An' then he went back to the gate
An' couldn't find my sister Kate,
'Cause she went to bed, while he
Was runnin' round an' thumpin' me.
I got round in a shadder dim,
An' made a face, an' guffed at him;
An' then the moon larfed, in the sky,
'Cause he was there,-an' so was I.

THE ENCHANTED SHIRT

BY JOHN HAY

The king was sick. His cheek was red,
And his eye was clear and bright;
He ate and drank with a kingly zest,
And peacefully snored at night.

But he said he was sick-and a king should know;
And doctors came by the score;

They did not cure him. He cut off their heads,
And sent to the schools for more.

At last two famous doctors came,
And one was as poor as a rat;
He had passed his life in studious toil
And never found time to grow fat.

The other had never looked in a book;
His patients gave him no trouble;
If they recovered, they paid him well,

If they died, their heirs paid double.

Together they looked at the royal tongue,
As the king on his couch reclined;
In succession they thumped his august chest,
But no trace of disease could find.

The old sage said, "You're as sound as a nut." "Hang him up!" roared the king, in a gale,In a ten-knot gale of royal rage;

The other leach grew a shade pale;

But he pensively rubbed his sagacious nose,
And thus his prescription ran:

"The king will be well if he sleeps one night
In the shirt of a happy man."

Wide o'er the realm the couriers rode,

And fast their horses ran,

And many they saw, and to many they spake, But they found no happy man.

They saw two men by the roadside sit,
And both bemoaned their lot;
For one had buried his wife, he said.
And the other one had not.

At last they came to a village gate;
A beggar lay whistling there;

He whistled and sang and laughed, and rolled
On the grass in the soft June air.

The weary couriers paused and looked

At the scamp so blithe and gay,

And one of them said, "Heaven save you, friend, You seem to be happy to-day?"

"Oh, yes, fair sirs," the rascal laughed, And his voice rang free and glad;

"An idle man has so much to do

That he never has time to be sad."

"This is our man." the courier said,
"Our luck has led us aright.

I will give you a hundred ducats, friend,
For the loan of your shirt to-night."

The merry rascal lay back on the grass
And laughed till his face was black;

"I would do it," said he, and roared with the fun, "But I haven't a shirt to my back!"

Each day to the king the reports came in
Of the unsuccessful spies;

And the sad panorama of human woes,
Passed daily under his eyes.

And he grew ashamed of his useless life,
And his maladies hatched in gloom;

He opened his windows and let the free air
Of the heavens into his room.

And out he went into the world and toiled
In his own appointed way,

'And the people blest him, the land was glad,
And the king was well and gay.

DER OAK UND DER VINE

BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS

I don'd vas preaching voman's righdts,
Or anyding like dot,

Und I likes to see all beoples

Shust gontended mit dheir lot;
But I vants to gontradict dot shap
Dot made dis leedle shoke:
"A voman vas der glinging vine,
Und man, der shturdy oak."

Berhaps, somedimes, dot may be drue;
Budt, den dimes oudt off nine,
I find me oudt dot man himself
Vas peen der glinging vine;

Und ven hees friendts dhey all vas gone
Und he vas shust "tead proke,"
Dot's vhen der voman shteps righdt in,
Und peen der shturdy oak.

Shust go oup to der paseball groundts
Und see dhose "shturdy oaks"
All planted roundt ubon der seats-
Shust hear dheir laughs und shokes!
Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs,
Mit glothes oudt on der lines:
Vhich vas der shturdy oaks, mine frendts,
Und vhich der glinging vines?

Ven sickness in der householdt comes,
Und veeks und veeks he shtays,
Who vas id fighdts him mitout resdt,
Dhose veary nighdts und days?
Who beace und gomfort alvays prings,
Und cools dot fefered prow?
More like id vas der tender vine
Dot oak he glings to, now.

"Man vants budt leedle here pelow,"
Der boet von time said;

Dhere's leedle dot man he don'd vant,
I dink id means, inshted;

Und vhen der years keep rolling on,
Dheir cares und droubles pringing,

He vants to pe der shturdy oak,
Und, also, do der glinging.

Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more,
Und don'd so shturdy peen,

Der glinging vines dhey haf some shance
To helb run life's masheen.

In helt und sickness, shoy und pain,
In calm or shtormy veddher,

"Tvas beddher dot dhose oaks und vines

Should alvays gling togedder.

From "Dialect Ballads," copyright, 1897, by Harper & Brothers.

THE SHIP OF FAITH

ANONYMOUS

A certain colored brother had been holding forth to his little flock upon the ever-fruitful topic of Faith, and he closed his exhortation about as follows:

"My bruddren, ef yous gwine to git saved, you got to git on board de Ship ob Faith. I tell you, my bruddren, dere ain't no odder way. Dere ain't no gitten up de back stairs, nor goin' 'cross lots; you can't do dat away, my bruddren, you got to git on board de Ship ob Faith. Once 'pon a time dere was a lot ob colored people, an' dey was all gwine to de promised land. Well, dey knowed dere w'an't no odder way for 'em to do but to git on board de Ship ob Faith. So dey all went down an' got on board, de ole granfaders, an' de ole granmudders, an' de pickaninnies, an' all de res' of 'em. Dey all got on board 'ceptin' one mons'us big feller, he said he's gwine to swim, he was. 'W'y!' dey said, 'you can't swim so fur like dat. It am a powerful long way to de promised land!' He said: 'I kin swim anywhur, I kin. I git board no boat, no, 'deed!' Well, my bruddren, all dey could say to dat poor disluded man dey couldn't git him on board de Ship of Faith, so dey started off. De day was fair, de win' right; de sun shinin' and ev'ryt'ing b'utiful, an' dis big feller he pull off his close and plunge in de water. Well, he war a powerful swimmer, dat man, 'deed he war; he war dat powerful he kep❜ right 'long side de boat all de time; he kep' a hollerin' out to de people on de boat, sayin': 'What you doin' dere, you folks, brilin' away in de sun; you better come down heah in de water, nice an'