Cars is awful tejus ridin', fer all they go so fast! But finally they called out my stopping-place at last: And that night, at the tavern, I dreamp' I was a train O' cars, and _skeered_ at sumpin', runnin' down a country lane! Well, in the mornin' airly--after huntin' up the man-- The lawyer who was wantin' to swap the piece o' land-- We started fer the country;' and I ast the history Of the farm--its former owner--and so-forth, etcetery! And--well--it was _interestin'_--I su'prised him, I suppose, By the loud and frequent manner in which I blowed my nose!-- But his su'prise was greater, and it made him wonder more, When I kissed and hugged the widder when she met us at the door!-- _It was Mary_: They's a feelin' a-hidin' down in here-- Of course I can't explain it, ner ever make it clear.-- It was with us in that meeting I don't want you to fergit! And it makes me kind o' nervous when I think about it yit! I _bought_ that farm, and _deeded_ it, afore I left the town, With "title clear to mansions in the skies," to Mary Brown! And fu'thermore, I took her and _the childern_--fer you see, They'd never seed their Grandma--and I fetched 'em home with me. So _now_ you've got an idy why a man o' fifty-four, Who's lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year' and more, Is a-lookin' glad and smilin'!--And I've jest come into town To git a pair o' license fer to _marry_ Mary Brown. DAWN, NOON AND DEWFALL. I. Dawn, noon and dewfall! Bluebird and robin Up and at it airly, and the orchard-blossoms bobbin'! Peekin' from the winder, half-awake, and wishin' I could go to sleep agin as well as go a-fishin'! II. On the apern o' the dam, legs a-danglin' over, Drowsy-like with sound o' worter and the smell o' clover: Fish all out a visitin'--'cept some dratted minnor! Yes, and mill shet down at last and hands is gone to dinner. III. Trompin' home acrost the fields: Lightnin'-bugs a-blinkin' In the wheat like sparks o' things feller keeps a-thinkin':-- Mother waitin' supper, and the childern there to cherr me! And fiddle on the kitchen-wall a-jist a-eechin' fer me! NESSMUK. I hail thee, Nessmuk, for the lofty tone Yet simple grace that marks thy poetry! True forester thou art, and still to be, Even in happier fields than thou hast known. Thus, in glad visions, glimpses am I shown Of groves delectable--"preserves" for thee-- Ranged but by friends of thine--I name thee three:-- First, Chaucer, with his bald old pate new-grown With changeless laurel; next, in Lincoln-green, Gold-belted, bowed and bugled, Robin Hood; And next, Ike Walton, patient and serene: These three, O Nessmuk, gathered hunter-wise, Are camped on hither slopes of Paradise To hail thee first and greet thee, as they should. AS MY UNCLE USED TO SAY.