Diy boyhood back, an' better things with it,-- Faith, Hope, an' sunthin' ef it isn't Cherrity, It's want o' guile, an' thet's ez gret a rerrity. Now, 'fore I knowed, thet Sabbath arternoon Thet I sot out to tramp myself in tune, I found me in the school'us' on my seat, Drummin' the march to No-wheres with my feet. Thinkin' o' nothin', I've heerd ole folks say, Is a hard kind o' dooty in its way: It's thinkin' everythin' you ever knew, Or ever hearn, to make your feelin's blue. From this to thet I let my worryin' creep Till finally I must ha' fell asleep. Our lives in sleep are some like streams thet glide Twixt flesh an' sperrit boundin' on each side, Where both shores' shadders kind o' mix an' mingle In sunthin' thet ain't jes' like either single; An' when you cast off moorin's from To-day, An' down towards To-morrer drift away, The imiges thet tengle on the stream Make a new upside-down'ard world o' dream: Sometimes they seem like sunrise-streaks an' warnin's O' wut'll be in Heaven on Sabbath-mornin's, An', mixed right in ez ef jest out o' spite, Sunthin' thet says your supper ain't gone right. I'm gret on dreams: an' often, when I wake, I've lived so much it makes my mem'ry ache, An' can't skurce take a cat-nap in my cheer 'Thout hevin' 'em, some good, some bad, all queer. Now I wuz settin' where I'd ben, it seemed, An' ain't sure yit whether I rally dreamed, Nor, ef I did, how long I might ha' slep', When I hearn some un stompin' up the step, An' lookirz' round, ef two an' two make four, I see a Pilgrim Father in the door. He wore a steeple-hat, tall boots, an' spurs With rowels to 'em big ez ches'nut-burrs, An' his gret sword behind him sloped away Long'z a man's speech thet dunno wut to say.-- "Ef your name's Biglow, an' your given-name Hosee," sez he, "it's arter you I came; I'm your gret-gran they multiplied by three." "My wut?" sez I.--your gret-gret-gret," sez he: "You wouldn't ha' never ben here but for me. Two hundred an' three year ago this May, The ship I come in sailed up Boston Bay; I'd been a cunnle in our Civil War,-- But wut on girth hev ,you gut up one for? Coz we du things in England, 'tain't for you To git a notion you can du 'em tu: I'm told you write in public prints: ef true, It's nateral you should know a thing or two."-- "Thet air's an argymunt I can't endorse,-- 'Twould prove, coz you wear spurs, you kep' a horse: