Kate Milner Rabb.

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He shook his head. "The windo' shades is all down
still oveh yondeh." He paused. "I don't care," he stated,
quite as if he had been ten years old. Then he grinned
guiltily. "I was mighty respectful to him all night."

"Oh, yes, respectful ! Especially when you invited him
to turn his wolf loose."

The Virginian gave a joyous gulp. He now came and
sat down on the edge of my bed. "I spoke awful good
English to him most of the time," said he. "I can, y'u
know, when I cinch my attention tight on to it. Yes, I
cert'nly spoke a lot o' good English. I didn't understand
some of it myself!"

He was now growing frankly pleased with his exploit.
He had builded so much better than he knew. He got up
and looked out across the crystal world of light. "The
Doctor is at one-mile crossing," he said. "He'll get break-
fast at the N-lazy-Y." Then he returned and sat again on
my bed, and began to give me his real heart. "I never set
up for being better than others. Not even to myself. My
thoughts ain't apt to travel around making comparisons.
And I shouldn't wonder if my memory took as much no-



tice of the meannesses I have done as of — as of the other
actions. But to have to sit like a dumb lamb and let a
stranger tell y'u for an hour that yu're a haAvg and a
swine, just after you have acted in a way which them that
know the facts would call pretty near white — "




Now, in the shimmer and sheen that dance on the leaf of
the lily,

Causing the bud to explode, and gilding the poodle's chin-

Gladys cavorts with the rake, and hitches the string to
the lattice,

While with the trowel she digs, and gladdens the heart of
the shanghai.

Now, while the vine twists about the ribs of the cast-iron

And, on the zephyr afloat, the halcyon soul of the borax

Blends with the scent of the soap, the brush of the white-
washer's flying

E'en as the chicken-hawk flies when ready to light on its

Out in the leaf-dappled wood the dainty hepatica's blow-

While the fiend hammers the rug from Ispahan, Lynn, or

And the grim furnace is out, and over the ash heap and

Capers the "Billy" in glee, becanning his innermost Billy.



Now the blue pill is on tap, and likewise the sarsaparilla,

And on the fence and the barn, quite worthy of S. Botti-

Frisk the lithe leopard and gnu, in malachite, purple, and

That we may know at a glance the circus is out on the

Put then the flannels away and trot out the old linen

Pack the bob-sled in the barn, and bring forth the baseball

and racket,
For the spry Spring is on deck, performing her roseate

Unto the tune of the van that rattles and bangs on the




A-watchin' how the sea behaves

For hours and hours I sit ;
And I know the sea is full o' waves —

I've often noticed it.

For on the deck each starry night

The wild waves and the tame
I counts and knows 'em all by sight

And some of 'em by name.

And then I thinks a cove like me

Ain't got no right to roam ;
For I'm homesick when I puts to sea

And seasick when I'm home.

* From "Nautical Lays of a Landsman," by Wallace Irwin. Copy-
right, 1904, by Dodd, Mead & Co.




I turned to the dictionary

For a word I couldn't spell,
And closed the book when I found it

And dipped my pen in the well.

Then I thought to myself, "How was it?'*
With a sense of inward pain,

And still 'twas a little doubtful,
So I turned to the book again.

This time I remarked, "How easy!'*
As I muttered each letter o'er,

But when I got to the inkwell
'Twas gone, as it went before.

Then I grabbed that dictionary
And I sped its pages through,

And under my nose I put it

With that doubtful word in view.

I held it down with my body

While I gripped that pen quite fast.

And I howled, as I traced each letter :
"I've got you now, at last!"

LippincoU's Magazine.




I have bought me a horse. As I had obtained some
skill in the manege during my younger days, it was a
matter of consideration to have a saddle-horse. It sur-
prised me to find good saddle-horses very abundant soon
after my consultation with the stage proprietor upon this
topic. There were strange saddle-horses to sell almost
every day. One man was very candid about his horse:
he told me, if his horse had a blemish, he wouldn't wait
to be asked about it; he would tell it right out; and, if
a man didn't want him then, he needn't take him. He
also proposed to put him on trial for sixty days, giving
his note for the amount paid him for the horse, to be taken
up in case the animal were returned. I asked him what
were the principal defects of the horse. He said he'd
been fired once, because they thought he was spavined;
but there was no more spavin to him than there was tO' a
fresh-laid egg — he was as sound as a dollar. I asked
him if he would just state what were the defects of the
horse. He answered, that he once had the pink-eye, and
added, "now that's honest." I thought so, but proceeded
to question him closely. I asked him if he had the bots.
He said, not a bot. I asked him if he would go. He said
he would go till he dropped down dead; just touch him
with a whip, and he'll jump out of his hide. I inquired
how old he was. He answered, just eight years, exactly



— some men, he said, wanted to make their horses
younger than they be; he was wilHng to speak right out,
and own up he was eight years. I asked him if there
were any other objections. He said no, except that he
was incHned to be a little gay; "but," he added, "he is so
kind, a child can drive him with a thread." I asked him
if he was a good family horse. He repJied that no lady
that ever drew rein over him would be willing to part
with him. Then I asked him his price. He answered
that no man could have bought him for one hundred dol-
lars a month ago, but now he was willing to sell him for
seventy-five, on account of having a note to pay. This
seemed such a very low price, I was about saying I would
take him, when Mrs. Sparrowgrass whispered that I had
better see the horse first. I confess I was a little afraid
of losing my bargain by it, but, out of deference to Mrs.
S., I did ask to see the horse before I bought him. He
said he would fetch him down. "No man," he added,
"ought to buy a horse unless he's saw him." When the
horse came down, it struck me that, whatever his quali-
ties might be, his personal appearance was against him.
One of his fore legs was shaped like the handle of our
punch-ladle, and the remaining three legs, about the fet-
lock, were slightly bunchy. Besides, he had no tail to
brag of; and his back had a very hollow sweep from his
high haunches to his low shoulder-blades. I was much
pleased, however, with the fondness and pride manifested
by his owner, as he held up, by both sides of the bridle,
the rather longish head of his horse, surmounting a neck
shaped like a pea-pod, and said, in a sort of trium-
phant voice, "three-quarters blood !" Mrs. Sparrowgrass
flushed up a little when she asked me if I intended to
purchase that horse, and added, that, if I did, she would
never want to ride. So I told the man he would not suit



me. He answered by suddenly throwing- himself upon
his stomach across the backbone of his horse, and then,
by turning round as on a pivot, got up a-straddle of him ;
then he gave his horse a kick in the ribs that caused him
to jump out with all his legs, like a frog, and then off
went the spoon-legged animal with a gait that was not a
trot, nor yet precisely pacing. He rode around our grass
plot twice, and then pulled his horse's head up like the
cock of a musket. "That," said he, "is time." I replied
that he did seem to go pretty fast. "Pretty fast !" said
his owner, "Well, do you know Mr, — ?" mentioning
one of the richest men in our village. I replied that I was
acquainted with him. "Well," said he, "you know his
horse?" I replied that I had no personal acquaintance
with him. "Well," said he, "he's the fastest horse in the
county — jist so — I'm willin' to admit it. But do you
know I offered to put my horse agin' his to trot ? I had
no money to put up, or rayther, to spare; but I offered
to trot him, horse agin' horse, and the winner to take
both horses, and I tell you — he wouldn't do it!"

Mrs. Sparrowgrass got a little nervous, and twitched
me by the skirt of the coat. "Dear, " said she, "let him
go." I assured her that I would not buy the horse, and
told the man firmly I would not buy him. He said, very
well — if he didn't suit 'twas no use to keep a-talkin' : but
he added, he'd be down agin' with another horse, next
morning, that belonged to his brother; and if he didn't
suit me, then I didn't want a horse. With this remark he
rode off. . . .

"It rains very hard," said Mrs. Sparrowgrass, looking
out of the window next morning. Sure enough, the rain
was sweeping broadcast over the country, and the four
Sparrowgrassii were flattening a quartet of noses against
the window-panes, believing most faithfully the man



would bring the horse that belonged to his brother, in
spite of the elements. It was hoping against hope; no
man having a horse to sell will trot him out in a rain-
storm, unless he intend to sell him at a bargain — but
childhood is so credulous ! The succeeding morning was
bright, however, and down came the horse. He had been
very cleverly groomed, and looked pleasant under the
saddle. The man led him back and forth before the door.
"There, 'squire, 's as good a hos as ever stood on iron."
Mrs. Sparrowgrass asked me what he meant by that. I
replied, it was a figurative way of expressing, in horse-
talk, that he was as good a horse as ever stood in shoe-
leather. "He's a handsome hos, 'squire," said the man.
I replied that he did seem tO' be a good-looking animal ;
but, said I, "he does not quite come up to the description
of a horse I have read." "Whose hos was it?" said he.
I replied it was the horse of Adonis. He said he didn't
know him; but, he added, "there is so many bosses stolen,
that the descriptions are stuck up now pretty common."
To put him at his ease (for he seemed to think I sus-
pected him of having stolen the horse), I told him the
description I meant had been written some hundreds of
years ago by Shakespeare, and repeated it :

"Round-hoof t, short- joynted, fetlocks shag and long,

Broad breast, full eyes, small head, and nostrils wide,
High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide."

" 'Squire," said he, "that will do for a song, but it ain't
no p'ints of a good hos. Trotters nowadays go in all
shapes, big heads and little heads, big eyes and little eyes,
short ears or long ears, thick tail and nO' tail ; sO' as they
have sound legs, good Tin, good barrel, and good stifle,
and wind, 'squire, and speed well, they'll fetch a price.



Now, this animal is what I call a hos, 'squire; he's got
the p ints, he's stylish, he's close-ribbed, a free goer, kind
in harness — single or double — a good feeder." I asked
him if being a good feeder was a desirable quality. He
replied it was; "of course," said he, "if your hos is off
his feed, he ain't good for nothin'. But what's the use,"
he added, "of me tellin' you the p'ints of a good hos?
You're a hos man, 'squire: you know — " "It seems to
me," said I, "there is something the matter with that left
eye." "No, sir," said he, and with that he pulled down
the horse's head, and, rapidly crooking his forefinger at
the suspected organ, said, "see thar — don't wink a bit."
"But he should wink," I replied. "Not onless his eye
are weak," he said. To satisfy myself, I asked the man
to let me take the bridle. He did so, and as soon as I
took hoild of it, the horse started off in a remarkable ret-
rograde movement, dragging me with him into my best
bed of hybrid roses. Finding we were trampling down
all the best plants, that had cost at auction from three-
and-sixpence to seven shillings apiece, and that the more
I pulled, the more he backed, I finally let him have his
own way, and jammed him stern- foremost into our larg-
est climbing rose that had been all summer prickling it-
self, in order to look as much like a vegetable porcupine
as possible. This unexpected bit of satire in his rear
changed his retrograde movement to a sidelong bound,
by which he flirted off half the pots on the balusters, up-
setting my gladioluses and tuberoses in the pod, and
leaving great splashes of mould, geraniums, and red pot-
tery in the gravel walk. By this time his owner had man-
aged to give him two pretty severe cuts with the whip,
which made him unmanageable, so I let him go. We had
a pleasant time catching him again, v^hen he got among
the Lima-bean poles; but his owner led him back with



a very self-satisfied expression. "Playful, ain't he,
'squire?" I replied that I thought he was, and asked
him if it was usual for his horse to play such pranks. He
said it was not. "You see, 'squire, he feels his oats, and
hain't been out of the stable for a month. Use him, and
he's as kind as a kitten." With that he put his foot in
the stirrup, and mounted. The animal really looked very
well as he moved around the grass-plot, and, as Mrs.
Sparrowgrass seemed to fancy him, I took a written
guarantee that he was sound, and bought him. What I
gave for him is a secret ; I have not even told Mrs. Spar-
rowgrass. ...

We had passed Chicken Island, and the famous house
with the stone gable and the one stone chimney, in which
General Washington slept, as he made it a point to sleep
in every old stone house in Westchester County, and had
gone pretty far on the road, past the cemetery, when Mrs.
Sparrowgrass said suddenly, "Dear, what is the matter
with your horse?" As I had been telling the children all
the stories about the river on the way, I managed to get
my head pretty well inside of the carriage, and, at the
time she spoke, was keeping a lookout in front with my
back. The remark of Mrs. Sparrowgrass induced me to
turn about, and I found the new horse behaving in a
most unaccountable manner. He was going down hill
with his nose almost to the ground, running the wagon
first on this side and then on the other. I thought of the
remark made by the man, and turning again to Mrs.
Sparrowgrass, said, "Playful, isn't he?" Tlie next mo-
ment I heard something breaking away in front, and
then the rockaway gave a lurch and stood still. Upon
examination I found the new horse had tumbled down,
broken one shaft, gotten the other through the checl<:-rein
so as to bring his head up with a round turn, and besides



had managed to put one of the traces in a single hitch
around his off hind leg. So soon as I had taken all the
young ones and Mrs. Sparrovvgrass out of the rockaway,
I set to work to liberate the horse, who was choking very
fast with the check-rein. It is unpleasant to get your
fishing-line in a tangle when you are in a hurry for bites,
but I never saw fishing-line in such a tangle as that har-
ness. However, I set to work with a pen-knife, and cut
him out in such a way as to make getting home by our
conveyance impossible. When he got up, he was the
sleepiest-looking horse I ever saw. "Mrs. Sparrow-
grass," said I, "won't you stay here with the children
until I go to the nearest farm-house?" Mrs. Sparrow-
grass replied that she would. Then I took the horse
with me to get him out of the way of the children, and
went in search of assistance. The first thing the new
horse did when he got about a quarter of a mile from the
scene of the accident was to tumble down a bank. For-
tunately the bank was not over four feet high, but as I
went with him, my trousers were rent in a grievous place.
While I was getting the new horse on his feet again, I
saw a colored person approaching, who came to my as-
sistance. The first thing he did was to pull out a large
jack-knife, and the next thing he did was to open the new
horse's mouth and run the blade twO' or three times in-
side the new horse's gums. Then the new horse com-
menced bleeding. "Dah, sah," said the man, shutting up
his jack-knife, "ef 't hadn't been for dat yer, your hos
would a' bin a goner." "What was the matter with
him?" said I. "Oh, he's only jis got de blind-staggers,
das all. Say," said he, before I was half indignant
enough at the man who had sold me such an animal,
"say, ain't your name Sparrowgrass ?" I replied that
my name was Sparrowgrass. "Oh," said he, "I knows



you, I brung some fowls once down to you place. I
heerd about you and your hos. Dats de hos dats got
de heaves so bad, heh! heh! You better sell dat boss."
I determined to take his advice, and employed him to
lead my purchase to the nearest place where he would be
cared for. Then I went back to the rockaway, but met
Mrs. Sparrowgrass and the children on the road coming
to meet me. She had left a man in charge of the rock-
away. When we got to the rockaway we found the man
missing, also the whip and one cushion. We got another
person to take charge of the rockaway, and had a pleas-
ant walk home by moonlight. I think a moonlight night
delicious, upon the Hudson.

Does any person want a horse at a low price? A good
stylish-looking animal, close-ribbed, good loin, and good
stifle, sound legs, with only the heaves and blind-staggers,
and a slight defect in one of his eyes ? If at any time he
slips his bridle and gets away, you can always approacli
him by getting on his left side. I will also engage to
give a written guarantee that he is sound and kind,
signed by the brother of his former owner.




Shee sez shee neavur neavur luvd be f oar
shee saw me passen bi hur paws frimt dore
wenn shee wuz hangen on the gait ann i
Lookt foolish att hur wenn ime goen bi.
Uv korse sheed hadd sum boze butt nun thatt sturd
hur hart down too itts deppths until shee hurd
me wissel ann shee saw mi fais. Ann wenn
shee furst saw mee sheed neavur luv agen
shee sedd shee noo. ann iff i shunnd hur eye
sheed be a nunn ann bidd thee wurld good bi.

How swete itt is wenn munnys on thee throan

uv life to bee luvd fore ureself aloan

Ann no thatt u have gott thee powr to stur

a woomans hart wenn u jusst look att hur.

ann o itts sweeter still iff u kan no

hur paw has gott jusst oshuns uv thee doe

Ann u jusst hav to furnish luv ann hee

wil furnish munny fore boath u ann shee.

i wood nott kair iff shee wuz poor butt o

itts dubley swete too no sheez gott thee doe.

*By permission of Life Publishing Company.


i wood nott hezzetait iff shee wuz poor
Too marrie hur. togeathur weed endoor
wottever forchun sennt with rite good will
butt sins sheeze rich itts awl thee bettur stil.
ide luv hur in a cottidge jusst thee saim
fore luv is such a holey sakerud flaim
thatt burns like tindur wenn u strike a lite
butt still itt burns moar gloarious ann brite
wenn shee has lotts uv munny ann hur paw
with menny thowsunds is ure fawthernlaw.




You ask me If I love you still, tho' you

And I were wed scarce one short happy year
Agone. How well do I remember, dear,

The day you put your hand in mine, and through

Life's good and ill, tho' skies were gray or blue,
We plighted faith that should not know a fear.
That was the day I kissed away the tear

That trembled on your cheek like morning dew.
Of course I love you— still. You're at your best,
Your perihelion, when you're silentest.

I'd love you as I did, dear heart, of yore,
And still a little more, nor ever tire :
Why, I would love you like a house afire

If you were only still a little more.


I think I loved you first when in your eyes
I saw the glad, rapt answer to the spell
Of Paderewski, when we heard him tell

Life's gentler meaning, Love's sweet sacrifice.

The master caught the rhythm of your sighs
And then, inspired, the story rose and fell
And sang of moonlight in a leafy dell.

Of souls' Arcadias and dreaming skies,



Of hearts and hopes and purposes that blend.
Your bosom heaved beneath the witcheries
That seemed to set a halo on his brow,
And then the message sobbed on to its end.
"That's fine," you murmured, chewing faster; "please
Ask him if he won't play 'Bedelia' now."


You said that you would die for me, if e'er

That price would buy me happiness. I dreamed
Not of devotion like to that, that seemed

To joy in sacrifice ; that, tenderer

Than selfish Life's small immolations were.
Made Love an altar whereupon it deemed
It naught to offer all ; a shrine that gleamed

With utter loyalty's red drops. I ne'er

Believed that you were just quite in your head

In saying death would prove Fidelity.

But when I saw the packages of white and red

Your druggist showed me — he's my chum, you see —
I knew you meant, dear heart, just what you said,

When you declared that you would dye for me.


Your smiles, dear one, have all the glad surprise
The sunshine hath for roses ; what the day
Brings to the waiting lark. When you are gay

My spirit sings in tune, and sorrow flies

Away. But, dear, I can not bear your sighs
When on my knees you nestle and you lay
Your tear-wet face upon my shoulder. Nay,

I can not help the pain that fills mine eyes.



So, love, whatever cup of Life you drain

I'll stand for. Send the cashier's check to me.
"Smile" all you want to ; smile and smile again.
But as you weigh two hundred pounds, you see
Why, when you cuddle down upon my knee,
It is your size, dear heart, that gives me pain.


The heartless years have many hopes dispelled.

But they have left me one dear night in June.

They've left the still white splendor of the moon.
They've left the mem'ry of a hand I held.
While up thro' all my soul the rapture welled

Of victory. I hear again the croon

Of twilight time, the lullaby that soon
To all the day's glad music shall have swelled.

I hold a hand I never held before,

A hand like which I'll never hold some more.
It was the first time I had ever "called."

'Twas at the club, as we began to leave.
I held five aces, but the dealer balled

The ones that he had planted up his sleeve,


To feel your hands stray shyly to my head

And flutter down like birds that find their nest,
To see the gentle rise and fall of your dear breast,

To hear again some tender word you said.

To watch the little feet whose dainty tread

Fell light as flowers upon the way they pressed.
To touch again the lips I have caressed —

All these are precious. But your cheek of red
Outlives the mem'ry of all other things.


I'd known you scarce a month, or maybe two ;
I had not yet made up my mind to speak,
You trots out Tifny's catalogue of rings;

Says No. 6 (200 yen) will do.

So I remember best of all your cheek.


You would not stop this side the farthest line
Of Truth, you said, nor hide one little falsity
From my sweet faith that was too kind to see.

You said a keener vision would divine

All failings later, bare each hid design,
Each poor disguise of loving's treachery
That screened its weaknesses from even me.

How oft you said those cherry lips were mine
Alone. The cherries came in little jars,

I learned. Those auburn locks, I found with pain,
Cost forty plunks, according to the bill

I saw. Those pearly teeth were porcelain.
But I forgive you for each fault that mars.
With all your faults, dear heart, I love you still.




BY josiAH Allen's wife

We done dretful well last year. The crops come in
first-rate, and Josiah had five or six heads of cattle to
turn off at a big- price. He felt well, and he proposed to
me that I should have a sewin' machine. That man, —
though he don't coO' at me so frequent as he probable
would if he had more encouragement in it, is attached to
me with a devotedness that is firm and almost cast-iron,
and says he, almost tenderly : "Samantha, I will get you

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