TOMMY'S FOURTH OF JULY.
YESTERDAY, mother, she said to me,
"Now, Tommy, my man, it soon will be
The Fourth of July, and I dread the noise—
I dread the freedom of reckless boys,
"The ringing of bells, the firing gun,
Torpedoes and crackers, from sun to sun;
I wonder if when those grand old men
Declared for Freedom, it could have been
"That they ever thought the boys of to-day
Would celebrate in this lawless way.
On other days boys seem nice and bright,
I know that some of them try to do right,
"But fired with the 'spirit of '76,'
There seems to be never an end to their tricks.
Now, Tommy my lad, just think it over
And see if the reason you can't discover."
So I'll pull my "thinking cap" over my hair
And sit out here in this sunny air
And try to remember last Fourth of July—
Somehow it seems to be long gone by.
At night, I remember, we rang the bell,
And nobody liked it very well,
And all day long I was far from bright
For getting up in the dead of night.
And then, we followed the "Horrible" train
And yelled and shouted, and yelled again;
We chased it up the street and then down,
Chased it all over and out of the town.
It must have been awful, but none of us cared
How the rest of the decent people fared.
Then somebody frightened old uncle Bill
Just as he was walking down the hill,
Threw a torpedo, only for fun;
He fell and hurt him, that's all that was done.
Then a horse got frightened, and ran away—
That was one of the things that happened that day—
Broke his leg, and broke the carriage too,
And the crackers were thrown by Charley Drew;
Charley's father must pay the bill,
So I guess this year he'll keep pretty still.
And Jimmy blew three of his fingers to bits—
The way a toy pistol always hits;
I ate so much I was nearly dead,
And had a most awful pain in my head,
And was just as tired as I could be—
That was the way it finished with me.
I think I've remembered 'bout enough;
If that is fun, it is pretty "rough."
I might go tell mother this very minute
I don't see a bit of "reason" in it—
I, Thomas, was named for the hero of all—
That gentleman wouldn't own me at all.
But I know I'll try to do better this year,
If all the fellows do call me queer.
This year, I, "Thomas Jefferson" Gray,
Will celebrate in a rational way.
Emily Baker Smalle.
TOMMY AND HIS SISTER CELEBRATE ON THE BEACH.
Volume 13, Number 37. Copyright, 1886, by D. Lothrop & Co. July 17, 1886.
THE PANSY.
PUSS AND HER FAMILY IN THE HAY-MOW.