Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

Prompt ever to suppress unchristian schisms,
Quick always to detect unlicensed 'isms,
He must reserve the hardest of his knocks
To hurl against the rank "unorthodox."
His heart replete with every saintly grace,
A holy calm must rest upon his face;
With soul exalted to the sacred skies,
He must be planning to "economize.'

And ere he break to us the bread of life,
He must be furnished with a comely wife.
For children he must thank the gracious Giver,
Yet not be burdened with too full a quiver.

If, Rev'rend Sir, this scrap should meet your eye
While looking for a pulpit, please apply;
For, sotto voce, we'll confess to you

We're sore perplexed and know not what to do.

OUT OF THE OLD HOUSE, NANCY.

WILL M. CARLETON.*

Out of the old house, Nancy-moved up into the new;
All the hurry and worry are just as good as through;
Only a bounden duty remains for you and I,

And that's to stand on the door-step, here, and bid the old house good-bye.

What a shell we've lived in, these nineteen or twenty years!
Wonder it hadn't smashed in and tumbled about our ears;
Wonder it stuck together and answered till to-day,
But every individual log was put up here to stay.

Things looked rather new, though, when this old house was built,

And things that blossomed you, would have made some women wilt;

And every other day, then, as sure as day would break, My neighbor Ager come this way, invitin' me to "shake."

And you, for want of neighbors, was sometimes blue and sad,

For wolves and bears and wildcats was the nearest ones you

had;

*Author of " Betsy and I are Out,” “Over the Hill to the Poor-House," &c., See No. 4, pp. 27 and 149,

But lookin' ahead to the clearin', we worked with all our might,

Until we was fairly out of the woods, and things was goin' right.

Look up there at our new house,-ain't it a thing to see? Tall and big and handsome, and new as new can be ;

All in apple-pie order, especially the shelves,

And never a debtor to say but what we own it all ourselves.

Look at our old log house-how little it now appears!
But it's never gone back on us, for nineteen or twenty years;
An' I won't go back on it now, or go to pokin' fun,

There's such a thing as praisin' a thing for the good that it has done.

Probably you remember how rich we was that night,

When we was fairly settled, an' had things snug and tight; We feel as proud as you please, Nancy, over our house that's

new,

But we felt as proud under this old roof, and a good deal prouder, too.

Never a handsomer house was seen beneath the sun,Kitchen and parlor and bedroom, we had 'em all in one; And the fat old wooden clock that we bought when we come West,

Was tickin' away in the corner there, an' doin' its level best.

Trees was all around us, a whisperin' cheering words,
Loud was the squirrel's chatter, and sweet the song of birds;
And home grew sweeter and brighter—our courage began to

mount-

And things looked hearty and happy, then, and work ap peared to count.

And here, one night it happened, when things was goin' bad,
We fell in a deep old quarrel-the first we ever had;
And when you give out and cried, then I like a fool give in,
An' then we agreed to rub all out, and start the thing ag'in.

Here it was, you remember, we sat when the day was done,
And you was a makin' clothing that wasn't for either one;
And often a soft word of love I was soft enough to say,
And the wolves was howlin' in the woods not twenty rods
away.

Then our first-born baby-a regular little joy

Though I fretted a little, because it wasn't a boy;

Wa'n't she a little flirt, though, with all her pouts and smiles?

Why, settlers come to see that show, a half a dozen miles.

Yonder sat the cradle-a homely, home-made thing; And many a night I rocked it, providin' you would sing; And many a little squatter brought up with us to stay, And so that cradle, for many a year, was never put away.

How they kept a comin'-so cunnin' and fat and small! How they growed! 'twas a wonder how we found room for 'em all;

But though the house was crowded, it empty seemed that day,

When Jennie lay by the fire-place, there, and moaned her life away.

And right in there, the preacher, with Bible and hymn-book stood,

""Twixt the dead and the living," and "hoped 'twould do us good."

And the little whitewood coffin on the table there was set, And now as I rub my eyes it seems as if I could see it yet.

Then that fit of sickness it brought on you, you know;
Just by a thread you hung, and you e'en a'most let go;
And here is the spot I tumbled, and give the Lord His due,
When the doctor said the fever'd turned, an' he could fetch
you through.

Yes, a deal has happened to make this old house dear:
Christenin's, funerals, weddin's-what haven't we had here?
Not a log in this buildin' but its memories has got,-
And not a nail in this old floor but touches a tender spot.

Out of the old house, Nancy-moved up into the new;
All the hurry and worry is just as good as through;
But I tell you a thing right here, that I ain't ashamed to say:
There's precious things in this old house, we never can take

away.

Here the old house will stand, but not as it stood before; Winds will whistle through it and rains will flood the floor; And over the hearth once blazing, the snow drifts oft will pile,

And the old thing will seem to be a mournin' all the while.

Fare you well, old house! you're naught that can feel or see, But you seem like a human being-a dear old friend to me; And we never will have a better home, if my opinion

stands,

Until we commence a keepin' house in the "house not made with hands."

MELTING MOMENTS.

One winter evening, a country storekeeper in the Green Mountain State was about closing his doors for the night, when, while standing in the snow outside, putting up his window-shutters, he saw through the glass a lounging, worthless fellow within take half a pound of fresh butter from the shelf, and hastily conceal it in his hat.

The act was no sooner detected than the revenge was hit upon, and a very few moments found the Green Mountain storekeeper at once indulging his appetite for fun to the fullest extent, and paying off the thief with a facetious sort of torture, for which he might have gained a premium from the old Inquisition.

"Stay, Seth!" said the storekeeper, coming in, and closing the door after him, slapping his hands over his shoulders, and stamping the snow off his shoes.

Seth had his hand on the door, and his hat upon his head, and the roll of butter in his hat, anxious to make his exit as soon as possible.

"Seth, we'll have a little warm Santa Cruz," said the Green Mountain grocer, as he opened the stove door, and stuffed in as many sticks as the space would admit. Without it, you'd freeze going home such a night as this."

[ocr errors]

Seth felt very uncertain; he had the butter, and was exceedingly anxious to be off, but the temptation of something warm" sadly interfered with his resolution to go. This hesitation, however, was soon settled by the right owner of the butter taking Seth by the shoulders and planting him in a seat close to the stove, where he was in such a manner cornered in by barrels and boxes that, while the country grocer sat before him, there was no possibility of his getting out; and right in this very place, sure enough, the storekeeper sat down.

Seth already felt the butter settling down closer to his hair, and declared he must go.

"Not till you have something warm, Seth. a story to tell you, Seth; sit down now."

Come, I've got

And Seth was

again pushed into his seat by his cunning tormentor.

"Oh, it's too hot here!" said the petty thief, again attempting to rise.

[ocr errors]

I say, Seth, sit down; I reckon now, on such a night as this, a little something warm wouldn't hurt a fellow; come, sit down."

"Sit down,-don't be in such a plaguy hurry," repeated the grocer, pushing him back into his chair.

But I've got the cows to fodder, and some wood to split, and I must be a goin'," continued the persecuted chap.

"But you mustn't tear yourself away, Seth,in this manner. Sit down; let the cows take care of themselves, and keep yourself cool; you appear to be fidgety," said the grocer, with a wicked leer.

The next thing was the production of two smoking glasses of hot rum toddy, the very sight of which in Seth's present situation would have made the hair stand erect upon his head, had it not been oiled and kept down by the butter.

66

Seth, I'll give you a toast now, and you can butter it yourself," said the grocer, yet with an air of such consummate simplicity, that poor Seth still believed himself unsuspected. "Seth, here's-here's a Christmas goose, well roasted and basted, eh? I tell you, Seth, it's the greatest eating in creation. And, Seth, don't you use hog's fat or common cooking butter to baste a goose with. Come, take your butter - I mean, Seth, take your toddy."

Poor Seth now began to smoke as well as to melt, and his mouth was as hermetically sealed up as though he had been born dumb. Streak after streak of the butter came pouring from under his hat, and his handkerchief was already soaked with the greasy overflow. Talking away as if nothing was the matter, the grocer kept stuffing the wood in the stove, while poor Seth sat bolt upright with his back against the counter, and his knees almost touching the red-hot furnace before him.

[ocr errors]

'Very cold night this," said the grocer. Why, Seth, you seem to perspire as if you were warm! Why don't you take your hat off? Here, let me put your hat away."

"No!" exclaimed poor Seth at last, with a spasmodic effort to get his tongue loose, and clapping both hands upon his hat,-" no!-I must go-let me out-I ain't well-let me go!"

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »