The Book of Humorous Verse Part 138

And she'd give it a look at eventide, And say, "Now beat on the other side."

And the new days came as the old days went, And the landlord came for his regular rent.

And the neighbors laughed at the tireless broom, And his face was shadowed with clouds of gloom.

Till at last, one cheerless winter day, He kicked at the carpet and slid away.

Over the fence and down the street, Speeding away with footsteps fleet.

And never again the morning sun Smiled on him beating his carpet-drum.

And South Hill often said with a yawn, "Where's the carpet-martyr gone?"

Years twice twenty had come and pa.s.sed And the carpet swayed in the autumn blast.

For never yet, since that bright spring-time, Had it ever been taken down from the line.

Over the fence a gray-haired man Cautiously clim, clome, clem, clum, clamb.

He found him a stick in the old woodpile, And he gathered it up with a sad, grim smile,

A flush pa.s.sed over his face forlorn As he gazed at the carpet, tattered and torn.

And he hit it a most resounding thwack, Till the startled air gave his echoes back.

And out of the window a white face leaned, And a palsied hand the pale face screened.

She knew his face; she gasped, and sighed, "A little more on the other side."

Right down on the ground his stick he throwed, And he shivered and said, "Well, I am blowed!"

And he turned away, with a heart full sore, And he never was seen not more, not more.

_Robert J. Burdette._

THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK

"Come, listen, my men, while I tell you again The five unmistakable marks By which you may know, wheresoever you go, The warranted genuine Snarks.

"Let us take them in order. The first is the taste, Which is meagre and hollow, but crisp: Like a coat that is rather too tight in the waist, With a flavor of Will-o'-the-wisp.

"Its habit of getting up late you'll agree That it carries too far when I say That it frequently breakfasts at five-o'clock tea, And dines on the following day.

"The fourth is its fondness for bathing-machines, Which it constantly carries about, And believes that they add to the beauty of scenes-- A sentiment open to doubt.

"The fifth is ambition. It next will be right To describe each particular batch; Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite, From those that have whiskers, and scratch.

"For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm, Yet I feel it my duty to say Some are Boojums--" The Bellman broke off in alarm, For the Baker had fainted away.

They roused him with m.u.f.fins--they roused him with ice-- They roused him with mustard and cress-- They roused him with jam and judicious advice-- They set him conundrums to guess.

When at length he sat up and was able to speak, His sad story he offered to tell; And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not even a shriek!"

And excitedly tingled his bell.

There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream, Scarcely even a howl or a groan, As the man they called "Ho!" told his story of woe.

In an antediluvian tone.

"My father and mother were honest, though poor--"

"Skip all that!" cried the Bellman in haste, "If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark, We have hardly a minute to waste!"

"I skip forty years," said the Baker, in tears, "And proceed without further remark To the day when you took me aboard of your ship To help you in hunting the Snark.

"A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named) Remarked, when I bade him farewell--"

"Oh, skip your dear uncle," the Bellman exclaimed, As he angrily tingled his bell.

"He remarked to me then," said that mildest of men, "'If your Snark be a Snark, that is right; Fetch it home by all means--you may serve it with greens And it's handy for striking a light.

"'You may seek it with thimbles--and seek it with care; You may hunt it with forks and hope; You may threaten its life with a railway-share; You may charm it with smiles and soap--

"'But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day, If your Snark be a Boojum! For then You will softly and suddenly vanish away And never be met with again!'

"It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul, When I think of my uncle's last words: And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl Br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with quivering curds!

"I engage with the Snark--every night after dark-- In a dreamy delirious fight: I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes, And I use it for striking a light:

"But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day, In a moment (of this I am sure), I shall softly and suddenly vanish away-- And the notion I cannot endure!"

_Lewis Carroll._

THE OLD MAN AND JIM

Old man never had much to say-- 'Ceptin' to Jim,-- And Jim was the wildest boy he had-- And the Old man jes' wrapped up in him!

Never heerd him speak but once Er twice in my life,--and first time was When the army broke out, and Jim he went, The Old man backin' him, fer three months.-- And all 'at I heerd the Old man say Was, jes' as we turned to start away,-- "Well; good-bye, Jim: Take keer of yourse'f!"

'Peard-like, he was more satisfied Jes' _lookin'_ at Jim, And likin' him all to hisse'f-like, see?-- 'Cause he was jes' wrapped up in him!

And over and over I mind the day The Old man come and stood round in the way While we was drillin', a-watchin' Jim-- And down at the deepot a-heerin' him say,-- "Well; good-bye, Jim: Take keer of yourse'f!"

Never was nothin' about the farm Disting'ished Jim;-- Neighbours all ust to wonder why The Old man 'peared wrapped up in him: But when Cap. Biggler, he writ back, 'At Jim was the bravest boy we had In the whole dern rigiment, white er black, And his fightin' good as his farmin' bad-- 'At he had led, with a bullet clean Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen,-- The Old man wound up a letter to him 'At Cap. read to us, 'at said,--"Tell Jim Good-bye; And take keer of hisse'f."

Jim come back jes' long enough To take the whim 'At he'd like to go back in the cavelry-- And the Old man jes' wrapped up in him!-- Jim 'lowed 'at he'd had sich luck afore, Guessed he'd tackle her three years more.