Other editions - View all
agin ain't ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE boys Bret Harte brown bwave called Century Magazine CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS CHARLES GODFREY LELAND coom Coryphodon cried Deacon dear dhose dink dot baby Eohippus eyes feller Flies flosserfize folks gife girls goin guess gwine hair hand head heart heerd HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL Huldah IRWIN RUSSELL JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JOHN GODFREY SAXE kiss Knittin lady laugh leedle Little Fly Little mamma look lookin married mighty Miss Lucy morning Nevah never night nose o'er oldt once one-hoss shay oudt parson pray Robinson he Sez round SAM WALTER FOSS sech shoost shust sighed sing smile stockin sweet tell thar THEODORE TILTON There's thet thet's things thought Twas Uncle Sammy vrom wear whar Yawcob Strauss young
Page 250 - THE mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel ; And the former called the latter ' Little Prig '. Bun replied, ' You are doubtless very big ; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace 10 To occupy my place.
Page 126 - To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morrer's i'nin'." To say why gals acts so or so, Or don't 'ould be persumin'; Mebby to mean yes an' say no Comes nateral to women. He stood a spell on one foot fust, Then stood a spell on t'other, An' on which one he felt the wust He couldn't ha
Page 329 - WHEN I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
Page 159 - The parson was working his Sunday's text, Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed At what the -Moses - was coming next. All at once the horse stood still, Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill First a shiver, and then a thrill, Then something decidedly like a spill.
Page 235 - B. is a sensible man ; He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks ; He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can, An' into nobody's tater-patch pokes ; But John P. Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. My ! ain't it terrible ? Wut shall we du ? We can't never choose him o...
Page 155 - HAVE you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day...
Page 78 - MY AUNT. MY aunt ! my dear unmarried aunt ! Long years have o'er her flown ; Yet still she strains the aching clasp That binds her virgin zone ; I know it hurts her, — though she looks As cheerful as she can ; Her waist is ampler than her life, For life is but a span.
Page 157 - Last of its timber— they couldn't sell 'em. Never an axe had seen their chips, And the wedges flew from between their lips, Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips ; Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too, Steel of the finest, bright and blue ; Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide ; Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide Found in the pit when the tanner died. That was the way he "put her through.
Page 20 - WHO stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop: The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop; The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading The Daily, the Herald, the Post, little heeding The young man who blurted out such a blunt question; Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion; And the barber kept on shaving. "Don't you see, Mister Brown...