He'll lose his hold--he sways and reels-- He'll slide beneath those trampling heels! The knees of many a horseman quake, The flowers on many a bonnet shake, And shouts arise from left and right, "Stick on! Stick on!" "Hould tight! Hould tight!" "Cling round his neck and don't let go--" "That pace can't hold,--there! steady! whoa!" But like the sable steed that bore The spectral lover of Lenore, His nostrils snorting foam and fire, No stretch his bony limbs can tire; And now the stand he rushes by, And "Stop him!--stop him!" is the cry. [Illustration: "And now the stand he rushes by"] Stand back! he's only just begun,-- He's having out three heats in one! "Don't rush in front! he'll smash your brains; But follow up and grab the reins!" Old Hiram spoke. Dan Pfeiffer heard, And sprang impatient at the word; Budd Doble started on his bay, Old Hiram followed on his gray, And off they spring, and round they go, The fast ones doing "all they know." [Illustration] [Illustration] Look! twice they follow at his heels, As round the circling course he wheels, And whirls with him that clinging boy Like Hector round the walls of Troy; Still on, and on, the third time round! They're tailing off! they're losing ground! [Illustration] Budd Doble's nag begins to fail! Dan Pfeiffer's sorrel whisks his tail! And see! in spite of whip and shout, Old Hiram's mare is giving out! Now for the finish! at the turn, The old horse--all the rest astern,-- Comes swinging in, with easy trot; By Jove! he's distanced all the lot! [Illustration] [Illustration] That trot no mortal could explain; Some said, "Old Dutchman come again!" Some took his time,--at least they tried, But what it was could none decide; One said he couldn't understand What happened to his second hand; One said 2.10; _that_ couldn't be-- More like two twenty two or three; Old Hiram settled it at last; "The time was two--too dee-vel-ish fast!" The parson's horse had won the bet; It cost him something of a sweat; Back in the one-hoss shay he went; The parson wondered what it meant, And murmured, with a mild surprise And pleasant twinkle of the eyes, "That funeral must have been a trick, Or corpses drive at double-quick; I shouldn't wonder, I declare, If brother--Jehu--made the prayer!" And this is all I have to say About that tough old trotting bay. Huddup! Huddup! G'lang!--Good-day! [Illustration: "Back in the one-horse-shay he went"] Moral for which this tale is told: A horse _can_ trot, for all he's old. [Illustration] The BROOMSTICK TRAIN or The Return of the WITCHES [Illustration] THE BROOMSTICK TRAIN