An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is grey, An' the lightnin' bugs in dew is all squelched away, You better mind yer parents, an' yer teachers fond an' dear, An' cherish them 't loves you, and dry the orphant's tear, An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at cl.u.s.ter all about, Er the gobble-uns 'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

_ALONZO THE BRAVE AND THE FAIR IMOGENE._

A warrior so bold and a virgin so bright, Conversed as they sat on the green; They gazed on each other with tender delight; Alonzo the Brave was the name of the knight,-- The maiden's the Fair Imogene.

"And oh!" said the youth, "since to-morrow I go To fight in a far distant land, Your tears for my absence soon ceasing to flow, Some other will court you, and you will bestow On a wealthier suitor your hand!"

"Oh cease these suspicions," Fair Imogene said.

"Offensive to love and to me; For if you be living, or if you be dead, I swear by the Virgin that none in your stead, Shall husband of Imogene be.

"If e'er by l.u.s.t or by wealth led astray I forget my Alonzo the Brave, G.o.d grant that to punish my falsehood and pride Your ghost at the marriage may sit by my side, May tax me with perjury, claim me as bride, And bear me away to the grave."

To Palestine hastened the hero so bold, His love she lamented him sore; But scarce had a twelve-month elapsed, when behold!

A Baron, all covered with jewels and gold, Arrived at Fair Imogene's door.

His treasures, his presents, his s.p.a.cious domain Soon made her untrue to her vows; He dazzled her eyes, he bewildered her brain, He caught her affection, so light and so vain, And carried her home as his spouse.

And now had the marriage been blest by the priest, And revelry now had begun; The tables they groaned with the weight of the feast.

Nor yet had the laughter and merriment ceased, When the bell at the castle tolled--one.

Then first with amazement Fair Imogene found A stranger was placed by her side; His air was terrific, he uttered no sound-- He spake not, he moved not--he looked not around, But earnestly gazed on the bride.

His visor was closed, and gigantic his height, His armour was sable to view; All pleasure and laughter were hushed at the sight, All the dogs as they eyed him drew back in afright, All the lights in the chamber burned blue.

His presence all bosoms appeared to dismay, The guests sat in silence and fear; At length spake the bride, while she trembled, "I pray, Sir Knight, that your helmet aside you would lay, And deign to partake of our cheer."

The lady is silent--the stranger complies-- His visor he slowly unclosed; Oh G.o.d! what a sight met Fair Imogene's eyes!

What word can express her dismay and surprise, When a skeleton's head was exposed.

All present then uttered a terrified shout, All turned in disgust from the scene; The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out, And sported his eyes and his temples about, While the spectre addressed Imogene.

"Behold me, thou false one--behold me!" he cried; "Remember Alonzo the Brave!

G.o.d grant that to punish thy falsehood and pride, My ghost at thy marriage should sit at thy side, Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride, And bear thee away to the grave!"

Thus saying, his arms round the lady he wound, While loudly she shrieked in dismay; And sank with his prey through the wide yawning ground, Nor ever again was Fair Imogene found, Or the spectre that bore her away.

Not long lived the Baron, and none since that time To inhabit the castle presume; For chronicles say, that by order sublime, There Imogene suffers the pain of her crime, And mourns her deplorable doom.

At midnight four times in each year does her sprite, When mortals in slumber are bound, Arrayed in her bridal apparel of white, Appear in the hall of the skeleton knight, And shriek as he whirls her around.

While they drink out of skulls, newly torn from the grave, Dancing around them the spectres are seen; Their liquid is blood, and this horrible stave They howl: "To the health of Alonzo the Brave, And his consort, the Fair Imogene."

MATTHEW GREGORY LEWIS (MONK LEWIS).

_AN ALL-AROUND INTELLECTUAL MAN._

He was up in mathematics, had a taste for hydrostatics, and could talk about astronomy from Aristarchus down; He could tell what kind of beans were devoured by the Chaldeans, and he knew the date of every joke made by a circus clown.

He was versed in evolution, and would instance the poor Russian as a type of despotism in the modern age of man.

He could write a page of matter on the different kinds of batter used in making flinty gim-cracks on the modern cooking plan.

He could revel in statistics, he was well up in the fistics, knew the pedigree of horses dating 'way back from the ark.

Far and wide his tips were quoted, and his base-ball stuff was noted. In political predictions he would always. .h.i.t the mark.

He could write upon the tariff, and he didn't seem to care if he was called off to review a book or write a poem or two: He could boil down stuff and edit, knew the value of a credit, and could hustle with the telegraph in a style excelled by few.

He could tell just how a fire should be handled; as a liar he was sure to exercise a wise, discriminative taste.

He was mild and yet undaunted, and no matter what was wanted he was always sure to get it first, yet never was in haste.

But despite his reputation as a brainy aggregation, he was known to be deficient in a manner to provoke.

For no matter when you met him he would borrow if you let him, and he seemed to have the faculty of always being broke.

TOM Ma.s.sON.

_HER IDEAL._

She wanted to reach an ideal; She talked of the lovely in art, She quoted from Emerson's Essays, And said she thought Howells had "heart."

She doted on Wagner's productions, She thought comic opera low, And she played trying tunes on a zither, Keeping time with a sandal-shod toe.

She had dreams of a n.o.bler existence-- A bifurcated, corsetless place, Where women would stand free and equal As queens of a glorious race.

But her biscuits were deadly creations That caused people's spirits to sink, And she'd views on matters religious That drove her relations to drink.

She'd opinions on co-education, But not an idea on cake; She could a.n.a.lyse Spencer or Browning, But the new kitchen range wouldn't bake.

She wanted to be esoteric, And she wore the most cla.s.sical clothes; But she ended by being hysteric And contracting a cold in her nose.

She studied of forces hypnotic, She believed in theosophy quite, She understood themes prehistoric And said that the faith cure was right.

She wanted to reach the ideal, And at clods unpoetic would rail, And her husband wore fringe on his trousers And fastened them on with a nail!

KATE MASTERSON.

_THE HAPPY FARMER._