Their red wars were ended, their victories past. They perished, the cool waters singing below; “Ho! Ho!” again shouted the Plumes of the blast; But only the silent Rock echoed “Ho! Ho!” ’Twas so, fever maddened, the Illini died, Whose bright, airy tents filled the prairies with joy, And the rain-plover sings o’er their white bones beside The gray, crumbling Rock of the blue Illinois! But often the boatman his moonlit oar lifts, And holds in the air, and his boat gliding slow, He listens—and o’er him a thin echo drifts. “Ho! Ho!” and re-echoes “Ho! Ho!” and “Ho! Ho!” Like the breath of the dying it comes, and is gone; Like the shuddering leaves that the still frosts destroy, And sweetly the rain-plover sings in the corn, When the morning breeze ripples the blue Illinois! And the gray rocks still hang O’er the billows of blooms, Where the rain-plover sang In the dark under glooms, And cool runs the prairie river! “THE WEE WEE PIG.” There was, once on a time, a wee wee old woman who lived in a wee wee house near Cockermouth in old England. One day when the wee wee old woman was sweeping her wee wee house with a wee wee broom, she found a wee wee sixpence. So she took her wee wee sixpence and went to market and bought a wee wee pig, and started her wee wee pig on the road to her wee wee home. The wee wee pig went along very well until they came to a bridge, which the wee wee old woman could not persuade, coax, or force her wee wee pig to cross. So the wee wee old woman left her wee wee pig, and went back until she came to a stick. Said the wee wee old woman, “Oh, stick, do beat wee wee pig; wee wee pig won’t go over bridge, and I sha’n’t git home to-night!” But the stick wouldn’t beat wee wee pig. So the wee wee old woman went along until she came to a fire. Said the wee wee old woman, “Oh, fire, do burn stick; stick won’t beat wee wee pig, wee wee pig won’t go over bridge, and I sha’n’t git home to-night!” But the fire wouldn’t burn the stick. So the wee wee old woman went along till she came to some water. Said the wee wee old woman, “Oh, water, do quench fire; fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat wee wee pig, wee wee pig won’t go over bridge, and I sha’n’t git home to-night!” But the water wouldn’t quench the fire. So the wee wee old woman went along till she came to an ox. Said the wee wee old woman, “Oh, ox, do drink water; water won’t quench fire, fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat wee wee pig, wee wee pig won’t go over bridge, and I sha’n’t git home to-night!” But the ox wouldn’t drink water. So the wee wee old woman went along till she came to a butcher.