Part 21

"It reads," said I, studiously conning the old man's bold but bad chirography, and tilting my chair back indolently,--"it reads like this--the first verse does,"--and I very gravely read:--

"Oh! the old swimmin'-hole!"--

"Stop! Stop!" said the old man excitedly--"Stop right there! That's my poetry, but that's not the way to read it by a long shot! Give it to me!" and he almost snatched it from my hand. "Poetry like this ain't no poetry at all, 'less you read it NATCHURL and IN JEST THE SAME SPERIT 'AT IT'S WRIT IN, don't you understand. It's a' old man a-talkin', rickollect, and a-feelin' kindo' sad, and yit kindo' sorto' good, too, and I opine he wouldn't got that off with a face on him like a' undertaker, and a voice as solemn as a cow-bell after dark! He'd say it more like this."-- And the old man adjusted his spectacles and read:--

"THE OLD SWIMMIN'-HOLE"

"Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! whare the crick so still and deep Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep, And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below Sounded like the laugh of something we onc't ust to know Before we could remember anything but the eyes Of the angels lookin' out as we left Paradise; But the merry days of youth is beyond our controle, And it's hard to part ferever with the old swimmin'-hole."

I clapped my hands in genuine applause. "Read on!" I said,--"Read on! Read all of it!"

The old man's face was radiant as he continued:--

"Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! In the happy days of yore, When I ust to lean above it on the old sickamore, Oh! it showed me a face in its warm sunny tide That gazed back at me so gay and glorified, It made me love myself, as I leaped to caress My shadder smilin' up at me with sich tenderness. But them days is past and gone, and old Time's tuck his toll From the old man come back to the old swimmin'-hole.

"Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! In the long, lazy days When the humdrum of school made so many "run-a-ways," How pleasant was the jurney down the old dusty lane, Whare the tracks of our bare feet was all printed so plane You could tell by the dent of the heel and the sole They was lots o' fun on hands at the old swimmin'-hole. But the lost joys is past! Let your tears in sorrow roll Like the rain that ust to dapple up the old swimmin'-hole.

"Thare the bullrushes growed, and the cattails so tall, And the sunshine and shadder fell over it all; And it mottled the worter with amber and gold Till the glad lilies rocked in the ripples that rolled; And the snake-feeder's four gauzy wings fluttered by Like the ghost of a daisy dropped out of the sky, Or a wownded apple-blossom in the breeze's controle As it cut acrost some orchurd to'rds the old swimmin'-hole.

"Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! When I last saw the place, The scenes was all changed, like the change in my face; The bridge of the railroad now crosses the spot Whare the old divin'-log lays sunk and fergot. And I stray down the banks whare the trees ust to be-- But never again will theyr shade shelter me! And I wish in my sorrow I could strip to the soul, And dive off in my grave like the old swimmin'-hole."

My applause was long and loud. The old man's interpretation of the poem was a positive revelation, though I was glad enough to conceal from him my moistened eyes by looking through the scraps for other specimens of his verse.

"Here," said I enthusiastically, "is another one, signed 'Benj. F. Johnson,' read me this," and I handed him the poem.

The old man smiled and took the manuscript. "This-here one's on 'The Hoss,' " he said, simply clearing his throat. "They ain't so much fancy- work about this as the other'n, but they's jest as much FACT, you can bet--'cause, they're no animal a-livin' 'at I love better 'an

"THE HOSS"

"The hoss he is a splendud beast; He is man's friend, as heaven desined, And, search the world from west to east, No honester you'll ever find!

"Some calls the hoss 'a pore dumb brute,' And yit, like Him who died fer you, I say, as I theyr charge refute, 'Fergive; they know not what they do!'

"No wiser animal makes tracks Upon these earthly shores, and hence Arose the axium, true as facts, Extoled by all, as 'Good hoss-sense!'

"The hoss is strong, and knows his stren'th,-- You hitch him up a time er two And lash him, and he'll go his len'th And kick the dashboard out fer you!

"But, treat him allus good and kind, And never strike him with a stick, Ner aggervate him, and you'll find He'll never do a hostile trick.

"A hoss whose master tends him right And worters him with daily care, Will do your biddin' with delight, And act as docile as YOU air.

"He'll paw and prance to hear your praise, Because he's learnt to love you well; And, though you can't tell what he says He'll nicker all he wants to tell.

"He knows you when you slam the gate At early dawn, upon your way Unto the barn, and snorts elate, To git his corn, er oats, er hay.

"He knows you, as the orphant knows The folks that loves her like theyr own, And raises her and "finds" her clothes, And "schools" her tel a womern-grown!

"I claim no hoss will harm a man, Ner kick, ner run away, cavort, Stump-suck, er balk, er 'catamaran,' Ef you'll jest treat him as you ort.

"But when I see the beast abused, And clubbed around as I've saw some, I want to see his owner noosed, And jest yanked up like Absolum!

"Of course they's differunce in stock,-- A hoss that has a little yeer, And slender build, and shaller hock, Can beat his shadder, mighty near!

"Whilse one that's thick in neck and chist And big in leg and full in flank, That tries to race, I still insist He'll have to take the second rank.