THE LAUGHY-MAN.
Ho, for the Laughy-Man! laughing all day,
Laughing the sunshiny hours away,
Laughing and kicking his little pink heels
Just to impress us with how good he feels!
Hey, for the Laughy-Man!
Ho, for his smiles!
Hail to the angels who taught him such wiles!
Ho, for the Laughy-Man! waking to play,
Waking to laugh at the first peep o' day,
Waking to churn up the blanket and sheet,
Like waves of the sea, with his fists and his feet!
Hey, for the Laughy-Man!
Ho, for his smiles!
Hail to the angels who taught him such wiles!
Ho, for the Laughy-Man! lying abed,
Lying there wagging his cherubin head,
Lying there, merry, a bundle of love
Sent to our home by the seraphs above!
Hey, for the Laughy-Man!
Ho, for his smiles!
Hail to the angels who taught him such wiles!
There were seven kinds of Indians at the back of the largest hotel of the Western town—dirty and dirtier, which is two; young and old, which is four; male and female, making six; and one little clean pappoose. This latter tiny bit of aboriginal humanity was a chubby, round-faced, bright-eyed little tike, with the blackest of hair and the most bronze of complexions. He was playing around alone inside a close high board fence at the rear of the large hotel, his only shirt cut off at the knees, displaying a fat brownish pair of dimpled legs that were warm enough in spite of the fact of their bareness in the chilling air.
Presently around the corner came a trotting, smiling Chinaman, a vender of vegetables. A long slender pole, carved flat and tapering toward the ends, was balanced on his shoulder, and from either end, suspended by a bridle composed of four strings, hung a huge bamboo basket.
As he halted within the gate of the high board fence he lightly swung the receptacles to earth, rested his polished pole conveniently near, lifted a mat containing the day's supplies for the cook within, and carried it off to the kitchen.