His heart was open as the day, Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, 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, His coat had pocket-holes behind, - Unharmed, the sin which earth pollutes He passed securely o'er, And never wore a pair of boots For thirty years or more. But good Old Grimes is now at rest, He modest merit sought to find, He had no malice in his mind, His neighbors he did not abuse, He wore large buckles on his shoes, His knowledge, hid from public gaze, He did not bring to view, Nor make a noise, town-meeting days, As many people do. THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS I WROTE Some lines once on a time They were so queer, so very queer, I called my servant, and he came ; To mind a slender man like me, "These to the printer," I exclaimed, And, in my humorous way, I added (as a trifling jest), "There'll be the devil to pay." He took the paper, and I watched, He read the next; the grin grew broad, And shot from ear to ear; He read the third; a chuckling noise I now began to hear. The fourth; he broke into a roar; The fifth his waistband split; The sixth; he burst five buttons off, And tumbled in a fit. Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, THE ONE-HOSS SHAY; OR, THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE. A LOGICAL STORY. Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, HAVE you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, Found in the pit when the tanner died. That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou,") He would build one shay to beat the taown 'n' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'; It should be so built that it could n' break daown; "Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain; 'n' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain, Is only jest T' make that place uz strong uz the rest." So the Deacon inquired of the village folk And the wedges flev from between their lips, That was the way he "put her through." "There!" said the Deacon, "naow she 'll dew!" First a shiver, and then a thrill, Then something decidedly like a spill, What do you think the parson found, End of the wonderful one-hoss shay. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. RUDOLPH THE HEADSMAN. RUDOLPH, professor of the headsman's trade, Alike, was famous for his arm and blade. One day a prisoner Justice had to kill Knelt at the block to test the artist's skill. Bare-armed, swart-visaged, gaunt, and shaggy browed, Rudolph the headsman rose above the crowd. act," The prisoner said. cracked.) (His voice was slightly That boy with the grave mathematical look Made believe he had written a wonderful book, "Friend, I have struck," the artist straight re- And the ROYAL SOCIETY thought it was true! So they chose him right in, plied; a good joke it was There's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain, That could harness a team with a logical chain; When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire, We called him "The Justice," but now he's "The Squire." And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith,Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith, HAS there any old fellow got mixed with the But he shouted a song for the brave and the boys? free, if there has, take him out, without making a Just read on his medal, " "My country," "of |