TOMMY-- Well, Billy, he's Got a tight-rope an' trapeze, An' a hoop 'at he jumps through Head-first! JOHNNY-- Well, what's _that_ to do-- Lightin' on a pile o' hay? Haint no _actin_' thataway! TOMMY-- Don't care what you say, he draws Bigger crowds than you do, 'cause Sense he started up, I know All the fellers says his show Is the best-un! JOHNNY-- Yes, an' he Better not tell things on me! His old circus haint no good!-- 'Cause he's got the neighborhood Down on me he thinks 'at I'm Goin' to stand it all the time; Thinks ist 'cause my Pa don't 'low Me to fight, he's got me now. An' can say I lie, an' call Me ist anything at all! Billy Miller thinks I am 'Feared to say 'at he says "dam"-- Yes, and worser ones! and I'm Goin' to tell his folks sometime!-- An' ef he don't shet his head I'll tell worse 'an _that_ he said When he fighted Willie King-- An' got licked like ever'thing!-- Billy Miller better shin Down his Daddy's lane agin, Like a cowardy-calf, an' climb In fer home another time! Better-- [Here BILLY leaps down from the loft upon his unsuspecting victim; and two minutes, later, JOHNNY, with the half of a straw hat, a bleeding nose, and a straight rent across one trouser-knee, makes his inglorious--exit.] WHAT CHRIS'MAS FETCHED THE WIGGINSES. Wintertime, er Summertime, Of late years I notice I'm, Kindo'-like, more subjec' to What the _weather_ is. Now, you Folks 'at lives in town, I s'pose, Thinks its bully when it snows; But the chap 'at chops and hauls Yer wood fer ye, and then stalls, And snapps tuggs and swingletrees, And then has to walk er freeze, Haint so much "stuck on" the snow As stuck _in_ it--Bless ye, no!-- When its packed, and sleighin's good, And _church_ in the neighborhood, Them 'at's _got_ their girls, I guess, Takes 'em, likely, more er less, Tell the plain facts o' the case, No men-folks about our place On'y me and Pap--and he 'Lows 'at young folks' company Allus made him sick! So I Jes don't want, and jes don't try! Chinkypin, the dad-burn town, 'S too fur off to loaf aroun' Either day er night--and no Law compellin' me to go!-- 'Less 'n some Old-Settlers' Day, Er big-doin's thataway-- _Then_, to tell the p'inted fac', I've went more so's to come back By old Guthrie's 'still-house, where Minors _has_ got licker there-- That's pervidin' we could show 'em Old folks sent fer it from home! Visit roun' the neighbors some, When the boys wants me to come.-- Coon-hunt with 'em; er set traps Fer mussrats; er jes, perhaps, Lay in roun' the stove, you know, And parch corn, and let her snow! Mostly, nights like these, you'll be (Ef you' got a writ fer _me_) Ap' to skeer me up, I guess, In about the Wigginses. Nothin' roun' _our_ place to keep