The Sea."]

On county fairs and 'lection days, in walking through a crowd, I'm rather firm to jostle 'gainst--perhaps it makes me proud; But if it does, that wave just preached how sureness never pays, And seemed to say, "How small is man, no odds how much he weighs!" It kicked and cuffed me all about, in spite of right or law, With all the qualities they give an average mother-in-law!

And then it set me on the bank, quite thankful for my life, And looking 'round I give a gaze to find my faithful wife; But she had kind o' cut this wave with all the edge she had, And stood a-looking 'round for me, uncommon moist and sad; While Sister Sunnyhopes with smiles was looking sweet and gay, A-floating on her dainty back some several rods away!

She looked so newish pretty there--(she knowed it, too, the elf!)-- The crowd was all admiring her, and so was I myself; And while I once more grasped the line, beside my wife of truth, My eyes would rove to Sister S.--her beauty and her youth; When all at once a brindle wave, uncommon broad and deep, Came thrashing down on Wife and me, and flopped us in a heap!

Heels over head--all in a bunch--my wife across of me, And I on some misguided folks who happened there to be, My hat untied and floated off, and left my bald head bare-- When I got out, if I'd have spoke, 'twould warmed up all the air! We drank 'bout two-thirds of the sea--my gasping wife and I-- While Sister S. still floated soft, a-gazing at the sky!

We voted that we'd had enough, and got right out the way Before another wave arrived, and bid the sea good-day. We looked as like two drownded rats as ever such was called, With one of them a dumbed old fool and most completely bald. But, like a woman true she says--my shivering wife to me-- "We will not mind; there's others here looks just as bad as we."

Now, Sister Sunnyhopes, by'm-by, came back into our tent, As sleek or sleeker than before, and asked us "When we went?" Said I, "My dear good Sister S., please do not now pretend You did not see our voyage through, and mark its doleful end. If you would play the mermaid fair, why such I'd have you be; But we're too old to take that part--my faithful wife and me;

"Some folks may be who ocean waves are fitted to command, But we've concluded we was built expressly for the land. And when I want amusement for an uncompleted day, I guess I'll go and take it in some good old-fashioned way; And will not stand upon my head 'fore all the folks that's there, And wildly wave my dumbed old feet in all the neighboring air!"

VICE.

[From Farmer Harrington's Calendar.]

SEPTEMBER 10, 18--.

Ah me! it makes a sinner wondrous blue, To see so many other sinners too! When I rake over all my faults, and then Notice the same, or worse, in other men, It makes me very much surprised and sad, That Heaven should see Earth turning out so bad!

Vice, vice, vice, vice! The country's mean enough, And has some villains that are pretty rough; But in this town, where art and nature both Are shoved into their very greatest growth, And where the utmost of all things is found, The Devil has his best men on the ground, And gives them weapons meeting his own views, And all the ammunition they can use!

Vice, vice, vice, vice! I never had been led To think that Evil had so long a head! I've seen more ingenuity displayed In one crime, than 'twould take to learn a trade. Such cute inventions Sin will take in charge: Old Satan's patent-office must be large!

And yet, for all their craft, in time how brief How many of these rascals come to grief! For though within them cunning may abound, The plain-clothed Truth is always standing round, Or following rogues through every land and clime, And gets them, if you'll only give him time. I don't believe--as some good people say-- The Devil leads men on from day to day, And takes them to a rock, and, first they know, Pitches them off into some gulf below; Or baits them into different traps, and then Doesn't try at all to get them out again: I think he'd like to keep them, safe and sound, Doing his nasty work the whole year round; And when a rogue fails up and comes to grief, It hurts his brimstone-clothed but helpless chief!

These thoughts limped past my saddened mind to-day, As through State's prison I pursued my way, Led round by one who didn't seem to be knowing What melancholy pictures he was showing! Those walls and guards, that all escape opposed; Those thick, iron doors--it thundered when they closed; The cells--each one a closet full of gloom: I'd just as soon sleep in a metal tomb! The hard-faced men who worked away (no doubt, For fear of hard-faced men that stood about), Wearing that garb of stripes a free man loathes, As if Law whipped them--even with their clothes; The way they glance up at you from within Their drooping eyelids, hard with grief or sin, Wondering, as they gaze upon you so, If you are not some one they used to know; The ghosts you feel, that creep 'round, all the time, Among these men who've shaken hands with crime; The mournful hope that some are toiling here Whose innocence in heaven is proved out clear: All these things to my inmost spirit talked, As through those regions dark I slowly walked; And when the front door closed behind me--free-- The fresh air seemed like heaven itself to me!

I recollect once getting sick with pain, When sitting near a sheriff, on the train, Who had a young man with him--not of age-- Whom he was taking to this stone-bound cage. The poor boy talked to him with drooping head, And these are something like the words he said:

And yet 'twas quite affecting, I declare, How some had ornaments up, even there! Not crime itself, or sad misfortune's smart Can crush all sense of beauty from the heart!