LITTLE BREECHES.

I DON'T go much on religion,
I never ain't had no show;
But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sír!
On the handful o' things I know.
I don't pan out on the prophets

And free-will, and that sort of thing,—
But I b'lieve in God and the angels,
Ever sence one night last spring.

I come into town with some turnips,
And my little Gabe come along,-
No four-year-old in the county

Could beat him for pretty and strong,Peart and chipper and sassy,

Always ready to swear and fight,And I'd larnt him to chaw terbacker Just to keep his milk-teeth white.

The snow come down like a blanket
As I pass'd by Taggart's store;
I went in for a jug of molasses

And left the team at the door.
They scared at something and started,—
I heard one little squall,

And hell-to-split over the prairie

Went team, Little Breeches, and all.

Hell-to-split over the prairie!

I was almost froze with skeer;
But we rousted up some torches,
And sarch'd for 'em far and near.
At last we struck horses and waggon,
Snow'd under a soft white mound,
Upsot, dead beat, but of little Gabe
No hide nor hair was found.

And here all hope sour'd on me,
Of my fellow-critters' aid,-

I jest flopp'd down on my marrow-bones,
Crotch-deep in the snow, and pray'd.

By this the torches was play'd out,
And me and Isrul Parr

Went off for some wood to a sheepfold
That he said was somewhar thar.

We found it at last, and a little shed
Where they shut up the lambs at night.
We look'd in and seen them huddled thar,
So warm and sleepy and white;

And THAR Sot Little Breeches and chirp'd,
As peart as ever you see,

"I want a chaw of terbacker,

And that's what's the matter of me."

How did he git thar? Angels.

He could never have walk'd in that storm.
They jest scoop'd down and toted him
To whar it was safe and warm.
And I think that saving a little child,
And bringing him to his own,
Is a dern'd sight better business
Than loafing around The Throne.

A WOMAN'S LOVE.

A SENTINEL angel sitting high in glory
Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory:
“Have mercy, mighty angel! hear my story!-

“I loved,—and, blind with passionate love, I fell. Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell. For God is just, and death for sin is well.

"I do not rage against His high decree,
Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be !
But for my
love on earth who mourns for me.

i

"Great Spirit! Let me see my love again
And comfort him one hour, and I were fain
To pay a thousand years of fire and pain."-
Then said the pitying angel-"Nay, repent
That wild vow! Look, the dial-finger's bent
Down to the last hour of thy punishment!".
But still she wail'd-"I pray thee, let me go!
I cannot rise to peace and leave him so.
O, let me soothe him in his bitter woe!"-
The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar,
And upward, joyous, like a rising star,
She rose and vanish'd in the ether far.

But soon adown the dying sunset sailing,
And like a wounded bird her pinions trailing,
She flutter'd back, with broken-hearted wailing.
She sobb'd-"I found him by the summer sea
Reclined, his head upon a maiden's knee,—

She curl'd his hair and kiss'd him. Woe is me!

She wept,-"Now let my punishment begin!
I have been fond and foolish. Let me in
To expiate my sorrow and my sin !”-

The angel answer'd-"Nay, sad soul! go higher!
To be deceived in your true heart's desire
Was bitterer than a thousand years of fire!"

CINCINNATUS HINER (“JOAQUIN ") MILLER.

Born 1840

KIT CARSON'S RIDE.*

"RUN?

Now

bet you

you;

I rather guess so!

But he's blind as a badger. Whoa, Paché, boy, whoa! No, you wouldn't believe it to look at his eyes,

But he is, badger blind, and it happen'd this wise.

*See Note 26.

I

OF THE

UNIVERSITY
CINCINNATUS HINER (“JOAQUIN ") MILLER. 341

"We lay in the grasses and the sun-burnt clover
That spread on the ground like a great brown cover
Northward and southward, and west and away
To the Brazos, to where our lodges lay,
One broad and unbroken sea of brown,
Awaiting the curtains of night to come down
To cover us over and conceal our flight

With my
brown bride, won from an Indian town
That lay in the rear the full ride of a night.

"We lounged in the grasses-her eyes were in mine,
And her hands on my knee, and her hair was as wine
In its wealth and its flood, pouring on and all over
Her bosom wine-red, and press'd never by one;
And her touch was as warm as the tinge of the clover
Burnt brown as it reach'd to the kiss of the sun;
And her words were as low as the lute-throated dove,
And as laden with love as the heart when it beats
In its hot eager answer to earliest love,
Or the bee hurried home by its burthen of sweets.

"We lay low in the grass on the broad plain levels,
Old Revels and I, and my stolen brown bride;
And the heavens of blue and the harvest of brown
And beautiful clover were welded as one,

To the right and the left, in the light of the sun.

Forty full miles if a foot to ride,

Forty full miles if a foot, and the devils

Of red Camanches are hot on the track

When once they strike it. Let the sun go down
Soon, very soon,'—mutter'd bearded Old Revels
As he peer'd at the sun, lying low on his back,
Holding fast to his lasso. Then he jerk'd at his steed
And he sprang to his feet, and glanced swiftly around,
And then dropp'd, as if shot, with his ear to the ground;
Then again to his feet, and to me, to my bride,
While his eyes were like fire, his face like a shroud,
His form like a king, and his beard like a cloud,

And his voice loud and shrill, as if blown from a reed,

Pull, pull in your lassos, and bridle your steed,

And speed you if ever for life you would speed,
And ride for your lives, for your lives you must ride
For the plain is aflame, the prairie on fire,
And feet of wild horses hard flying before
I hear like a sea breaking high on the shore,
While the buffalo come like a surge of the sea,
Driven far by the flame, driving fast on us three
As a hurricane comes, crushing palms in his ire.'-

"We drew in the lassos, seized saddle and rein, Threw them on, sinch'd them on, sinch'd them over again, And again drew the girth, cast aside the macheers, Cut away tapidaros, loosed the sash from its fold, Cast aside the catenas red-spangled with gold, And gold-mounted Colts', the companions of years, Cast the silken serapes to the wind in a breath, And so bared to the skin sprang all haste to the horseAs bare as when born, as when new from the hand Of God—without word, or one word of command. Turn'd head to the Brazos in a red race with death, Turn'd head to the Brazos with a breath in the hair Blowing hot from a king leaving death in his course; Turn'd head to the Brazos with a sound in the air Like the rush of an army, and a flash in the eye Of a red wall of fire reaching up to the sky, Stretching fierce in pursuit of a black rolling sea Rushing fast upon us, as the wind sweeping free And afar from the desert blew hollow and hoarse.

"Not a word, not a wail from a lip was let fall, Not a kiss from my bride, not a look nor low call Of love-note or courage; but on o'er the plain So steady and still, leaning low to the mane, With the heel to the flank and the hand to the rein, Rode we on, rode we three, rode we nose and gray nose, Reaching long, breathing loud, as a creviced wind blows: Yet we broke not a whisper, we breath'd not a prayer, There was work to be done, there was death in the air, And the chance was as one to a thousand for all.