THE ROMANCE OF THE CARPET

BASKING in peace in the warm spring sun,
South Hill smiled upon Burlington.

The breath of May! and the day was fair,
And the bright motes danced in the balmy air.

And the sunlight gleamed where the restless breeze Kissed the fragrant blooms on the apple-trees.

His beardless cheek with a smile was spanned,
As he stood with a carriage whip in his hand.

And he laughed as he doffed his bobtail coat,
And the echoing folds of the carpet smote.

And she smiled as she leaned on her busy mop,
And said she'd tell him when to stop.

So he pounded away till the dinner-bell
Gave him a little breathing spell.

But he sighed when the kitchen clock struck one, And she said the carpet wasn't done.

But he lovingly put in his biggest licks,

And he pounded like mad till the clock struck six.

And she said, in a dubious sort of way,

That she guessed he could finish it up next day.

Then all that day, and the next day, too,

That fuzz from the dirtless carpet flew.

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.

The Romance of the Carpet

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 passed
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 passed 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!"

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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 scenesA 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 muffins-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.

The Hunting of the Snark

When at length he sat up and was able to speak,

His sad story he offered to tell;

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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
Brimming over with quivering curds!

"I engage with the Snark-every night after darkIn 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!"