An’ the lampwick sputters, an’ the wind goes woo-oo!
An’ you hear the crickets quit, an’ the moon is gray,
An’ the lightnin’-bug in dew is all squenched away,—
You better mind yer parents and yer teacher fond an’ dear,
An’ cherish them ’at loves you and dry the orphant’s tear,
An’ he’p the poor an’ needy ones ’at cluster all about,
Er the gobble-uns ’ll git you
Ef you—don’t—watch—out.
James Whitcomb Riley was born in Greenfield, Indiana, in 1853. His father was a Quaker, and a leading attorney of that place, and desired to make a lawyer of his son; but Mr. Riley tells us, “Whenever I picked up ‘Blackstone’ or ‘Greenleaf,’ my wits went to wool-gathering, and my father was soon convinced that his hopes of my achieving greatness at the bar were doomed to disappointment.” Referring to his education, the poet further says, “I never had much schooling, and what I did get, I believe did me little good. I never could master mathematics, and history was a dull and juiceless thing to me; but I always was fond of reading in a random way, and took naturally to the theatrical. I cannot remember when I was not a declaimer, and I began to rhyme almost as soon as I could talk.”
Riley’s first occupation was as a sign painter for a patent-medicine man, with whom he traveled for a year. On leaving this employment he organized a company of sign painters, with whom he traveled over the country giving musical entertainments and painting signs. In referring to this he says, “All the members of the company were good musicians as well as painters, and we used to drum up trade with our music. We kept at it for three or four years, made plenty of money, had lots of fun, and did no harm to ourselves or any one else. Of course, during this sign painting period, I was writing verses all the time, and finally after the Graphic Company’s last trip I secured a position on the weekly paper at Anderson.” For many years Riley endeavored to have his verses published in various magazines, “sending them from one to another,” he says, “to get them promptly back again.” Finally, he sent some verses to the poet Longfellow, who congratulated him warmly, as did also Mr. Lowell, to whose “New England Dialectic Poems” Mr. Riley’s “Hoosier Rhymes” bore a striking resemblance. From this time forward his success was assured, and, instead of hunting publishers, he has been kept more than busy in supplying their eager demands upon his pen.