Successful Recitations Part 64

And Mary sat down by the window To wait for the night express; And, sir, if she hadn't 'a done so, She'd been a widow, I guess.

For it must 'a been nigh midnight When the mill hands left the Ridge; They came down--the drunken devils, Tore up a rail from the bridge, But Mary heard 'em a-workin'

And guessed there was something wrong-- And in less than fifteen minutes, Bill's train it would be along!

She couldn't come here to tell us, A mile--it wouldn't 'a done; So she jest grabbed up a lantern, And made for the bridge alone.

Then down came the night express, sir, And Bill was makin' her climb!

But Mary held the lantern, A-swingin' it all the time.

Well, by Jove! Bill saw the signal, And he stopped the night express, And he found his Mary cryin'

On the track in her weddin' dress; Cryin' an' laughin' for joy, sir, An' holdin' on to the light-- h.e.l.lo! here's the train--good-bye, sir, Bill Mason's on time to-night.

THE CLOWN'S BABY.

FROM "ST. NICHOLAS."

It was out on the Western frontier, The miners, rugged and brown, Were gathered around the posters-- The circus had come to town!

The great tent shone in the darkness, Like a wonderful palace of light, And rough men crowded the entrance; Shows didn't come every night.

Not a woman's face among them, Many a face that was bad, And some that were very vacant, And some that were very sad.

And behind a canvas curtain, In a corner of the place, The clown with chalk and vermilion Was making up his face.

A weary-looking woman, With a smile that still was sweet, Sewed, on a little garment, With a cradle at her feet.

Pantaloon stood ready and waiting, It was time for the going on; But the clown in vain searched wildly-- The "property baby" was gone.

He murmured, impatiently hunting, "It's strange that I cannot find; There! I've looked in every corner; It must have been left behind!"

The miners were stamping and shouting, They were not patient men; The clown bent over the cradle-- "I must take _you_, little Ben."

The mother started and s.h.i.+vered, But trouble and want were near; She lifted her baby gently; "You'll be very careful, dear?"

"Careful? You foolish darling"-- How tenderly it was said!

What a smile shone thro' the chalk and paint-- "I love each hair of his head!"

The noise rose into an uproar, Misrule for a time was king; The clown with a foolish chuckle, Bolted into the ring.

But as, with a squeak and flourish, The fiddles closed their tune, "You hold him as if he was made of gla.s.s!"

Said the clown to the pantaloon.

The jovial fellow nodded; "I've a couple myself," he said, "I know how to handle 'em, bless you; Old fellow, go ahead!"

The fun grew fast and furious, And not one of all the crowd Had guessed that the baby was alive, When he suddenly laughed aloud.

Oh, that baby laugh! it was echoed From the benches with a ring, And the roughest customer there sprang up With "Boys, it's the real thing!"

The ring was jammed in a minute, Not a man that did not strive For "a shot at holding the baby"-- The baby that was "alive!"

He was thronged by kneeling suitors In the midst of the dusty ring, And he held his court right royally, The fair little baby king; Till one of the shouting courtiers, A man with a bold, hard face, The talk for miles of the country And the terror of the place,

Raised the little king to his shoulder, And chuckled, "Look at that!"

As the chubby fingers clutched his hair, Then, "Boys, hand round the hat!"

There never was such a hatful Of silver, and gold, and notes; People are not always penniless Because they won't wear coats!

And then "Three cheers for the baby!"

I tell you those cheers were meant, And the way in which they were given Was enough to raise the tent.

And then there was sudden silence, And a gruff old miner said, "Come, boys, enough of this rumpus; It's time it was put to bed."

So, looking a little sheepish, But with faces strangely bright, The audience, somewhat lingering, Flocked out into the night.

And the bold-faced leader chuckled, "He wasn't a bit afraid!

He's as game as he is good-looking; Boys, that was a show that paid!"

AUNT TABITHA.

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

Whatever I do and whatever I say, Aunt Tabitha tells me that isn't the way; When _she_ was a girl (forty summers ago), Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so.

Dear aunt! If I only would take her advice-- But I like my own way, and I find it _so_ nice!

And besides, I forget half the things I am told, But they all will come back to me--when I am old.

If a youth pa.s.ses by, it may happen, no doubt, He may chance to look in as I chance to look out; _She_ would never endure an impertinent stare, It is _horrid_, she says, and I mustn't sit there.

A walk in the moonlight has pleasures, I own, But it isn't quite safe to be walking alone; So I take a lad's arm,--just for safety, you know,-- But Aunt Tabitha tells me, _they_ didn't do so.

How wicked we are, and how good they were then!

They kept at arm's length those detestable men; What an era of virtue she lived in!--but stay-- Were the men all such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day?

If the men _were_ so wicked--I'll ask my papa How he dared to propose to my darling mamma?

Was he like the rest of them? Goodness! who knows?

And what shall _I_ say if a wretch should propose?

I am thinking if aunt knew so little of sin, What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's _aunt_ must have been!

And her _grand-aunt_--it scares me--how shockingly sad That we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad!

A martyr will save us, and nothing else can; Let _me_ perish to rescue some wretched young man Though when to the altar a victim I go, Aunt Tabitha'll tell me _she_ never did so!

LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE.

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay An' wash the cups and saucers up, and brush the crumbs away, An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth an' sweep, An' make the fire, an' bake the bread' an' earn her board-an'-keep; An' all us other children, when the supper things is done, We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun A-list'nin' to the witch tales 'at Annie tells about, An' the gobble-uns 'at gits you--Ef you Don't Watch Out!