{"1": {"fulltext": "PS\\n3^03\\n\\\\9Q0\\ni.4.tt\\nt.M\\\\", "height": "3764", "width": "2394", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.\\nChap^.^^.C^FiS^o\\nShelf\u00e2\u0080\u009e.\u00c2\u00a3j3^S4\\nMLOO\\nUNITED STATES OF AMERICA.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "SOME\\nRUSTIC RHYMES\\nWILL TEMPLER\\nti^^\\nLet us go back to the shady woods,\\nTo the meadows and fields of clover\\nLet us return to our childhood s days,\\nAnd in fancy live them over.\\nNEW YORK\\nTHE BURR PRINTING HOUSE\\n1900", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0009.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "TWO COPIES .vECElVED,\\ntjbrary of Congre\u00c2\u00bb%\\nOffice of the\\nFEB 5-1900\\nItegrster of Copyrtghfs;^\\ntz lis\\n54267\\nCopyright, 1899, by\\nWILLIAM TEMPLER BECKER,\\n8\u00c2\u00a3CONOCOPt\u00c2\u00bb", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0010.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "To My Friend\\nJAMES E. TOWER,\\nTo WHOSE KINDLY INTEREST I OWE EVERYTHING,\\nTHIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0011.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0012.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "PREFACE.\\nPrompted by the solicitations of friends, I have\\ncollected from the various publications in which\\nthey have appeared these simple rustic rhymes, and\\nnow offer them for the first time in the form of a\\nlittle book. In them I have endeavored to portray\\ncountry life as it is its joys and its sorrows, its\\nhumor and its pathos, its hopes for the future and\\nits traditions of the past, not as seen from a dis-\\ntance, but from the vantage ground of a life spent\\namong rural people.\\nHow well I have succeeded I leave to the opinion\\nof those who may read, whether they are to-day ac-\\ntive in country life, or whether it comes back to\\nthem laden with the memories of a happy past.\\nWill Templer.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0013.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0014.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "TABLE OF CONTENTS.\\nThe Rain Upon the Roof,\\nThe Outside Cellar Door,\\nFor Fifty Cents,\\nReceived and Answered,\\nA Summer Campaign,\\nThe Thunderstorm,\\nHot Enough for Him,\\nThe Last Load of Hay,\\nCowbells in a Dream,\\nCow Time,\\nSam Purdy s Huskin Bee,\\nThe Fall Cricket,\\nOur Thanksgiving,\\nAt Night when the Chores is Done,\\nDan s Cellar and Mine,\\nCold, Ain t It?\\nBout Tax Time,\\nPuzzled,\\nThe Weather Prophets,\\nSomewhat Selfish,\\nTime to Quit,\\nThe Lunacy of Cyrus Kent,\\nOld Jim,\\nThe Ere Brown,\\nPAGE\\nI\\n4\\n6\\n8\\nlO\\n12\\ni6\\ni8\\n19\\n23\\n26\\n29\\n33\\n35\\n38\\n44\\n46\\n48\\n50\\n52\\n54\\n57\\n60\\n62", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0015.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "Vlll\\nTABLE OF CONTENTS.\\nA Feller that I Know,\\nWhere Stood the Why,\\nA Conservative,\\nSam Robbins Ambition,\\nUnder the Church Shed,\\nCause and Effect,\\nAn Assemblyman s Price,\\nLet the Old Dog In,\\nThe Family s Needs,\\nLooking for Work,\\nThe Fate of a Lazy Man,\\nInterest versus Beer,\\nA Pessimist,\\nMy Boys,\\nFishing for Bullheads,\\nA Great Day for Game,\\nDonkey and Monkey,\\nThe Old Oaken Sawbuck,\\nPlaying Bear,\\nMy Schoolgirl Sweetheart,\\nA Rustic Romance,\\nMarrying a Pig for His Pen,\\nToward the Sunset,\\nA Philosopher of Middle Age,\\nA Winter s Dawn,\\nA Winter s Night in the Olden\\nA Voyage to Niddy-Nod-Land,\\nA Difference in Opinion,\\nKnowledge,\\nBeauty,\\nThe Other Life,\\nTime,\\nPAGE\\n65\\n67\\n70\\n72\\n73\\n76\\n78\\n80\\n82\\n84\\n87\\n91\\n9^\\n93\\n95\\n98\\n99\\n100\\n102\\n104\\n106\\n108\\n109\\nIII\\n112\\n113\\n115\\n116\\n118\\n119\\n120", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0016.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0017.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "te-\\nJ\\nw", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0018.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES\\nTHE RAIN UPON THE ROOF.\\nJust daylight, and the sombre dawn is creeping-\\nthrough the bhnd,\\nOur waking eyes, in darkened nooks, strange shapes\\nand shadows find\\nThere s music in the atmosphere, beaten on roof and\\npane,\\nThe dreamy, restful music of the softly falling rain.\\nWhat is there in this lullaby of softly falling rain,\\nThat takes us back to other days, to live them o er\\nagain\\nWe drift, in drowsy, sweet content, back to the days\\nof old\\nWe dream, although we re not asleep, while memo-\\nries unfold.\\nWe re boys again, and it is June, a June of long\\nago;\\nWe sleep up in the woodshed loft, our summer\\nranch, you know.\\nThe music that we listen for s the steady patt ring\\nshow r,\\nAnd when there s such a morn as this, we doze an-\\nother hour.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0019.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "2 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nSplash, splash, there at the gutter the barrel is run-\\nning o er\\nDrip, drip, the roof has sprung a leak; I hear it on\\nthe floor\\nThe brook clown by the spring house has burst its\\nbanks, I think;\\nNow that will roil the water, and it w^on t be fit to\\ndrink.\\nTink, tink, the cows are coming, slowly coming up\\nthe lane.\\nWe hear the brazen cow bell wdiere they re waiting\\nin the rain\\nIt s milking time. Well, if it is, the cows can surely\\nwait\\nAn hour or so, this rainy morn, and then it won t be\\nlate.\\nThat thumping in the stable, that tramping to and\\nfro.\\nIs old Jerry getting hungry, he always acts just so.\\nHe won t have much to do to-day; let him exercise\\nhis hoof\\nWhile we will dream and listen to the rain upon the\\nroof.\\nThe pigs are squealing in the pen, we hear the\\nroosters crow,\\nFrom the pasture on the side hill come bleatings\\nsoft and low", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0020.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 3\\nThose robins in the apple-tree are making quite a\\nrow;\\nOld Ben is barking at the gate what is the matter\\nno^^^\\nTis strange that when we get a chance to snatch\\na little sleep,\\nThe turkeys all must gobble, ducks quack and\\nchickens peep.\\nThere s a clatter in the kitchen round the cook stove.\\nMother s there.\\nIt won t be very long before we hear her on the\\nstair.\\nThe chores are all to do; dear boys, get up, she ll\\nsoftly say.\\nYou soon will finish up your work, then rest, this\\nrainy day.\\nWe turn upon the pillow now, broad day, all things\\nare plain\\nOur bovhood dream has vanished, and we are men\\nDear mother, we will listen for your loving voice in\\nvain,\\nWe nevermore will hear your call mid the patter\\nof the rain,\\nBut if your spirit guards your boys, O never hold\\naloof\\nWhile we dream of boyhood s days, and it rains\\nupon the roof.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0021.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nTHE OUTSIDE CELLAR DOOR.\\nMost folks brought up in the country have shd\\ndown the cellar door\\nWhen they was young and coltish, but\\nI m thinkin enough sight more\\nHave made it a place to recline on and kind o\\nlounge around\\nOn keenish days in springtime, when the sno s most\\nleft the ground\\nCept what lays along the stone walls,\\nAnd in hollers here and there\\nJust enough to bender fence makin and keep a\\nchilly air.\\nThen on Sunday, after meetin wdien\\nI ve had a dinner good.\\nAnd sunshine on the cellar door has been warmin\\nup the wood,\\nI like to w^ander round there to the south side of\\nthe house.\\nAnd git stretched out on the slopin door as still\\nas any mouse.\\nWhile I hearken to the music of the little tricklin\\nrills\\nThat are coursin toward the river from the snow-\\nbanks on the hills.\\nThere I lay and dream, and listen, with my arm\\nbeneath my head,", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0022.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 5\\nTo the phoebe that s explorin for a home out in the\\nshed;\\nTo the robin and the bluebird that are pipin in the\\ntrees\\nTo the buzzin and the hummin of warmed-over\\nflies and bees;\\nTo the hens out in the barnyard in the stable\\non the hay,\\nTellin all the world the story of the eggs they re\\nbound to lay.\\nI hear lowin s from the stable, from the chicken\\ncoop a peep;\\nThe little lambs are frolickin around the mother\\nsheep\\nThen pretty soon I m dozin and I m wakened by\\na snore\\nI ve been sleepin in the sunshine on the outside\\ncellar door.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0023.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "6 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nFOR FIFTY CENTS.\\nUp to John Kannady s vandue John let his farm\\nthis spring\\nI didn t do quite Uke some men that seldom buy\\na thing\\nTo a sale, but git there bout noon er a little before,\\nAn set around in the women s way, an spit on th\\nkitchen floor\\nTill they hear that dinner s ready then, hurrah for\\na dog-cheap feast.\\nBut I ve noticed that them that waits fur grub most\\nalways buys the least.\\nI got my grub afore I went to Kannady s that day.\\nThe thing I wanted mostly was his double pleasure\\nsleigh,\\nBut that was sold when I got there; so I bid on some\\ntackle blocks,\\nAn was butt nin up my coat to go, when John\\nbrought out a box\\nThat held most ev rything; he said they d sell it by\\nthe lot.\\nAn w4ien I bid four shillin they took me on the\\nspot.\\nWa ll, I got the box home somehow, an next day\\nwhen it rained,\\nI took it to the wagon house to see what it contained.\\nFirst come an old corn cutter an a piece of leather\\ntug,", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0024.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 7\\nA ridin whip, two wutbless bits, a handle off a\\njug;\\nCome next an umbareller frame the handle part\\nwas out\\nA cradle knib, two old horseshoes, a hammer, less\\na snout,\\nA leaky wash-dish, an a nub from off some critter s\\nhorn.\\nThree four-inch bolts, one five-inch, do, an ear of\\nyeller corn.\\nThirteen old nuts, a lump of chalk, a dozen feet of\\nline.\\nTwo bottles that had once contained some spur ts of\\nturpentine.\\nFive wornout cockeyes, an a chunk of heavy har-\\nness hame,\\nAn old plowshear, a black clay pipe, an empty honey\\nframe,\\nA dozen ground-out reaper knives, a bit of fan mill\\nscreen,\\nA little pas board box that once had held some\\nparis green;\\nA chiny aig, some nails, all bent, a pair of terret\\nrings,\\nA piece of tin, a rusty knife, an lots of other things.\\nThat I can t so well remember, but you see, at all\\nevents.\\nThat I didn t shoot my granny when I bid that\\nfifty cents.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0025.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYAIES.\\nRECEIVED AND ANSWERED.\\nNow how, writes my city nephew, John,\\nAre you and Aunt Sarah coming on\\nHow are Steve and WiU and Jen and Grace-\\nHow s ev rything on your dear old place?\\nI hope your tatoes and corn are hilled.\\nYour haying- over, your barns well filled\\nWith a heavy crop of hay and rye.\\nAnd room enough left for oats, by- n -by.\\nWe re kind o peaked, my wife and I,\\nThe weather has been so hot and dry;\\nAnd we think there is no kind of doubt,\\nBut that you re wanting us to come out\\nAnd get away from the dust and heat.\\nAnd taste Aunt Sarah s good things to eat.\\nSo write me, please, that you will meet me.\\nMy wife, our nurse and our children three\\nAt depot, Saturday, half-past two;\\nWe re coming to stay a month with you.\\nAnd I wrote, John, city nephew, dear,\\nWe are all alive and kicking, here\\nOur potatoes and our corn are hilled\\nAnd our barns with hay are nearly filled.\\nWe are looking for our oat crop now.\\nTo cram the top of every mow\\nWhen harvest is over, wet or dry.\\nThere s thirty acres to plow for rye", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0026.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nNo time to play and no chance to shirk\\nWe work to hve, and we Hve to work.\\nAbout the buildings things still go on\\nThe same as they did last summer, John.\\nYour Aunt Sarah s chicken crop has shrunk\\n(The work of a predatory skunk).\\nOur youngest porkers have learned to root,\\nThe apple orchard hangs full of fruit\\nThe girls are making canned fruit and jell\\nAunt Sarah attends to the dairy. Well\\nI guess that s bout all I ve got to say;\\nThe girls were planning to go away\\nAnd rest a spell, and so were the boys\\nBut they won t go now, and miss the joys\\nOf entertaining the friends they love,\\nAnd the cooking for em on a stove\\nSome days in August; so come come on,\\nAnd bring your family with you, John\\nAunt Sarah will greet you with a hug;\\nWe ll wait on your fam ly, nurse and pug.\\nWe won t mind the work nor dust nor heat.\\nWhen you ve a good time and enough to eat.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0027.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "lO SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nA SUMMER CAMPAIGN.\\nStrange, that a feller s got to fight from early\\nspring to fall,\\nA-killin bugs, an worms, an things, er else raise\\nnothin tall.\\nThe frost was hardly g*one this spring, er sap had\\nceased to boil.\\nAfore I was after th worms nests a-burnin em out\\nwith oil.\\nThe next that came was tater bugs, the Colorado\\nkind.\\nI knocked em off an stomped on em till I was al-\\nmost blind;\\nI greened em and I purpled em till I could see no\\nmore,\\nThen went a-huntin currant worms by the dozen\\nan the score.\\nThe radishes an turnips next, both come in for their\\nshare,\\nFor maggots was a-eatin em; it almost made me\\nswear,\\nBut I went for them air maggots an knocked em\\nout with drugs,\\nAn then I stopped an spent a day on pesky striped\\nbugs\\nThat was eatin up my cucumbers an melon plants\\nan such,\\nBut I left em for to go an give the cabbage worms\\na touch.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0028.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. II\\nThe corn field with cut Avorms an grubs next called\\nmy best attention,\\nAn I dug em out an killed em, too, too numerous\\nto mention.\\nThen I went an sprayed my apple-trees with par is\\ngreen an brine.\\nAn applied the Bordeaux mixture to each young\\nan growin vine.\\nThe tater blight was on my patch n I het to tend\\nto that.\\nAn hustle round an smash enough squash bugs to\\nfill my hat.\\nThe gapes lit on my chickens as soon as they was\\nborn.\\nThe tarnal grasshoppers have et the silk all off my\\ncorn.\\nIn short, I ve spent the summer a-fightin worms\\nan slugs.\\nAn grasshoppers, an crickets, an moths, an flies,\\nan bugs.\\nI ve met the pests an fit em an put em all to rout.\\nAn now I set an wonder that so little knocks em\\nout.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0029.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "12 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nTHE THUNDERSTORM.\\nAll through the torrid, meUing heat of that long,\\nJuly clay,\\nUp and down we worked, perspiring, mid the win-\\nrows of the hay;\\nNot a wave upon the wheat field, not a twig upon\\nthe oak.\\nNot a quiver of the poplar leaves, a passing breeze\\nbespoke.\\nThe sounds down in the meadow were the locust\\nloud and harsh,\\nThe cricket by the brookside, the tree-frog on the\\nmarsh.\\nWhile from the hazy valley came the sound of far-\\noff train,\\nThe heavy, booming, hollow sound, that s heard\\nbefore a rain.\\nWe talked, while at the midday meal, of signs of\\nsudden showers\\nOne saw, that morn, a heavy dew upon the grass\\nand flowers,\\nThe water jug was sweating too, that day so hot and\\ndry.\\nWhile still another one had heard a cuckoo s warn-\\ning cry.\\nWe dozed beneath a spreading tree, our needed\\nnoonspell off,", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0030.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 1 3\\nThen led our well-fed horses to the dripping water\\ntrough\\nAnd while they drank, with anxious eyes we\\nsearched the sky so bright.\\nBut saw no cloud to promise us a show r before the\\nnight.\\nSo, in the meadow up and down, with pitchforks\\ngleaming bright.\\nWith going wagon loaded, and returning wagon\\nlight\\nWe gathered up our treasure, never stopping once\\nto rest,\\nFor clouds were slowly gathering and darkening\\nthe west.\\nSuch clouds black, sullen, massive, came crowding\\nup the blue\\nShapes of human heads colossal, shapes of witch\\nand devil too.\\nShape of castle, shape of tower, shape of chimney,\\nturret, spire;\\nEver shifting, ever changing, tipped with golden\\nsunlit fire.\\nTill the sun himself was covered and withdrew his\\nglowing form.\\nAnd the world stood still and waited for the coming\\nof the storm.\\nThe darkened west looked like a night bereft of all\\nits stars,", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0031.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "14 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nWe saw the flash and heard the roll of God s elec-\\ntric cars.\\nWe worked with silent, steady strokes, with much\\nto lose or gain,\\nWe saw from the horizon lift the curtain of the\\nrain\\nA curtain like a funeral pall, with ragged edge of\\nwhite,\\nAs onward, upward, swift it came, a giant in its\\nmig ht.\\nWe heard beyond the distant hills a hurried, rush-\\ning roar,\\nA sound as of a w^aterfall, or great waves upon the\\nshore.\\nThe roar grew louder as the fringe of rain came o er\\nthe wood.\\nWe felt its cooling breath upon our faces where we\\nstood.\\nNor did we wait, but climbed upon our hardly\\nfinished load;\\nThen down the slope, and through the lane, and out\\ninto the road,\\nOur running horses took us as we raced before the\\nwind,\\nAnd when the barn door welcomed us the storm\\nwas still behind.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0032.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 15\\nWithin the cool and roomy barn we sat by the open\\ndoor,\\nAnd saw the writhing, wind-swept trees, and\\nwatched the downward ponr.\\nThe fitful lightning s glare we noted with each zig-\\nzag flash.\\nAnd w^ondered if it struck quite near with each loud\\nthunder crash.\\nAn hour passed by. The west once more resumed\\nits azure hue.\\nThe setting sun threw out his beams upon raindrops\\nthin and few.\\nAcross the east we saw God s bow; nature smiled,\\nthe air was warm.\\nWe bowed our heads and worshipped Him, and\\nthanked Him for the storm.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0033.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "1 6 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nHOT ENOUGH FOR HIM.\\nSailor Ben sat in the sun when the maiden came\\nthat way.\\nHot enough for you, Uncle Ben? was what I\\nheard her say.\\nWa al, yes, the vet ran made reply, that is, it s\\nwarm somewhat,\\nBut folks that live round here about hain t seen a\\nday that s hot.\\nWhat do you say? it s ninety-six! Why, that ain t\\nnothin child\\nIf you d a-seen the day I did, twould fairly make\\nyou wild\\nWith thinkin what you hed ben through, an that\\nyou re still alive.\\nAh, yes, how well I recollect, twas eighteen fifty-\\nfive\\nWhen Cousin Abe an Sime an me all went an hed\\nour wish,\\nRunnin away on a mac rel sloop to Newfoundland\\nto fish.\\nThat day? O, yes, I ll git to that; twas August\\non the Banks,\\nAloft hung the sails all lifeless, an on our deck the\\nplanks\\nWas twistin an warpin an curlin up with the\\nscorchin heat,", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0034.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. IJ\\nAn none of us walked acrost em fur fear of blis-\\ntered feet.\\nBut we hed some compensation, I guess you will\\nagree\\nWe ketched some nice biled mac rel out of the\\nsteamin sea.\\nOur ham an aigs we put on deck an let em lay\\na while;\\nThey soon got fried, an we eet em, miss, in reg lar\\nhotel style.\\nAll seams b iled out pitch an oakum, an the sailors\\nscraped off some\\nFur sech as were out of tobacker to use as chawin\\ngum.\\nHow did we live, did you ask me? I swan, I\\nsca cely know.\\nWe was all packed in ice an pickle, under the decks\\nbelow\\nAs it was, Abe lost his whiskers, an Sime s mus-\\ntache come out,\\nAn as fur my hair, I hain t it, fur I shed it all about.\\nSame as the rest of thet crew did, endurin all that\\nheat,\\nFur we was roasted through and through, same as\\na piece of meat.\\nHow high was the thermo/zzc^ter? O, please don t\\nask sech stuff;\\nWe hed a glass mos four feet long, but twasn t\\nlong enough,", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0035.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "l8 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nSo we ah, you re goin be you? Wa al, I think\\nyou will agree\\nThat the day we hed on the Banks was quite hot\\nenough fur me.\\nShe went, and the sailor muttered That s eigh-\\nteen times to-day\\nI ve ben asked that same old ches nut; now, what ll\\na feller say?\\nTHE LAST LOAD OF HAY.\\nThe wheat and the rye have been housed for a fort-\\nnight.\\nThe golden oats glow^ in the sun on the hill.\\nThe sheds and the lofts are all bulging with clover,\\nAnd bays full of timothy rise from the sill.\\nThe mower is silent its labors are over,\\nTo-da}^ it was draw^n from the low meadow swale,\\nWhere grass along ditches, blue lilies and bulrush,\\nWas separate kept from the hay cut for sale.\\nSo drive to the meadow, the old bottom meadow,\\nThe swale where the grass grew so thick and so\\nrank,\\nNot extra hay, true, but for feeding horned cattle\\nSome day in the winter twill beat a snowbank.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0036.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. IQ\\nNow pitch it on lively, that cloud in the west there\\nMay give us a show r ere the close of the day,\\nBut we will not mind it, when under the ridge pole\\nIs landed for this year our last load of hay.\\nCOWBELLS IN A DREAM.\\nOnc t no, twa n t a midnight dreary,\\nNeither was I weak, but weary,\\nFur I had dug potaters all that long September\\nday.\\nI was peacefully a-sleepin\\nAnd at twelve o clock was keepin\\nTime to snorin respiration in a satisfact ry way.\\nOf my boyhood I was dreamin\\nAnd it seemed and kep a-seemin\\nThat I het to drive the cows up from the wood-\\nland pastur lot.\\nSeemed I couldn t find them cattle,\\nTho I heard the cowbell s rattle,\\nWith its tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, as it moved from\\nspot to spot.\\nGoin off and comin nearer,\\nGittin faint and growin clearer,\\nSoundin jes the same as cowbells has ben\\nsoundin sence they wuz", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0037.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "20 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nFrom the woods where sung the thrushes,\\nFrom the swamp where growed the rushes,\\nAnd mos frequently was heard the gentle, soft,\\nmusketeer s buzz.\\nIn the valley mong the beeches.\\nWhere the sunshine seldom reaches.\\nWhere the solemn little screech-owl ust to set so\\ngrave and still.\\nThrough the sap-bush in the open,\\nDillydallyin and mopin\\nTinkle, tinkle, toward the pine-tree with the\\ndove s nest on the hill.\\nDown along the little brooklet.\\nWhere with bent pins for a booklet\\nWe e er sought to ketch the minny dartin to and\\nfro so spry,\\nAnd the darnin -needle s quiver\\nThrough the sunlight made us shiver.\\nWhile our ears we quickly covered when he went\\na-flashin by;\\nBut he never, never, never.\\nMade the smallest, slight endeavor.\\nFor to sew our youthful ears up while we stoned\\nthe solemn frog.\\nDrove the water-snake to cover,\\nSearched for nests of snipe and plover,\\nOr we knee-deep waded in to catch the frisky\\npolliwog.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0038.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "DOWN- ALONG T?IE LITTLE BROOKLET.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0039.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0040.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 21\\nTinkle, tink, the cows were comin\\nThrough the dingle where the hummin\\nOf wild bees once give idea thet a bee-tree was\\nat hand\\nNeath the maples in the holler,\\nWhere one fall we earned a dollar,\\nDiggin ginseng where it flourished in the rich\\nand leafy sand.\\nThen it was a rainy Sunday,\\nSaturday er mebbe Monday,\\nWhen we donned our father s overcoat and\\nstarted down the lane\\nRuther likin the sensation,\\nKind o courtin approbation,\\nFur the feat of drivin cattle from the pastur in\\nthe rain.\\nAt the bars we stopped and listened,\\nW^hile each leaf and grass-blade glistened\\nWith the moisture that was tricklin from our\\nnose and chin and hair,\\nLittle ruther hoped we wouldn t,\\nAnd was better pleased we couldn t\\nHear the tinkle of the cowbell on the damp and\\nfoggy air.\\nFur what chances fur sight-seein\\nThere was double chance of bein\\nBears and painters, wolves and wild cats,\\ncrouchin neath the bushes dank.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0041.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "22 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nWhat if all the wild creation\\nHid there in the vegetation,\\nAnd would make one swoop upon us but our\\nspirit never shrank.\\nFur what glor ous pools of water,\\nThat we should not but we oughter,\\nWade right through to get the cattle at the fur\\nside of the lot;\\nAnd, then, what a splendid wettin\\nFell to us fur jes a-gettin\\nCattle round among the bushes where we knowed\\nthat they was not.\\nThen the cowbell s tinkle, tinkle\\nChanged our tactics in a twinkle.\\nAnd we rounded up the cattle in the most ap-\\nproved style,\\nAnd we started from the pastur\\nSplashin long a trifle faster,\\nLookin out fur bears and painters in the bushes\\nall the while.\\nWhy, of course, we didn t sight em,\\nSo we didn t have to fight em.\\nBut we tinkle, tinkle, tinkled to the barnyard with\\nthe kine.\\nVery wet and quite contented,\\nP haps to be well complimented.\\nAnd escape from further labor, which was very,\\nvery fine.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0042.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 23\\nSo, it seemed and kep a seemin\\nAs I lay there sweetly dreamin\\nWhile the cattle with their cowbell was a-tearin\\nat my corn.\\nFur I found out in the mornin\\nThat my cattle had ben cornin\\nWhile I had dreamed the sweetest dream I ve\\ndreamed sence I was born.\\nCOW TIME\\nCow time and in October, in the days of long ago.\\nCome, Shep, old fellow, hurry up; I think you re\\nvery_slow\\nBut then, too, I remember, I remember with a sigh,\\nThat you ve been dead for eighteen years and I,\\nalas well, I\\nAm older by a score of years than when we used to\\nroam\\nOut to the fallow pasture old to drive the cattle\\nhome.\\nSo, Shep, old dog, we ll go once more while mem ry\\nstill is bright;\\nWe ll take the path out through the woods and fetch\\nthe cows to-night.\\nHere, you, no nonsense Keep behind you fool,\\nwhere have you heard", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0043.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "24 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nThat shepherd dogs are swift enough to catch a yel-\\nlow bird\\nWhat, found a track? I guess you have a wood-\\nchuck s, I declare.\\nAh, here s his hole. Go for him, Shep We ll have\\nhim out of there.\\nWait, dog; stand back, right where you are; I ll\\nshow that chuck a trick.\\nStand back, I say, and wait a bit I ll poke him with\\na stick.\\nJab! jab! It s deep, that woodchuck hole; see how\\nit twists and bends.\\nOh there he runs I should have known some\\nchuck holes have two ends.\\nI m down no matter, get him, Shep He ran up on\\nthat knoll.\\nNo use, come back; just as I thought, he s got an-\\nother hole.\\nCome on. Hello I didn t know the burs were\\nopen yet.\\nLie down, old dog, I ll take a climb, there s chestnuts\\nhere to get,\\nA pocket full that s pretty good, I ve something\\nnow to chew.\\nYou w^ag your tail do you want some Do dogs\\nlike chestnuts, too?\\nWell, take a couple; now we ll go. Hi! there s a\\nsquirrel; now we", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0044.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 25\\nMust catch him. Pshaw He s got away up in\\na hemlock tree,\\nAnd we have lost him. Let him go. Now here s\\nthe pasture bars\\nYou find the cows and fetch em up, or we will see\\nthe stars\\nBefore we see the milking yard; it s plump a half\\na mile;\\nSo, sick em, Shep, and round em up and I will rest\\nme while\\nI eat this Seek-no-further and this Pippin that I\\nfound\\nOut in that pile of apples where they re lying on the\\nground.\\nAh, here you come. Have you them all? Here s\\nSpeckle, Spot and Jess,\\nOld Brownie, Molly, Lill and Dot, but not old bell\\ncow, Bess.\\nSo, sir, go back and find that cow; come, lively!\\nYou can tell\\nJust where she is, for she s the cow that wears the\\ncopper bell.\\nSome dogs know lots he won t be long. I hear the\\nbell, I think,\\nDown in the hollow by the spring where she has\\nstopped to drink.\\nThere, there! Don t run her; steady, now! Her\\nheels don t bite her nose.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0045.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "26 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nShe s through; just start them down the lane I ve\\ng-ot the bars to close\\nAnd then we ll drive em slowly home, and stop our\\ndreamy song,\\nFor driving cows is not for men, nor dogs that s\\ndead so long.\\nSAA/[ PURDY S HUSKIN BEE.\\nLate years most all huskin is done in the field.\\nOr by huskin machines, when markets and yield\\nWill warrant expense. It ain t often that we\\nAre asked to a reg lar old sort huskin bee\\nAnd a tickelder man I don t think could be found.\\nThan I was last week, when Sam Purdy come\\nround\\nAnd invited us down; for he d made up his mind\\nThat he d have a bee of the old-fashioned kind,\\nOn next We n sday night. Of course we all went.\\nOld-fashioneder evening I never have spent.\\nThe corn was all picked and piled on the barn floor,\\nFrom the lean-to on back to the big rollin door\\nAnd a seat had been fixed out of beehives and\\nplanks\\nAt the edge of the pile; while beyond the big bank\\nOf corn had been rigged out of boards a long bin.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0046.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 2/\\nThat after we stripped em the ears were thrown in.\\nSome forks, handle first, had been thrust in the hay\\nThat walled up the barn at the side of the bay.\\nAnd the pumpkins that stuck on the fork tines so\\nbright,\\nEach held up a candle to furnish us light.\\nIt was eight when the seat was well loaded with\\nmen,\\nBut they kept droppin in till between nine and ten\\nSo the husks piled behind us, and O, what a din\\nThe naked ears made as they fell in the bin\\nWhile we talked as we worked, of the weather and\\ncrops.\\nOf the price of potatoes and apples and hops.\\nOf politics, too, of free silver and gold\\nAnd Sam passed some hardware to keep out the\\ncold\\nWhich practice, at bees, some condemn as not right\\nBut most took a little and no one got tight.\\nAt leven, we finished and argered a while\\nThe number of bushels of ears in the pile\\nThree hundred and fifty! four hundred! said\\nsome.\\nIt wasn t decided when Purdy said, Come,\\nThe women are waitin to give us a bite.\\nThen we all follered him to the house where a light\\nWas placed in the woodshed, nearby to a tub\\nOf lukewarm soft water. A wash, and a rub", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0047.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "28 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nOn a towel, and we marched with the wilhngest\\nfeet\\nTo the long kitchen table, where all found a seat,\\nAnd made, like an army, a valiant attack\\nUpon the good victuals piled up like a stack.\\nThere was apple pie, pumpkin pie, cookies and cake.\\nCream cheese and corn bread of Mis Purdy s rare\\nmake,\\nBaked beans, mashed potatoes and juicy boiled ham.\\nHot biscuit and coffee and raspberry jam.\\nDid we make out a meal? Well, we did, as we\\nought.\\nThen adjourned to the woodshed, where Sam come\\nand brought\\nNew pipes and tobacker for such as would smoke.\\nThere, many a story and many a joke\\nWere told ere we bid ev rybody good-night,\\nAnd started away from the circle of light\\nToward our homes. I ll allow it s not much of\\na yarn,\\nBut years were lived over in Sam Purdy s barn.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0048.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 29\\nTHE FALL CRICKET.\\nSome evening, before the sweet languor of summer\\nHas once more succumbed to the cool breath of\\nfall\\nDown deep in the grasses and thick vines and bushes\\nHe chirps, and we hear his prophetical call.\\nThe summer is waning, he mournfully tells us,\\nThe roses and daisies are fading away\\nAlready the night laps its dusky wings over\\nThe hour that was yesterday part of the day.\\nTis coming, tis coming October is coming.\\nThe month of cool nights and bright sunny days,\\nOf many-hued forests, good cheer, autumn fulness,\\nTo close amid frost and sad, leaf-strown high-\\nways.\\nI m with you, I ll tarry, right under your window\\nYou ll hear my low voice with its metal-like ring,\\nTill bats, birds and insects, save me, have retreated\\nClear into November I ll merrily sing;\\nTake comfort, be merry, life has but one journey,\\nLive, love and be happy, bless God for your home,\\nClose doors and draw shades, snuggle up to the\\nfireside,\\nAnd hear my farewell, for my going has come.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0049.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "30 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nOUR THANKSGIVING.\\nBetsey and I have been nowheres we ve worked\\nall summer hard,\\nSo s I was lookin round one day and come across\\na card,\\nI said to Betsey, Now, look here, I think I heard\\nyou say\\nYou d kinder like to go somewhere on next Thanks-\\ngivin day;\\nI ve found the card that Chester left when they was\\nhere in June\\nAnd July and in August, and they said they hoped\\nthat soon\\nThey d have the chance to welcome us, when we d\\na-mind to come\\nTo visit them and see the sights around their city\\nhome.\\nWhen Cousin Chester s folks was here, I liked em\\nvery well,\\nAlthough his wife was pretty nice, and he was quite\\na swell\\nTwas funny, too, to see their girls, all drest in\\nsummer silk.\\nEach with her little silver cup a-taggin you for\\nmilk.\\nBut that was just their city way; they knew we\\ndidn t mind.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0050.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 3 1\\nAnd when we go to see them, we ll a rousing wel-\\ncome find.\\nNow I propose we hustle round and do up all our\\nwork,\\nAnd go and spend Thanksgiving with our cousins\\nin New York.\\nWell, Betsey quite agreed with me; that very day\\nI wrote\\nTo tell em we was comin on the We nesday even-\\ning boat.\\nI went down to Si Smith s that night to buy a butter\\npail.\\nSo thought I d post my letter when I stopped to get\\nmy mail.\\nThere was a letter there for me; New York, the\\npostmark said;\\nI opened it right there and then, and this is what\\nI read\\nDear Cousins If myself and wife and children\\nare alive,\\nWe ll reach Smithville railroad depot on Wednes-\\nday, half-past five.\\nPlease meet us at tlie station with wagon or with\\nsleigh,\\nFor we will come to see you and spend Thanks-\\ngiving day.\\nI didn t post my letter when I got through readin\\nthat,", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0051.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "32 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nFor the name wrote at the bottom was Chester A.\\nSurratt.\\nIf they was comin to our house, of course, we must\\nstay home\\nTo fix for em. Yes, Betsey was disappointed some\\nWhile she was gittin supper I thought I heard her\\nsigh,\\nAnd I m pretty certain that I saw a tear stand in\\nher eye.\\nBut Betsey s reputation as a hostess was at stake\\nThere were pies and cakes and puddings and other\\nthings to make;\\nShe d no time for disappointment or feelin down\\nand blue,\\nShe knew she had this work on hand, and she would\\ndo it, too.\\nWhen We nesday afternoon had come, long bout\\nhalf-past four.\\nShe took me to the butt ry and opened up the door.\\nWell, now I ve heard of groanin boards and\\ntables all my life.\\nBut butt ry shelves just laugh out loud when loaded\\nby my wife.\\nI can t tell you the things I saw when lookin at that\\nload,\\nI jumped into my wagon and started down the road,\\nFor to fetch home Cousin Chester, his wife and\\ndaughters three.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0052.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 33\\nThey was there, and home I fetched em all as happy\\nas could be.\\nWell, the next day was Thanksgiving, and we had\\nsuch a feast,\\nBut she that had prepared the spread enjoyed her-\\nself the least;\\nFor she had to wait on others, and when the feast\\nwas done.\\nAnd we went into the parlor then to have a little\\nfun,\\nDear Betsey wasn t with us, she must wash the\\ndishes all.\\nWhile Chester s daughter sung a song something\\nabout a ball.\\nWhat with washin up the dishes and fixin supper,\\ntoo,\\nBetsey s visitin minutes were pretty thin and few.\\nThe comp ny had a good time, though, they stayed\\ntill after ten.\\nThey asked us to come and see em, over and over\\nagain.\\nThey said they would come next summer, when\\nI saw em on the train;\\nThere wa n t any doubt about that, but I didn t\\nspeak so plain\\nBut told em we d expect em, and when the train\\nmoved on,\\nI s pose twas mean, but I was glad the company was\\ngone.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0053.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "34 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nTwas something after leven when I got into the\\nhouse,\\nMy wife was settin in a chair as still as any mouse.\\nWhen I set down she come and perched herself\\nupon my knee,\\nAnd then she done a thing she hain t since eighteen\\neighty-three.\\nShe cried for fifteen minutes, sobbin tenderly and\\nlow;\\nWhen I asked of the matter, she answered kinder\\nslow\\nI thought I hoped I wished so much and\\nthen she raised her head,\\nI think I knoiv I m very tired, I guess I ll go\\nto bed.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0054.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 35\\nAT NIGHT WHEN THE CHORES IS\\nDONE.\\nThere ain t much rest fur a farmer from spring\\nto end of summer\\nIf he keeps his work up snug and tight he s got to\\nbe a hummer.\\nHe ain t got time to set around and think of takin\\npleasure\\nWhen twelve to sixteen hours he gits of laber s\\nfullest measure.\\nBut along late in October when the leaves hev\\ntumbled down.\\nAn the woods an fields an hillsides are all turnin\\ndry and brown,\\nWhen his appetite is sure to be in keepin with the\\nseason.\\nAn calls fur roast pertaters, pork an pancakes out\\nof reason,\\nThen life is worth the livin for he s bound to hev\\nsome fun\\nWhen he knocks off work an goes th house, at\\nnight when the chores is done.\\nIn November when a feller is a-plowin ev ry day,\\nEr December when he s thrashin rye er drawin off\\nhis hay,\\nPerhaps, jest to accommodate, he helps a neighbor\\nkill,\\n4", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0055.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "36 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nEr drives ten miles to market, er takes some grain\\nto mill.\\nAt all events he s whackin round all day out in the\\ncold\\nThat s nuthin fur we re ust to it, we farmers young\\nand old.\\nTain t long hours that he s fraid of, an exposure\\nmakes him tough.\\nBut when the day draws toward its close, an wind\\ngits cold an rough.\\nHe surely is excusable fur lookin at the sun,\\nAn longin fur to git th house, at night when the\\nchores is done.\\nI tell you, when the cattle all hev been put in an\\nfed,\\nThe sheep shut up, an colts an horses from the\\nwater led.\\nAn stand in straw up to their knees, a-grindin\\ngrain and hay.\\nWhen do#rs are shut, to you has come the best part\\nof the day.\\nWhat care you fur the driftin snow when all is\\nsnug and warm?\\nYou set down by the kitchen fire an listen to the\\nstorm,\\nAn smell the sassage fryin the pretty cook s your\\nwife\\nAn wonder how it comes that some don t like a\\nfarmer s life", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0056.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 37\\nThen Johnnie wants to tell you what he learnt to\\nschool that day,\\nEr Jennie tells about her pullet that has just begun\\nto lay.\\nYou re delighted with their chatter an yer pleas-\\nure s just begun,\\nWhile yer waitin fur yer supper, at night when the\\nchores is done.\\nThe city man, fur all of me, can set around his\\nheater.\\nAn read by electricity er gaslight from a meter.\\nPerhaps he ll warm his slippered feet by steam in\\ncopper things.\\nAn figger on the currency his store or office brings,\\nBut as fur me, when, supper o er, I draw a little\\nnigher\\nUp to the stove and poke at it to git a better fire,\\nTaint strikes, er stocks, er panic times that ever\\nbothers me;\\nI read my weekly paper with my children on my\\nknee.\\nMy stocks is in my cellar an I m bound to have\\nsome fun\\nWhen I set down after supper, at night when the\\nchores is done.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0057.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "38 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nDAN S CELLAR AND MINE.\\nA TALE OF HARD TIMES.\\nI ve never seen such times, I growled; never, not\\nsence I was born.\\nHad a rompin crop of Lijun, but there ain t no sale\\nfur corn;\\nPlanted a lot o potaters got bout a third of a\\ncrop\\nThen fore I got em to market bang! they het to\\ngo an drop,\\nAlong with our rye, an buckwheat, an butter an\\neggs an oats.\\nAn our beef an pork. Now tell me the use of\\nus raisin shotes\\nAt four an a half a hundred, fur pork when the\\nhogs are fat,\\nEr fruit at fifty cents er less, the bar l throwed in\\nat that.\\nHay market s b en doin middlin well, an there\\nyou are again\\nI hadn t much hay on my place zvc suffered for\\nwant o rain\\nJes so I kep on a-frettin an lower my sperrits\\nsank.\\nTill I was a grunt-me-growley a regular hard-\\ntimes crank\\nTill I went one time to market twas a cold Decem-\\nber day", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0058.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 39\\nAn took along some apples an some eggs to pay\\nmy way.\\nMy eggs went quick; I sold em all, an begun to\\nlook around,\\nBut a man a-wantin apples wasn t quite so easy\\nfound.\\nStill, I hadn t many unsold toward night, when the\\nwind grew keen,\\nAn I fur home was pullin straight, when there on\\nthe street I seen\\nA man who once had lived our way out with us he\\nused to till\\nA farm, but he had moved to town to work into\\na mill.\\nHere, Dan, calls I, come, buy these Spitz, I\\nain t got but a few,\\nPretty nigh onto a bar l full, an I ll sell em cheap\\nto you.\\nDan come over to my wagon, from the sidewalk\\nwhere he stood\\nI noticed he had on old cloe s, and wasn t a-lookin\\ngood.\\nSays he, Ben, I d like them apples, fur we hain t\\na one at home.\\nBut I ain t got a cent to pay, an yer pay has got\\nto come.\\nI said, I ll wait till pay day, Dan. The poor\\nfeller give a smile,", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0059.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "40 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nAn said, Ben, if you wait fur that, you will haf\\nto wait awhile\\nThe mill shut down three months ago hard\\ntimes, so the owners said,\\nAn sence that time I ve done odd jobs almost\\nanything for bread.\\nSometimes we have it, then agin there isn t a single\\ncent\\nTo buy us bread an potaters, not to mention coal\\nan rent.\\nI felt that I must say somethin How s yer wife\\nan boys? says I.\\nWife is sick an children hungry, an poor Dan\\nbegun to cry.\\nGee mo nee! a cryin woman s bad enough, all\\nmen agree,\\nBut a cryin man s a settler; an his whimperin\\nsettled me,\\nYou git in here, Dan, I blubbered, show me to\\nthe house you rent.\\nHe got in, an sayin nothin round to DanTs house\\nwe went.\\nNow, says I, out with them apples, ketch the\\nbar l right by the chines\\nSo we did, an in that cellar I seen somethin like\\nhard times.\\nNothin absolutely nothin cept a half a loaf of\\nbread,", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0060.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 4^\\nP rhaps a dozen small potaters, an a piece of cab-\\nbage head.\\nWait, there zcas two sticks of kindlin an a peck\\ner so of coal\\nThat was ev rything- there was there, in that city\\ncellar hole.\\nI went home a-thinkin deeply, all that seven miles\\nof drive.\\nAn come mighty near concludin that the meanest\\nman alive\\nWas a-settin in my wagon. Here I d b en a growl-\\ning crank,\\nAn b en cnssin all creation, when I d every canse\\nto thank\\nThe good Lord fnr many blessin s. Well, I drove\\nin home all right.\\nAfter dark, bnt Jane was waitin fur to help me\\nwith a light,\\nAn when my team was blanketed, an was stabled\\nsafe and sound,\\nI took the light that Jane had brought, an I had\\na look around.\\nTen Jersey cows, all thoroughbred, was stanch-\\nioned in a row,\\nA pair of colts an twenty sheep was housed from\\nthe cold an snow.\\nAn while my mows wan t like some years, jest\\na-bilin over full,\\nI didn t lack fur feed enough, hay, grain and stalks\\nto pull", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0061.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "42 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nMy live stock through till pasture come; with a\\nchance of some to sell.\\nThen, havin seen to ev rything, an findin that all\\nwas well,\\nI made a break for my supper, passin as I went\\nalong,\\nMy chicken house full of Leg orns, full a hundred\\npullets strong,\\nA. pigpen an a crib of corn, the same that I couldn t\\nsell\\nLast fall I didn t care that night, I thought it was\\njust as well;\\nAn last a smokehouse full of meat smoke came\\nfrom every vent\\nAs I walked past to the kitchen, and down in the\\ncellar went.\\nI took an inventory quick of my cellar standin\\nthere.\\nI d seen a hard times cellar, mind, that day, an I\\ndeclare\\nI didn t know we had so much nor where we had\\ngot it all.\\nWe hadn t stocked our cellar up no more n we d\\nany fall,\\nBut there was bar ls of apples, maybe twenty, one\\nof pork,\\nA dozen of fine potaters an to see the women s\\nwork\\nWhy, that swing shelf in our cellar was jes loaded\\nwith canned fruit", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0062.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 43\\nWe had four big- jars of butter, an a great cream\\ncheese to boot.\\nAnd I I come right out o there, fur I couldn t\\nstand no more.\\nWhat right had I old grumble-put to be hoardin\\nup a store\\nWhile folks in the towns was starvin O, my\\nhead w^as all a-buzz\\nI thought I knowed, but I didn t realize what hard\\ntimes wuz.\\nWe farmers ain t got the money that we had some\\nyears ago,\\nWe can t spread ourselves so muchly, w^e can t make\\nquite so much show;\\nBut there s one thing we arc sure of a good livin\\nthat is it\\nThe thing we all strive an work for that s all the\\nbest of us git.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0063.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "44 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nCOLD, AIN T IT?\\nThe morning was a cold one, that I knew beyond\\na doubt,\\nSo I made my preparations before I started out;\\nPut on my warmest ulster and turned up its collar\\nrare,\\nThen in overshoes and mittens sought the keen and\\nfrosty air.\\nFirst I met was Uncle Dan l, man of color, old and\\ngrave,\\nAnd he greeted me politely; then this information\\ngave\\nCold, ain t it?\\nThen came Jenkins he s a farmer, riding on a load\\nof hay,\\nSwath d in felts and shawls and mufflers, yet he\\nfound a voice to say\\nCold, ain t it?\\nPretty little widow Collyer, going up to Smith s\\nfor milk,\\nPaused just long enough to murmur from beneath\\nher hood of silk\\nCold, ain t it?\\nThe stamp clerk, from his window, gave to me a\\npleasant smile.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0064.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 45\\nAs he handed me my letter, piping out in parrot\\nstyle\\nCold, ain t it?\\nMy barber, while he shaved me, my groc ry keeper,\\ntoo,\\nIndeed, ev ry one that knew me kept the fact held\\nup to view\\nCold, ain t it?\\nSoon I began to ponder and discovered with sur-\\nprise\\nThat my neighbors must be thinking me all foolish,\\nor all wise,\\nWith their\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Cold, ain t it?\\nWhy! I knew beyond denial that it was a frosty\\nday,\\nBut they must have thought I didn t when they\\nhastened all to say\\nCold, ain t it?\\nStill they recognized my wisdom and the knowledge\\nI had got,\\nWhen they told me it was frosty and then asked me\\nif twas not,\\nWith their\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Cold, ain t it?", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0065.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "46 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nBOUT TAX TIME.\\nLong about first of Feb ry, er before, there comes\\na spell\\nWhen the farmers round here begin to hustle; you\\nc n tell\\nThen who s forehanded, fur ev ry one of us want\\nsome cash,\\nAn there ain t very many farmers but what feel\\nthe lash\\nOf poverty bout Tax Time.\\nOf course, there s some fellers, pretty well fixed,\\ndon t mind the drain\\nBut they re pretty mid lin sca ce that ain t obliged\\nto strain\\nThemselves jest a little, when the collector comes\\naround\\nThere ain t any puttin the thing ofif, the money\\nmust be found,\\nTo settle with bout Tax Time.\\nSome of us have a habit of haulin out wood to sell\\nSome put up pigs er beef critters an feed em pretty\\nwell.\\nAn turn em into money along with some oats er\\nhay\\nI tell you the road to market s hot, jest before the\\nday\\nWe must git there bout Tax Time.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0066.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 47\\nI know it s all well an right we d ought to pay our\\nshare\\nTow rds keepin things a-runnin but I sometimes\\nwonder where\\nThe mortga^ hide their money bags so s not to\\npay no tax,\\nWhile mortgao-or^- most haf to sell the coats from\\noff their backs\\nTo raise the wind bout Tax Time.\\nSeems when a man pays int rest, an that s what\\nmost of us do,\\nHe d ought to be protected from payin all taxes,\\ntoo;\\nI don t see how we re to mend it, maybe the future\\nwill,\\nBut I think the future ll find us hustlin for money\\nstill,\\nFor collectors bout Tax Time.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0067.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "48 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nPUZZLED.\\nFeb ry second s long been set apart\\nEz a sort of breathin place, to start\\nHavin more winter, er havin less,\\nThat all depends an I must confess\\nTo its puzzlin me.\\nIs it Candlemas, that second day,\\nEr jes Calamuss I ve heard folks say\\nThe word both ways, so I never know,\\nAn tween the two I blunderin go.\\nFur they puzzle me.\\nOn Cal? Candlemas, sojiie beast comes out\\nOf his winter hole to gaze about.\\nE he sees his shadder, the story old\\nSays Back he goes from frost an cold.\\nIt don t puzzle him.\\nIf the day should be cloudy, then he\\nIs jes as happy as he c n be\\nEur winter s over; the snow will melt,\\nN he ll fill that vacume neath his pelt;\\nThat s puzzlin him.\\nNow, I ruther hold the brute s a bear\\nThere s them says woodchuck\\nI don t care", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0068.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 49\\nMaybe he is. Which? I don t know.\\nVery much further n that I can t go,\\nFur it puzzles me.\\nAnother base fur dispute I ve found\\nHow many times does the beast turn round,\\nFore he views the sun? Some say leven.\\nOthers contend it s only seven.\\nAn that puzzles me.\\nHe never moves till eggsactly noon;\\nOne minute before would be too soon.\\nDoes he know that noon on Plymouth rock,\\nAt the Golden Gate, means nine o clock\\nDon t that puzzle him?\\nDid he see his shadder, Saturday?\\nHe did, an didn t, I heard em say\\nIf twas seen in Troy, an not in Maine,\\nThe first U have frost, the latter rain.\\nFur to puzzle em.\\nThey ll be plantin in Ontario,\\nWhile Jersey stan s to her neck in snow.\\nDakota will have her sowin done\\nFore the ice-bound streams of Ohio run;\\nWoh t that puzzle em?\\nThere s compensation; the brute is old;\\nSome day he will ketch his death of cold.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0069.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "50 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nWe ll block his hole so he can t git out\\nTo see what the Feb ry sun s about;\\nThat will puzzle him.\\nTHE WEATHER PROPHETS.\\nRound the stove at the village store\\nOn a chilly night, sat half a score\\nOf friends and neighbors they were all\\nTillers of soil from spring to fall,\\nAll interested in every way\\nIn the current markets of the day,\\nIn butter and cheese, and wheat and oats,\\nIn fat ning cattle and wint ring shotes.\\nAll anxious to hear of the price of rye,\\nAll praying for rain for the ground was dry.\\nAll elderly men were they, and wise\\nIn studying signs in earth and skies,\\nOf coming storm or lasting drouth,\\nAnd these are the ways they found them out:\\nA storm is comin said Mr. White,\\nFor the black on the kettle burnt to-night.\\nA storm is brewin cried Mr. Green,\\nFor this unfailin sign I ve seen\\nMy pigs have been makin nests of hay.\\nAnd fixin things for a rainy day.\\nAnd I, chimed in good Deacon Wright,", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0070.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. $1\\nI heard my roosters crow las night;\\nI told Jane Ann twould surely blow,\\nEr rain, er hail, er maybe snow.\\nThere is no doubt, spoke up Squire Brown,\\nFor s I was comin home from town.\\nThe dust kep rollin toward the right,\\nInstid of left that tells a sight\\nAbout a storm that s comin soon.\\nSaid Jabez Smith, To-night s new moon\\nS a wet one. Yes, broke in a friend;\\nTis all of that; stands on its end;\\nIt can t hold water twill run out\\nUpon the earth without a doubt.\\nMy dog e t grass, observed John Spoon.\\nSome one had heard a screaming loon\\nAnd squaking goose. All did their share\\nTo coax the storm from out its lair.\\nThe storm must come, what could prevent?\\nTwas pass d upon without dissent\\nBy one and all before their flight\\nTo diff rent homes to spend the night.\\nThe morning came all bright and warm.\\nWithout a semblance of a storm\\nFair weather held for full a week,\\nAnd if one to the seers would speak,\\nThe seer w^ould say without a smile,\\nIt will be dry yet for awhile\\nThat storm twas comin You git out\\nThe best of signs fail in a drouth.\\n5", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0071.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "52 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nSOMEWHAT SELFISH.\\nMe and my comfort ain t the hull thing. Fll own\\nright up to that.\\nOther fellers don t like the clo es I wear, others\\ndon t like my hat,\\nAn there s some that take exception to the way I\\ndress my feet.\\nThe mixed tobacker that I smoke, an the things\\nI like to eat.\\nMost folks like a kind o weather, nigh all of em\\nlikes it fair\\nNot too hot, but sort o coolish, with a gently stirrin\\nair.\\nAs fur me I like all weather, come it cold, come\\nwet, come warm;\\nBut fur downright keen enjoyment, jes give me\\na blizzard storm.\\nI s pose I m kind o selfish, an out o the general\\nrun,\\nFur there s lots of men that don t regard a blizzard\\nas much fun,\\nNer I don t believe I would myself, that is, if I was\\nout,\\nAn was tired, an cold, an hungry, an was drivin\\nwith about\\nTen miles of road before me. No, them ain t the\\ntimes that strike\\nMe as so very joyous. But I ll tell you what I like", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0072.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 53\\nIt s to keep watch of the weather when we ve got\\na foot er so\\nOf snow that s dry and dusty to begin to see it go,\\nSort o curhn off the corners of the barn roof, an\\nthe trees.\\nWhen the wand that s shifted to the west ain t much\\nmore than a breeze,\\nBut increasin ev ry minute, tiU the air is full of\\nsnow,\\nPilin up in sheltered places, makin mount ins in\\na row\\nThrowin fences, tossin branches, roarin tearin\\nridin high,\\nMostobliteratin landscapes, flyin mad acrostthe sky,\\nRattlin doors an shakin shutters, searchin crev-\\nices an cracks,\\nDrivin sheep aroiuid the straw stack, lodgin on\\nthe cattle s backs.\\nThen we muffle up an stagger through the snow\\nbanks, gainst the wind,\\nGaspin strugglin hustlin bustlin out o breath\\nan almost blind.\\nTill we reach the shelt rin stable, time fur chores\\nan almost night.\\nStable, feed an shake dow^i beddin see that all is\\nsnug an tight.\\nThen to house, an easy matter, fur the wind is on\\nour backs,\\nBreakin paths fur Mr. Blizzard long has covered\\nup our tracks.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0073.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "54 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nNow a visit to the pigpen, pail o water, box o\\nwood\\nThen begins the very minute that a bhzzard does\\nme good.\\nFur I set before the stove hearth, comfortable, snug\\nan warm,\\nHeark nin to the moanin chimbley, listenin to the\\nhowlin storm.\\nSomewhat selfish? Yes, I know it, so is ev ry man\\nyou strike.\\nSome men don t enjoy a blizzard, neither are all\\nmen alike.\\nTIME TO QUIT.\\nI zvas considered sonic on prophesyin weather\\nJes give me one sweepin look I could tell whether\\nIt would rain er snow, accordin to the season,\\nAn I never made perdictions thout a reason.\\nCome a lemon-colored sundown aiged with\\nsam un\\nCall it weather-wisdom, instinct, call it gammon,\\nEz you please said, Ol Mister West is comin\\nAn he always did, an set all things a-hummin\\nBut I ve quit.\\nRed sunrises was another special feature;\\nAn if I do say it, there wa n t a creature", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0074.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 55\\nLivin and breathin as could beat me seein rings\\nAround the sun er moon sundogs an such like\\nthings.\\nWhen watchin on Can lmas day, I spec ly shone;\\nFur careless ones never d notice, an I alone\\nHed the honor of tellin if the bear come out,\\nAn went back in his hole, er kep stay in about.\\nBut I ve quit.\\nWhen it come to readin hogs melts, T was there,\\ndepend\\nThin, thick er bulgin, at one er the other end.\\nOne kin foretell sights o weather when he s killin\\nhogs.\\nAlmost as much as watchin Feb uary fogs\\nWhich means but there, I ve said that I would\\nnever\\nPerdict ag in. that once was thought so clever\\nBy all of my friends an neighbors an by myself,\\nHes jes gone out o bizness, an crawled onto the\\nshelf^\\nFur I ve quit.\\nLookouts a-givin cries, er s wallers fly in low.\\nWhite-coated snowbirds round, fetchin a storm of\\nsnow.\\nSmoke a-fallin down, the same as a lump o lead.\\nPigs a-carryin straws to make a stormy bed.\\nMare tails crossin the sky, thunder heads in the\\nwest.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0075.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "56 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nWhite frosts an holler air they all kin take a rest.\\nFolks lies got out o me all the weather they ll git.\\nMebbe they ll come ask me I won t let up a bit.\\nFur I ve quit.\\nFve quit because the newspapers are publishin each\\nday\\nWhat they ve heard some dude in Washin ton er\\nPhiladelphy say;\\nTo wit: High winds will rage to-day on the\\nPacific coast,\\nIn Canady they ll shiver, an in Floridy they ll\\nroast\\nThey s an airie of low pressure along the Yaller-\\nstone.\\nOf all the States, twill rain in Injeanny jes alone.\\nDrouth continues in Kintuckey, an in Maine the\\npressure s high,\\nTwill be cool in Minnesota, an the Gulf States will\\nbe dry.\\nYes, I ve quit.\\nSo what s the use of tryin to be keen an weather-\\nwise.\\nAn studyin fur nothin tall, the earth, the air an\\nskies.\\nWhen folks git their patent weather in the papers\\nev ry day.\\nWhy, I ve heard em right afore me, talkin to each\\nother, say,\\nUncle Eben isn t in it prophesyin any more;", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0076.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 57\\nGit yer weather from the papers er the notice at the\\nstore.\\nThen I turn away in sorrow, but there s one thought\\ndoes me good\\nA prophet s seldom honored in his native neighbor-\\nhood.\\nSo he quits.\\nTHE LUNACY OF CYRUS KENT.\\nIt must have ben twenty years ago sence Sam Black\\nsez to me\\nCy Kent is a-gittin crazy. No! Well,\\nthat he is/ sez he.\\nHe s went an gone right off his head. Why,\\nwhat hes he done? sez I.\\nDone tain t no one but a crazy man twould ever\\ngo an buy\\nTwo hundred of young, sour churry trees, an set\\nem out in rows\\nUp onto that stony ridge of his where nothin ever\\ngrows\\nExceptin some quack an Johns w^ort, boss sorrel\\nan golden-rod\\nBut here this ere precious lunatic s ben tearin up\\nthe sod\\nAn plantin it out to churries; it s a notion that\\nhe s got,", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0077.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "58 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nAn he ll foller out his notion to his ruin, like as\\nnot;\\nFur black knot an cat-a-pillers, an them worms\\nthat eats up fruit,\\nWill take in his little churry trees an Cy Kent s\\ncash to boot.\\nNer it wasn t only Black alone who lowed that\\nKent was rash,\\nFur we all lived on an waited fur to see him go to\\nsmash.\\nBut never a bit would that Kent smash, as we all\\nthought he would,\\nTho each of us argered with him fur to show him\\nwhere he stood.\\nBut he still kep on a-plantin apples, churries,\\nplums an pears;\\nJes a-mindin his own bizness, tendin to his own\\naffairs,\\nWhich was diggin prunin trimmin Seemed his\\nwork was never done,\\nFur he went to fertilizin an with somethin like\\na gun\\nWas a-squirtin pizened water, which he said would\\nkill the bugs,\\nCurculiars, cat-a-pillers, animalculers and slugs\\nBut when he got round to Fungies, in a confi-\\ndenshall tone,\\nThen it was too much. We fled an left that lunatic\\nalone.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0078.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 59\\nWhich we ve ben a-doin sence then, fur we couldn t\\nsee the sense\\nOf his buyin bone an potash, an his goin to ex-\\npense,\\nDoin somethin that his father ner his neighbors\\nnever done;\\nBut this mild lunatic worked on an let us have our\\nfun.\\nWell, of late years it s ben whispered that Kent\\nwasn t crazy quite;\\nThat of churries, pears an apples he was selhn of\\na sight.\\nAn we met him joggin homeward summer evenin s\\non the road,\\nWith a stack of empty baskets after marketin a\\nload.\\nFur he hed a load to market purty nearly ev ry day,\\nAn it wasn t very long before the folks begun to\\nsay:\\nCy Kent is a-gittin wealthy, so he is, now, did\\nyou hear?\\nWhy, his income from his orchards is two thousand\\nevery year.\\nGreat Scott! Yes, sir, let me tell you what\\nI heard ol Sam Black say\\nThat Kent could draw his check fur twenty thou-\\nsand any day.\\nAn that same ol meddlin rascal d used his neigh-\\nbors fur a tool", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0079.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "6o SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nTo advertise fur fifteen years that Cy Kent fur a\\nfool;\\nAn now, sence Cy hes got there with his brains\\nan by his phick,\\nThis same ol Black goes a-tellin round it s only\\nCy Kent s luck.\\nOLD JIM.\\nWhat! that old black horse in the corner stall,\\nknock him in the head, you say?\\nNo! no! Old Jim s too good a beast to find his\\nend that way.\\nAin t wuth his keep? Well, I know that, hain t\\nben fur cjuite a space,\\nBut as long s I ve got a stable floor, Old Jim shall\\nhave a place;\\nThere s Dolly an Fan an Dandy, Duke an Dapple\\nan Bess,\\nGood beasts as there is around here, an a little\\nbetter, I guess.\\nYet with all their glossy beauty, deep flanks an\\nstrength of limb.\\nThey don t come up to what he was, that rack\\no bones. Old Jim.\\nIt s twenty years an over sence I put him to the\\nplow", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0080.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 6l\\nLet s see, twas back in 69; he s five and twenty\\nnow.\\nIt wa n t no trouble to break him, he was so good\\nan kind,\\nBut at runnin an trottin an puhin his hke was\\nhard to find.\\nToo good a horse, folks said he was, to always stay\\nto home,\\nSo when he was six years old, I think, we tended\\nfair at Rome.\\nI entered him in the forty class fur farmers\\nhorses there,\\nAn he won the purse in thirty-eight, trottin it\\nfair an square.\\nI could ave had big money then, the sports all\\nwanted him,\\nBut twa n t no use to talk to me, I wouldn t part\\nwith Jim.\\nNever was sick in his life, was Jim, always ready to\\nwork,\\nKep up his end of the whipple-trees, never was\\nknown to shirk,\\nDraw anything that had two ends he d try it any-\\nhow\\nFrom a cord an a half of hic ry wood, down to\\na subsoil plow.\\nD ye think I d cast him off now, now that he s had\\nhis day?", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0081.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "62 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nAn Stands there old an feeble, not a tooth to grind\\nhis hay?\\nNot much Here, Sam, give Jim a mash of that\\nground oats an rye,\\nBring in a pail o water and see if the critter s dry.\\nWhen I lift my hand to kill that horse, grown old\\nan almost blind.\\nIt ll be when I don t know nothin er when I ve lost\\nmy mind.\\nTHIS ERE BROWN.\\nOn ct, to a sheriff s sale of farm lands, there come\\ndown\\nFrom back of Chuckamickmuck mount in this ere\\nBrown.\\nA gandershankeder feller I hev never seen\\nNer won t; fur he was humbly-lookin young an\\ngreen.\\nTall, awk ard, bashful, shamblin jest a perfec\\nclown.\\nWas this ere Brown.\\nHe d hed a little money left him so they said,\\nAn was burnin to invest it, every red,\\nIn farmin land; which give the vandue master so\\nmuch joy,", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0082.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 63\\nHe clum quick knocked down ninety acres to the\\nboy,\\nWho, fishin out his wahet, with the cash come\\ndown,\\nCome this ere Brown.\\nThe first spring on there he done nothin cept to\\ntake\\nDown ah the ole stone wahs an fences, an to break\\nThe groun each side em fur some twenty feet er so,\\nRootin it up with oxen ev ry thing hed to go.\\nWeeds, vines, brake-roots an bushes dassent show\\na crown\\nTo this ere Brown.\\nDown along the main crick Brown hed a pastur lot\\nLaid to bogs an willers, with here and there a spot\\nWhere pollywogs an lizards, mud turkles an frogs,\\nSwaim round in the water, er sot on rotten logs,\\nPeepin pipin croakin Knee deep an You\\ngo roun\\nAt this ere Brown\\nWho showed to them amphibyans a little trick,\\nBy dreenin off the stagnant water to the crick\\nThen out he yanked them willers with his big ox\\nteam,\\nAn in he socked his subsoil plow up to the beam,\\nAn tore up twenty acres of that jet black groun\\nDid this ere Brown.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0083.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "64 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nNext year he sot out caullyflower an cabbage there,\\nAnd sowed white onion seed then, havin some land\\nto spare.\\nHe planted it to celery cared well fur all\\nAn when he come to harvest it, long in the fall.\\nHe smiled, ner crossed his sunburnt phiz a single\\nfrown\\nSmiled this ere Brown.\\nAs smile he quite well might, fur out of that ere lot,\\nHe hauled two thousand dollars wuth; that s what\\nhe got\\nFur knowin somethin while us fellers all round\\nhere\\nHedn t done nothin tall, cept to laff an jeer\\nAt the book-an -rule farmer that we thought we d\\nfoun\\nIn this ere Brown.\\nThere ain t no use of talkin bout this Brown no\\nmore.\\nIn land he s got of acres mor n twenty score.\\nHe cultivates it all, an cultivates it well,\\nTho bout how much he s wuth, we can t none of us\\ntell.\\nHis house an buildin s air the best fur miles\\naroun\\nAll built by Brown.\\nHe ain t so dum alfired green an bashful now,\\nNer awk ard neither he s got over that somehow-", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0084.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 65\\nBen supervise!;, an s assemblyman this year.\\nSay, now, ain t it funny things wih come out so\\nqueer\\nWhy, he s married to the hkehest gal in town,\\nIs this ere Brown.\\nA FELLER THAT I KNOW.\\nJes an ordinary mortal is this feller that I know,\\nNeither young ner old, but middlin -like, that is,\\nas ages go.\\nAin t many d call him han some, neither is he\\nhumbly, cjuite,\\nAv rige nose, eyes, an complexion, stands up to the\\nav rige hight.\\nBut he s got a simple habit, not a common habit\\nthough.\\nThat sets him off from most of men this feller\\nthat I know.\\nHe dresses same as others do, he eats an sleeps an\\nworks\\nI s pose within his bosom, too, old human natur\\nlurks.\\nHe has habits ordinary, jes like ordinary folks.\\nHe ain t a tee-to-tal-er, an his friends all know he\\nsmokes.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0085.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "66 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nBut he s got a simple habit, not a common habit\\nthough,\\nThat sets him off from most of men this feller\\nthat I know.\\nHe s no rabid polititian, an fur church he s ruther\\nslack.\\nHe s not eloquent ner learn-ed, an he hasn t got the\\nknack\\nOf displayin of his knowledge, er the sperience he s\\ngot\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nHe d git himself all twisted, ef he tried to, like as\\nnot.\\nBut he s got a simple habit, not a common habit\\nthough,\\nThat sets him off from most of men this feller that\\nI know.\\nHe ain t no tumblin acrobat, ner neither can he\\nsing,\\nNer fight, ner jump, ner rassle, ner do any such\\nold thing.\\nCan t row, ner shoot, ner swim, ner skate, no\\nbetter n lots o men.\\nNow what is his spesh-al-i-ty his habit? Yes\\nwell, then,\\nHis habit is to pay his debts, an mind his biz-\\nness. O,\\nI most furgot He keeps his word this feller that\\nI know.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0086.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 6j\\nWHERE STOOD THE WHY.\\nA STRANGER, driving through a country grand,\\nSat in his cart and hstened while a fanner of the\\nland\\nHeld forth upon the beauty of each vale,\\nHight, plain and sloping hillside, garnishing his\\nglowing tale\\nWith lengthy dissertations on the soil,\\nWhich ev ry year repaid a hundredfold the farmer s\\ntoil;\\nBut bitterly complained of how the boys\\nTurned cityw^ards and there forgot their rustic lives\\nand joys.\\nThese farms, said he, are fertile, ev ry one;\\nAnd warm; see how they re gently tilted toward\\nthe rising sun.\\nThere s scarce a field but has a living spring.\\nSo needful for our cattle; and another helpful-\\nthing\\nWe dig but thirty feet here to secure\\nThe best of all well water, tasteless, sparkling, cold\\nand pure.\\nAnd as to health, we don t die hereabout:\\nWe just stay in the harness till we slip away worn-\\nout.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0087.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "68 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nAh, yes we ve many blessings when one sees\\nOur fields of grain and clover, and our rows of\\norchard trees,\\nOur houses, modern style, of brick or wood,\\nOur w^ell-filled barns and gran ries, and our stables\\nwarm and good,\\nOur snug-built pigsties, safe from chilling breeze,\\nOur sheep pens and our henroosts that are never\\nknown to freeze\\nOne wonders why our lads don t settle down.\\nAnd stay at home, instead of wand ring off to live\\nin town.\\nThe stranger raised his head and made reply\\nYours is a beauteous land, he said, none will\\ndeny\\nThat wealth and rural thrift doth here abound.\\nExcuse me when I ask what is the building that\\nI found\\nDown here a mile or so, where two roads meet;\\nA hovel squat and awkward, weather-beaten, incom-\\nplete,\\nWith loosened shingles, clapboards all awry,\\nUnpainted, dirty, broken windows, toppling chim-\\nney high\\nThe schoolhouse the astonished farmer cried.\\nKnow, then, good sir, that since long years ago\\nwe ve always tried\\nOur hand at thrift. We have hired teachers cheap;", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0088.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 69\\nWho ve taught and cut their firewood, built the\\nfires and had to sweep.\\nOf course, some claim the teaching has been lax.\\nBut this virtue has cheap teachers they help keep\\ndown the tax.\\nThere s those would like to see a palace there;\\nWith patent seats for scholars and a cushioned\\nteacher s chair.\\nCharts, maps and globes, and all such folderol\\nFloors all of North Car lina pine, slate blackboards\\non the wall,\\nA furnace and a ventilator slick,\\nNew books, to the exclusion of Daboll s arithmetic.\\nA normal teacher, too, they would bring here.\\nTo take five hundred dollars from our pockets ev ry\\nyear.\\nBut it won t work; we soon vote down such stuff;\\nWhere parents got their learning is for children\\ngood enough.\\nThe stranger gathered up his reins and went.\\nBut first he turned and toward the wondering\\nfarmer bent\\nMy friend, he said, my words intend no harm.\\nBut at the cross-roads stands the why your sons\\nall leave the farm.\\nDaboll s arithmetic was introduced into the schools of New\\nYork State about 1825 its use was almost universal for a quarter\\nof a century.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0089.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "yO SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nA CONSERVATIVE.\\nHis wife said that Jones was conservative,\\nAnd I think he was; at least I wih give\\nTo Jones the l:)enefit of ev ry donbt,\\nAnd every trick of tongne, to help him ont,\\nAnd say when men his memory revile,\\nO! speak not thus of him, it was his style;\\nHe was conservative.\\nHe tilled his acres with the poorest tools,\\nHe took no weekly paper; and the schools\\nWonld all have closed conld he but had his way,\\nThe buildings gone to wreck. It doesn t pay,\\nHe said, to cram the children s heads with stuff.\\nIf they can read and write, why, that s enough.\\nO, thought conservative\\nWhat tho to save had always been his bent.\\nWhat tho he scraped and grasped for ev ry cent,\\nNot always caring for the wrong or right\\nSo long as gold or silver was in sight.\\nWhat mattered it to him what men might say\\nAbout, or to him this was e er his way\\nHe was conservative.\\nHe worked his wife to- death, indoors and out;\\nShe was a mortgage lifter, there s no doubt.\\nThen Jones worked on alone, bewailing fate", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0090.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 7I\\nThat had deprived him of a running mate.\\nTill finally there came the fatal hlow\\nIn innovations he h lieved not, you know,\\nBeing conservative.\\nThe roads must be improved, somebody said.\\nThe roads, cried Jones, why, sir, you re mad!\\nThe, roads is good enough jest as they air;\\nTo fix em we ve got sods an dirt to spare.\\nMy father and gran father drove afore.\\nAnd I, till now, and I can drive em more,\\nTm so conservative.\\nSuch tax, if laid, would be a perfect steal\\nIn int rest of the dude that rides a wheel.\\nA benefit! no tain t, that s what I say;\\nWe ain t a-gettin nothin fur our hay.\\nAnd jist suppose we could draw bigger loads,\\nMore hay won t grow because we ve got good\\nroads\\nIt s too conservative.\\nIn spite of all that Neighbor Jones could do.\\nThe roads were rounded up, stone-surfaced too;\\nThe farmers drew their loads of grain that way,\\nThe roads were lined with wheels and luiggies\\ngay.\\nLand owners paid their tax, well satisfied.\\nAnd Jones paid his; then went to bed and died\\nAn act conservative.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0091.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "72 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nSAM ROBBINS AA/[BITION.\\nThere were leaks in Sam Robbins shingles,\\nHis fences were tumbling down;\\nHis cattle zvould break to his neighbor s corn\\nWhile their owner was in town.\\nThe weeds in this farmer s small garden patch\\nGrew histy and thick and tall\\nHe cared for his plow in the furrow, where\\nTwas used the previous fall.\\nFor lack of a plank in his stable floor,\\nA colt broke a leg in there.\\nWhile an unused well with the cover off\\nCost the life of a likely mare.\\nThere were dogs he kept, of a mongrel breed.\\nSheep lived on a nearby hill\\nSome were killed one night; Robbins dogs did that\\nAnd Samuel paid the bill.\\nIn the kitchen stove Sam s wife burned wood,\\nAnd she always burned it green.\\nTwas a common sight, so his neighbors say,\\nFor the woman to be seen\\nCutting basswood logs with an old dull axe,\\nThat she might prepare a meal.\\nOr lugging sour milk to the hog-house yard,\\nTo shut off a hungry squeal.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0092.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMEiS. 73\\nNow Samuel was a man of sense,\\nHe was quite far from a fool;\\nHe could talk on politics by the hour\\nAnd knew how to run the school.\\nYet his obdurate farm never paid him,\\nTwas always too wet or too dry\\nOn his soil, while his neighbors were working.\\nAnd that was his good reason why\\nHis grass was so spindling and weedy.\\nHis potatoes hard to find.\\nHis spring sowing lacking in grain and straw.\\nHis corn of the yellow kind.\\nWell, Mis Robbins died early, of mortgage,\\nAnd the sheriff took Sam s land,\\nFor he d ever kept his ambition down\\nBelow what his frame could stand.\\nUNDER THE CHURCH SHED.\\nMeeting is out, and from the wide church door\\nThe fathers of the congregation pour;\\nTheir minds with orthodoxy have been fed.\\nThey ve done their duty; now unto the shed\\nWhere stand the patient horses sheltered warm\\nFrom autumn s crackling blast, or winter s storm.\\nThey take their way, a pleasant hour to spend\\nIn neighborly discussion, friend to friend,", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0093.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "74 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nWhile waiting; for it is a goodly rule\\nThat wives and children in the Sabbath school\\nShould spend a helpful hour; but as for men,\\nThey ve conned those Scripture lessons time again;\\nTheir steps from duty never will be led,\\nAnd inclination leads them to the shed.\\nHands that have often met return a clasp,\\nA hearty greeting given with each grasp,\\nAnd though the day is sacred, thoughts will stray\\nInto the channels of the working day.\\nThey stand, they sit in wagons, whittle, smoke.\\nAnd e en sometimes is heard a week-day joke;\\nWhile chat of markets and of growing crops.\\nOf yield of rye or barley, corn or hops\\nIs welcome to each man assembled there.\\nAnd each contributes to the chat his share;\\nFor though they gave the sermon full regard,\\nE en making good resolves when facts hit hard,\\nBut, while they believed each word the preacher\\nsaid.\\nHe talked in church, whilst they are at the shed.\\nThere s talk of weather and of roads to fix.\\nThere s just a word or two of politics;\\nTis told when Smith will raise his barn so great\\nA close one mourns about the school-tax rate.\\nMen speak of Brown s young horses how they re\\nbroke.\\nAnd ask about the sick and aged folk.\\nThe church needs paint, they figure on the cost.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0094.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 75\\nBut pause to learn about a colt that s lost,\\nAnd of Simm s luck he found a swarm of bees\\nWhile hunting coons among his sugar trees.\\nAnd then great int rest on some fallow ground\\nClose by, potatoes grow that weigh a pound\\nWhile as for threshing, those who have it done\\nSay oats are yielding seventeen to one.\\nThe hour speeds by. Boom goes the ancient\\nbell;\\nThere s backing out of horses, and as well\\nThere is a rustling sound inside the door\\nWhich opens soon; the Sabbath school is o er.\\nFair children, sisters, mothers, wives devout\\nAre filling up the door and pressing out.\\nDust cloaks are donned, protecting sunshades\\nspread.\\nInquiries made and cheery greetings said;\\nThe string of wagons move, a moment s wait;\\nThe first receives its load of human freight;\\nEach in its turn now drives up to the block\\nTow^ard which the comely dames and damsels flock\\nThe minister with smiling face is standing nigh\\nTo bid each home-bound wagon load good-by.\\nSoon all are gone, o er hills and dales are sped\\nDeserted is the church, the yard, the shed.\\nIf these have broken Sabbath chatting here,\\nThen they are sinning fifty times a year.\\nAnd think no harm. We will let others say.\\nIf any know, if they abuse the da3\\\\", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0095.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "y(i SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nCAUSE AND EFFECT.\\nLast night, while I was resting on that bench by\\nthe kitchen door,\\nA young man riding a wheel went by; and as I\\nlooked, some more\\nCame whizzing down the roadside path, until half\\na dozen went\\nYoung men and boys and women, all on wholesome\\npleasure bent.\\nAnd although it is a sight w^e see each day when\\nroads are good.\\nThough it s very right and proper I am thinking\\nthere is food\\nFor reflection in the matter. It is one of nature s\\nlaws\\nThat causes all must have effects, and each effect\\nhave cause.\\nSo, with bicycles as causes almost half the world s\\na-wheel-\\nThere s one effect no hay nor grain is bought for\\nsteeds of steel.\\nThen the horseless wagon s coming; that is certain,\\nand our loads\\nWill be moved by electricity along our common\\nroads.\\nThat we ]nay have electricity in our fields, I will\\nallow.\\nIt may sow our grain and reap it; it may drive the\\ndrill and plow,", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0096.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. J J\\nBut it cannot be expected that twill cut and haul\\nour hay\\nAh There won t be much to handle in that scientific\\nday,\\nFor the animals that eat it now on farm and road\\nand street,\\nWill have passed into a country where the horses\\nnever eat;\\nWhile the farmer, whom these causes must most\\ncertainly affect,\\nMay raise cattle, pigs and poultry, and whatever he\\nelect\\nTo maintain them but tis certain that before this\\nmighty change,\\nCircumstances new, befitting, and as yet outside the\\nrange\\nOf invention, must come to us and whatever they\\nmay be.\\nOf cause and consequent effect we can only wait\\nand see.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0097.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "y^ SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nAN ASSEMBLYMAN S PRICE\\nWay back in the early forties, when railroading\\nwas young\\nWhen a mile in eighty seconds was a theme for\\nev ry tongue,\\nWhen politics meant purity, as all our gran dads\\nsay\\nThe Senate held a Webster, a Calhoun, a Henry\\nClay-\\nThen a farmer from the hillsides got a legislative\\nbee\\nIn his bonnet not peculiar, for men get em, you ll\\nagree.\\nWell, this son of agriculture was elected, and he went\\nTo the New York State Assembly, where in course\\nof time he spent\\nAn hour in conversation with a stranger from\\nbelow\\nStranger wonderfully clever, stranger sleek as\\nstrangers go.\\nSaid the stranger, Mr. Oatfield, this steam railroad\\nis a thing\\nPredestined to work great wonders and to hundreds\\nriches bring.\\nAnd now, worthy legislator, now, honorable sir.\\nIf you d wealth, fine reputation, and great influence\\nincur.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0098.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 79\\nJust vote for this concession; it will give my road\\na lift,\\nAnd don t forget we ve money and positions in our\\ngift.\\nI d like, the astute member said, to boss a train\\nof cars\\nMy clothing all of broadcloth blue, my buttons\\ngolden stars\\nThere, there, the stranger s soothing voice cut\\nshort this modest speech;\\nVote right, he said, the glorious prize is then\\nwithin your reach.\\nHe voted, and the railroad won. O thanks,\\ngreat heart and brain,\\nThey wrote him thus, and yet once more Come\\non and take your train.\\nHe w^ent, and from old Albany to saline Syracuse,\\nHe ran a train of empties and he ruled the whole\\ncaboose\\nThere the superintendent met him he was dusty,\\nsleepy, tired\\nAnd took him to the office and informed him he\\nwas fired.\\nNow take warning, legislators, do not trust a\\nstranger bland\\nIf you d stay in the procession, and keep marching\\nwith the band", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0099.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "So SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nDon t be wand ring into by-ways where you re apt\\nto take a slip,\\nAnd be dropped down to your level after having\\nmade one trip.\\nLET THE OLD DOG IN.\\nAin t old Shep hed his supper yet? Small doubt\\nhe d like to come in;\\nShep ain t young as he ust to be; his jacket s wore\\nruther thin.\\nFm dead sure if I was a dog and gettin long kind\\no old.\\nrd whine myself, if I was left supperless out in\\nthe cold.\\nYou did give him a plate of bones? Well, what\\ndid he git from that?\\nA plate of well-gnawed-off spareribs, with scarcely\\na scrap of fat\\nDon t cut a very great figger towards fillin a big\\ndog up,\\nThat has seen full fifteen seasons sence he was a\\nlittle pup.\\nNow, Jess, bake a dozen pancakes bake em brown\\nand keep em hot.\\nGrease em well over wdth butter, er anything else\\nyou ve got\\nThat ll make em slip down easy. Ell go to the\\nbarn and bring", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0100.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 8l\\nA horse blanket er buff lo skin, er some other such\\nold thing-\\nFur him to do his sleepin on. Yes, here by the\\nkitchen stove!\\nI know you girls is quite nippy, and ain t got a\\ntender love\\nFur the shiverin old noosance shame on you\\nHave you furgot\\nWhen you, Jessie, was a baby and Jane was a little\\ntot.\\nAnd you fell into the goosepond? What chance\\nwould you had without\\nOld Shep to jump in and ketch you, and fetch you\\nsafely out?\\nThen, when the Jersey had iiie down, and was\\nrippin off my clo es,\\nhat d I done if the old dog hadn t took him by\\nthe nose.\\nAnd hung on till I recovered, n got up onto my\\nfeet\\nWell, I had some satisfaction; that bull made good\\nsassage meat.\\nNow is them pancakes all ready? Have you got\\nem buttered well?\\nAll right! Jist step out to the door, and while\\nyou re there, please tell\\nOld Shep that your father says the way s he s used s\\na sin;\\nThen you hold the door wide open while you let\\nthe old dog in.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0101.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "82 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nTHE FAMILY S NEEDS.\\nUncle John is to go to town;\\nHis team stands at the gate;\\nHe has two jars of butter in.\\nAnd of fresh eggs a crate.\\nSome fine fat fowls are stowed away\\nIn baskets neath the seat.\\nWell covered with a tablecloth,\\nSecure from dust and heat.\\nBehind is new-cut clover, fresh.\\nAnd a bag with oats a feed,\\nWhen twelve is struck, each horse will find\\nAll ready for his need.\\nReady to start is Uncle John,\\nReady his gray and brown,\\nBut he must know before he goes\\nWhat he must fetch from town.\\nAunt Sarah comes: Now, John! she cries,\\nHere s jugs, get New Orleans,\\nAnd Porto Ricjue and vinegar.\\nFetch a pot for Boston beans.\\nPlease don t forget the cans I want\\nA dozen, John, you hear!", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0102.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 83\\nSome sugar? Yes, ten pounds of brown;\\nThe white is most too dear\\nTo use for canning; then we need\\nSome cloves and ginger root,\\nAnd don t neglect while you are there\\nTo call for Johnnie s boot.\\nWait, now the flour is almost out,\\nThe last we had was good;\\nGet more of that, and some rolled oats\\nThey re nice for breakfast food.\\nAnd, John, please run into a store\\nA dry goods store, I mean\\nAnd buy eight yards of calico\\nTo make a dress for Jean.\\nI want a spool of linen thread,\\nSome buttons what is that?\\nYou can t keep that whole string of things\\nBeneath your old straw hat!\\nI didn t think you could, dear man\\nThey re here all written down;\\nDon t linger, now, but hasten on.\\nOr you ll be late in town.\\nThe team has moved a hundred yards.\\nWait, wait! Aunt Sarah calls,\\n7", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0103.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "84 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nI most forgot a pound of tea\\nAnd cotton darning balls;\\nAnd ink and paper for the girls,\\nAnd oil for the machine.\\nAnd John, you re an impatient man.\\nThe worst I ve ever seen\\nWell, well, go on, that s all, I think.\\nBut paint, some Spanish brown\\nHer last words fell upon the air.\\nFor John had gone to town.\\nLOOKING FOR WORK.\\nAN IDYL OF THE TIMES.\\nI m a mechanic, the stranger said.\\nWhen he came to the farmer s door;\\nI m a mechanic, out of work.\\nAnd perhaps from your ample store\\nYou ll give me a dozen buckwheat cakes\\nAnd a generous slice of pork,\\nFor surely I m an honest man,\\nIn search of any honest work.\\nThe farmer took the stranger in.\\nAnd from his ample breakfast store", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0104.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 85\\nHe gave a plate of ham and eggs,\\nAnd buckwheat pancakes fidl a score;\\nHe hstened while the stranger talked,\\nPitying, when the other spoke\\nOf how, within the past eight months,\\nHe d labored not a single stroke.\\nThe farmer said, I ve use for you,\\nMechanic poor, and honest man.\\nCome, stay with me the season through\\nI ll help you out the best I can,\\nYour wage I ll put to highest notch;\\nYour skill is worth a lot to me,\\nMore than an ordinary hand\\nIn fixing up machinery.\\nOf work, I ll give you full six months\\nI ll see that you re kept clean and neat,\\n(He viewed the empty plate and sighed)\\nAnd I ll give you enough to eat.\\nWe ll mend your clothing, iron your shirts,\\nWe ll wash and starch your cuffs and collars,\\nAnd every month you work for me.\\nThen I will pay you twenty dollars.\\nThe stranger heard with bated breath,\\nHis lips were curled with finest scorn;\\nThink you he thus indignant cried,\\nThat I will stop and hoe your corn.\\nAnd milk your cows, and plow your land,", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0105.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "86 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nAnd roast my back in making hay?\\nWhat! I, a good mechanic, work\\nMy hfe out for such poorhouse pay!\\nI suppose, too, you d expect me\\nTo work from rise to set of sun;\\nWhy, man, from seven until six\\nA good mechanic s task is done.\\nThen, sir, I am a union man;\\nOf that one fact I d have you know.\\nWe work for dollars three, a day,\\nAnd never work a cent below.\\nI ve been a master workman now.\\nIn shop and mill, eight years or more;\\nD ye think I ll toil for thirty days\\nTo get of dollars but a score?\\nNo, sir, your offer I disdain.\\nI would not earn a blessed crust\\nBy stamping sand or kicking hay,\\nI d sooner starve, if starve I must,\\nThan bend my back to farmer s work.\\nIt s good enough for such as you\\nWho knows no other life than this,\\nBut as for me. Hayseed, adieu.\\nThe angry farmer then upraised\\nIn his gigantic, cruel wrath,\\nHe chased the good mechanic down\\nThe neatly gravelled garden path.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0106.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 8/\\nHe kicked him as he left the gate,\\nThe poor uncultured farmer elf\\nTo kick a workingman away,\\nThen go and do his work himself.\\nTHE FATE OF A LAZY MAN.\\nFvE heard a remarkable story;\\nI don t assume that it s so,\\nBut grandmother says it s a true one,\\nAnd grandmother ought to know.\\nTwas in the old Mohawk valley.\\nAbout eighteen twenty-two.\\nWhen hard-working people were many\\nAnd lazy people were few,\\nThat there lived a peculiar genius\\nJohn Smith, tis a common name\\nWho was both a drone and a sluggard,\\nTwas said, to his lasting shame.\\nNot that Smith lacked for bone and muscle.\\nHe owned a supply of both\\nBut his merit if he had any\\nWas buried deep in his sloth.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0107.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "SS SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nAt last his industrious neighbors\\nDecided that such a shirk\\nHad no right to the air of heaven,\\nAnd must che if he would not work.\\nSo they went to where John was sitting,\\nEnjoying the pleasant sun,\\nAnd they said in sepulchral voices,\\nLazy bones, your race is run.\\nFor you will not consent to labor.\\nYou will never learn to thrive.\\nAnd we know no special reason\\nWhy you should be left alive.\\nBehold in this wagon a coffin\\nOf seasoned Georgia pine;\\nJust climb you over the off wheel there\\nAnd into the box recline,\\nWhile we carry you to the graveyard.\\nNo words We will have it so.\\nYou ve brought it all on yourself, you are\\nToo lazy to work, you know.\\nJohn Smith gaped three times, then he answered\\nMy fate, it on you depends;\\nHere goes for your pitchy old coffin;\\nDon t spoil a good fun ral, friends.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0108.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 89\\nThen he laid himself down contented\\nIn the box of res nous wood,\\nAnd they drove quite slow toward the graveyard,\\nAs a funeral procession should,\\nTill they met an innocent neighbor.\\nWho had not yet heard the news,\\nA generous man, and kind hearted.\\nMost liberal in his views.\\nWho halted to make some inquiries\\nWhose fun ral is this? he cried;\\nI surely have heard of no sickness,\\nNor of any one that s died.\\nSlothful Smith s, said the driver shortly;\\nNot dead, but he will not work,\\nSo we re taking him to the boneyard\\nTo bury the lazy shirk.\\nDon t do that, the good neighbor pleaded,\\nLet s assist this man forlorn;\\nPlease let him go scot free this time.\\nI ll give him a bushel of corn.\\nSmith listened, and peeped from the coffin,\\nIs it shelled corn? he inquired.\\nIt is notf Well, go on then, driver,\\nI am not one to be hired", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0109.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "90 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nTo hurt my soft hands while a-stripping\\nMy Hving from off the cob;\\nNo, friend, I dedine your kind offer.\\nDrive on Let s finish the job.\\nDid they bury Smith, are you asking?\\nI don t know. The tale ends there;\\nI tell it to you as I heard it\\nIn detail, with greatest care.\\nSoon or late lazy folks are buried\\nThere are few who are exempt.\\nIf not beneath the graveyard clods,\\nThen under a mass of contempt.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0110.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 9I\\nINTEREST VERSUS BEER.\\nTwo brothers went forth into hfe together;\\nEach held a farm with a mortgage thereon.\\nEarly they toiled throughout all sorts of weather;\\nLate toiled James Emanuel, late toiled John.\\nBoth had advantages, one like the other,\\nThings that were natural water and soil,\\nNearness to market, where weekly each brother\\nTurned into cash the reward of his toil.\\nWent John to market his homecoming early\\nWas sure to result as the day wore on.\\nNot so with James E. thick-tongued or quite surly\\nHis moods when he came after light was gone.\\nJohn kept up his interest, and every season\\nHis principal dwindled till little was there;\\nEmanuel grumbled: I can t find the reason\\nWhy John gets along and has money to spare.\\nHe questioned his brother Now, how do you\\nturn it\\nTo pay on your principal every year,\\nWhile I with hard work have not managed to\\nlearn it\\nIn e en paying interest; isn t it queer?\\nSaid John Dear Emanuel, I will relieve me\\nOf this treasured secret no, it is not queer\\nI early discovered, .now will you believe me,\\nOne lager costs one dollar s interest a year.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0111.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "92 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nA PESSIMIST.\\nI SWAN, if ever I did see\\nSuch a poor, drouthy spring as we\\nAre a-hevin all round here now.\\nCorn ground is much too dry to plow,\\nSpring grain is jest a standin still,\\nNothin growin an nothin will,\\nIf it keeps on in this here way.\\nWhat makes grass is a cool, wet May;\\nN as far as that part. May makes rye.\\nBut that can t head when it s so dry.\\nSigns of showers Why, there ain t none.\\nLas Friday night when I see the sun\\nA-settin clear, I says, says I,\\nFriday night, an a good, clear sky\\nNow, that means rain fore Monday night.\\nA drop Not by a blessed sight.\\nCan t iiozv depend on anything.\\nTreetoads c n croak an cuckoos sing,\\nN peacocks yawp; but I tell you,\\nThey don t fetch rain ez they ust to do.\\nNo more n the swallers flyin low,\\nDoin their best; can t make it go.\\nwatch the pitcher; it may sweat;\\nIf t does, why, then, we ll git rain yet;\\nEft don t, of course won t nothin grow.\\nEft does, remember, told you so.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0112.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 93\\nMY BOYS.\\nEv ry one o my boys s n athlete;\\nThere s Pete;\\nStan ten bar ls in a row,\\nOld flour bar ls, er lime;\\nHe ll jump in an out of em all\\nThout touchin e er a chime\\nWill Pete.\\nNext one s a mighty rassler, ketch an throw;\\nThat s Joe;\\nJest let him git a holt,\\nWith his grapevine lock,\\nN the other feller goes down\\nWhile he Stan s like a rock\\nThat Joe.\\nTo ketch, er knock a ball, ther ain t the like\\nOf Ike;\\nIt s quite a tale to tell,\\nBut there is people.\\nSeen him put a ball clean over\\nTh Methodist steeple,\\nMy Ike.\\nIf it s long, stan in jumps yer goin on,\\nTry John.\\nGit a board ten foot long;\\nStan him up at one end;", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0113.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "94 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nHe ll jump its length like a hoptoad,\\nYou kin jest depend,\\nWill John.\\nFur a downright amatoor acrobat\\nThere s Matt;\\nIt s fun to see him swing\\nOn a circuser s bar,\\nAn walk on his ban s to the road\\nAn back; ever so far.\\nThat Matt.\\nThe r athletic monkeyshines gives me joy;\\nEv ry boy.\\nBoth me an the r mother\\nKind o like to set an see\\nThem strappin big young fellus cuttin up\\nThe r didoes after tea.\\nOur boys.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0114.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 95\\nFISHING FOR BULLHEADS.\\n7 A.M.\\nIs the bullheads bitin Well, you bet your life\\nthey bite.\\nJust you take yer fishpole an slip down here toward\\nnight,\\nAn if you will keep your mouth shut, an promise\\nnot to squeal,\\nI ll show you where I ketched, las night, twelve\\nbullheads an an eel.\\nYou needn t bring no bait along, that is unless you\\nwish\\nLas night it rained n I found enough to ketch a\\nbushel of fish\\nHere they are in a fruit can, blackheads, every\\nworm.\\nNot a dead one among em, the bullheads can see\\nem squirm.\\nYou d better fetch your dopper, the water is deep\\nan still\\nIn the place where I do my fishin down below the\\nmill.\\nSome fellers don t use no dopper. I almost always\\ndo;\\nI like to see it swim around, an go in under, too.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0115.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "g6 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nYer father 11 surely let you come if you hustle\\nround an get\\nThe chores all done and cows away before the sun\\nhas set.\\nAn then there comes an hour between the daylight\\nand the night,\\nThat we must be down by the crick, for then the\\nbullheads bite.\\n7 P.M.\\nHere, Jim, set down on this flat stone an throw\\nyer bait ahead\\nHold on, yer dopper s down too low! Where d y\\ngit that lump o lead?\\nNow I must find a place to set; well, here on this\\nold tree,\\nRight on the bank yes, this, I think, is good enough\\nfor me.\\nHi, Jim! yer dopper s tippin a bullhead s bitin\\nthere\\nNow yank him out. Good boy, old Jim, you ve got\\nhim, I declare;\\nPut him right on the stringer here; he ll weigh a\\nhalf a pound.\\nGood gracious! where s my dopper? it s under, I ll\\nbe bound.\\nHere he comes ain t he a whopper he made me\\nfairly bounce,", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0116.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 97\\nA little bigger n yours, too; weighs more by full\\nan ounce.\\nWell, if you ain t got another! an we ve only just\\nbegun.\\nI tell you if they bite like this, we re in for lots of\\nfun.\\nNow you, now me, now me, now you, O Jim, what s\\nthis I feel?\\nIt almost jerked me off the log; I b lieve I ve got\\nan eel.\\nCome, Jim, come quick, an help me pull, for tho\\nI m purty stout.\\nThere s something on my hook in there, an I can t\\npull him out.\\nNow, both together, here we go; the line is good\\nan strong.\\nHurrah he s wrigglin on the bank, an eel full two\\nfeet long.\\nSome more bullheads, an eel or two, it s half-past\\neight or nine;\\nLet s gather up our traps an go, an come some\\nother time.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0117.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nA GREAT DAY FOR GAME.\\nWay back in the woodland pasture lot\\nBlackberries plenty there\\nMy gran father, into a tree he got,\\nAnd when one came along, he up and shot\\nA great big ugly bear.\\nThen gran father loaded up his gun.\\nAnd something happened queer;\\nHe had just rammed the wad when by there run\\nHullo! cried my ancestor, here s some fun!\\nA dozen nice, fat deer.\\nHe raised his gun to his shoulder then,\\nAnd took a careful aim\\nBang! bang! how it echoed along through the\\nglen\\nI scarce can tell you how loud with my pen.\\nO, the ground was strewn with game.\\nWith powder and shot he fed his piece,\\nHe gazed the landscape o er.\\nAnd he found that the air was full of geese.\\nHe shot, and he shot. Did he never cease?\\nYes, when he dropped a score.\\nAnd the air grew dark with siicli a mass\\nOf pigeons o er the tree,", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0118.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 99\\nAnd at which he banged, while they fell to grass,\\nBut his shooting iron grew hot, alas!\\nSo thus it came that he\\nQuit slaughtering things and scrambled down\\nTo view the work he d done.\\nAnd much to his glory and his renown,\\nHe gave all his game to his friends in town.\\nSaid he, had the fun.\\nDONKEY AND MONKEY.\\nI AM on papa s back, he said,\\nAnd papa is my donkey.\\nNow trot from the sofa across to the bed;\\nCrawl under the table; we ll play it s a shed.\\nAnd I am papa s monkey.\\nWhat will you have for feed to-day?\\nCome, now, do not be spunky;\\nIs it oats, or meal, or a truss of hay?\\nA half pound of candy? is that what you say?\\nOh, what a funny donkey.\\nCome, sir, back out, for we must go.\\nLook out! Don t throw your monkey.\\nNow canter me up to the glass while you show\\nMe the baby in there; he is there, I know,\\nI have seen him often, donkey.\\n8", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0119.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "lOO SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nHe s there right on his papa s back,\\nA baby plump and chunky,\\nHe is driving, Uke me, with his reins a-slack,\\nAnd now as I gaze at him, he has a knack\\nOf looking like your monkey.\\nWell, papa, go, if go you must.\\nAnd leave your little monkey.\\nBut you will come back to supper, I trust.\\nThen again on the carpet we ll raise a dust.\\nFor you will be my donkey.\\nTHE OLD OAKEN SAWBUCK.\\nNo fond recollections surround the old sawbuck.\\nThe old oaken sawbuck that stood in the yard.\\nBut woodpile and chip yard bring up sage reflec-\\ntions\\nOf when we were youthful, and cord wood was\\nhard.\\nDid we wish to go fishing, or e er go a-swimming.\\nOr take other exercise seemingly good,\\nWe were told that good health through our veins\\nwould go skimming,\\nIf we took all our exercise sawing the wood.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0120.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "NO FOND RECOLLECTIONS SURROUND THE OLD SAWBUCK,\\nTHE OLD OAKEN SAWBUCK THAT STOOD IN THE YARD.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0121.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0122.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. lOI\\nHow we wished for a rest, when the midday once\\nover,\\nWe sought out a place neath the shadiest tree.\\nAnd heard that the women had chanced to discover\\nThat fire-wood was needed for baking and tea.\\nThen we slowly adjourned to the woodpile so hated\\nAnd bent our young backs to the nerve-scraping\\nstroke,\\nNor could we return till the monster was sated\\nOur noon spell exhausted in service of oak.\\nWhen we came home from school in the winter-\\ntime dreary.\\nWith visions of sleds or of skates on our minds.\\nChained down to the sawbuck until we were weary\\nTwas there, recreation we d certainly find.\\nWe grew up apace, and the problem of fuel\\nWas solved with a buzz-saw by help of horse\\npow r;\\nThe sawbuck itself, by a process quite cruel,\\nWent the way of the wood it had help d to\\ndevour.\\nTis years since we saw our old enemy perish.\\nWe have trod through life s valleys and climbed\\nup its hills;\\nThere was nothing about the old sawbuck to cherish,\\nBut yet, when we think of it, memory thrills", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0123.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "I02 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nWith sighs for our boyhood, now getting quite\\ndistant,\\nWhen we bent our young backs to the ner\\\\^e-\\nscraping stroke.\\nAnd noon-spells and night-spells demands so per-\\nsistent\\nWere made on our muscles in service of oak.\\nPLAYING BEAR.\\nCome, Baby, the lamps in the kitchen are lit,\\nThe lambies are gone to their bed;\\nThe chickens roost high on a sassafras pole.\\nThe pigs are asleep in the shed;\\nThe lonesome old crow that we saw flying by,\\nSleeps well in the woods in a tree\\nWith a hawk and an owl and a flock of snowbirds.\\nAnd a brave little chick-a-dee-dee.\\nThe bright little stars have come out in the sky\\nThe wind whistles down the highway.\\nHow fortunate, we, that we re happy and well,\\nAnd have such a nice place to play\\nWe ll pull down the curtain and shut out the night.\\nAnd have a great game of old bear.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0124.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. IO3\\nI ll be out in the woods, when you come roaring\\nforth\\nTo give me a rousing big scare.\\n-Boo! Bo-o! what is that I hear\u00e2\u0080\u0094 O, dear me!\\nA very strange sound, I declare.\\nBoo! Bo-o! shall I run?\u00e2\u0080\u0094 what s the use\u00e2\u0080\u0094 there\\nit is\\nIt s just what I thought\u00e2\u0080\u0094 an old bear!\\nGo a-way, Mr. Bear; I m afraid I shall faint.\\nBoo Bo-o I don t want to be eat.\\nEat things that you like\u00e2\u0080\u0094 honey, berries and such;\\nYou will find me a tough piece of meat.\\nHere he comes\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I shall run\u00e2\u0080\u0094 no, I ll climb up a\\ntree\\nHere s one, tho we call it a chair\\nI am up; now come on! You may roar all you\\nplease,\\nYou ve lost your good dinner, old bear\\nBoo B-0-0! B-0-0! I don t know, I have heard\\nthat bears climb\\nIf this one should come up my tree.\\nHe would scare me and bear me and tear off my\\nclothes.\\nAnd quickly make mutton of me.\\nHe is climbing Boo B-o-o I must scramble\\nand run", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0125.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "I04 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nFrom the furthermost side of the tree.\\nI have done it, and yet, I am nothing ahead\\nHe is fohowing after, I see.\\nNo need, he has caught me O, please. Mister Bear,\\nDon t eat me quite all up to-night.\\nYou have chased me so long that you ve quite tired\\nme out,\\nAnd given me O, what a fright!\\nNow let me undress you and put you to bed;\\nThen if you ll be quiet and good,\\nI ll lie down beside you and tell you a tale\\nOf a bear and Miss Red Ridinghood.\\nMY SCHOOLGIRL SWEETHEART.\\nUp to the old brown schoolhouse that stood on a\\nhilltop high,\\nEach day we w^ent together, my little love and I.\\nShe was a winsome lassie, my sweetheart twelve\\nyears old;\\nBlue were her eyes as heaven, shining her curls of\\ngold\\nLight were her fairy footsteps, pleasant her sunny\\nface,\\nCarrying youth s prediction of woman s coming\\ngrace.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0126.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. IO5\\nCheery, lovable, modest, how can her charms be\\ntold;\\nMy little schoolgirl sweetheart, my darling twelve\\nyears old!\\nI was her schoolboy lover, sitting across the aisle,\\nBraving the teacher s anger for a whisper or a smile.\\nMany a red-cheeked apple or pear of golden hue\\nQuick passed in the hours of study, noticed by only\\ntwo;\\nI drew her sled in winter, and to her tiny feet\\nI bound the flashing runners. Then o er the frozen\\nsheet\\nWe two would glide together, happy mid frost and\\ncold.\\nFor, was she not my sweetheart, my darling twelve\\nyears old!\\nGrew there a springtime blossom, soon was the\\nflower hers,\\nTo her came summer glories, and when the chest-\\nnut burrs\\nOpened their lips in autumn, showing their treasures\\nbrown,\\nNeath the tree sat my sweetheart I shook the\\ntreasure down.\\nSo passed the hours of winter, so sped the summer\\ndays", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0127.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "I06 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nShe has become a woman with gentle, graceful\\nways,\\nI have attained to manhood, yet by our own sweet\\nwill,\\nI am her own true lover she is my sweetheart still.\\nA RUSTIC ROMANCE.\\nTwAS twenty years ago, and more,\\nWhen I, an awkward fellow.\\nYoung, tender, easily abashed,\\nAnd just a trifle mellow,\\nCame wand ring down the roadside path\\nAnd, turning, chanced to see\\nSquire Johnson s daughter sitting there\\nBeneath the apple-tree.\\nI stole a hurried glance at her\\nShe smiled oh, bliss entrancing!\\nMy pulses thrilled, my breath came quick.\\nMy foolish heart was dancing;\\nFor tho that path beguiled me oft.\\nUntil this eve had she\\nNot deigned to give her slave a smile\\nFrom neath the apple-tree.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0128.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. IO7\\nStrange it may seem\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I chose that walk\\nFor many eves thereafter;\\nStrayed through the gate and sat beside\\nThe girl whose rippling laughter\\nWas music to my lover s ears.\\nShe pledged her troth to me\\nUnder the stars in rosy June\\nBeneath the apple-tree.\\nSo, twenty years have passed away,\\nBringing us joy and sorrow;\\nOurs not the love of yesterday\\nBut of to-day and morrow;\\nAnd when the summer ev nings fall,\\nHow natural that we\\nShould watch the setting of the sun\\nFrom neath the apple-tree.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0129.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "io8\\nSOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nMARRYING A PIG FOR HIS PEN.\\nChancing to stroll past a window,\\nAt the close of a warm summer s clay,\\nWhen people were sitting at leisure,\\nI heard a sweet, girlish voice say\\nDear me! of what is she thinking\\nDo you know what I always think when\\nA girl weds a man for his money?\\nShe marries a pig for his pen.\\nAnd I thought as I walked slowly onward,\\nAnd pulled at my evening cigar,\\nOf the truth her trite saying conveyed me,\\nAnd of how many hright girls there are\\nAVho unmercifully snub the poor suitors,\\nAnd smile on the wealthy young men,\\nTo find when the farce is completed,\\nThey have married a pig for his pen.\\nThat girl, says the world, is well married\\nThat has money and jewels galore.\\nWho dresses in sealskin and satin,\\nAnd of servants employs half a score.\\nIt may be. The possession of riches\\nShould not prove detrimental to love,\\nAnd it may be that matches of all kinds\\nAre made in the heaven above;", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0130.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. IO9\\nBut Tni not inclined to believe it\\nFor the owner of stock, ship or mine,\\nOf an English manorial estate,\\nOr a barony old, on the Rhine,\\nWins the prize from true worth and real manhood.\\nWhen the wedding is over, tis then\\nThe bride often finds to her sorrow.\\nShe has married a pig for his pen.\\nTOWARD THE SUNSET.\\nWhere are you going, my little lad?\\nToward the sunset, sir, he said.\\nI have heard that beyond those purple bounds\\nThere s a fairy land, whose beautiful grounds\\nAre planted with trees both strange and rare,\\nAnd with blossoming shrubs and flowers fair;\\nThere are no teachers, nor tasks, nor school.\\nIt is always springtime, sweet and cool\\nA beautiful lake laps the snowy sand.\\nAnd I journey toward that sunset land.\\nAnd you, tall youth, with manly tread?\\nI, too, toward the sunset go, he said;\\nFor behind those mountains tipped with light,\\nThere s a land where ambition s lofty flight", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0131.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "no SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nMay find fruition for each desire;\\nA land where the soul s most secret fire\\nIs sacred for of all people there.\\nThe men are wise, the women fair,\\nThere is wealth and honor on ev ry hand.\\nAnd I journey toward that sunset land.\\nMan in your prime, where haste you, pray?\\nToward the sunset lies my way,\\nFor far across those hills, so gray and old,\\nThere lies for me a land of gems and gold.\\nWhere freighted ship and train bring corn and\\nwine,\\nThe products of the forest, field and mine\\nTo fill my coffers. O, ambition high\\nMy wealth will, for me, power and station buy.\\nTo seek these opportunities so grand,\\nI journey toward that sunset land.\\nO whither, grandsire with the hoary head?\\nToward the sunset, sir, he said;\\nFor me, beyond those gates of gold and red,\\nThere is a land of pure delight with blessings\\nspread\\nFve journeyed long through this life s weary lease.\\nAnd hope, when in that land, to be at peace.\\nFm nearing now that quiet resting place.\\njoy for me, for I shall see His face.\\n1 pause but for a moment on its strand,\\nIn journeying toward that sunset land.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0132.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. HI\\nA PHILOSOPHER OF MIDDLE-AGE.\\nI AM fifty to-clay, cried a middle-aged man,\\nI am healthy and sound to the core,\\nAnd according to Solomon there should remain\\nUnto me yet of years a full score.\\nBut statistics have proved, they have proved beyond\\ndoubt,\\nThat the chances do not favor me,\\nAnd Em doubtful myself, when it comes to the\\npinch.\\nThat the three-score-and-ten mark Ell see.\\nI have worried a lot since I started this trip,\\nI have fretted at weather and friends,\\nI have fought night and day in the struggle for gold,\\nEelt the joy and the woe that it sends.\\nNow, take notice, Eve quit, for it profits me not.\\nWhen at best Eve of years but a score.\\nTo be dealing in jealousies, bickerings, strife,\\nNot to speak of a dozen things more;\\nSo Ell just live along\u00e2\u0080\u0094 do the best that I can.\\nLeaving others to plot and connive.\\nI will hail with rejoicing the sun of each day.\\nThanking God that He s left me alive.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0133.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "112 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nA WINTER S DAWN.\\nAway to west a silv ry shell is floating high,\\nAll through the purple dome the stars begin to die,\\nSore stricken by a ruddy light with steady glow,\\nWhich casts from east long, spectral shadows on\\nthe snow.\\nNo breeze is stirring; and the score of city spires\\nPoint heavenward through pearly, floating smoke\\nof fires\\nLit on a thousand hearths and seeming loath to die\\nOut in the icy vagueness of that frigid sky,\\nThe misty, earth-born vapors cling to things of\\nearth.\\nAnd rest in long, straight lines above their place of\\nbirth.\\nEach bush and tree its load of crystal flow rs to\\nbear,\\nStands still and ghostly, doing landscape duty\\nwhere\\nThe snow-clad fields in long-drawn ridges sweep\\naway.\\nTo meet the distant forest line of purple gray,\\nWhere, high above the silent graves of blossoms\\nthere\\nA pair of crows, slow winging, cleave the frosty air.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0134.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. 113\\nA loaded, early sleigh by frost-hued horses drawn\\nFlits groaning, squeaking by, fast driven toward\\nthe dawn,\\nFrom whence a far-off train sends up a husky roar,\\nAnd brilliant rising sun proclaims the day once\\nmore.\\nThe city s whistles through the clear, resounding\\nair\\nSend forth afar their daily buzzing, blust ring\\nblare\\nThe workday world s astir; its armor girded on,\\nAnd passed into eternity s a winter s dawn.\\nA WINTER S NIGHT IN THE OLDEN TIME.\\nOver the hills the wild wind swept,\\nWhirling the drifting snow;\\nOver the pen where the sheep were kept,\\nOver the place where the chickens slept,\\nAnd fast to the window sills there crept,\\nUnder the pale moon s glow\\nBillows of soft and downy white,\\nHiding the garden ground;\\nPutting the rosebushes out of sight,\\nShutting the flowers from cold and light,\\nWrapping the earth in a mantle tight\\nHollow and hill and mound.\\nJ", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0135.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "114 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nThe frost crept up the window-pane,\\nPainting- a picture rare\\nMasses of flowers and ripened grain.\\nRock, mountain and forest, river, plain,\\nA castle, a bridge, a distant train.\\nWere quaintly pictured there.\\nThe wind roared down the chimney old,\\nSinging a dismal song;\\nWhile round the fire there were stories told\\nOf fairies and gnomes and witches bold,\\nCleaving the night in the piercing cold.\\nSped by the wdnd along.\\nLittle enough we children cared,\\nEither for snow or wand;\\nAll w^as w^arm and bright, and well we tared,\\nPopcorn and apples and nuts we shared,\\nTill twas nine o clock, when w^e all prepared\\nA cozy nest to find.\\nThen up the stairs our way we d make.\\nListening to the din\\nOf rattling door and shutters shake,\\nOf roaring treetop, of hurling flake;\\nNor did our sleep of fear partake.\\nWhen mother had tucked us in.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0136.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. II5\\nA VOYAGE TO NIDDY-NOD-LAND.\\nNow a trip for the baby to Niddy-nod-land,\\nWhere the sea is on rockers, and e en the smooth\\nsand\\nIs made of white flannel as downy and soft\\nAs the summery clouds that are floating aloft.\\nHi, ho for our journey so grand,\\nIn a l)illowy cradle to Niddy-nod-land.\\nWe are off; we have started for Niddy-nod-land,\\nWe are blown o er the ocean by breezes so bland,\\nThat they scarce lift a curl from a voyager s head,\\nYet our craft far away on the waters has sped.\\nUp, down, with a motion so grand.\\nIn a billowy cradle for Niddy-nod-land.\\nO, how long is the journey to Niddy-nod-land?\\nNot so long while the zephyrs our white sails ex-\\npand.\\nWe are nearing it now we will land on a rock\\nHush, hush, it s of feathers; we won t feel the\\nshock.\\nSlow, slow, we have touched the soft strand,\\nAnd our voyage is ended in Niddy-nod-land.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0137.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "Il6 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nA DIFFERENCE IN OPINION.\\nTHE CITY girl s OPINION.\\nSweet golden-rod, the loveliest flower of all the\\nsummer long\\nYour very life s a poem, or a mute, unuttered song.\\nWhen the rose has lost its heauty, and the violet its\\nblue,\\nWhen all summer flowers have left us, it is then\\nwe turn to you.\\nWith your sun-kissed, lace-like petals, with your\\nleaves of glossy green.\\nBy the fences and the roadside where your glorious\\nform is seen.\\nNot in scanty clusters grow you, but with faces to\\nthe sky\\nLift your beauteous golden masses covering vale\\nand mountain high.\\nA flower wild and lowly yet with graceful native\\npride,\\nYou grace the rich man s table and the corsage of\\nthe bride.\\nYou beautify our fireplace, on our mantel shelf you\\nnod\\nWe cannot see too much of you, O gentle golden-\\nrod.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0138.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES. II7\\nTHE farmer s opinion.\\nO, golden-rod, you mean exponent of a worn-out\\nsoil,\\nYour hateful ways occasion me a lot of thankless\\ntoil.\\nLet me wander down my fences, let me go where er\\nI will,\\nYour ragged, sickly, yellow top is there to plague\\nme still.\\nA handy shelter, too, you are for noisome worms\\nand bugs.\\nThe only perfume that you yield, a smell of nasty\\ndrugs.\\nI find your dark and bitter leaves in April and in\\nMay,\\nAnd next I sort your woody stalks from out my\\nchoicest hay.\\nIn August and September, you the city folks\\nadmire\\nI take delight in cutting you and burning you with\\nhre.\\nIf the city people like you, you vile, pernicious weed,\\nI hope they ll come and take you, root and branch,\\nand flower and seed.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0139.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "l8 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nKNOWLEDGE.\\nI KNOW it all/ the young man thought,\\nBut left the thought unsaid,\\nPondering, meanwhile, mightily,\\nThat one small human head\\nShould hold the knowledge that he d got\\nO, what, he cried, will I\\nNot do with this vast hrain of mine\\nEre I get old and die.\\nI know a lot; he thought again,\\nWhen o er his head a score\\nOf years had winged their silent flight,\\nBut there to learn is more.\\nI know not much, this time he said.\\nIn wisdom that age hrings.\\nIt takes all things to make a world\\nAll men to know all thino-s.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0140.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "SOME RUSTIC RHYMES, I IQ\\nBEAUTY.\\nBev\\\\uty, tis said, is but a fading- flow r;\\nTis fleeting, transient, dying in an hour.\\nYet Nature doth with ever lavish hand\\nClothe all her works with form and beauty grand,\\nAnd says to man Come, worship at my shrine.\\nTo give thee joy, doth brain and eye combine;\\nFor thee I paint the rose and lily fair.\\nThe woods and fields, the gorgeous sunsets rare;\\nFor thee roll up the ocean s sparkling waves.\\nFor thee the land, the stalagmited caves;\\nFor thee I color butterfly and bee.\\nTint the wild blossoms, decorate each tree\\nAnd when, perchance, a woman s lovely face\\nReceives my tend rest care, her form my grace.\\nScoff not, nor seek to look beyond the vail.\\nNor do thou Nature s glorious plans assail;\\nSuffice it that thou see st the beauty there;\\nIt pleaseth thee; thou hast no time to spare\\nTo seek perfection let this beauty shine\\nTho it be transient; it has source divine.\\nAll things cannot obey man s beck or nod.\\nEnjoy the hour this beauty s born of God.", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0141.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "I20 SOME RUSTIC RHYMES.\\nTHE OTHER LIFE.\\nOur lives are full of mystery we are not\\nThe creatures of a clay, to be forgot\\nWhen death has rolled the earthly mists away\\nAnd has released the spirit from its clay.\\nWho has not felt, and chased the thought in vain,\\nA fleeting phantasy flash o er the brain,\\nAs if on some far-distant, shad wy shore\\nThese thoughts were thought, these acts performed\\nbefore.\\nSomewhere we ve lived before we saw this earth,\\nSomewhere been fitted for a later birth.\\nAnd here we re fitting for a higher plane\\nOf use and beauty. We shall live again.", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0142.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0143.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "FEB 5 1900", "height": "3607", "width": "2383", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0144.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0145.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3805", "width": "2456", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0146.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3623", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "somerusticrhymes00beck_0147.jp2"}}