There! I thought that 'ud fetch ye! And you want to know my name? "Seventy-nine" they call me, but that is their little game; For I'm werry highly connected, as a gent, sir, can understand, And my family hold their heads up with the very furst in the land. For 'twas all, sir, a put-up job on a pore young man like me; And the jury was bribed a puppos, and at furst they couldn't agree; And I sed to the judge, sez I,--Oh, grin! it's all right, my son! But you're a werry lively young pup, and you ain't to be played upon! Wot's that you got?--tobacco? I'm cussed but I thought 'twas a tract. Thank ye! A chap t'other day--now, lookee, this is a fact-- Slings me a tract on the evils o' keepin' bad company, As if all the saints was howlin' to stay here along o' we. No, I hain't no complaints. Stop, yes; do you see that chap,-- Him standin' over there, a-hidin' his eyes in his cap? Well, that man's stumick is weak, and he can't stand the pris'n fare; For the coffee is just half beans, and the sugar it ain't nowhere. Perhaps it's his bringin' up; but he's sickenin' day by day, And he doesn't take no food, and I'm seein' him waste away. And it isn't the thing to see; for, whatever he's been and done, Starvation isn't the plan as he's to be saved upon. For he cannot rough it like me; and he hasn't the stamps, I guess, To buy him his extry grub outside o' the pris'n mess. And perhaps if a gent like you, with whom I've been sorter free, Would--thank you! But, say! look here! Oh, blast it! don't give it to ME! Don't you give it to me; now, don't ye, don't ye, DON'T! You think it's a put-up job; so I'll thank ye, sir, if you won't. But hand him the stamps yourself: why, he isn't even my pal; And, if it's a comfort to you, why, I don't intend that he shall. THE STAGE-DRIVER'S STORY It was the stage-driver's story, as he stood with his back to the wheelers, Quietly flecking his whip, and turning his quid of tobacco; While on the dusty road, and blent with the rays of the moonlight, We saw the long curl of his lash and the juice of tobacco descending. "Danger! Sir, I believe you,--indeed, I may say, on that subject, You your existence might put to the hazard and turn of a wager. I have seen danger? Oh, no! not me, sir, indeed, I assure you: 'Twas only the man with the dog that is sitting alone in yon wagon. "It was the Geiger Grade, a mile and a half from the summit: Black as your hat was the night, and never a star in the heavens. Thundering down the grade, the gravel and stones we sent flying Over the precipice side,--a thousand feet plumb to the bottom.