City Ballads Part 12

[Ill.u.s.tration: "TWO INLAND NOODLES, FOR OUR FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE SEA."]

On county fairs and 'lection days, in walking through a crowd, I'm rather firm to jostle 'gainst--perhaps it makes me proud; But if it does, that wave just preached how _sureness_ never pays, And seemed to say, "How small is man, no odds how much he weighs!"

It kicked and cuffed me all about, in spite of right or law, With all the qualities they give an average mother-in-law!

And then it set me on the bank, quite thankful for my life, And looking 'round I give a gaze to find my faithful wife; But she had kind o' cut this wave with all the edge she had, And stood a-looking 'round for me, uncommon moist and sad; While Sister Sunnyhopes with smiles was looking sweet and gay, A-floating on her dainty back some several rods away!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

She looked so newish pretty there--(she knowed it, too, the elf!)-- The crowd was all admiring her, and so was I myself; And while I once more grasped the line, beside my wife of truth, My eyes _would_ rove to Sister S.--her beauty and her youth; When all at once a brindle wave, uncommon broad and deep, Came thrashing down on Wife and me, and flopped us in a heap!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

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Heels over head--all in a bunch--my wife across of me, And I on some misguided folks who happened there to be, My hat untied and floated off, and left my bald head bare-- When I got out, if I'd have spoke, 'twould warmed up all the air!

We drank 'bout two-thirds of the sea--my gasping wife and I-- While Sister S. still floated soft, a-gazing at the sky!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WE VOTED THAT WE'D HAD ENOUGH."]

We voted that we'd had enough, and got right out the way Before another wave arrived, and bid the sea good-day.

We looked as like two drownded rats as ever such was called, With one of them a dumbed old fool and most completely bald.

But, like a woman true she says--my shivering wife to me-- "We will not mind; there's others here looks just as bad as we."

Now, Sister Sunnyhopes, by'm-by, came back into our tent, As sleek or sleeker than before, and asked us "When we went?"

Said I, "My dear good Sister S., please do not now pretend You did not see our voyage through, and mark its doleful end.

If you would play the mermaid fair, why such I'd have you be; But we're too old to take that part--my faithful wife and me;

"Some folks may be who ocean waves are fitted to command, But we've concluded _we_ was built expressly for the land.

And when I want amus.e.m.e.nt for an uncompleted day, I guess I'll go and take it in some good old-fashioned way; And will not stand upon my head 'fore all the folks that's there, And wildly wave my dumbed old feet in all the neighboring air!"

VICE.

[_From Farmer Harrington's Calendar._]

SEPTEMBER 10, 18--.

Ah me! it makes a sinner wondrous blue, To see so many other sinners too!

When I rake over all my faults, and then Notice the same, or worse, in other men, It makes me very much surprised and sad, That Heaven should see Earth turning out so bad!

Vice, vice, vice, vice! The _country's_ mean enough, And has some villains that are pretty rough; But in this town, where art and nature both Are shoved into their very greatest growth, And where the utmost of all things is found, The Devil has his best men on the ground, And gives them weapons meeting his own views, And all the ammunition they can use!

Vice, vice, vice, vice! I never had been led To think that Evil had so long a head!

I've seen more ingenuity displayed In one crime, than 'twould take to learn a trade.

Such cute inventions Sin will take in charge: Old Satan's patent-office must be large!

And yet, for all their craft, in time how brief How many of these rascals come to grief!

For though within them cunning may abound, The plain-clothed Truth is always standing round, Or following rogues through every land and clime, And gets them, if you'll only give him time.

I don't believe--as some good people say-- The Devil leads men on from day to day, And takes them to a rock, and, first they know, Pitches them off into some gulf below; Or baits them into different traps, and then Doesn't try at all to get them out again: I think he'd like to keep them, safe and sound, Doing his nasty work the whole year round; And when a rogue fails up and comes to grief, It hurts his brimstone-clothed but helpless chief!

These thoughts limped past my saddened mind to-day, As through State's prison I pursued my way, Led round by one who didn't seem to be knowing What melancholy pictures he was showing!

Those walls and guards, that all escape opposed; Those thick, iron doors--it thundered when they closed; The cells--each one a closet full of gloom: I'd just as soon sleep in a metal tomb![6]

The hard-faced men who worked away (no doubt, For fear of hard-faced men that stood about), Wearing that garb of stripes a free man loathes, As if Law whipped them--even with their clothes; The way they glance up at you from within Their drooping eyelids, hard with grief or sin, Wondering, as they gaze upon you so, If you are not some one they used to know; The ghosts you feel, that creep 'round, all the time, Among these men who've shaken hands with crime; The mournful hope that some are toiling here Whose innocence in heaven is proved out clear: All these things to my inmost spirit talked, As through those regions dark I slowly walked; And when the front door closed behind me--free-- The fresh air seemed like heaven itself to me!

I recollect once getting sick with pain, When sitting near a sheriff, on the train, Who had a young man with him--not of age-- Whom he was taking to this stone-bound cage.

The poor boy talked to him with drooping head, And these are something like the words he said:

[6] And yet 'twas quite affecting, I declare, How some had ornaments up, even there!

Not crime itself, or sad misfortune's smart Can crush all sense of beauty from the heart!

[THE BOY CONVICT'S STORY.]

I'd rather sit here, Mr. Sheriff--up near to the end of the car; We won't do so much advertising if we stay in the seat where we are.

That sweet little dude saw the bracelets that you on my wrists have bestowed, And tells the new pa.s.sengers promptly you're "taking me over the road."

I've had a well-patronized trial--the neighbors all know of my fall; But when I get out among strangers I'm sensitive-like, after all.

For I was a lad of good prospects, some three or four summers ago-- There wasn't any boy in our township who made a more promising show!

I learned all of Solomon's proverbs, and took in their goodness and worth, Till I felt like a virtue-hooped barrel, chock-full of the salt of the earth.

And this precious picnic of sorrow would likely enough have been saved, If I had had less of a heart, sir, or home had contained what it craved.

For the time when a boy is in danger of walking a little bit wild, Is when he's too young to be married--too old to be known as a child; A bird in the lonely gra.s.s thickets, just out of the parent tree thrown, Too large to be kept in the old nest--too small to have one of his own; When, desolate 'mid his companions, his soul is a stake to be won; 'Tis then that the Devil stands ready to get a good chance to catch on!

Oh, yes! I'd a good enough home, sir, so far as the house was concerned; My parents were first-cla.s.s providers--I ate full as much as I earned.

My clothes were all built of good timber, and fit every day to be seen; There wasn't any lock on the pantry--my bedroom was tidy and clean; And taking the home up and down, sir, I'd more than an average part, With one quite important exception--_there wasn't any room for my heart_.

The house couldn't have been any colder, with snow-drifts in every room!

The house needn't have been any darker to make a respectable tomb!

I used to stop short on the door-step, and brace up a minute or more, And bid a good-bye to the sunshine, before I would open the door; I used to feed daily on icebergs--take in all the freeze I could hold-- Then go out and warm in the sunshine, because my poor heart was so cold!

And hadn't I a father and mother? Oh yes! just as good as they make-- _Too_ good, I have often suspected (though maybe that last's a mistake).

But they'd travelled so long and so steady the way to Perfection's abode, They hadn't any feeling for fellows who could not as yet find the road; And so, till some far advanced mile-post on goodness's pike I could win, They thought of me, not as their own child, but as one of the children of sin.

And hadn't I brothers and sisters? Oh yes! till they somewhat had grown; Then, shivering, they went off and left me to stand the cold weather alone.

For I had the luck to be youngest--the last on the family page, The one to prop up the old roof-tree--the staff of my parents' old age; Who well understood all the uses to which a mere staff is applied; They used me whenever convenient--then carelessly threw me aside!

And hadn't I any a.s.sociates? Oh yes! I had friends, more or less, But seldom I asked them to visit our house with the slightest success; Whenever the project was mentioned, they'd somehow look blue like and chill, And mention another engagement they felt it their duty to fill; For--now I am only a convict, there's no harm in telling the truth-- My home was a fearful wet blanket to blood that was seasoned with youth!

Not one blessed thing that was cheerful; no festivals, frolics, or games; No novels of any description--'twas wicked to mention their names!

My story-books suddenly vanished, my checker-boards never would keep, No newspaper came through _our_ doorway unless it was first put to sleep!

And as for love--well, that old song, sir, is very melodious and fine, With "No place like home" in the chorus--I hope there ain't many like mine!

And so, soon my body got hating a place which my soul couldn't abide, And Pleasure was all the time smiling, and motioning me to her side; And when I start out on a journey, I'm likely to go it by leaps, For good or for bad, I'm no half-way--I'm one or the other for keeps.

My wild oats flew thicker and faster--I reaped the same crop that I sowed, And now I am going to market--I'm taking it over the road!