In the scene that ensued I did not take a hand; But the floor it was strew'd Like the leaves on the strand With the cards that Ah-Sin had been hiding, In the game " he did not understand." 66 In his sleeves, which were long, He had twenty-four packs, Which was coming it strong, Yet I state but the facts; And we found on his nails, which were taper, What is frequent in tapers-that's wax. Which is why I remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark, And for tricks that are vain, The Heathen Chinee is peculiar : Which the same I am free to maintain. "JIM." SAY there! P'r'aps Well, no offence: Thar ain't no sense In gittin' riled! Jim was my chum Down from up yar, Lookin' for Jim. Thank ye, sir! You Blest, if you are! Money?-Not much: Well, this yer Jim, Did you know him?size; Jess 'bout your Same kind of eyes; Well, that is strange: What's that you say?— Sold! Why, you limb' Long-legged Jim! GRIZZLY. COWARD,-of heroic size, Here, where Nature makes thy bed, Point to hidden Indian springs, Where the wood-duck lightly passes, Where the wild-bee holds her sweets, Epicurean retreats, Fit for thee, and better than Fearful spoils of dangerous man! In thy fat-jowl'd deviltry Friar Tuck shall live in thee; Thou mayst levy tithe and dole; Thou shalt spread the woodland cheer, From the pilgrim taking toll; JOHN HAY. Born at Salem, Indiana, 1839— JIM BLUDSO (of the Prairie Belle). WALL, no! I can't tell whar he lives, Leastways, he's got out of the habit Whar have you been for the last three year He weren't no saint,-them engineers And this was all the religion he had,- Never be pass'd on the river, To mind the pilot's bell, And if ever the Prairie Belle took fire- He'd hold her nozzle agin the bank Till the last soul got ashore. All boats has their day on the Mississip, The Movaster was a better boat, But the Belle she wouldn't be pass'd: With a nigger squat on her safety-valve, The fire burst out as she clared the bar, And quick as a flash she turn'd, and made There was runnin' and cussin', but Jim yell'd out, Over all the infernal roar "I'll hold her nozzle agin the bank Till the last galoot's ashore." Through the hot, black breath of the burnin' boat And they all had trust in his cussedness, And Bludso's ghost went up alone He weren't no saint,-but at jedgment That wouldn't shook hands with him : Z |