"'That the little log cabin was just plenty fine For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine!-- "'When they didn't have even a pump, or a tin, But drunk surface-water, year out and year in, "'From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, by odds, Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods!'" Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say It was clockin' along to'rds the close of the day-- And he'd _ought_ to get back to his work on the lawn,-- Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on: "His teeth were imperfect--my grandfather owned That he couldn't eat oysters unless they were 'boned'; "And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of sight, He couldn't sleep with them unless, every night, "He put on his spectacles--all he possessed,-- Three pairs--with his goggles on top of the rest. "And my grandfather always, retiring at night, Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light; "Then he'd curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed, And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said: "And would snore oftentimes as the legends relate, Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state,-- "Then he'd snort, and rear up, and roll over; and there, In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air. "And so glaringly bald was the top of his head That many's the time he has musingly said, "As his eyes journeyed o'er its reflex in the glass,-- 'I must set out a few signs of _Keep Off the Grass!_' "So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears "To even hear thunder--and oftentimes then He was forced to request it to thunder again." [Illustration: Grandfather Squeers--Tailpiece] THE PIXY PEOPLE [Illustration: The Pixy People--Title] It was just a very Merry fairy dream!-- All the woods were airy With the gloom and gleam; Crickets in the clover Clattered clear and strong, And the bees droned over Their old honey-song. In the mossy passes, Saucy grasshoppers Leapt about the grasses And the thistle-burs; And the whispered chuckle Of the katydid Shook the honeysuckle Blossoms where he hid. Through the breezy mazes Of the lazy June, Drowsy with the hazes Of the dreamy noon, Little Pixy people Winged above the walk, Pouring from the steeple Of a mullein-stalk. One--a gallant fellow-- Evidently King,-- Wore a plume of yellow In a jewelled ring On a pansy bonnet, Gold and white and blue, With the dew still on it, And the fragrance, too. One--a dainty lady,-- Evidently Queen,-- Wore a gown of shady Moonshine and green, With a lace of gleaming Starlight that sent All the dewdrops dreaming Everywhere she went. [Illustration: Winged above the walk] One wore a waistcoat Of roseleaves, out and in, And one wore a faced-coat Of tiger-lily-skin; And one wore a neat coat Of palest galingale; And one a tiny street-coat, And one a swallow-tail.