City Ballads Part 11

I can't describe it; but I'll let the papers (Who tell _some_ truth, 'mid all their fancy capers) To my old sc.r.a.p-book give of it a taste (What I can't do with ink I'll do with paste).

[_From Arthur Selwyn's Note-book._]

[THE WEDDING OF THE TOWNS.][5]

Let all of the bells ring clear, And all of the flags be seen; The King of the Western Hemisphere Has married the Island Queen!

For years he watched and waited Along the river side, And vowed that she was fated To be his own fair bride; Full many a night he wooed her Upon her lofty throne, And he hath long pursued her, To make the prize his own; Nor thankless his endeavor, Nor coy the royal maid, But, like true-love's course ever, The banns were long delayed!

And boys to men had grown, And men their graves had sought; The gulf was yet between them thrown, And the wooing came to nought.

Though couriers oft were dashing 'Twixt him and his adored, Still was the river flashing Between them like a sword.

In heart they well were mated; And patiently and long They for each other waited-- These lovers true and strong.

Let never a flag be hidden!

Let never a bell be dumb!

The guests have all been bidden-- The wedding-day has come!

For many a golden year Shall gleam this silvery tie: The wondering world will gather here And gaze with gleaming eye.

Philosophers will ponder How, blessed by the hand of Heaven, The world has another wonder To add to its famous seven; Philanthropists will linger To view the giant span, And point with grateful finger Where man has toiled for man; And all will bless the year When, in the May-month green, The King of the Western Hemisphere Was wed to the Island Queen!

[5] Written on the occasion of the opening of the New York and Brooklyn Bridge.

[_From Farmer Harrington's Calendar._]

JULY 2, 18--.

Wealth, wealth, wealth, wealth! with iron bars to defend it, And seventeen hundred thousand ways to spend it!

How men will work, in home and foreign lands, To get a lot of money in their hands; How they will bar and bolt, by night and day, To keep some one from stealing it away; Then, when a fresh bait strikes their fancy's eye, How easy 'tis to make them let it fly!

Lock up your cash in places howe'er strong, You lose it when the right thief comes along.

There are some families that I could name, Who, spring and fall and winter, toil the same As boys with sleds for half an hour will climb, To ride back in about five minutes' time.

These fam'lies pinched and starved nine months will be, To make a first-cla.s.s show the other three; And some whose fortunes sprung up like a flame, Can puff it out even quicker than it came.

These thoughts grew like June corn the other day, As I through Coney Island picked my way, And found there, pert and prosperous as could be, A land-and-water city by the sea; And people holding, in free easy style, A Fourth-of-July picnic all the while.

Thousands were eating there amid the din, As though they'd hardly time to do it in; Thousands were loitering in the breezy air, As if they had a year or two to spare; And every trap that ever caught a dime, Was ready set and baited all the time!

The ocean, to my unaccustomed view, Seemed having quite a lively picnic too; The waves came slamming at us with a roar, And chased each other pell-mell to the sh.o.r.e.

And in these waves, and adding to the noise, A lot of men and women, girls and boys, Dressed in a style that made my good wife frown, Like big-sized corks went bobbing up and down.

Some glided out and in, like jumping-jacks, Some rode the waves--a-lying on their backs; And some--as decent folks as one could see-- Made capers that were very queer to see.

I noticed Miss Doozell, much versed in books, And quite particular about her looks, And dignified as any one I know, Roll over maybe thirteen times or so; While Jeremiah Jipson, LL.D., Who seldom makes a move above the knee, And who, all former signs would seem to say, Never indulges in unseemly play-- When an irreverent wave he chanced to meet, Stood on his head, and raised aloft his feet.

The Ocean has no awe for any one, And always seems to get more'n half the fun.

But how the pretty children carry sail!

Each with his tiny shovel and his pail, Each working his own little piece of land, And making small plantations in the sand!

These little incidents show on their face That farming's natural to the human race!

When G.o.d's poor pretty ones, 'mid summer's blaze, Have lived 'mongst brick and mortar all their days, Trying their best to blossom and not spoil, Like house-plants kidnapped from their native soil, It must be heaven to sit here in the sand, And take old Mother Earth right by the hand!

To lie here, by no brick blocks overlooked, And take a breath of air that hasn't been cooked!

G.o.d bless you, children! May't a long time be, Before the sand shall cover you and me!

Yes, every trap that ever caught a dime Is ready set and baited, all the time!

Here nigh the sh.o.r.e a strange machine I found, To see how hard, with beetles, men could pound; And several fellows tried it, o'er and o'er, Who never handled labor so before, And would have shown capacity to shirk, If they had known how much it looked like work.

Here round and round I saw a big wheel go, Like an old-fashioned horse-power--larger, though, And worked by steam; and on the sweeps one finds Big wooden animals of different kinds: Elephants, horses, birds of various hues, Lions and leopards, roosters, kangaroos-- All staring with great, stupid, wondering eyes, And all about the very self-same size!

And on these beasts, sixteen times round or more, Rode children of from fifty down to four, While some big-sized hand-organ filled the air With crack-voiced music, plenty and to spare.

Here a big premium cow--quite dead, alas!

Gave milkman's milk-and-water by the gla.s.s; Here were some great "museums," which consisted Of wondrous things that never have existed; There omnibuses hover on your track, Ready to draw you somewhere else--and back; Here "marine railroads," as you onward plod, Will take you riding at five cents a rod; This "elevator" lifts you pretty high, And shows you men must look small from the sky; Yon gambling den will send you from its door, Poorer and not much wiser than before; That fellow there will, in an ocean view, Your picture take, and swear that it is you.

Yes, every trap that ever caught a dime, Is ready set and baited, all the time!

And sometimes everything seems blurred, indeed, With man's surprising wickedness and greed, Till you most feel there's nothing genuine there, Excepting ocean waves and open air!

But still they can't put all G.o.d's plans to death To let the people have an honest breath; And so, while thinking it all up, to-day, I finally felt called upon to say, Thank the good Lord, from whom all blessings fall, For making Coney Island, after all!

My cousin, Abdiel Stebbins, large and slow, Arrived at Ocean Grove some days ago; He stopped off in this city on the way, And stayed here with us two weeks and one day (For we keep up our airy home in town Whether the mercury goes up or down-- Not liking to exchange it very well For a small sweat-box in a large hotel).

He promised that the first hour he could spare He'd write us how he liked it over there; The letter, like himself, is rather queer; Perhaps I'd better paste it right in here:

[FARMER STEBBINS AT OCEAN GROVE.]

OCEAN GROVE, _June_ 30, 18--.

DEAR COUSIN JOHN:

We got here safe--my worthy wife and me-- And took a tent here in the woods contigious to the sea; We've harvested such means of grace as growed within our reach-- We've been to several meetings here, and heard the Bishop preach; And everything went easy like until we took a whim-- My wife and I--one breezy day, to take an ocean swim.

We shouldn't have ventured on't, I think, if Sister Sunnyhopes Hadn't urged us over and again, and said she knew "the ropes,"

And told how soothing it would be "in ocean rills to lave,"

And "sport within the bounding surf," and "ride the crested wave;"

And so we went along with her--my timid wife and me-- Two inland noodles, for our first acquaintance with the sea.

They put me in a work-day rig, as usually is done-- A wampus and short overalls all sewed up into one.

I had to pull and tug and shrink to make the thing go 'round (You are aware my peaceful weight will crowd three hundred pound).

They took my wig and laid it up--to keep it dry, they said-- And strapped a straw-stack of a hat on my devoted head.

They put my wife into a frock too short by full a third: 'Twas somewhat in the Bloomer style--I told her 'twas absurd!

You know she's rather long and slim--somewhat my opposite-- And clothes that was not made for her is likely not to fit; But as we was we vent'red in--my timid wife and me-- And formed our first acquaintance with the inconsistent sea.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Miss Sunnyhopes she waded out a-looking nice and sweet (She'd had her dress made to the store, and trimmed from head to feet); And I went next, and grabbed their rope just as she told me to, And Wife came third, a-looking scared, scarce knowing what to do.

Then Sister Sunnyhopes a smile of virgin sweetness gave, And said, "Now watch your chance, and jump--here comes a _lovely_ wave!"

I must have jumped, I rather think, the wrong time of the moon; At any rate the "lovely wave" occurred to me too soon!

It took me sudden, with a rude and unexpected shock; I'd rather meet the stoutest pair of horns in all my flock!

And then to top the circus out, and make the scene more fine, I tried to _kick_ this "lovely wave," and let right go the line.