Part 14

My companion had paused here, and was looking through some printed slips in his pocketbook. "I wanted you to see some of the fellow's articles in print, but I have nothing of importance here only some of his 'doggerel,' as he calls it, and you've had a sample of that. But here's a bit of the upper spirit of the man--and still another that you should hear him recite. You can keep them both if you care to. The boys all fell in love with that last one, particularly, hearing his rendition of it. So we had a lot printed, and I have two or three left. Put these two in your pocket and read them at your leisure."

But I read them there and then, as eagerly, too, as I append them here and now. The first is called--

SAYS HE

"Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be It's plaze, if ye will, an' I'll say me say,-- Supposin' to-day was the winterest day, Wud the weather be changing because ye cried, Or the snow be grass were ye crucified? The best is to make your own summer," says he, "Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be!

"Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be, It's the songs ye sing, an' the smiles ye wear, That's a-makin' the sun shine everywhere; An' the world of gloom is a world of glee, Wid the bird in the bush, an' the bud in the tree, An' the fruit on the stim of the bough," says he, "Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be!

"Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be, Ye can bring the Spring, wid its green an' gold, An' the grass in the grove where the snow lies cold; An' ye'll warm yer back, wid a smiling face, As ye sit at yer heart, like an owld fireplace, An' toast the toes o' yer sowl," says he, "Whatever the weather may be," says he-- "Whatever the weather may be!"

"Now," said the Major, peering eagerly above my shoulder, "go on with the next. To my mind, it is even better than the first. A type of character you'll recognize.--The same 'broth of a boy,' only AMERICANIZED, don't you know."

And I read the scrap entitled--

CHAIRLEY BURKE

It's Chairley Burke's in town, b'ys! He's down til "Jamesy's Place," Wid a bran'-new shave upon 'um, an' the fhwhuskers aff his face; He's quit the Section-Gang last night, and yez can chalk it down There's goin' to be the divil's toime, sence Chairley Burke's in town.

It's treatin' iv'ry b'y he is, an' poundin' on the bar Till iv'ry man he's drinkin' wid must shmoke a foine cigar; An' Missus Murphy's little Kate, that's coomin' there for beer, Can't pay wan cint the bucketful, the whilst that Chairley's here!

He's joompin' oor the tops o' sthools, the both forninst an' back! He'll lave yez pick the blessed flure, an' walk the straightest crack! He's liftin' barrels wid his teeth, and singin "Garry Owen," Till all the house be strikin' hands, sence Chairley Burke's in town.

The Road-Yaird hands coomes dhroppin' in, an' niver goin' back; An' there's two freights upon the switch--the wan on aither track-- An' Mr. Gearry, from The Shops, he's mad enough to swear, An' durstn't spake a word but grin, the whilst that Chairley's there!

Och! Chairley! Chairley! Chairley Burke! ye divil, wid yer ways O' dhrivin' all the throubles aff, these dhark an' ghloomy days! Ohone! that it's meself, wid all the graifs I have to dhrown, Must lave me pick to resht a bit, sence Chairley Burke's in town.

"Before we turn back, now," said the smiling Major, as I stood lingering over the indefinable humor of the last refrain, "before we turn back I want to show you something eminently characteristic. Come this way a half-dozen steps."

As he spoke I looked up, first to observe that we had paused before a handsome square brick residence, centering a beautiful smooth lawn, its emerald only littered with the light gold of the earliest autumn leaves. On either side of the trim walk that led up from the gate to the carved stone ballusters of the broad piazza, with its empty easy chairs, were graceful vases, frothing over with late blossoms, and wreathed with laurel-looking vines; and, luxuriantly lacing the border of the pave that turned the farther corner of the house, blue, white and crimson, pink and violet, went fading away in perspective as my gaze followed the gesture of the Major's.

"Here, come a little farther. Now do you see that man there?"

Yes, I could make out a figure in the deepening dusk--the figure of a man on the back stoop--a tired-looking man, in his shirt-sleeves, who sat upon a low chair--no, not a chair--an empty box. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and the hands dropped limp. He was smoking, too, I could barely see his pipe, and but for the odor of very strong tobacco, would not have known he had a pipe. Why does the master of the house permit his servants so to desecrate this beautiful home? I thought.

"Well, shall we go now?" said the Major.

I turned silently and we retraced our steps. I think neither of us spoke for the distance of a square.

"Guess you didn't know the man there on the back porch?" said the Major.

"No; why?" I asked dubiously.

"I hardly thought you would, and besides the poor fellow's tired, and it was best not to disturb him," said the Major.

"Why; who was it--some one I know?"

"It was Tommy."

"Oh," said I inquiringly, "he's employed there in some capacity?"

"Yes, as master of the house."

"You don't mean it?"