OVER THE CROSSIN’.
“Shine? shine, sor? Ye see, I’m just a-dien’ Ter turn yer two boots inter glass Where ye’ll see all the sights in the winders ’Ithout lookin’ up as yer pass. Seen me before? I’ve no doubt, sor; I’m punctooal haar, yer know, Waitin’ along the crossin’ Fur a little un’, name o’ Joe; My brother, sor, an’ a cute un’, Ba’ly turned seven, an’ small, But gettin’ his livin’ grad’ely Tendin’ a bit uv a stall Fur Millerkins down the av’nue; Yer kin bet that young un’s smart,— Worked right in like a vet’run Since th’ old un’ gin ’im a start.
Folks say he’s a picter o’ father, Once mate o’ the ‘Lucy Lee’— Lost when Joe wor a baby, Way off in some furrin sea. Then mother kep’ us together, Though nobody thought she would, An’ worked an’ slaved an’ froze an’ starved Uz long uz ever she could. An’ since she died an’ left us, A couple o’ year ago, We’ve kep’ right on in Cragg Alley, A-housekeepin’—I an’ Joe. I’d just got my kit when she went, sor, An’ people helped us a bit, So we managed to get on somehow; Joe wus alius a brave little chit; An’ since he’s got inter bisness, Though we don’t ape princes an’ sich, Tain’t of’n we git right hungry, An’ we feel pretty tol’able rich.
I used to wait at the corner, Jest over th’ other side; But the notion o’ bein’ tended Sort o’ ruffled the youngster’s pride, So now I only watches To see that he’s safe across; Sometimes it’s a bit o’ waitin’, But, bless yer, ’tain’t no loss! Look! there he is now, the rascal! Dodgin’ across the street Ter s’prise me—an’—look! I’m goin’— He’s down by the horses’ feet!
Suddenly all had happened,— The look, the cry, the spring, The shielding Joe as a bird shields Its young with sheltering wing; Then up the full street of the city A pause of the coming rush, And through all the din and the tumult A painful minute of hush; A tumble of scattered brushes, As they lifted him up to the walk, A gathering of curious faces, And snatches of whispered talk; Little Joe all trembling beside him On the flagging, with gentle grace Pushing the tangled, soft brown hair Away from the still white face. At his touch the shut lids lifted, And swift over lip and eye Came a glow as when the morning Flushes the eastern sky; And a hand reached out to his brother, As the words came low but clear,— “Joe, I reckon ye mind our mother: A minute back she wor here, Smilin’ an’ callin’ me to her! I tell ye, I’m powerful glad Yer such a brave, smart youngster: The leavin’ yer ain’t so bad. Hold hard to the right things she learnt us, An’ allus keep honest an’ true; Good-by, Joe—but mind, I’ll be watchin’ Just—over—the crossin’—fur you!” Springfield Republican.
SOMEHOW OR OTHER.
The good wife bustled about the house, Her face still bright with a pleasant smile, As broken snatches of happy song Strengthened her heart and hand the while. The good man sat in the chimney-nook, His little clay pipe within his lips, And all he’d made, and all he’d lost, Ready and clear on his finger-tips.
“Good wife, I’ve just been thinking a bit: Nothing has done very well this year; Money is bound to be hard to get; Every thing’s bound to be very dear; How the cattle are going to be fed, How we’re to keep the boys at school, Is kind of a debit and credit sum I can’t make balance by any rule.”