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The owner couched, his ware behind,
-In cupboard suited to his mind.

X

For why? He saw no use of life
But, while he drove a roaring trade,
To chuckle "Customers are rife!"

To chafe "So much hard cash outlaid
Yet zero in my profits made!

XI

"This novelty costs pains, but-takes? Cumbers my counter! Stock no more!

This article, no such great shakes,

Fizzes like wild fire? Underscore

The cheap thing-thousands to the fore!"

XII

'T was lodging best to live most nigh
(Cramp, coffinlike as crib might be)
Receipt of Custom; ear and eye

Wanted no outworld; "Hear and see
The bustle in the shop!" quoth he.

XIII

My fancy of a merchant-prince

Was different. Thro' his wares we groped

Our darkling way to-not to mince

The matter-no black den where moped

The master if we interloped!

XIV

Shop was shop only: household stuff?

What did he want with comforts there? "Walls, ceiling, floor, stay blank and rough, So goods on sale show rich and rare! 'Sell and scud home,' be shop's affair!"

XV

What might he deal in? Gems, suppose!
Since somehow business must be done
At cost of trouble,-see, he throws
You choice of jewels, every one

Good, better, best, star, moon and sun!

XVI

Which lies within your power of purse?
This ruby that would tip aright
Solomon's sceptre? Oh, your nurse
Wants simply coral, the delight
Of teething baby,-stuff to bite!

XVII

Howe'er your choice fell, straight you took
Your purchase, prompt your money rang
On counter, scarce the man forsook

His study of the "Times," just swang
Till-ward his hand that stopped the clang,-

XVIII

Then off made buyer with a prize,
Then seller to his "Times" returned;
And so did day wear, wear, till eyes

Brightened apace, for rest was earned:
He locked door long ere candle burned.

XIX

And whither went he? Ask himself,
Not me! To change of scene, I think.
Once sold the ware and pursed the pelf,
Chaffer was scarce his meat and drink,
Nor all his music-money-chink.

XX

Because a man has shop to mind

In time and place, since flesh must live,
Needs spirit lack all life behind,

All stray thoughts, fancies fugitive,
All loves except what trade can give?

XXI

I want to know a butcher paints,
A baker rhymes for his pursuit,
Candlestick-maker much acquaints
His soul with song, or, haply mute,
Blows out his brains upon the flute!

XXII

But-shop each day and all day long!
Friend, your good angel slept, your star
Suffered eclipse, fate did you wrong!

From where these sorts of treasures are,

There should our hearts be-Christ, how far!

T

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL (1819-1891)

HE position which the Atlantic Monthly holds among the magazines of America is due in a large measure to its first editor, James Russell Lowell. His keen business sense, his Yankee shrewdness, and his knowledge of the American people made him an ideal editor. Moreover, his sane judgment produced a remarkable critical ability, tempered by wit and humor. Another characteristic which aided him in his social and business contacts was his diplomacy. He had a faculty of understanding the point of view of those with whom he conversed. Hence he soon became famous as a speaker and letter-writer.

The United States Government requisitioned the services of this born diplomatist as its representative in two of the courts of Europe. In 1877 Lowell was appointed Minister to Spain; in 1880 he was transferred to England. In the latter post he did much to bring about a better understanding between the two English speaking nations. He was extremely popular because of his ability as a speaker and delivered many addresses on political subjects during the four years he held that position.

His interest in politics dated from his early years, but it did not bring him widespread attention until the publication of the first series of The Biglow Papers in 1848. In these papers he expressed his ideas about the Mexican War through the medium of the Yankee dialect of Hosea Biglow, a typical New England farmer. Lowell later said concerning this war, "I believed our war with Mexico to be essentially a war of false pretences, and that it would result in widening the boundaries and so prolonging the life of slavery." The Pious Editor's Creed was the sixth paper of this series. Lowell continued his attack on slavery in a still more serious manner in the second series of The Biglow Papers during the stirring years of the Civil War. The poems were preceded and frequently followed by prose comments which have been omitted here because they are too verbose. In these papers

Lowell crystallized the opinion of an influential section of the American public.

THE PIOUS EDITOR'S CREED

I du believe in Freedom's cause,
Ez fur away ez Payris is;
I love to see her stick her claws
In them infarnal Phayrisees;
It's wal enough agin a king
To dror resolves an' triggers,-
But libbaty's a kind o' thing
Thet don't agree with niggers.

I du believe the people want
A tax on teas an' coffees,
Thet nothin' aint extravygunt,—
Purvidin' I'm in office;

Fer I hev loved my country sence

My eye-teeth filled their sockets,
An' Uncle Sam I reverence,

Partic❜larly his pockets.

I du believe in any plan

O' levyin' the texes,
Ez long ez, like a lumberman,
I git jest wut I axes;

I go free-trade thru thick an' thin,
Because it kind o' rouses
The folks to vote,-an' keeps us in
Our quiet custom-houses.

I du believe it's wise an' good
To sen' out furrin missions,
Thet is, on sartin understood

An' orthydox conditions;

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