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On the Other Train...

Only a Pin.

O'Reilly's Nightmare..

Spider, The..

Spring Birds..

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Mike's Confession....

Million All in Gold, A..

Miser's Grave, The...
Miss Alma Desart...

Mr. Caudle's Hat...

Mr. Spoopendyke's Bathing Dress.

Mr. Spoopendyke in the Surf..
Night Before Christmas, The....
Night Watch, The....

Observations of Rev. Gabe Tucker....................................................

Over the Hill From the Poor-House............ Will Carleton........
Paragrapher's Idea of The Spider, A.......

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We freely remarked that, for a fellow with brains,
We regarded him somewhat rash.

His answer was thin, too, when Johnson said,
"P'raps you won't mind, pard, just giving a bit
Of your personal history to pass off the time,”
"As a rule of his life he'd not mention it,"

Was just what he said; but we made up our minds
That before he'd got out of the plains
His fingers had, rather too freely,
Stuck onto the wrong bridle-reins.

And that he had slipped the committee,
Or something pretty much the same cut;
So he wouldn't talk out in the meeting,

But wisely kept his under-jaw shut.
Drive him off! Why, durn it all, stranger,
We wern't that kind of hairpins;

When you find a man starving on the prairie,
It's no time to talk of old sins.

We fed him just like a young baby,

On spoon vittles and such soothing things,⚫ Until his stomach got stronger,

Then he tackled jerked venison, by jinks.
He hitched on the centre at camp building time,
For darn his picture if he'd work a bit;

But we made ourselves understood plain enough,
By the simple remark, “You work or git.”
Brown called him durned Cowardly Jim,
And a cussed mean skunk, and all sich;
Why, not even a kick he resented

That Jones gave him down at the ditch
And somehow we all got to hate him,
Till he hadn't a friend in camp,

And one day we said that at sundown
He'd leave, or we'd hang the durned scamp.

He looked kinder lonesome and sad,
Getting ready to leave us that night;
But some warm work in camp soon after
Just gave him a kind of respite.
A scout had come in and said "Injuns !"
Well, anybody knows what that meant
Who has been down on the Rosebud

Where Custer and his brave boys went.

Them Injuns just made our camp lively,
And Jim, he pulled trigger with the rest,
He put in some good shots, stranger,
Which helped send the devils back west.

But a woman rushed in all frantic,
And said that, while hid in a trough,
The red devils ransacked the ranche,
And had carried her baby off.

Was there a man in camp who dared
To venture the rescue, one, or all;

Not a man, nor the whole camp would go.

'Twas sure death to venture within shot or call Of the Sioux with fleet ponies and fatal aim; But that "Cowardly Jim" just quietly said, "If he wasn't intrudin' on any one's right,

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He'd bring back the baby alive or dead."

That stirred things in camp some, you reckon?
Yes, 'twas queer kind of language for Jim ;
But, stranger, between me and you,

The daringest thing on earth for him
Was to mount that little pony and go,
As he did, and face death, as he said,
And ride where the bravest dare not ride,
To bring back that baby alive or dead.

"Twas many a prayer that went up for Jim,
And many a tear that fell to the ground,
As we watched him going over the hill,

While a pin would have dropped with a sound. And then we saw him racing for life, With red devils in swift pursuit;

A rideless pony, every minute or so,

And a puff of smoke told when Jim would shoot.

He reeled and fell from the saddle;

That's the blood-stained floor where he laid, And he smiled as he said, "Here's the baby; Never mind the price that I paid."

We knew that his time was all up,

Brave, noble, old Cowardly Jim.

We raised him in our arms to die,

And, stranger, thar wus angels with him.

My baby is waiting for me," he said,

"At those gates of pearl, I feel;

Husband, you wronged me; some day you'll know

That your Mamie was true as steel."

Why, what could he mean by all that?

His husband? Jim was out of his head.
We laid bare the bosom, and, O God!
'Twas a woman whose life had fled!

That's her grave over there on the hill,
Away from home, husband and all;
"Mamie" is all we carved on it,

And alone there she'll wait the last call.
It wasn't much of a story, stranger,

But such as it was I have told;

And, of all the treasure we found in the Hills,
That heart was the purest gold.

JIM BAKER'S BLUE-JAY YARN.

MARK TWAIN (SAMUEL L. CLEMENS.)

From "A Tramp Abroad."

There

*** Animals talk to each other, of course. can be no question about that; but I suppose there are very few people who can understand them. I never knew but one man who could. I knew he could, however, because he told me so himself. He was a middle-aged, simple-hearted miner who had lived in a lonely corner of California, among the woods and mountains, a good many years, and had studied the ways of his only neighbors, the beasts and the birds, until he believed he could accurately translate any remark which they made. This was Jim Baker. According to Jim Baker, some animals have only a limited education, and use only very simple words, and scarcely ever a comparison or flowery figure; whereas, certain other animals have a large vocabulary, a fine command of language and a ready and fluent delivery; consequently these latter talk a great deal; they like it; they are conscious of their talent, and they enjoy “showing off.” Baker said, that after long and careful observation, he had come to the conclusion that the blue

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