Their owner to those courtesies which plainly,

surely prove

That he's the kind of person that never does go back

On a fellow that 's in trouble?

Why, little Mack!

I've heard 'em tell of Dana, and of Bonner, and of

Reid,

Of Johnnie Cockerill, who, I'll own, is very smart

indeed;

Yet I don't care what their renown or influence may be,

One metropolitan exchange is quite enough for me! So keep your Danas, Bonners, Reids, your Cockerills, and the rest,

The woods is full of better men all through this woolly West;

For all that sleek, pretentious, Eastern editorial pack

We would n't swap the shadow of

Our little Mack!

TO ROBIN GOODFELLOW.

I SEE you, Maister Bawsy-brown,
Through yonder lattice creepin';

You come for cream and to gar me dream,
But you dinna find me sleepin'.
The moonbeam, that upon the floor

Wi' crickets ben a-jinkin',

Now steals away fra' her bonnie play —

Wi' a rosier blie, I'm thinkin'.

I saw you, Maister Bawsy-brown,
When the blue bells went a-ringin'

For the merrie fays o' the banks an' braes,
And I kenned your bonnie singin';

The gowans gave you honey sweets,
And the posies on the heather

Dript draughts o' dew for the faery crew

That danct and sang together.

But posie-bloom an' simmer-dew
And ither sweets o' faery
Cud na gae down wi' Bawsy-brown,
Sae nigh to Maggie's dairy!

My pantry shelves, sae clean and white,

Are set wi' cream and cheeses,

Gae, gin you will, an' take your fill

Of whatsoever pleases.

Then wave your wand aboon my een

Until they close awearie,

And the night be past sae sweet and fast
Wi' dreamings o' my dearie.

But pinch the wench in yonder room,
For she's na gude nor bonnie, —
Her shelves be dust and her pans be rust,
And she winkit at my Johnnie!

APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE.

FULL

many a sinful notion Conceived of foreign powers

Has come across the ocean

To harm this land of ours;

And heresies called fashions

Have modesty effaced,
And baleful, morbid passions
Corrupt our native taste.
O tempora! O mores!
What profanations these
That seek to dim the glories
Of apple-pie and cheese!

I'm glad my education
Enables me to stand

Against the vile temptation

Held out on every hand; Eschewing all the tittles With vanity replete,

I'm loyal to the victuals

Our grandsires used to eat!

I'm glad I've got three willing boys
To hang around and tease
Their mother for the filling joys

Of apple-pie and cheese!

Your flavored creams and ices
And your dainty angel-food
Are mighty fine devices

To regale the dainty dude;
Your terrapin and oysters,

With wine to wash 'em down,
Are just the thing for roisters
When painting of the town;
No flippant, sugared notion
Shall my appetite appease,
Or bate my soul's devotion

To apple-pie and cheese!

The pie my Julia makes me

(God bless her Yankee ways!) On memory's pinions takes me To dear Green Mountain days;