Then up sprang Ar-Gyle, With his hair flowing free, And he gave a wild snort, And said, “Shall this be? We are humbugged by Asian myst’ries, And he went for that Hebrew, Ben D――――. Which the war-dance he had Was exciting to watch, Though I feared, lest too mad, His job he might botch, For he whooped, and he raved, and he ranted;―― You see he’s so pepp’ry and Scotch. Still, the scene that ensued Was uncommonly grand, For the floor it was strewed, Like the leaves on the strand, With the facts that Ben D―――― had been hiding, The facts “He did well understand.” For his head, which is long, Contained facts by the score; Which, with effort so strong, Ar-Gyle out of it tore; Till Ben D――――, if he has any feelings, Must have, morally, felt very sore. Which expressions is strong, Yet but feebly imply What I think of the wrong―― Not to call it a lie―― As was worked off by Benjy on Gran-Vil, Which he can’t go for it to deny. Which is why I remark―― And my language is plain―― That for ways that are dark, And tricks that are vain, The Hebrew Ben D―――― is peculiar, Which the same I am bold to maintain. _Truth_, January 31, 1878. ―――――――― THE AGED STRANGER. (_An Incident of the War_). “I was with Grant――” the stranger said, Said the farmer, “Say no more, But rest thee here at my cottage porch, For thy feet are weary and sore.” “I was with Grant――” the stranger said; Said the farmer, “Nay, no more,―― I prithee sit at my frugal board. And eat of my humble store. “How fares my boy,――my soldier boy, Of the Old Ninth Army Corps? I warrant he bore him gallantly In the smoke and the battle’s roar!” “I know him not,” said the aged man, “And, as I remarked before, I was with Grant――” “Nay, nay, I know,” Said the farmer, “Say no more; “He fell in battle,――I see alas! Thou’dst smooth these tidings o’er,―― Nay: speak the truth, whatever it be, Though it rend my bosom’s core. “How fell he,――with his face to the foe, Upholding the flag he bore? O, say not that my boy disgraced The uniform that he wore!” “I cannot tell,” said the aged man, “And should have remarked, before, That I was with Grant,――in Illinois,―― Some three years before the war.” Then the farmer spake him never a word, But beat with his fist full sore That aged man, who had worked for Grant Some three years before the war. BRET HARTE.