OUR TWO OPINIONS APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE "GOOD-BY--GOD BLESS YOU!" HI-SPY LONG AGO LITTLE BOY BLUE THE LYTTEL BOY KRINKEN TO A USURPER AILSIE, MY BAIRN SOME TIME MADGE: YE HOYDEN THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD TO ROBIN GOODFELLOW YVYTOT THE DIVINE LULLABY IN THE FIRELIGHT THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM AT THE DOOR THE BIBLIOMANIAC'S PRAYER DE AMICITIIS THE BIBLIOMANIAC'S BRIDE THE TRUTH ABOUT HORACE HORACE AND LYDIA RECONCILED HORACE III:13 ("FOUNTAIN OF BANDUSIA") HORACE TO MELPOMENE A CHAUCERIAN PARAPHRASE OF HORACE HORACE TO PYRRHA HORACE TO PHYLLIS THE "HAPPY ISLES" OF HORACE LITTLE MACK MR. DANA, OF THE NEW YORK SUN TO A SOUBRETTE BERANGER'S "BROKEN FIDDLE" HEINE'S "WIDOW, OR DAUGHTER?" UHLAND'S "THREE CAVALIERS" BERANGER'S "MY LAST SONG PERHAPS" HUGO'S "FLOWER TO BUTTERFLY" BERANGER'S "MA VOCATION" THE LITTLE PEACH A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAMELOT IN FLANDERS OUR BIGGEST FISH MOTHER AND CHILD THE WANDERER SOLDIER, MAIDEN, AND FLOWER THIRTY-NINE CASEY'S TABLE D'HOTE Oh, them days on Red Hoss Mountain, when the skies wuz fair 'nd blue, When the money flowed like likker, 'nd the folks wuz brave 'nd true! When the nights wuz crisp 'nd balmy, 'nd the camp wuz all astir, With the joints all throwed wide open 'nd no sheriff to demur! Oh, them times on Red Hoss Mountain in the Rockies fur away,-- There's no sich place nor times like them as I kin find to-day! What though the camp _hez_ busted? I seem to see it still A-lyin', like it loved it, on that big 'nd warty hill; And I feel a sort of yearnin' 'nd a chokin' in my throat When I think of Red Hoss Mountain 'nd of Casey's tabble dote! Wal, yes; it's true I struck it rich, but that don't cut a show When one is old 'nd feeble 'nd it's nigh his time to go; The money that he's got in bonds or carries to invest Don't figger with a codger who has lived a life out West; Us old chaps like to set around, away from folks 'nd noise, 'Nd think about the sights we seen and things we done when boys; The which is why _I_ love to set 'nd think of them old days When all us Western fellers got the Colorado craze,-- And _that_ is why I love to set around all day 'nd gloat On thoughts of Red Hoss Mountain 'nd of Casey's tabble dote. This Casey wuz an Irishman,--you'd know it by his name And by the facial features appertainin' to the same. He'd lived in many places 'nd had done a thousand things, From the noble art of actin' to the work of dealin' kings, But, somehow, hadn't caught on; so, driftin' with the rest, He drifted for a fortune to the undeveloped West, And he come to Red Hoss Mountain when the little camp wuz new, When the money flowed like likker, 'nd the folks wuz brave 'nd true; And, havin' been a stewart on a Mississippi boat, He opened up a caffy 'nd he run a tabble dote.