In My Nursery Part 32

For one king brought her a diamond hat; And another presented a two-legged cat; While another one said, "When my uncle is dead, I will give you his monkey. Be sure of that!

His talented monkey; depend upon that!"

One powerful prince, with a haughty stride, Came forward and said, "If you'll be my bride, You shall have the Great Bear To powder your hair, And the small one to lace up your boots beside,-- To lace up your boots, and to shine them beside."

But the princess sighed; and softly she said, "Alas! not one of you all can I wed.

'Tis my positive plan To marry a man Who lives up in Mars, and is painted red,-- From his head to his feet, quite a violent red.

"I have often looked through my opera-gla.s.s, And up and down I have seen him pa.s.s; And so bright was his hue, And so lovely to view, I felt that in him lay my fate, alas!

I read in his red my own fate, alas!

"So now, if you love me as fond and true As all of you think that all of you do, You will help me to wed My 'Study in Red.'

Oh, kings and princes, now pray you, do!

You _dear_ kings and princes, I beg of you, do!"

The kings and princes arose with a frown, And first they looked up, and then they looked down.

Not a man of them spoke Till he'd straightened his cloak, And settled his wig, and adjusted his crown.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PRINCESS IN SATURN.]

And then, "If you honestly wish," they said, "To marry a man who is _painted red_"

(In Saturn, I ween, All the people are green), "We don't know that there's anything more to be said,-- Your Highness, there seems nothing more to be said."

So they called a comet, and told him to go To the Red Man in Mars, and give him to know That a princess in Saturn, Of virtues the pattern, Desired to marry him, whether or no,-- Was determined to marry him, whether or no.

Away whizzed the comet, and soon he came To the Red Man in Mars, and called him by name.

And telling his news, Begged him not to refuse To send back an answer at once to the same,-- "Just you make up your mind in regard to the same!"

But the Red Man sighed, and mournfully said, "My friend, 'tis our law that all wives _must_ be red; And if I should be seen With a wife who is green, Our king would be apt at removing my head,-- Not a moment he'd lose in removing my head.

"But if the young lady (who's surely most kind), Could in any way make up her princessly mind To turn _herself red_, It need hardly be said That a lover devoted in me she would find,-- That a husband adoring in me she would find."

The comet whizzed back with the answer again, And the kings and the princes received it with pain.

"Sure, the princess's green Has so brilliant a sheen, That the thought of a change is exceedingly vain,-- The idea of a change is prepost'rously vain."

But when the princess this message heard, She said, "I see nothing in this that's absurd."

Then to blush she began; And she blushed till the Man In Mars was less ruddy by half, on my word,-- Less red by a generous half, on my word!

She blushed over cheek and lip and brow, From her fair little head to her trim little toe.

And her hat and her shoe, And her farthingale too, They blushed just as red as herself, I vow,-- They blushed for the love of herself, I vow.

She blushed till the Northern Lights grew pale; And the Scorpion danced on the tip of his tail; And the Red Man came In a fiery flame, And cried, "My bee-yutiful bride, all hail!

My blushing, bee-yutiful bride, all hail!"

And so they were married, both he and she, And the color of both was quite scarlet to see.

And they lived, the tale says, To the end of their days, As happy, as happy, as happy could be: Sure, no other couple so happy could be.

For she loved him in Hebrew, and likewise in Greek, And the Latin tongue also she freely did speak.

And the sackbut she'd play Every hour in the day, Till the Red Man in Mars would with ecstasy squeak,-- Till her cochineal husband with rapture would squeak.

But the people in Saturn were sad, I ween, And evermore greener they grew, and more green; And the princes and kings Said such heartbreaking things, In these mirth-loving pages they must not be seen: I really must stop, And the subject must drop, For it won't do at all for such things to be seen.

WIGGLE AND WAGGLE AND BUBBLE AND SQUEAK.

Wiggle and Waggle and Bubble and Squeak, They went their fortunes for to seek; They went to sea in a chicken-coop, And they lived on mulligatawney soup.

Wiggle and Waggle and Bubble and Squeak, They cooked their soup every day in the week; They cooked their soup in a chimney-pot, For there the water was always hot.

Wiggle and Waggle and Bubble and Squeak, Each gave the other one's nose a tweak; They tweaked so hard that it took their breath, And so they met an untimely death.

GRET GRAN'F'THER.

What! take Gret Gran'f'ther's musket, Thet he kerried at Bunker Hill, An' go a-gunnin' fer sparrers With Solomon Judd an' Bill?

You let thet musket alone, Dan'l!

An' git down from thet air stool.

You've just time enough to hold this yarn Afore ye go off to school.

Thar! don't ye wriggle an' twist, sonny!

The yarn's fer yer own new socks; It's safer to hold than muskets, With their triggers an' riggers an' locks.

A musket to shoot at sparrers!

Wal, boys is up to sech tricks!

An' thet old un, too, thet ain't ben tetched Sence seventeen seventy-six!

But I set more store by its rusty stock, Than the finest money could buy; An' if you'll stan' stiddy, Dan'l, I'll tell ye the reason why.

You never seed Gret Gran'f'ther, But you've seed his pictur, boy, With the smilin' mouth, an' the big brown eyes Jes' brimmin' with life and joy.

Wal! he war'n't like thet when I seed him, But his sperrit was lively still, Fer all his white hair an' empty sleeve, As it was at Bunker Hill.

An' many's the time he's told me, Settin' here in this very cheer, Of the fust time he shouldered thet musket, In the Continental year.

How out in the field a-mowin', He seed the bay'nets glance, An' ran fer his gun with a lighter heart Than ever he went to a dance.

Jest as he was,--in his shirt-sleeves (Fer the day was warm and bright), An' no hat,--but shoulderin' his musket, Gret Gran'f'ther went to the fight.

An' thar upon Bunker hillside, Whar the smoke hung thick an' gray, He went a-gunnin' fer redcoats, As you'd go fer sparrers to-day.

Hey! but the b.a.l.l.s were whistlin'!

An' the flashes kem thick an' fast; But whose-ever musket hed fust word, Gret Gran'f'ther's hed the last.