fight with them side by side;Never in field or tent,Scorn the black regiment.

Hundreds on hundreds fell;

But they are resting well;

Scourges and shackles strong

Never shall do them wrong.

O, to the living few,

Soldiers, be just and true!

Hail them as comrades tried;

Fight with them side by side;

Never in field or tent,

Scorn the black regiment.

John Ray,Charley Cheerful,Ralph Ready,}School-boys.Mr. Hanks, a Deaf Gentleman.John Clod, a Countryman.Patsy Flinn, an Irishman.

Mr. Hanks, a Deaf Gentleman.

John Clod, a Countryman.

Patsy Flinn, an Irishman.

Scene.â€”A Quiet Place in the Country.

EnterRalph Ready, r.,with School-books.

Ralph.Twenty minutes of nine. I can take it easy this morning. How glad I am I staid at home last night and studied "Spartacus." It's Declamation Day, and I want to win the highest mark. If Ifail, it will not be for want of study. I believe I'm all right. (Declaims.)

"Ye call me Chiefâ€”"*

EnterCharley Cheerful, l.

Charley.(Clapping his hands.) Â Â Bravo! Bravo! Spartacus. "They do well to callyouchief!" number one in arithmetic, history, and geography; and to-day I've no doubt we shall call you number one in declamation.

Ralph.Ah, Charley, glad to see you. Are you all ready for the contest?

Charley.Yes, Ralph. (Declaims.)

"Again to the battle, Achaians;Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance."

"Again to the battle, Achaians;

Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance."

Ralph.I see "a foeman worthy of my steel." Well, Charley, good luck to you.

Charley.The same to you. I believe we are about equally matched. I want to take the highest mark, but if I am to be defeated, there's no one to whom I'd sooner surrender the "victor's laurels" than to you.

Ralph.And I can heartily say the same of you; but we must both look out. John Ray told the boys yesterday he was bound to have the highest mark.

Charley.I don't fear him.

Ralph.But he's a good declaimer, Charley.

Charley.I'll acknowledge that; but you know he's a terrible fellow for putting off study until the last moment. It was only yesterday morning Master Jones decided to have declamation to-day. The only time we had to prepare was yesterday noon, last night, and this morning.

Ralph.Time enough, Charley.

Charley.Certainly. But I know John Ray hasn't employed it. Yesterday noon he went boating; last night I'm afraid he visited Hopkins's melon patch; and this morning I saw him from my window playing ball.

Ralph.Then we've not much to fear from him; but here he is, puffing like a porpoise.

EnterJohn Ray, l.,with a book.

John.Hallo, boys! what's the time?

Charley.Eighteen minutes of nine. All ready for the declamation?

John.Not yet; there's time enough.

Ralph.Time enough! What have you selected?

John."Tell's Address." I'm going to pitch into it now. I can do it in eighteen minutes.

Charley.Why, you haven't left it till now?

John.Of course I have. Time enough, I tell you. I've got a locomotive memory, you know. None of your slow coaches. I shall only have to read it over two or three times.

Ralph.But why didn't you take it up before?

John.What's the use? I went boating yesterday; and last night I wentâ€”somewhere else.

Charley.Yes! you took ameloncholy walk. Hey, John?

John.What do you mean by that?

Charley.No matter. You'd better study Tell's Address, if you expect to be ready by nine o'clock.

John.So I had. Well, you run along, and let me have this place to myself. It's a quiet place. So good by. I'll see you by nine o'clock, with Tell's Address perfect.

Charley.Well, good luck to you. Come Ralph.

Ralph.I say, Ray; what's the proverb about the "thief of time"?

John.Who do you call a thief?

Ralph.A slow coach, that will rob you of your laurels spite of your locomotive memory. Come along Charley.

[ExeuntCharleyandRalph r.

John.Now, who told them I was after melons last night. Â Â (Opens book.) Â Â "Tell's Address." Won't I astonish those lads! What's the use of wasting time in study before it's needed? Â Â (Reads.)

"Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again."

EnterMr. Hanks, l.

Mr. Hanks.Look here, boy; where's Mr. Simmons's house?

John.O, bother! Over by the mill.

Mr. H.Hey?

John.Over by the mill.

Mr. H.Over that hill? Good gracious! You don't mean I've got to travel as far as that, do you, in the hot sun?

John.No, no; it's only a little ways.

Mr. H.Only a little blaze! It's an awful hot morning.

John.O, dear! this old fellow is as deaf as a post. Â Â (Very loud.) Â Â Mr.â€”Simmonsâ€”livesâ€”downâ€”byâ€”theâ€”mill.

Mr. H.O, he does! Why didn't you say so before? Down that way? Â Â (Pointsr.)

John.(Loud.) Â Â Yes! Toâ€”theâ€”right! Thatâ€”oldâ€”woodenâ€”oneâ€”ahead!

Mr. H.Who do you call an old wooden head?

John.O, dear! I never shall get that piece. You don't understand. Iâ€”saidâ€”woodenâ€”house.

Mr. H.Hey?

John.O, dear! O, dear! Â Â (Pointsr.) Â Â That's Mr. Simmons'sâ€”houseâ€”downâ€”there!

Mr. H.O, yes. Thank you, thank you. I'm a little hard of hearing.

John.I see you are. Suffering from a cold?

Mr. H.Hey?

John.O, what a nuisance! Is itâ€”from a cold youâ€”suffer?

Mr. H.Old buffer, indeed! Be more respectful to your elders, young man; more respectful.

[Exit,r.

John.I've got rid of him at last, and five minutes gone. O, dear! Â Â (Reads.)

"Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!"

EnterMr. Hanks, r.

Mr. H.Did you say right or left?

John.Good gracious! the man's back! Toâ€”the right! To the right! Follow the stream.

Mr. H.Hey?

John.Followâ€”theâ€”streamâ€”asâ€”itâ€”flows.

Mr. H.Follow my nose! You're an impudent scamp! I'll ask you no more questions.

[Exit,r.

John.I hope you won't. This comes of trying to do a good-natured act. O, dear! that address! Â Â (Reads.)

"Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!"

EnterJohn Clod, l.

Clod.I say, sonny; yer hain't seen nothin' of a keow, have yer, here or hereabouts?

John.No, I haven't seen no cow.

Clod.Well, don't git mad. It's plaguy strange where that are keow has travelled tew. Brand new keow dad brought hum from market yesterday. What on airth shall I do? She's a brindle, short horns. Yeou hain't seen her?

John.No, I haven't seen her. I've seen no cows or cattle of any kind. It's no use stopping here.

Clod.Well, I dunno what's to be did. Marm,she dropped her bakin', and scooted one way; dad quit ploughin', and scooted another; and I've been scootin' every which way. Ain't heard a keow mooâ€”mooing, have yer?

John.I don't believe there's a cow within forty miles of here.

Clod.Sho! yer jokin' neow. Neow, see here; I kinder think yeou dew know somethin' about that keow. Jest tell me where she is, and I don't mind ginning yer fo'pence.

John.I tell you again, I know nothing about your cow. I'm studing my lesson; and if you don't clear out and leave me in peace, I shall never get it.

Clod.Sho! Well, I don't want to hender ye, but I should like to know what's become of that are keow.

[Exit,r.

John.Gone at last. Was ever a fellow so plagued! I've only got eight minutes, and I must study. Â Â (Goes to back of stage, and walks up and down, studying.)

EnterPatsy Flinn, l.

Patsy.Begorra, it's a foine irrant I's on ony way. It's all along iv thim watthermillons, bad luck to 'em! Slaping swately on my bid last night thinking uv the bould b'ys that fit, blid, and run away from Canady, I heerd a v'ice in the millon patch, "Here's a bouncer, b'ys." Faix, didn't I lept out uv that bid, and didn't I hurry on my clo'es, and didn't I take a big shtick, and didn't I run fur the patch, and didn't I find nobody? To be sure I did! So this morning, Mr. Hopkins sinds me to the school-house to find the b'ys that invadid the sacred retrait, which is the millon-patch. But how will I find thim? Begorra, I should know that v'ice; and I'll make the whole school shtand up togither one by one and shout, "Here's a bouncer!" that I will.

John.(Coming downr.of stage.) Â Â Now let's see how much I know. Â Â (Declaims.)

"Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!"

Patsy.By my sowl, that's the v'ice of my dr'ams!

John."I hold to you the hands you first beheld,To show they still are free."

John."I hold to you the hands you first beheld,

To show they still are free."

Patsy.Fray, is it, begorra! Ye'll not hould thim long, me b'y!

John."Methinks I hearA spirit in your echoes answer me."

John."Methinks I hear

A spirit in your echoes answer me."

Patsy.Begorra, ye'll soon hear an Irish echo ax ye something else!

John."And bid your tenant welcome to his homeagain!"

John."And bid your tenant welcome to his home

again!"

Patsy.Begorra, you're wilcome to no more watermillons, ye'll find!

John."Ye guards of Liberty!"

Patsy.Ye little blackguard!

John."I'm with you once again! I hold my hands to you,To show they still are free!"

John."I'm with you once again! I hold my hands to you,

To show they still are free!"

Patsy.Begorra, they're stained with watermillons, sure!

John."I rush to you,As though I could embrace you!"

John."I rush to you,

As though I could embrace you!"

(Runs intoPatsy'sarms.)

Patsy.Come on, I'm waiting for you! O, you blackguard! O, yes spalpeen! I've got yes!

John.Who are you? What do you want? Let me go!

Patsy.Niver! Ye must go along wid me, my fine lad; there's a bill a waiting for you at farmer Hopkins's.

John.Farmer Hopkins! But I shall be late for school.

Patsy.O, niver mind the school. You'll get a little uv it there, from a nice big cowhide.

John.Let me go, I say!

Patsy.Quit your howling, and come along.

John.I won't. Help! Help! Help!

EnterCharleyandRalph, r.

Charley.What's the matter, Ray?

Ralph.Hallo, Patsy! What's to pay now?

Patsy.A small bill for watermillons, Master Ralph.

Ralph.O, I see; you're found out, Ray!

John.Well, I wan't the only one in the patch last night.

Ralph.But you're the only one found out; so you must take the consequences.

Charley.Master Jones sent us to look for you; it's five minutes after nine.

John.O, dear, what's to become of me!

Ralph.You must get to school at once. Patsy, I'll be answerable for John Ray's appearance at Farmer Hopkins's after school. Won't that do?

Patsy.To be sure it will. I can depind upon you, Master Ralph. But mind and cape an eye on that chap; fur it's my opinion he's a little cracked; he's bin ravin' about crags, and peaks, and liberty like a full-blooded Fenian. I'll go home and practise a bit wid that cowhide.

[Exit,L.

Charley.Well, John, got your piece?

John.Got my piece? No. I've been bothered to death!

Ralph.You've been keeping company with the "thief of time."

John.I'd like to know what you mean by that.

Ralph.I'll tell you. You should have studied your piece yesterday noon; but, instead of that, you went boating. You should have studied last night; but instead of that, you got into a scrape, whichpromises to make trouble for you; and this morning you played ball instead of taking time for your work.

John.Well, I meant to have studied it yesterday, but I thought I had plenty of time. I wanted a little recreation.

Charley.Yes, John; but you should look out for the lessons first, and not neglect them. Come, let's go to school.

John.And be at the foot of the class. I don't like this.

Ralph.You'll find a remedy for it in the copy-book.

John.What is it?

Ralph.A warning to the dilatoryâ€”"Procrastination is the thief of time."

[Exeunt,R.

*The dialogue can be lengthened, if necessary, by allowing Charley and Ralph to declaim the whole of their pieces.

T. H. EVANS.

AFARMERhad a field of corn of rather large extent,In tending which, with anxious care, much time and toil he spent;But after working long and hard, he saw, with grief and pain,His corn began to droop and fade, because it wanted rain.So sad and restless was his mind, at home he could not stop,But to his field repaired each day to view his withering crop.One day, when he stood looking up, despairing, at the sky,Two little rain-drops in the clouds his sad face chanced to spy."I very sorry feel," said one, "to see him look so sad;I wish I could do him some good; indeed, I should be glad.Just see the trouble he has had; and if it should not rain,Why, all his toil, and time, and care he will have spent in vain.""What use are you," cried number two, "to water so much ground?You're nothing but a drop of rain, and could not wet one mound.""What you have said," his friend replied, "I know is very true;But I'm resolved to do my best, and more I cannot do.I'll try to cheer his heart a bit: so now I'm offâ€”here goes!"And down the little rain-drop fell upon the farmer's nose."Whatever's that?" the farmer cried. "Was it a drop of rain?I do believe it's come at last; I have not watched in vain."Now, when the second rain-drop saw his willing friend depart,Said he, "I'll go as well, and try to cheer the farmer's heart."But many rain-drops by this time had been attracted out,To see and hear what their two friends were talking so about."We'll go as well," a number cried, "as our two friends have gone.We shall not only cheer his heart, but water, too, his corn.We're off! we're off!" they shout with glee, and down they fell so fast."O bless the Lord!" the farmer cried, "the rain has come at last."The corn it grew and ripened well, and into food was dressed,Because a little rain-drop said, "I'll try, and do my best."This little lesson, children dear, you'll not forget I'm sure;Try, do your best, do what you canâ€”angels can do no more.

FARMERhad a field of corn of rather large extent,

In tending which, with anxious care, much time and toil he spent;

But after working long and hard, he saw, with grief and pain,

His corn began to droop and fade, because it wanted rain.

So sad and restless was his mind, at home he could not stop,But to his field repaired each day to view his withering crop.One day, when he stood looking up, despairing, at the sky,Two little rain-drops in the clouds his sad face chanced to spy.

So sad and restless was his mind, at home he could not stop,

But to his field repaired each day to view his withering crop.

One day, when he stood looking up, despairing, at the sky,

Two little rain-drops in the clouds his sad face chanced to spy.

"I very sorry feel," said one, "to see him look so sad;I wish I could do him some good; indeed, I should be glad.Just see the trouble he has had; and if it should not rain,Why, all his toil, and time, and care he will have spent in vain."

"I very sorry feel," said one, "to see him look so sad;

I wish I could do him some good; indeed, I should be glad.

Just see the trouble he has had; and if it should not rain,

Why, all his toil, and time, and care he will have spent in vain."

"What use are you," cried number two, "to water so much ground?You're nothing but a drop of rain, and could not wet one mound.""What you have said," his friend replied, "I know is very true;But I'm resolved to do my best, and more I cannot do.

"What use are you," cried number two, "to water so much ground?

You're nothing but a drop of rain, and could not wet one mound."

"What you have said," his friend replied, "I know is very true;

But I'm resolved to do my best, and more I cannot do.

I'll try to cheer his heart a bit: so now I'm offâ€”here goes!"And down the little rain-drop fell upon the farmer's nose."Whatever's that?" the farmer cried. "Was it a drop of rain?I do believe it's come at last; I have not watched in vain."

I'll try to cheer his heart a bit: so now I'm offâ€”here goes!"

And down the little rain-drop fell upon the farmer's nose.

"Whatever's that?" the farmer cried. "Was it a drop of rain?

I do believe it's come at last; I have not watched in vain."

Now, when the second rain-drop saw his willing friend depart,Said he, "I'll go as well, and try to cheer the farmer's heart."But many rain-drops by this time had been attracted out,To see and hear what their two friends were talking so about.

Now, when the second rain-drop saw his willing friend depart,

Said he, "I'll go as well, and try to cheer the farmer's heart."

But many rain-drops by this time had been attracted out,

To see and hear what their two friends were talking so about.

"We'll go as well," a number cried, "as our two friends have gone.We shall not only cheer his heart, but water, too, his corn.We're off! we're off!" they shout with glee, and down they fell so fast."O bless the Lord!" the farmer cried, "the rain has come at last."

"We'll go as well," a number cried, "as our two friends have gone.

We shall not only cheer his heart, but water, too, his corn.

We're off! we're off!" they shout with glee, and down they fell so fast.

"O bless the Lord!" the farmer cried, "the rain has come at last."

The corn it grew and ripened well, and into food was dressed,Because a little rain-drop said, "I'll try, and do my best."This little lesson, children dear, you'll not forget I'm sure;Try, do your best, do what you canâ€”angels can do no more.

The corn it grew and ripened well, and into food was dressed,

Because a little rain-drop said, "I'll try, and do my best."

This little lesson, children dear, you'll not forget I'm sure;

Try, do your best, do what you canâ€”angels can do no more.

THEREonce was a toperâ€”I'll not tell his nameâ€”Who had for his comfort a scolding old dame;And often and often he wished himself dead,For, if drunk he came home, she would beat him to bed.He spent all his evenings away from his home,And, when he returned, he would sneakingly comeAnd try to walk straightly, and say not a wordâ€”Just to keep his dear wife from abusing her lord;For if he dared say his tongue was his own,'Twould set her tongue going, in no gentle tone,And she'd huff him, and cuff him, and call him hard names,And he'd sigh to be rid of all scolding old dames.It happened, one night, on a frolic he went,He stayed till his very last penny was spent;But how to go home, and get safely to bed,Was the thing on his heart that most heavily weighed.But home he must go; so he caught up his hat,And off he went singing, by this and by that,"I'll pluck up my courage; I guess she's in bed.If she a'nt, 'tis no matter, I'm sure. Who's afraid?"He came to his door; he lingered untilHe peeped, and he listened, and all seemed quite still,In he went, and his wife, sure enough, was in bed!"Oh!" says he, "it's just as I thought. Who's afraid?"He crept about softly, and spoke not a word;His wife seemed to sleep, for she never e'en stirred!Thought he, "Forthisnight, then, my fortune is made:For my dear, scolding wife is asleep! Who's afraid?"But soon he felt thirsty; and slyly he rose,And, groping around, to the table he goes,The pitcher found empty, and so was the bowl,The pail, and the tumblersâ€”she'd emptied the whole!At length, in a corner, a vessel he found!Says he, "Here's something to drink, I'll be bound!"And eagerly seizing, he lifted it upâ€”And drank it all off in one long, hearty sup!It tasted so queerly; and what could it be?He wondered. It neither was water nor tea!Just then a thought struck him and filled him with fear:"Oh! it must be the poison for rats, I declare!"And loudly he called on his dear, sleeping wife,And begged her to rise; "for," said he, "on my lifeI fear it waspoisonthe bowl did contain.Oh dear! yes, itwaspoison; I now feel the pain!""And what made you dry, sir?" the wife sharply cried."'Twould serve you just right if from poison you died;And you've done afinejob, and you'd now better march,For just see, you brute, you have drunk all my starch!"

HEREonce was a toperâ€”I'll not tell his nameâ€”

Who had for his comfort a scolding old dame;

And often and often he wished himself dead,

For, if drunk he came home, she would beat him to bed.

He spent all his evenings away from his home,

And, when he returned, he would sneakingly come

And try to walk straightly, and say not a wordâ€”

Just to keep his dear wife from abusing her lord;

For if he dared say his tongue was his own,

'Twould set her tongue going, in no gentle tone,

And she'd huff him, and cuff him, and call him hard names,

And he'd sigh to be rid of all scolding old dames.

It happened, one night, on a frolic he went,He stayed till his very last penny was spent;But how to go home, and get safely to bed,Was the thing on his heart that most heavily weighed.But home he must go; so he caught up his hat,And off he went singing, by this and by that,"I'll pluck up my courage; I guess she's in bed.If she a'nt, 'tis no matter, I'm sure. Who's afraid?"He came to his door; he lingered untilHe peeped, and he listened, and all seemed quite still,In he went, and his wife, sure enough, was in bed!"Oh!" says he, "it's just as I thought. Who's afraid?"

It happened, one night, on a frolic he went,

He stayed till his very last penny was spent;

But how to go home, and get safely to bed,

Was the thing on his heart that most heavily weighed.

But home he must go; so he caught up his hat,

And off he went singing, by this and by that,

"I'll pluck up my courage; I guess she's in bed.

If she a'nt, 'tis no matter, I'm sure. Who's afraid?"

He came to his door; he lingered until

He peeped, and he listened, and all seemed quite still,

In he went, and his wife, sure enough, was in bed!

"Oh!" says he, "it's just as I thought. Who's afraid?"

He crept about softly, and spoke not a word;His wife seemed to sleep, for she never e'en stirred!Thought he, "Forthisnight, then, my fortune is made:For my dear, scolding wife is asleep! Who's afraid?"But soon he felt thirsty; and slyly he rose,And, groping around, to the table he goes,The pitcher found empty, and so was the bowl,The pail, and the tumblersâ€”she'd emptied the whole!At length, in a corner, a vessel he found!Says he, "Here's something to drink, I'll be bound!"And eagerly seizing, he lifted it upâ€”And drank it all off in one long, hearty sup!

He crept about softly, and spoke not a word;

His wife seemed to sleep, for she never e'en stirred!

Thought he, "Forthisnight, then, my fortune is made:

For my dear, scolding wife is asleep! Who's afraid?"

But soon he felt thirsty; and slyly he rose,

And, groping around, to the table he goes,

The pitcher found empty, and so was the bowl,

The pail, and the tumblersâ€”she'd emptied the whole!

At length, in a corner, a vessel he found!

Says he, "Here's something to drink, I'll be bound!"

And eagerly seizing, he lifted it upâ€”

And drank it all off in one long, hearty sup!

It tasted so queerly; and what could it be?He wondered. It neither was water nor tea!Just then a thought struck him and filled him with fear:"Oh! it must be the poison for rats, I declare!"And loudly he called on his dear, sleeping wife,And begged her to rise; "for," said he, "on my lifeI fear it waspoisonthe bowl did contain.Oh dear! yes, itwaspoison; I now feel the pain!""And what made you dry, sir?" the wife sharply cried."'Twould serve you just right if from poison you died;And you've done afinejob, and you'd now better march,For just see, you brute, you have drunk all my starch!"

It tasted so queerly; and what could it be?

He wondered. It neither was water nor tea!

Just then a thought struck him and filled him with fear:

"Oh! it must be the poison for rats, I declare!"

And loudly he called on his dear, sleeping wife,

And begged her to rise; "for," said he, "on my life

I fear it waspoisonthe bowl did contain.

Oh dear! yes, itwaspoison; I now feel the pain!"

"And what made you dry, sir?" the wife sharply cried.

"'Twould serve you just right if from poison you died;

And you've done afinejob, and you'd now better march,

For just see, you brute, you have drunk all my starch!"

MR.Bogardus "gin a treat,"And a green goose, best of birds to eat,Delicious, savory, fat and sweet,Formed the dish the guests to greet;But such, we know,Is small for a "blow,"And many times around won't go;So Mr. Bogardus chanced to reflect,And with a wisdom circumspect,He sent round cards to parties select,Some six or so the goose to dissect,The day and hour defining;And then he laid in lots of things,That might have served as food for kings,Liquors drawn from their primal springs,And all that grateful comfort bringsTo epicures in dining.But Mr. Bogardus's brother Sim,With moral qualities rather dim,Copied the message sent to him,In his most clerkly writing,And sent it round to Tom, and Dick,And Harry, and Jack, and Frank, and Nick,And many more, to the green goose "pick"Most earnestly inviting;He laid it on the green goose thick,Their appetites exciting.'Twas dinner time by the Old South Clock;Bogardus waited the sounding knockOf friends to come at the moment, "chock,"To try his goose, his game, his hock,And hoped they would not dally;When one, and two, and three, and four,And running up the scale to a score,And adding to it many more,Who all their Sunday fixings wore,Came in procession to the door,And crowded in on his parlor floor,Filling him with confusion sore,Like an after-election rally!"Gentlemen," then murmured he,"To what unhoped contingencyAm I owing for this felicity,A visit thus unexpected?"Then they held their cards before his eyes,And he saw, to his infinite surprise,That some sad dog had taken a riseOn him, and his hungry friends likewise,Andwhomhe half suspected;But there was Sim,Of morals dim,With a face as long, and dull, and grim,As thoughhethe ire reflected.Then forth the big procession went,With mirth and anger equally blent;To think they didn't get the scentOf what the cursed missive meantAnnoyed some of 'em deeply;They felt they'd been caught by a green goose bait,And plucked and skinned, and then, light weight,Had been sold very cheaply.MORAL.Keep your weather eye peeled for trap,For we never know just what may hap,Nor if we shall be winners;Remembering that one green gooseWill be of very little use'Mongst twenty hungry sinners.

R.Bogardus "gin a treat,"

And a green goose, best of birds to eat,

Delicious, savory, fat and sweet,

Formed the dish the guests to greet;

But such, we know,

Is small for a "blow,"

And many times around won't go;

So Mr. Bogardus chanced to reflect,

And with a wisdom circumspect,

He sent round cards to parties select,

Some six or so the goose to dissect,

The day and hour defining;

And then he laid in lots of things,

That might have served as food for kings,

Liquors drawn from their primal springs,

And all that grateful comfort brings

To epicures in dining.

But Mr. Bogardus's brother Sim,With moral qualities rather dim,Copied the message sent to him,In his most clerkly writing,And sent it round to Tom, and Dick,And Harry, and Jack, and Frank, and Nick,And many more, to the green goose "pick"Most earnestly inviting;He laid it on the green goose thick,Their appetites exciting.

But Mr. Bogardus's brother Sim,

With moral qualities rather dim,

Copied the message sent to him,

In his most clerkly writing,

And sent it round to Tom, and Dick,

And Harry, and Jack, and Frank, and Nick,

And many more, to the green goose "pick"

Most earnestly inviting;

He laid it on the green goose thick,

Their appetites exciting.

'Twas dinner time by the Old South Clock;Bogardus waited the sounding knockOf friends to come at the moment, "chock,"To try his goose, his game, his hock,And hoped they would not dally;When one, and two, and three, and four,And running up the scale to a score,And adding to it many more,Who all their Sunday fixings wore,Came in procession to the door,And crowded in on his parlor floor,Filling him with confusion sore,Like an after-election rally!

'Twas dinner time by the Old South Clock;

Bogardus waited the sounding knock

Of friends to come at the moment, "chock,"

To try his goose, his game, his hock,

And hoped they would not dally;

When one, and two, and three, and four,

And running up the scale to a score,

And adding to it many more,

Who all their Sunday fixings wore,

Came in procession to the door,

And crowded in on his parlor floor,

Filling him with confusion sore,

Like an after-election rally!

"Gentlemen," then murmured he,"To what unhoped contingencyAm I owing for this felicity,A visit thus unexpected?"Then they held their cards before his eyes,And he saw, to his infinite surprise,That some sad dog had taken a riseOn him, and his hungry friends likewise,Andwhomhe half suspected;But there was Sim,Of morals dim,With a face as long, and dull, and grim,As thoughhethe ire reflected.

"Gentlemen," then murmured he,

"To what unhoped contingency

Am I owing for this felicity,

A visit thus unexpected?"

Then they held their cards before his eyes,

And he saw, to his infinite surprise,

That some sad dog had taken a rise

On him, and his hungry friends likewise,

Andwhomhe half suspected;

But there was Sim,

Of morals dim,

With a face as long, and dull, and grim,

As thoughhethe ire reflected.

Then forth the big procession went,With mirth and anger equally blent;To think they didn't get the scentOf what the cursed missive meantAnnoyed some of 'em deeply;They felt they'd been caught by a green goose bait,And plucked and skinned, and then, light weight,Had been sold very cheaply.

Then forth the big procession went,

With mirth and anger equally blent;

To think they didn't get the scent

Of what the cursed missive meant

Annoyed some of 'em deeply;

They felt they'd been caught by a green goose bait,

And plucked and skinned, and then, light weight,

Had been sold very cheaply.

MORAL.

Keep your weather eye peeled for trap,For we never know just what may hap,Nor if we shall be winners;Remembering that one green gooseWill be of very little use'Mongst twenty hungry sinners.

Keep your weather eye peeled for trap,

For we never know just what may hap,

Nor if we shall be winners;

Remembering that one green goose

Will be of very little use

'Mongst twenty hungry sinners.

WEall have heard of Dr. Redman,The man in New York who deals with dead men,Who sits at a table,And straightway is ableTo talk with the spirits of those who have fled, man!And gentles and ladiesLocated in Hades,Through his miraculous mediation,Declare how they feel,And such things revealAs suits their genius for impartation.'Tis not with any irreverent spiritI give the tale, or flout it, or jeer it;For many good folkNot subject to jokeDeclare for the fact that they both see and hear it.It comes from New York, though,And it might be hard work, though,To bring belief to any point near it.Now this Dr. Redman,Who deals with dead men,Once cut up a fellow whose spirit had fled, man,Who (the fellow) perchanceHad indulged in that dancePerformed at the end of a hempen thread, man;And the cut-up one,(A sort of a gun!)Like Banquo, though he was dead, wasn't done,Insisted in very positive tonesThat he'd be ground to calcined manure,Or any other evil endure,Before he'd give up his right to his bones!And then, through knocks, the resolute dead manGave his bones a bequest to Redman.In Hartford, Conn.,This matter was done,And Redman the bones highly thought on,When, changed to New YorkWas the scene of his work,In conjunction with Dr. Orton.Now mark the wonder that here appears:After a season of months and years,Comes up again the dead man,Who in a very practical way,Says he'll bring his bones some day,And give them again to Redman.When, sure enough(Though some that are roughMight call the narrative "devilish tough"),One charming dayIn the month of May,As Orton and Redman walked the streetThrough the severing air,From they knew not where,Came a positive bone, all bleached and bare.That dropped at the doctor's wondering feet!Then the sprightly dead manKnocked out to RedmanThe plan that lay in his ghostly head, man:He'd carry the freight,Unheeding its weight;They needn't question how, or about it;But they might be sureThe bones he'd procureAnd not make any great bones about it.From that he made it a special pointEach day for their larder to furnish a joint!From overhead, and from all around,Upon the floor, and upon the ground,Pell-mell,Down fellLow bones, and high bones,Jaw bones, and thigh bones,Until the doctors, beneath their power,Ducked like ducks in a thunder-shower!Armfuls of bones,Bagfuls of bones,Cartloads of bones,No end to the multitudinous bones,Until, forsooth, this thought gained head, man,That this invisible friend, the dead man,Had chartered a bandFrom the shadowy land,Who had turned to work with a busy hand,And boned all their bones for Dr. Redman!Now, how to account for all the mysteryOf this same weird and fantastical history?That is the questionFor people's digestion,And calls aloud for instant untwistery!Of this we are certain,By this lift of the curtain,That still they're alive for work or enjoyment,Though I must confessThat I scarcely can guessWhy they don't choose some useful employment.

Eall have heard of Dr. Redman,

The man in New York who deals with dead men,

Who sits at a table,

And straightway is able

To talk with the spirits of those who have fled, man!

And gentles and ladies

Located in Hades,

Through his miraculous mediation,

Declare how they feel,

And such things reveal

As suits their genius for impartation.

'Tis not with any irreverent spirit

I give the tale, or flout it, or jeer it;

For many good folk

Not subject to joke

Declare for the fact that they both see and hear it.

It comes from New York, though,

And it might be hard work, though,

To bring belief to any point near it.

Now this Dr. Redman,Who deals with dead men,Once cut up a fellow whose spirit had fled, man,Who (the fellow) perchanceHad indulged in that dancePerformed at the end of a hempen thread, man;And the cut-up one,(A sort of a gun!)Like Banquo, though he was dead, wasn't done,Insisted in very positive tonesThat he'd be ground to calcined manure,Or any other evil endure,Before he'd give up his right to his bones!And then, through knocks, the resolute dead manGave his bones a bequest to Redman.In Hartford, Conn.,This matter was done,And Redman the bones highly thought on,When, changed to New YorkWas the scene of his work,In conjunction with Dr. Orton.

Now this Dr. Redman,

Who deals with dead men,

Once cut up a fellow whose spirit had fled, man,

Who (the fellow) perchance

Had indulged in that dance

Performed at the end of a hempen thread, man;

And the cut-up one,

(A sort of a gun!)

Like Banquo, though he was dead, wasn't done,

Insisted in very positive tones

That he'd be ground to calcined manure,

Or any other evil endure,

Before he'd give up his right to his bones!

And then, through knocks, the resolute dead man

Gave his bones a bequest to Redman.

In Hartford, Conn.,

This matter was done,

And Redman the bones highly thought on,

When, changed to New York

Was the scene of his work,

In conjunction with Dr. Orton.

Now mark the wonder that here appears:After a season of months and years,Comes up again the dead man,Who in a very practical way,Says he'll bring his bones some day,And give them again to Redman.When, sure enough(Though some that are roughMight call the narrative "devilish tough"),One charming dayIn the month of May,As Orton and Redman walked the streetThrough the severing air,From they knew not where,Came a positive bone, all bleached and bare.That dropped at the doctor's wondering feet!

Now mark the wonder that here appears:

After a season of months and years,

Comes up again the dead man,

Who in a very practical way,

Says he'll bring his bones some day,

And give them again to Redman.

When, sure enough

(Though some that are rough

Might call the narrative "devilish tough"),

One charming day

In the month of May,

As Orton and Redman walked the street

Through the severing air,

From they knew not where,

Came a positive bone, all bleached and bare.

That dropped at the doctor's wondering feet!

Then the sprightly dead manKnocked out to RedmanThe plan that lay in his ghostly head, man:He'd carry the freight,Unheeding its weight;They needn't question how, or about it;But they might be sureThe bones he'd procureAnd not make any great bones about it.From that he made it a special pointEach day for their larder to furnish a joint!

Then the sprightly dead man

Knocked out to Redman

The plan that lay in his ghostly head, man:

He'd carry the freight,

Unheeding its weight;

They needn't question how, or about it;

But they might be sure

The bones he'd procure

And not make any great bones about it.

From that he made it a special point

Each day for their larder to furnish a joint!

From overhead, and from all around,Upon the floor, and upon the ground,Pell-mell,Down fellLow bones, and high bones,Jaw bones, and thigh bones,Until the doctors, beneath their power,Ducked like ducks in a thunder-shower!Armfuls of bones,Bagfuls of bones,Cartloads of bones,No end to the multitudinous bones,Until, forsooth, this thought gained head, man,That this invisible friend, the dead man,Had chartered a bandFrom the shadowy land,Who had turned to work with a busy hand,And boned all their bones for Dr. Redman!

From overhead, and from all around,

Upon the floor, and upon the ground,

Pell-mell,

Down fell

Low bones, and high bones,

Jaw bones, and thigh bones,

Until the doctors, beneath their power,

Ducked like ducks in a thunder-shower!

Armfuls of bones,

Bagfuls of bones,

Cartloads of bones,

No end to the multitudinous bones,

Until, forsooth, this thought gained head, man,

That this invisible friend, the dead man,

Had chartered a band

From the shadowy land,

Who had turned to work with a busy hand,

And boned all their bones for Dr. Redman!

Now, how to account for all the mysteryOf this same weird and fantastical history?That is the questionFor people's digestion,And calls aloud for instant untwistery!Of this we are certain,By this lift of the curtain,That still they're alive for work or enjoyment,Though I must confessThat I scarcely can guessWhy they don't choose some useful employment.

Now, how to account for all the mystery

Of this same weird and fantastical history?

That is the question

For people's digestion,

And calls aloud for instant untwistery!

Of this we are certain,

By this lift of the curtain,

That still they're alive for work or enjoyment,

Though I must confess

That I scarcely can guess

Why they don't choose some useful employment.

*Dr. Redman, of New York, was a noted medium, and it was said that, for a while, wherever he might be, bones would be dropped all about him, to the confusion and wonder of everybody. These bones, he said, were brought him by a spirit, whose bones were of no further use to him.

Miss Priscilla Precise,{Principal of a genteel BoardingSchool for Young Ladies.Hetty Gray,Fanny Rice,Lizzie Bond,Hannah Jones,}Pupils.Mrs. Lofty, a fashionable Lady.

Mrs. Lofty, a fashionable Lady.

Scene.â€”Parlor inMiss Precise'sEstablishment.

PianoR.,LoungeL.,ChairsC.

EnterHetty, Fanny,andLizzie,R.,laughing.

Hetty.O, such a fright!

Fanny.Such a stupid!

Lizzie.I never saw such a ridiculous figure in the whole course of my life!

Hetty.I should think she came from the back-woods.

Fanny.Who is she, any way?

Lizzie.She's the daughter of the rich Mr. Jones,a man, who, three years ago, was the proprietor of a very small saw-mill away down east. He managed to scrape together a little money, which he invested in certain railroad stocks, which nobody thought would ever pay. They did, however, and he has, no doubt to his own astonishment, made a great deal of money.

Hetty.And that accounts for Miss Precise's partiality. Well, I'm not going to associate myself with her; and I mean to write to father this very day, and tell him to take me home. She dresses so ridiculously!

Lizzie.And talks so horridly!

Fanny.And plays so wretchedly!

Hetty.O, girls, don't you think I caught her at the piano this morning playing Yankee Doodle and whistling an accompaniment!

Fanny.Whistling!

Lizzie.Good gracious! what would Miss Precise say. If there's anything she forbids, it's whistling.

Hetty.Yes, and such a reader! I heard her reciting Longfellow's Excelsior; and such reading, and such gestures! Â Â (Recites.)

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