Chapter 5

I have sipped, with drooping lashes, Dreamy draughts of Verzenay; I have flourished brandy-smashes In the wildest sort of way; I have joked with "Tom and Jerry" Till wee hours ayont the twal'-- But I've found my tea the very Safest tipple of them all!

'Tis a mystical potation That exceeds in warmth of glow And divine exhilaration All the drugs of long ago-- All of old magicians' potions-- Of Medea's filtered spells-- Or of fabled isles and oceans Where the Lotos-eater dwells!

Though I've reveled o'er late lunches With _blasé_ dramatic stars, And absorbed their wit and punches And the fumes of their cigars-- Drank in the latest story, With a cock-tail either end,-- I have drained a deeper glory In a cup of tea, my friend.

Green, Black, Moyune, Formosa, Congou, Amboy, Pingsuey-- No odds the name it knows--ah! Fill a cup of it for me! And, as I clink my china Against your goblet's brim, My tea in steam shall twine a Fragrant laurel round its rim.

JUDITH.

O her eyes are amber-fine-- Dark and deep as wells of wine, While her smile is like the noon Splendor of a day of June. If she sorrow--lo! her face It is like a flowery space In bright meadows, overlaid With light clouds and lulled with shade If she laugh--it is the trill Of the wayward whippoorwill Over upland pastures, heard Echoed by the mocking-bird In dim thickets dense with bloom And blurred cloyings of perfume. If she sigh--a zephyr swells Over odorous asphodels And wan lilies in lush plots Of moon-drown'd forget-me-nots. Then, the soft touch of her hand-- Takes all breath to understand What to liken it thereto!-- Never roseleaf rinsed with dew Might slip soother-suave than slips Her slow palm, the while her lips Swoon through mine, with kiss on kiss Sweet as heated honey is.

THE ARTEMUS OF MICHIGAN.

Grand Haven is in Michigan, and in possession, too, Of as many rare attractions as our party ever knew:-- The fine hotel, the landlord, and the lordly bill of fare, And the dainty-neat completeness of the pretty waiters there; The touch on the piano in the parlor, and the trill Of the exquisite soprano, in our fancy singing still; Our cozy room, its comfort, and our thousand grateful tho'ts, And at our door the gentle face Of H. Y. Potts!

His artless observations, and his drollery of style, Bewildered with that sorrowful serenity of smile-- The eye's elusive twinkle, and the twitching of the lid, Like he didn't go to say it and was sorry that he did. O Artemus of Michigan! so worthy of the name, Our manager indorses it, and Bill Nye does the same-- You tickled our affection in so many tender spots That even Recollection laughs At H. Y. Potts!

And hark ye! O Grand Haven! count your rare attractions o'er-- The commerce of your ships at sea, and ships along the shore; Your railroads, and your industries, and interests untold, Your Opera House--our lecture, and the gate-receipts in gold!-- Ay, Banner Town of Michigan! count all your treasures through-- Your crowds of summer tourists, and your Sanitarium, too; Your lake, your beach, your drives, your breezy groves and grassy plots, But head the list of all of these With H. Y. Potts!

THE HOODOO.

Owned a pair o' skates onc't.--Traded Fer 'em,--stropped 'em on and waded Up and down the crick, a-waitin' Tel she'd freeze up fit fer skatin'. Mildest winter I remember-- More like Spring- than Winter-weather!-- Did n't _frost_ tel bout December- Git up airly ketch a' feather Of it, mayby, 'crost the winder-- Sunshine swinge it like a cinder!

Well--I _waited_--and _kep_' waitin'! Couldn't see my money's w'oth in Them-air skates and was no skatin', Ner no hint o' ice ner nothin'! So, one day--along in airly Spring--I swopped 'em off--and barely Closed the dicker, 'fore the weather Natchurly jes slipped the ratchet, And crick--tail-race--all together, Froze so tight cat couldn't scratch it!

THE RIVALS; OR THE SHOWMAN'S RUSE

A TRAGI-COMEDY, IN ONE ACT.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

BILLY MILLER ) The Rivals JOHNNY WILLIAMS )

TOMMY WELLS Conspirator

TIME--Noon: SCENE--Country Town--Rear-view of the Miller Mansion, showing Barn, with practical loft-window opening on alley-way, with colored-crayon poster beneath, announcing:--"BILLY MILLER'S Big Show and Monstur Circus and Equareum! A shour-bath fer Each and All fer 20 pins. This Afternoon! Don't fer git the date!" Enter TOMMY WELLS and JOHNNY WILLIAMS, who gaze awhile at poster, TOMMY secretly smiling and winking at BILLY MILLER, concealed at loft-window above.

TOMMY (to JOHNNY). Guess 'at Billy haint got back,-- Can't see nothin' through the crack--- Can't hear nothin' neither--No! . . . Thinks he's got the dandy show, Don't he?

JOHNNY (scornfully)-- 'Course' but what _I_ care?-- He haint got no show in there!-- What's _he_ got in there but that Old hen, cooped up with a cat An' a turkle, an' that thing 'At he calls his "circus-ring?" "_What a circus-ring_!" I'd _quit_! Bet mine's twic't as big as it!

TOMMY-- Yes, but _you_ got no machine Wat you bathe with, painted green, With a string to work it, guess!

JOHNNY (contemptuously)-- Folks don't _bathe_ in _circuses_!-- _Ladies_ comes to _mine_, you bet! I' got seats where girls can set; An' a dressin'-room, an' all, Fixed up in my pony's stall-- Yes, an' I' got _carpet_, too, Fer the tumblers, and a blue Center-pole!

TOMMY-- Well, Billy, he's Got a tight-rope an' trapeze, An' a hoop 'at he jumps through Head-first!

JOHNNY-- Well, what's _that_ to do-- Lightin' on a pile o' hay? Haint no _actin_' thataway!

TOMMY-- Don't care what you say, he draws Bigger crowds than you do, 'cause Sense he started up, I know All the fellers says his show Is the best-un!

JOHNNY-- Yes, an' he Better not tell things on me! His old circus haint no good!-- 'Cause he's got the neighborhood Down on me he thinks 'at I'm Goin' to stand it all the time; Thinks ist 'cause my Pa don't 'low Me to fight, he's got me now. An' can say I lie, an' call Me ist anything at all! Billy Miller thinks I am 'Feared to say 'at he says "dam"-- Yes, and worser ones! and I'm Goin' to tell his folks sometime!-- An' ef he don't shet his head I'll tell worse 'an _that_ he said When he fighted Willie King-- An' got licked like ever'thing!-- Billy Miller better shin Down his Daddy's lane agin, Like a cowardy-calf, an' climb In fer home another time! Better--

[Here BILLY leaps down from the loft upon his unsuspecting victim; and two minutes, later, JOHNNY, with the half of a straw hat, a bleeding nose, and a straight rent across one trouser-knee, makes his inglorious--exit.]

WHAT CHRIS'MAS FETCHED THE WIGGINSES.

Wintertime, er Summertime, Of late years I notice I'm, Kindo'-like, more subjec' to What the _weather_ is. Now, you Folks 'at lives in town, I s'pose, Thinks its bully when it snows; But the chap 'at chops and hauls Yer wood fer ye, and then stalls, And snapps tuggs and swingletrees, And then has to walk er freeze, Haint so much "stuck on" the snow As stuck _in_ it--Bless ye, no!-- When its packed, and sleighin's good, And _church_ in the neighborhood, Them 'at's _got_ their girls, I guess, Takes 'em, likely, more er less, Tell the plain facts o' the case, No men-folks about our place On'y me and Pap--and he 'Lows 'at young folks' company Allus made him sick! So I Jes don't want, and jes don't try! Chinkypin, the dad-burn town, 'S too fur off to loaf aroun' Either day er night--and no Law compellin' me to go!-- 'Less 'n some Old-Settlers' Day, Er big-doin's thataway-- _Then_, to tell the p'inted fac', I've went more so's to come back By old Guthrie's 'still-house, where Minors _has_ got licker there-- That's pervidin' we could show 'em Old folks sent fer it from home! Visit roun' the neighbors some, When the boys wants me to come.-- Coon-hunt with 'em; er set traps Fer mussrats; er jes, perhaps, Lay in roun' the stove, you know, And parch corn, and let her snow! Mostly, nights like these, you'll be (Ef you' got a writ fer _me_) Ap' to skeer me up, I guess, In about the Wigginses. Nothin' roun' _our_ place to keep Me at home--with Pap asleep 'Fore it's dark; and Mother in Mango pickles to her chin; And the girls, all still as death, Piecin' quilts.--Sence I drawed breath Twenty year' ago, and heerd Some girls whispern' so's it 'peared Like they had a row o' pins In their mouth--right there begins My first rickollections, built On that-air blame old piece-quilt!

Summertime, it's jes the same-- 'Cause I've noticed,--and I claim, As I said afore, I'm more Subjec' to the weather, _shore_, 'Proachin' my majority, Than I ever ust to be! Callin' back _last_ Summer, say,-- Don't seem hardly past away-- With night closin' in, and all S' lonesome-like in the dew-fail: Bats--ad-drat their ugly muggs!-- Flickern' by; and lightnin'-bugs Huckstern' roun' the airly night Little sickly gasps o' light;-- Whip-poor-wills, like all possessed, Moanin' out their mournfullest;-- Frogs and katydids and things Jes clubs in and sings and sings Their _ding-dangdest_!--Stock's all fed, And Pap's washed his feet fer bed;-- Mother and the girls all down At the milk-shed, foolin' roun'-- No wunder 'at I git blue, And lite out--and so would you! I caint stay aroun' no place Whur they haint no livin' face:-- 'Crost the fields and thue the gaps Of the hills they's friends, perhaps, Waitin' somers, 'at kin be Kindo' comfertin' to me!

Neighbors all 'is plenty good, Scattered thue this neighberhood; Yit, of all, I like to jes Drap in on the Wigginses.-- Old man, and old lady too, 'Pear-like, makes so much o' you--, Least, they've allus pampered me Like one of the fambily.-- The boys, too, 's all thataway-- Want you jes to come and stay;-- Price, and Chape, and Mandaville, Poke, Chasteen, and "Catfish Bill"-- Poke's the runt of all the rest, But he's jes the beatinest Little schemer, fer fourteen, Anybody ever seen!-- "Like his namesake," old man claims, "Jeems K. Poke, the first o' names! Full o' tricks and jokes--and you Never know what _Poke's_ go' do!" Genius, too, that-air boy is, With them awk'ard hands o' his: Gits this blame pokeberry-juice, Er some stuff, fer ink--and goose- Quill pen-p'ints: And then he'll draw Dogdest pictures yevver saw! Er make deers and eagles good As a writin'-teacher could! Then they's two twin boys they've riz Of old Coonrod Wigginses 'At's deceast--and glad of it, 'Cause his widder's livin' yit!

Course _the boys_ is mostly jes' Why I go to Wigginses.--- Though _Melviney_, sometimes, _she_ Gits her slate and algebry And jes' sets there ciphern' thue Sums old Ray hisse'f caint do!-- Jes' sets there, and tilts her chair Forreds tel, 'pear-like, her hair Jes' _spills_ in her lap--and then She jes' dips it up again With her hands, as white, I swan, As the apern she's got on!

Talk o' hospitality!-- Go to Wigginses with me-- Overhet, or froze plum thue, You'll find welcome waitin' you:-- Th'ow out yer tobacker 'fore You set foot acrost that floor,-- "Got to eat whatever's set-- Got to drink whatever's wet!" Old man's sentimuns--them's his--- And means jes the best they is! Then he lights his pipe; and she, The old lady, presen'ly She lights her'n; and Chape and Poke. I haint got none, ner don't smoke,-- (In the crick afore their door-- Sorto so's 'at I'd be shore-- Drownded mine one night and says "I won't smoke at _Wigginses_!") Price he's mostly talkin' 'bout Politics, and "thieves turned out"-- What he's go' to be, ef he Ever "gits there"--and "we'll see!"-- Poke he 'lows they's blame few men Go' to hold their breath tel then! Then Melviney smiles, as she Goes on with her algebry, And the clouds clear, and the room's Sweeter 'n crabapple-blooms! (That Melviney, she' got some Most surprisin' ways, I gum!-- Don't 'pear like she ever _says_ Nothin', yit you'll _listen_ jes Like she was a-talkin', and Half-way seem to understand, But not quite,--_Poke_ does, I know, 'Cause he good as told me so,-- Poke's her favo-rite; and he-- That is, confidentially-- He's _my_ favo-rite--and I Got my whurfore and my why!)

I haint never ben no hand Much at talkin', understand, But they's _thoughts_ o' mine 'at's jes Jealous o' them Wigginses!-- Gift o' talkin 's what they got, Whether they want to er not-- F'r instunce, start the old man on Huntin'-scrapes, 'fore game was gone, 'Way back in the Forties, when Bears stold pigs right out the pen, Er went waltzin' 'crost the farm With a bee-hive on their arm!-- And--sir, _ping_! the old man's gun Has plumped-over many a one, Firin' at him from afore That-air very cabin-door! Yes--and _painters_, prowlin' 'bout, Allus darkest nights.--Lay out Clost yer cattle.--Great, big red Eyes a-blazin' in their head, Glittern' 'long the timber-line-- Shine out some, and then _un_-shine, And shine back--Then, stiddy! whizz! 'N there yer Mr. Painter is With a hole bored spang between Them-air eyes! Er start Chasteen, Say, on blooded racin'-stock, Ef you want to hear him talk; Er tobacker--how to raise, Store, and k-yore it, so's she pays: The old lady--and she'll cote Scriptur' tel she'll git yer vote!

Prove to you 'at wrong is right, Jes as plain as black is white: Prove when you're asleep in bed You're a-standin' on yer head, And yer train 'at's goin' West, 'S goin' East its level best; And when bees dies, it's their wings Wears out--and a thousand things! And the boys is "chips," you know; "Off the old block"--So I go To the Wigginses, 'cause--jes 'Cause I _like_ the Wigginses-- Even ef Melviney _she_ Hardly 'pears to notice me!

Rid to Chinkypin this week-- Yisterd'y.--No snow to speak Of, and didn't have no sleigh Anyhow; so, as I say, I rid in--and froze one ear And both heels--and I don't keer!-- "Mother and the girls kin jes Bother 'bout their Chris'mases _Next_ time fer _theirse'vs_, I jack!" Thinks-says-I, a-startin' back,-- Whole durn meal-bag full of things Wrapped in paper-sacks, and strings Liable to snap their holt Jes at any little jolt! That in front o' me, and _wind_ With _nicks_ in it, 'at jes skinned Me alive!--I'm here to say Nine mile' hossback thataway Would a-walked my log! But, as Somepin' allus comes to pass, As I topped old Guthrie's hill. Saw a buggy, front the 'Still, P'inted home'ards, and a thin Little chap jes climbin' in. Six more minutes I were there On the groun's'--And course it were-- It were little Poke--and he Nearly fainted to see me!-- "You ben in to Chinky, too?" "Yes; and go' ride back with you," I-says-I. He he'pped me find Room fer my things in behind-- Stript my hoss's reins down, and Put his mitt' on the right hand So's to lead--"Pile in!" says he, "But you 've struck pore company!" Noticed he was pale--looked sick, Kindo-like, and had a quick Way o' flickin' them-air eyes 0' his roun' 'at didn't size Up right with his usual style-- s' I, "You well?" He tried to smile, But his chin shuck and tears come.-- "_I've run 'Viney 'way from home_!"

Don't know jes what all occurred Next ten seconds--Nary word, But my heart jes drapt, stobbed thue, And whirlt over and come to.-- Wrenched a big quart bottle from That fool-boy!--and cut my thumb On his little fiste-teeth--helt Him snug in one arm, and felt That-air little heart o' his Churn the blood o' Wigginses Into that old bead 'at spun Roun' her, spilt at Lexington! His k'niptions, like enough, He'pped us both,--though it was rough-- Rough on him, and rougher on Me when last his nerve was gone, And he laid there still, his face Fishin' fer some hidin'-place Jes a leetle lower down In my breast than he 'd yit foun'!

Last I kindo' soothed him, so's He could talk.--And what you s'pose Them-air revelations of Poke's was? . . . He'd ben writin' love- Letters to Melviney, and Givin her to understand They was from "a young man who Loved her," and--"the violet's blue 'N sugar's sweet"--and Lord knows what! Tel, 'peared-like, Melviney got S' interested in "the young Man," Poke _he_ says, 'at she brung A' answer onc't fer him to take, Statin' "she'd die fer his sake," And writ fifty xs "fer Love-kisses fer him from her!" I was standin' in the road By the buggy, all I knowed When Poke got that fer.--"That's why," Poke says, "I 'fessed up the lie-- _Had_ to--'cause I see," says he, "'Viney was in airnest--she Cried, too, when I told her.--Then She swore me, and smiled again, And got Pap and Mother to Let me hitch and drive her thue Into Chinkypin, to be At Aunt 'Rindy's Chris'mas-tree-- That's to-night." Says I, "Poke--durn Your lyin' soul!--'s that beau o' hern-- That--_she_--loves--Does _he_ live in That hellhole o' Chinkypin?" "No," says Poke, "er 'Viney would Went some _other_ neighborhood." "Who _is_ the blame whelp?" says I. "Promised 'Viney, hope I'd die Ef I ever told!" says Poke, Pittiful and jes heart-broke-- "'Sides that's why she left the place,-- 'She caint look him in the face Now no more on earth!' she says.--" And the child broke down and jes Sobbed! Says I, "Poke, I p'tend T' be _your_ friend, and your _Pap's_ friend, And your _Mother's_ friend, and all The _boys_' friend, little, large and small-- The _whole fambily's_ friend--and you Know that means _Melviney_, too.-- Now--you hush yer troublin!'--I'm Go' to he'p friends ever' time-- On'y in _this_ case, _you_ got To he'p _me_--and, like as not I kin he'p Melviney then, And we'll have her home again. And now, Poke, with your consent, I'm go' go to that-air gent She's in love with, and confer With _him_ on his views o' _her_.-- Blast him! give the man _some_ show.-- Who is he?--_I'm go' to know_!" Somepin' struck the little chap Funny, 'peared-like.--Give a slap On his leg--laughed thue the dew In his eyes, and says: "It's you!"

Yes, and--'cordin' to the last Love-letters of ours 'at passed Thue his hands--we was to be Married Chris'mas.--"Gee-mun-_nee_! Poke," says I, "it's _suddent_--yit We _kin_ make it! You're to git Up tomorry, say, 'bout _three_-- Tell your folks you're go' with me:-- We'll hitch up, and jes drive in 'N take the town o' Chinkypin!"

GO, WINTER!

Go, Winter! Go thy ways! We want again The twitter of the bluebird and the wren; Leaves ever greener growing, and the shine Of Summer's sun--not thine.--

Thy sun, which mocks our need of warmth and love And all the heartening fervencies thereof, It scarce hath heat enow to warm our thin Pathetic yearnings in.

So get thee from us! We are cold, God wot, Even as _thou_ art.--We remember not How blithe we hailed thy coming.--That was O Too long--too long ago!

Get from us utterly! Ho! Summer then Shall spread her grasses where thy snows have been, And thy last icy footprint melt and mold In her first marigold.

ELIZABETH.

_May 1, 1891_.

I.

Elizabeth! Elizabeth! The first May-morning whispereth Thy gentle name in every breeze That lispeth through the young-leaved trees, New raimented in white and green Of bloom and leaf to crown thee queen;-- And, as in odorous chorus, all The orchard-blossoms sweetly call Even as a singing voice that saith Elizabeth! Elizabeth!

II.

Elizabeth! Lo, lily-fair, In deep, cool shadows of thy hair, Thy face maintaineth its repose.-- Is it, O sister of the rose, So better, sweeter, blooming thus Than in this briery world with us?-- Where frost o'ertaketh, and the breath Of biting winter harrieth With sleeted rains and blighting snows All fairest blooms--Elizabeth!

III.

Nay, then!--So reign, Elizabeth, Crowned, in thy May-day realm of death! Put forth the scepter of thy love In every star-tipped blossom of The grassy dais of thy throne! Sadder are we, thus left alone, But gladder they that thrill to see Thy mother's rapture, greeting thee. Bereaved are we by life--not death-- Elizabeth! Elizabeth!

SLEEP.

Orphaned, I cry to thee: Sweet sleep! O kneel and be A mother unto me! Calm thou my childish fears: Fold--fold mine eyelids to, all tenderly, And dry my tears.

Come, Sleep, all drowsy-eyed And faint with languor,--slide Thy dim face down beside Mine own, and let me rest And nestle in thy heart, and there abide, A favored guest.

Good night to every care, And shadow of despair! Good night to all things where Within is no delight!-- Sleep opens her dark arms, and, swooning there, I sob: Good night--good night!

DAN PAINE.

Old friend of mine, whose chiming name Has been the burthen of a rhyme Within my heart since first I came To know thee in thy mellow prime; With warm emotions in my breast That can but coldly be expressed, And hopes and wishes wild and vain, I reach my hand to thee, Dan Paine.

In fancy, as I sit alone In gloomy fellowship with care, I hear again thy cheery tone, And wheel for thee an easy chair; And from my hand the pencil falls-- My book upon the carpet sprawls, As eager soul and heart and brain, Leap up to welcome thee, Dan Paine.

A something gentle in thy mein, A something tender in thy voice, Has made my trouble so serene, I can but weep, from very choice. And even then my tears, I guess, Hold more of sweet than bitterness, And more of gleaming shine than rain, Because of thy bright smile, Dan Paine.

The wrinkles that the years have spun And tangled round thy tawny face, Are kinked with laughter, every one, And fashioned in a mirthful grace. And though the twinkle of thine eyes Is keen as frost when Summer dies, It can not long as frost remain While thy warm soul shines out, Dan Paine.

And so I drain a health to thee;-- May merry Joy and jolly Mirth Like children clamber on thy knee, And ride thee round the happy earth! And when, at last, the hand of Fate Shall lift the latch of Canaan's gate, And usher me in thy domain, Smile on me just as now, Dan Paine.

OLD WINTERS ON THE FARM

I have jest about decided It 'ud keep a _town-boy_ hoppin' Fer to work all winter, choppin' Fer a' old fire-place, like _I_ did! Lawz! them old times wuz contrairy!-- Blame backbone o' winter, 'peared-like, _Wouldn't_ break!--and I wuz skeerd-like Clean on into _Febuary_! Nothin' ever made we madder Than fer Pap to stomp in, layin' On a' extra fore-stick, sayin' "Groun'hog's out and seed his shadder!"

AT UTTER LOAF.

I.

An afternoon as ripe with heat As might the golden pippin be With mellowness if at my feet It dropped now from the apple-tree My hammock swings in lazily.

II.