And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.

The dog and man at first were friends; But when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends, Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all the neighboring streets, The wondering neighbors ran, And swore the dog had lost his wits To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad To every Christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light, That showed the rogues they lied; The man recovered of the bite, The dog it was that died.

_Oliver Goldsmith._

AN EPITAPH

Interred beneath this marble stone Lie sauntering Jack and idle Joan.

While rolling threescore years and one Did round this globe their courses run.

If human things went ill or well, If changing empires rose or fell, The morning past, the evening came, And found this couple just the same.

They walked and ate, good folks. What then?

Why, then they walked and ate again; They soundly slept the night away; They did just nothing all the day, Nor sister either had, nor brother; They seemed just tallied for each other.

Their moral and economy Most perfectly they made agree; Each virtue kept its proper bound, Nor trespa.s.sed on the other's ground.

Nor fame nor censure they regarded; They neither punished nor rewarded.

He cared not what the footman did; Her maids she neither praised nor chid; So every servant took his course, And, bad at first, they all grew worse; Slothful disorder filled his stable, And s.l.u.ttish plenty decked her table.

Their beer was strong, their wine was port; Their meal was large, their grace was short.

They gave the poor the remnant meat, Just when it grew not fit to eat.

They paid the church and parish rate, And took, but read not, the receipt; For which they claimed their Sunday's due Of slumbering in an upper pew.

No man's defects sought they to know, So never made themselves a foe.

No man's good deeds did they commend, So never raised themselves a friend.

Nor cherished they relations poor, That might decrease their present store; Nor barn nor house did they repair, That might oblige their future heir.

They neither added nor confounded; They neither wanted nor abounded.

Nor tear nor smile did they employ At news of grief or public joy When bells were rung and bonfires made, If asked, they ne'er denied their aid; Their jug was to the ringers carried, Whoever either died or married.

Their billet at the fire was found, Whoever was deposed or crowned.

Nor good, nor bad, nor fools, nor wise; They would not learn, nor could advise; Without love, hatred, joy, or fear, They led--a kind of--as it were; Nor wished, nor cared, nor laughed, nor cried.

And so they lived, and so they died.

_Matthew Prior._

OLD GRIMES

Old Grimes is dead; that good old man We never shall see more: He used to wear a long, black coat, All b.u.t.ton'd down before.

His heart was open as the day, His feelings all were true; His hair was some inclined to gray-- He wore it in a queue.

Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, His breast with pity burn'd; The large, round head upon his cane From ivory was turn'd.

Kind words he ever had for all; He knew no base design: His eyes were dark and rather small, His nose was aquiline.

He lived at peace with all mankind, In friendship he was true: His coat had pocket-holes behind, His pantaloons were blue.

Unharm'd, the sin which earth pollutes He pa.s.s'd securely o'er, And never wore a pair of boots For thirty years or more.

But good old Grimes is now at rest, Nor fears misfortune's frown: He wore a double-breasted vest-- The stripes ran up and down.

He modest merit sought to find, Any pay it its desert: He had no malice in his mind, No ruffles on his shirt.

His neighbors he did not abuse-- Was sociable and gay: He wore large buckles on his shoes, And changed them every day.

His knowledge, hid from public gaze, He did not bring to view, Nor made a noise, town-meeting days, As many people do.

His worldly goods he never threw In trust to fortune's chances, But lived (as all his brothers do) In easy circ.u.mstances.

Thus undisturb'd by anxious cares, His peaceful moments ran; And everybody said he was A fine old gentleman.

_Albert Gorton Greene._

THE ENDLESS SONG

Oh, I used to sing a song, An' dey said it was too long, So I cut it off de en'

To accommodate a frien'

Nex' do', nex' do'-- To accommodate a frien' nex' do'.

But it made de matter wuss Dan it had been at de fus, 'Ca'ze de en' was gone, an' den Co'se it didn't have no en'

Any mo', any mo'-- Oh, it didn't have no en' any mo'!

So, to save my frien' from sinnin', I cut off de song's beginnin'; Still he cusses right along Whilst I sings _about_ my song Jes so, jes so-- Whilst I sings _about_ my song _jes so_.

How to please 'im is my riddle, So I'll fall back on my fiddle; For I'd stan' myself on en'

To accommodate a frien'

Nex' do', nex' do'-- To accommodate a frien' nex' do'.

_Ruth McEnery Stuart._

THE HUNDRED BEST BOOKS

First there's the Bible, And then the Koran, Odgers on Libel, Pope's Essay on Man, Confessions of Rousseau, The Essays of Lamb, Robinson Crusoe And Omar Khayyam, Volumes of Sh.e.l.ley And Venerable Bede, Machiavelli And Captain Mayne Reid, Fox upon Martyrs And Liddell and Scott, Stubbs on the Charters, The works of La Motte, The Seasons by Thomson, And Paul de Verlaine, Theodore Mommsen And Clemens (Mark Twain), The Rocks of Hugh Miller, The Mill on the Floss, The Poems of Schiller, The Iliados, Don Quixote (Cervantes), La Pucelle by Voltaire, Inferno (that's Dante's), And Vanity Fair, Conybeare-Howson, Brillat-Savarin, And Baron Munchausen, Mademoiselle De Maupin, The Dramas of Marlowe, The Three Musketeers, Clarissa Harlowe, And the Pioneers, Sterne's Tristram Shandy, The Ring and the Book, And Handy Andy, And Captain Cook, The Plato of Jowett, And Mill's Pol. Econ., The Haunts of Howitt, The Encheiridion, Lothair by Disraeli, And Boccaccio, The Student's Paley, And Westward Ho!