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Riley, James Whitcomb, 1849-1916

"Pipes O'Pan at Zekesbury"

He recognized
his old chum at a glance, and Josie--now Bert's wife. Yes, he
comprehended that. He was holding a hand of each when another figure
entered. His thin, white fingers loosened their clasp, and he held a
hand toward the new comer. "Here," he said, "is my best friend in the
world--Bert, you and Josie will love her, I know; for this is
Mrs.--Mrs."--"Mrs. Miller," said the radiant little
woman.--"Yes,--Mrs. Miller," said John, very proudly.


RHYMES OF RAINY DAYS


THE TREE-TOAD.

"'Scurious-like," said the tree-toad,
"I've twittered far rain all day;
And I got up soon,
And I hollered till noon--
But the sun, hit blazed away,
Till I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole,
Weary at heart, and sick at soul!
"Dozed away far an hour,
And I tackled the thing agin;
And I sung, and sung,
Till I knowed my lung
Was jest about give in;
And then, thinks I, ef hit don't rain now.
There're nothin' in singin', anyhow!
"Once in awhile some
Would come a drivin' past;
And he'd hear my cry,
And stop and sigh--
Till I jest laid back, at last,
And I hollered rain till I thought my th'oat
Would bust right open at ever' note!
"But _I fetched_ her! O _I fetched_ her!--
'Cause a little while ago,
As I kindo' set,
With one eye shet,
And a-singin' soft and low,
A voice drapped down on my fevered brain,
Sayin',--' Ef you'll jest hush I'll rain!'"


A WORN-OUT PENCIL.


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