You know her--Ma'am'selle Ida--
She's Jimmy Barnet's wife,
The prettiest little woman
You ever see in your life.
They was lovers when they was young uns,
No more'n two hands high.
She nussed Jim through a fever once,
When the doctors swore he'd die.
I taught 'em both the motions;
She never know'd no fear,
And they've done the trapeze together
For more'n a couple o' year.
Last Summer we took on a Spaniard,
A mis'rable kind of cuss,
Spry feller--but awful tempered,
Always a-makin' a fuss.
He wanted to marry Ida--
His chance was pretty slim,
He did his best, but bless yer,
She'd never go back on Jim.
He acted up so foolish,
That Jim, one day, got riled
'N' guv him a reg'lar whalin';
That druv the Spaniard wild.
He talked like he was crazy,
'N' raved around, and swore
He'd kill 'em both; but Jim just laughed--
He'd heer'd such talk before.
One day, when we was showin'
In a little country town,
Jim mashed his hand with a hatchet,
Drivin' a tent stake down.
He couldn't work that night, nohow,
But the "trap" hed got to be done.
The Spaniard said he'd try it--
'N' they had to take him or none.
I knew Jim didn't like it,
'N' Ide looked scared and white--
"Look out for me, boys," she whispered,
"I'm goin' to fall to-night;"
Then she looked up with a shiver,
At the trapeze swingin' there,
A couple of bars and a rope or two
Forty feet up in the air.
But up she clumb--he arter--
Stood up, but how Ide shook,
Then the Spaniard yelled like a devil,
"Now look, Jim Barnet!--look!"--
With that he jumped 'n' gripped her;
She fought, but he broke her hold,
Grabbed at the rope, 'n' missed it--
Off of the bar they rolled,
Clinched, 'n' Ide a screamin';
Thud!--they struck the ground;
I turned all sick and dizzy,
'N' everything went round.
How still it were for a second!--
It seemed like an hour--'n' then
The women was all a screechin',
'N' the ring was full of men.
Poor Jim was stoopin' to lift her,
But flopped right down, 'n' said,
Sez he, "Her lips is movin'!
She's breathin'!--She isn't dead!"
For sure!--he'd fallen under;
It kinder broke her fall;
Except the scare and a broken arm,
She wasn't hurt at all.
"The Spaniard?" Oh, it killed him;
It broke his cussed neck.
But nobody cried their eyes out,
As near as I reckeleck.
She married Jim soon arter,
They're doin' the trapeze still;
So, yer see, as I was sayin',
These falls don't always kill.
'N' as for things excitin'
To put in a story,--well,
I'd really like to oblige yer,
But then there aint nothin' to tell.




PYROTECHNIC POLYGLOT.
(MADISON SQUARE, JULY 4.)


"Hey, Johnny McGinnis, where are yez?
I've got a place! Arrah, be quick!"
Whiz! Boom! "Hooray, there goes a rocket;
Hi, Johnny, look out for the shtick!"
"Confound it, sir! Those are my feet, sir!"
"Oh, pa, lift me up, I can't see."
"Come down out o' that, yez young blackguards!
Div yez want to be killin' the tree?"
"Hooray! look at that?" "Aint it bully!"
"It's stuck!" "No, it aint." "There she goes!"
"I wish that you'd speak to this man, Fred,
He's standing all over my toes."
"Take down that umbrella in front there!"
"My! aint we afraid of our hat!"
"Me heart's fairly broke wid yez shovin'--
Have done now--what would yez be at?"
"Jehiel, neow haint this jest orful!
I 'most wish I hedn't a come;
Such actions I never--one would think
Folks left their perliteness to hum."
"Look here, now, you schoost stop dose schovin'."
"By gar, den, get out from ze vay,
You stupide Dootschmans, vilain cochon"--
"Kreuz!"--"Peste!"--"Donnerwetter!"--"Sacr-r-re!"
"Oh, isn't that cross just too lovely!
So bright, why the light makes me wink!"
"Your eyes, dear, are"--"don't be a goose, Fred;
What do you suppose folks will think?"
Crash! Screech! "Och I'm kilt!"--"Fred, what is it?"
"Branch broken--small boy come to grief."
"Boo, hoo, hoo, hoo! I wants mine muzzer!"
"Look out there!" "Police!" "Hi, stop thief!"
"Well, father, I guess it's all over;
Just help Nelly down off the stool."


MORAL.

SUNG:--"Mellican piecee fire bully!"
CHING:--"Mellican man piecee fool."




FISHING.


"Harry, where have you been all morning?"
"Down at the pool in the meadow-brook."
"Fishing?" "Yes, but the trout were wary,
Couldn't induce them to take a hook."
"Why, look at your coat! You must have fallen,
Your back's just covered with leaves and moss."
How he laughs! Good-natured fellow!
Fisherman's luck makes most men cross.

"Nellie, the Wrights have called. Where were you?"
"Under the tree, by the meadow-brook
Reading, and oh, it was too lovely;
I never saw such a charming book."
The charming book must have pleased her, truly,
There's a happy light in her bright young eyes
And she hugs the cat with unusual fervor,
To staid old Tabby's intense surprise.

Reading? yes, but not from a novel.
Fishing! truly, but not with a rod.
The line is idle, the book neglected--
The water-grasses whisper and nod.
The fisherman bold and the earnest reader
Sit talking--of what? Perhaps the weather.
Perhaps--no matter--whate'er the subject,
It brings them remarkably close together.

It causes his words to be softly spoken,
With many a lingering pause between,
The while the sunbeams chase the shadows
Over the mosses, gray and green.
Blushes are needful for its discussion,
And soft, shy glances from downcast eyes,
In whose blue depths are lying hidden
Loving gladness, and sweet surprise.

Trinity Chapel is gay this evening,
Filled with beauty, and flowers, and light,
A captive fisherman stands at the altar,
With Nellie beside him all in white.

The ring is on, the vows are spoken,
And smiling friends, good fortune wishing,
Tell him his is the fairest prize
Ever brought from a morning's fishing.




NOCTURNE.


Summer is over, and the leaves are falling,
Gold, fire-enamelled in the glowing sun;
The sobbing pinetop, the cicada calling
Chime men to vesper-musing, day is done.

The fresh, green sod, in dead, dry leaves is hidden;
They rustle very sadly in the breeze;
Some breathing from the past comes, all unbidden,
And in my heart stir withered memories.

Day fades away; the stars show in the azure,
Bright with the glow of eyes that know not tears,
Unchanged, unchangeable, like God's good pleasure,
They smile and reck not of the weary years.

Men tell us that the stars it knows are leaving
Our onward rolling globe, and in their place
New constellations rise--is death bereaving
The old earth, too, of each familiar face?

Our loved ones leave us; so we all grow fonder
Of their world than of ours; for here we seem
Alone in haunted houses, and we wonder
Which is the waking life, and which the dream.




AUTO-DA-FE


(HE EXPLAINS.)

Oh, just burning up some old papers,
They do make a good deal of smoke:
That's right, Dolly, open the window;
They'll blaze if you give them a poke.
I've got a lot more in the closet;
Just look at the dust! What a mess!
Why, read it, of course, if you want to,
It's only a letter, I guess.


(SHE READS.)

Just me, and my pipe, and the fire-light,
Whose mystical circles of red
Protect me alone with the shadows;
The smoke-wreaths engarland my head;
And the strains of a waltz, half forgotten,
The favorite waltz of the year,
Played softly by fairy musicians,
Chime sweetly and low on my ear.

The smoke-cloud floats thickly around me,
All perfumed and white, till it seems
A bride-veil magicians have woven
To honor the bride of my dreams.
Float on, dreamy waltz, through my fancies,
My thoughts in your harmony twine!
Draw near, phantom face, in your beauty,
Look deep, phantom eyes, into mine.

Sweet lips--crimson buds half unfolded--
Give breath to the exquisite voice,
That, waking the strands of my being
To melody, bids me rejoice.
Dream, soul, till the world's dream is ended!
Dream, heart, of your beautiful past!
For dreaming is better than weeping,
And all things but dreams at the last.

Change rules in the world of the waking--
Its laughter aye ends in a sigh;
Dreams only are changeless--immortal:
A love-dream alone cannot die.
Toil, fools! Sow your hopes in the furrows,
Rich harvest of failure you'll reap;
Life's riddle is read the most truly
By men who but talk in their sleep.


(HE REMONSTRATES.)

There, stop! That'll do--yes, I own it--
But, dear, I was young then, you know.
I wrote that before we were married;
Let's see--why, it's ten years ago!
You remember that night, at Drake's party,
When you flirted with Dick all the time?
I left in a state quite pathetic,
And went home to scribble that rhyme.

What a boy I was then with my dreaming,
And reading the riddle of life!
You gave a good guess at its meaning
The night you said "Yes," little wife.
One kiss for old times' sake, my Dolly--
That didn't seem much like a dream.
Holloa! something's wrong with the children!
Those young ones do nothing but scream.




AN AFTERTHOUGHT.


Vine leaves rustled, moonbeams shone,
Summer breezes softly sighed;
You and I were all alone
In a kingdom fair and wide
You, a Queen, in all your pride,
I, a vassal, by your side.

Fairy voices in the leaves
Ceaselessly were whispering:
"'Tis the time to garner sheaves--
Let your heart its longing sing;
Place upon her hand a ring;
Then our Queen shall know her King."

E'en the moonbeams seemed to learn
Speech when they had kissed your face,
Passing fair--my lips did yearn
To be moonbeams for a space--
"Lo, 'tis fitting time and place!
Speak, and courage will find grace."

But the night wind murmured low,
Softly brushing back your hair,
"Look into her face, and know
That she is a jewel rare,
Worthy of a monarch's heir;
Who are you that you should dare!"

Hope died like a frost-touched flower;
But through all the coming years,
In that quiet evening hour,
When the flowers are all in tears,
When the heart hath hopes and fears,
When the day-world disappears.

If the vine leaves rustle low,
If the moon shine on the sea,
If the night wind softly blow,--
Dreaming of what may not be,--
Well I know that I shall see
Your sweet eyes look down on me.




REDUCTIO AD ABSURDUM.


I had come from the city early
That Saturday afternoon;
I sat with Beatrix under the trees
In the mossy orchard; the golden bees
Buzzed over clover-tops, pink and pearly;
I was at peace, and inclined to spoon.

We were stopping awhile with mother,
At the quiet country place
Where first we'd met, one blossomy May,
And fallen in love--so the dreamy day
Brought to my memory many another
In the happy time when I won her grace.

Days in the bright Spring weather,
When the twisted, rough old tree
Showered down apple-blooms, dainty and sweet,
That swung in her hair, and blushed at her feet;
Sweet was her face as we lingered together,
And dainty the kisses my love gave me.

"Dear love, are you recalling
The old days, too?" I said.
Her sweet eyes filled, and with tender grace
She turned and rested her blushing face
Against my shoulder; a sunbeam falling
Through the leaves above us crowned her head.

And so I held her, trusting
That none was by to see;
A sad mistake--for low, but clear,
This feminine comment reached my ear:
"Married for ages--it's just disgusting--
Such actions--and, Fred, they've got our tree!"




THE MOTHERS OF THE SIRENS.


The debutantes are in force to-night,
Sweet as their roses, pure as truth;
Dreams of beauty in clouds of tulle;
Blushing, fair in their guileless youth.
Flashing bright glances carelessly--
Carelessly, think you! Wait and see
How their sweetest smile is kept for him
Whom "mother" considers a good _parti_.

For the matrons watch and guard them well--
Little for youth or love care they;
The man they seek is the man with gold,
Though his heart be black, and his hair be gray.
"Nellie, how _could_ you treat _him_ so!
You know very well he is Goldmore's heir,"
"Jennie, look modest! Glance down and blush,--
Here comes papa with young Millionaire."

On a cold, gray rock, in Grecian seas,
The sirens sit, and _their_ glamour try--
Warm white bosoms press harps of gold,
The while Ulysses' ship sails by.
Fair are the forms the sailors see,
Sweet are the songs the sailors hear
And--cool and wary, shrewd and old,
The sirens' mothers are watching near,

Whispering counsel--"Fling back your hair,
It hides your shoulder." "Don't sing so fast!"
"Darling, _don't_ look at that fair young man,
Try that old fellow there by the mast,
_His_ arms are jewelled"--let it go!
Too bitter all this for an idle rhyme;
But sirens are kin of the gods, be sure,
And change but little with lapse of time.




PER ASPERA AD ASTRA.


A canvas-back duck, rarely roasted, between us,
A bottle of Chambertin, worthy of praise--
Less noble a wine at our _age_ would bemean us--
A salad of celery _en mayonnaise_,
With the oysters we've eaten, fresh, plump, and delicious,
Naught left of them now but a dream and the shells;
No better _souper_ e'en Lucullus could wish us--
Why, even our waiter regards us as swells.

Your dress is a marvel, your jewels show finely,
Your friends in the circle all envied your box;
You say Lilli Lehman sang quite too divinely--
I know I can't lose on that last deal in stocks.
Without waits our footman to call for our carriage--
Gad, how he must hate us, out there in the cold!--
We rode in a hack on the day of our marriage,
Number two forty-six--I was rolling in gold,

For I'd quite fifty dollars; and don't you remember
We drove down to Taylor's, a long cherished dream:
How grandly I ordered--just think, in December!--
Some cake, and two plates of vanilla ice-cream.
And how we enjoyed it! Your glance was the proudest
Among the proud beauties, your face the most fair;
I'm rather afraid, too, your laugh was the loudest;
I know we shocked every one--we didn't care.

Now we'd care a great deal--with two sons at college,
And daughters just out, whose sneers make you wince,
We've tasted the fruit of Society's knowledge--
I don't think we've quite enjoyed anything since.
All through, dear? Now, _don't_ wipe your mouth with the doily!
They're really not careful at all with their wine;
It wasn't half warmed--the salad was oily--
And I don't think the duck was remarkably fine.




THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE.


Oh! he was a student of mystic lore;
And she was a soulful girl
All nerves and mind, of the cultured kind
The paragon, pride, and pearl.

They loved with a neo-Concordic love,
Woofed weirdly with wistful woe.
They sat in a glen, remote from men,
Their converse was high and low.

"What marvellous words of marvellous love,
Speak marvellous souls like these?"
I drew me nigh till their faintest sigh
Was heard with the greatest ease.

"'Oo's 'ittle white lammy is 'oo?" breathed he;
"'Oors. 'Oo's lovey-dovey is 'oo?"
"'Oors! 'Oors! Would 'oo k'y if dovey should die?"
"No'p!--tause 'ittle lammy'd die too."

How truthful we poets! The "language of Love"
Is a phrase we employ full oft;
But whenever we do, we prefix thereto,
You've noticed, the adjective "soft."




ILLUSTRATIONS


[Illustration:
"WE TWO TOOK POSSESSION OF THE STAIRS."
--_Page 18._]

[Illustration:
"SEE HER AT PRAYER! HER PLEADING HANDS
BEAR NOT ONE GEM OF ALL HER STORE."
--_Page 4._]

[Illustration:
"THE SUNBEAMS LIT HER GLEAMING HAIR
WITH RIPPLING WAVES OF GOLDEN GLORY."
--_Page 22._]

[Illustration:
"WHAT! GIVE UP FLIRTATION? CHANGE DIMPLES FOR FROWNS?"
--_Page 24._]

[Illustration:
"THE FEET THAT KISSED ITS PAVEMENT
ARE DEEP IN COUNTRY GRASS."
--_Page 59._]

[Illustration:
"AND THE BEAUTIES WE'VE SIGHED FOR ALL SUMMER
ARE HURRYING BACK TO TOWN."
--_Page 62._]

[Illustration:
"YES, JACK, THERE WAS MY BRUNETTE."
--_Page 77._]

[Illustration:
"HOW THE OLD PORTRAITS TAKE YOU BACK."
--_Page 83._]

[Illustration:
"A LADY IN SEALSKIN--EYES OF BLUE,
AND TANGLED TRESSES OF SNOW-FLECKED GOLD."
--_Page 89._]

[Illustration:
"BUT YOU'LL HAVE TO SIT ON THE RAILING--
YOU SEE THERE IS ONLY ONE CHAIR."
--_Page 92._]

[Illustration:
"READING? YES, BUT NOT FROM A NOVEL;
FISHING! TRULY, BUT NOT WITH A ROD."
--_Page 109._]

[Illustration:
"THE DEBUTANTES ARE IN FORCE TO-NIGHT,
SWEET AS THEIR ROSES, PURE AS TRUTH."
--_Page 122._]