Author of "The
Habitant," etc.

Illustrated by

Frederick
Simpson
Coburn

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
The Knickerbocker Press
1898

COPYRIGHT, 1898
BY
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London

The Knickerbocker Press, New York

headpiece

PHIL-O-RUM'S CANOE.

"O ma ole canoe, wat 's matter wit' you,

an' w'y was you be so slow?

Don't I work hard enough on de paddle, an'

still you don't seem to go--

No win' at all on de fronte side, an' current

she don't be strong,

Den w'y are you lak' lazy feller, too sleepy for

move along?

"I 'member de tam, w'en you jomp de sam'

as deer wit' de wolf behin',

An' brochet on de top de water, you scare

heem mos' off hees min':

But fish don't care for you now at all, only jus'

mebbe wink de eye,

For he know it 's easy git out de way, w'en

you was a-passin' by"----

I 'm spikin' dis way, jus' de oder day, w'en I 'm

out wit' de ole canoe

Crossin' de point w'ere I see, las' fall, wan very

beeg caribou,

Wen somebody say, "Phil-o-rum, mon vieux,

wat 's matter wit' you youse'f?"

An' who do you s'pose was talkin'? W'y de

poor ole canoe shese'f.

O yass, I 'm scare w'en I 'm sittin' dere, an'

she 's callin' ma nam' dat way.

"Phil-o-rum Juneau, w'y you spik so moche,

you 're off on de head to-day:

Can't be you forget, ole feller, you an' me

we're not too young,

An' if I 'm lookin' so ole lak' you, I t'ink I

will close ma tongue.

"You should feel ashame, for you 're alway

blame, w'en it is n't ma fault at all,

For I 'm tryin' to do bes' I can for you on

summer-tam, spring, an' fall.

How offen you drown on de reever, if I 'm

not lookin' out for you

W'en you 're takin' too moche on de w'isky,

some night comin' down de Soo.

"De firse tam we go on de Wessoneau, no

feller can beat us den

For you 're purty strong man wit' de paddle,

but dat 's long ago, ma frien',

An' win' she can blow off de mountain, an'

tonder an' rain may come,

But camp see us bote on de evening--you

know dat was true, Phil-o-rum.

"An' who 's your horse, too, but your ole

canoe, an' w'en you feel cole an' wet,

Who was your house w'en I 'm upside down,

an' onder de roof you get,

Wit' rain ronnin' down ma back, Baptême! till

I 'm gettin' de rheumateez,

An' I never say not'ing at all moi-meme, but

let you do jus' you please?

"You t'ink it was right, kip me out all night

on reever side down below,

An' even 'bon soir' you was never say, but

off on de camp you go,

Leffin' your poor ole canoe behin', lyin' dere

on de groun',

Watchin' de moon on de water, an' de bat

flyin' all aroun'?

"Oh, dat's lonesome t'ing hear de grey owl

sing up on de beeg pine tree!

An' many long night she kip me awake till sun

on de Eas' I see,

An' den you come down on de morning for

start on some more voyage,

An' only t'ing decen' you do all day, is carry

me on portage.

"Dat 's way, Phil-o-rum, rheumateez she

come, wit' pain ronnin' troo' ma side,

Wan leetle hole here, 'noder beeg wan dere,

dat not'ing can never hide,

Don't do any good feex me up agen, no matter

how moche you try,

For w'en we come ole an' our work she 's

done, bote man an' canoe mus' die."

Wall, she talk dat way mebbe mos' de day till

we 're passin' some beaver dam,

An' wan de young beaver, he 's mak' hees tail

come down on de water Flam!

I never see de canoe so scare, she jomp nearly

two, t'ree feet,

I t'ink she was goin' for ronne away, an' she

shut up de mout' toute suite.

It mak' me feel queer, de strange t'ing I hear,

an' I 'm glad she don't spik no more,

But soon as we fin' ourse'f arrive over dere on

de 'noder shore

I tak' dat canoe lak' de lady, an' carry her off

wit' me,

For I 'm sorry de way I 'm treat her, an' she

know more dan me, sapree!

Yass, dat 's smart canoe, an' I know it 's true,

w'at she 's spikin' wit' me dat day,

I 'm not de young feller I use to be, w'en work

she was only play,

An' I know I was comin' closer on place w'ere

I mus' tak' care,

W'ere de mos' worse current 's de las' wan too,

de current of Dead Riviere.

You can only steer, an' if rock be near, wit'

wave dashin' all aroun',

Better mak' leetle prayer, for on Dead Riviere,

some very smart man get drown;

But if you be locky an' watch youse'f, mebbe

reever won't seem so wide,

An' firse t'ing you know you 'll ronne ashore,

safe on de 'noder side.