""Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell
That we sailed to the Indian sea,
And there on a reef we come to grief,
Which has often occurred to me.

"And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned,

(There was seventy-seven o' soul),

And only ten of the Nancy's men

Said 'Here!' to the muster roll.

"There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig,

And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,

And the crew of the captain's gig.

"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,

Till a-hungry we did feel,

So we drawed a lot, and accordin' shot

The captain for our meal.

"The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate,
And a delicate dish he made;

Then our appetite with the midshipmite
We seven survivors stayed.

"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,
And he much resembled pig;

Then we wittled free, did the cook and me,
On the crew of the captain's gig.

"Then only the cook and me was left,
And the delicate question, 'Which
Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,
And we argued it out as sich.

"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,

And the cook he worshiped me;

But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed In the other chap's hold, you see.

"I'll be eat if you dines of me,' says Tom 'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be.'

'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I; And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.

"Says he, 'Dear James, to murder me
Were a foolish thing to do,

For don't you see that you can't cook me,
While I can and will-cook you?'

"So he boils the water, and takes the salt,
And the pepper in portions true

(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot And some sage and parsley, too.

"Come here,' says he, with a proper pride,

Which his smiling features tell, ""Twill soothing be if I let you see

How extremely nice you'll smell.'

"And he stirred it round and round and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth—

When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth.

"And I eat that cook in a week or less,

And as I eating be

The last of his chops, why, I almost drops,
For a wessel in sight I see.

"And I never grieve, and I never smile,

And I never larf nor play,

But I sit and croak, and a single joke
I have which is to say:

"Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig,

And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,

And the crew of the captain's gig!"

I TOL' YER SO

BY JOHN L. HEATON

John Jones he was the beatenus cuss.
Allus a-pickin' 'n' sayin' to us:

"I tol' yer so, I tol' yer so!"

No matter what happened, he'd up an' say: "Yer sorry ye done it, haint ye, hey? Well, well, I tol' yer so!"

When Kerin-Happuck wuz tuk down sick
From the pizen ivy she'd gin a lick,
He'd tol' us so, he'd tol' us so.

'N' Shadrack's fuss with his mother-in-law, Before the weddin' John Jones foresaw; Well, well, he tol' us so.

If a fellow wuz hit by a fallin' tree, Or kicked by a horse, says Jones, says he: "I tol' yer so, I tol' yer so!"

If a barn tuck fire, or a well-sweep broke, We might a-knowed it before Jones spoke, The time he tol' us so.

It got so tejus, says Bill one day: "Ye're a dern ol' idjit, 'ith nothin' ter say But 'tol' yer so,' 'n 'tol' yer so,'— A mean, contemptible, sneakin' cuss!" 'N' jes from habit, Jones sez to us: "Well, well, I tol' yer so!"

"YOU GIT UP!"

BY JOE KERR

There's lots of folks that has good times,
There's lots that never does;

But the ones that don't like morning naps
Is the meanest ever wuz.

It's very nice to eat a meal

With pie for its wind-up;

'Taint half so sweet's th' nap pa spoils
When he yells, "You git up!"

I'd rather lay in bed and snooze,
Jest one small minit more
In the morning, when the sunshine
Comes a-creeping o'er the floor,
Then to go to Barnum's circus or
To own a bulldog pup.
The meanest thing pa ever said
Wuz, "Come now-you git up!"

I like to go in swimming,

And I like to play baseball; I like to fight and fly a kite,

'N' I sometimes like to bawl;

But them thare forty winks of sleep
Pa tries to interrup',

Is better 'n' all. It breaks my heart
When pa yells, "You git up!"

I'd stand the hurt and ache and pain
And all the smart and itch

Of having him turn the bedclothes down
To wake me with a switch,

Ef he 'ud on'y jest go 'way
And let me finish up

The nap
He yelled out, "You git up!"

I started jest before

!

You bet, when I git growed up big,
Es rich 'n' old as pa,

'N' never haf to go to school,

Nor work nor stand no jaw-
I'll sleep all day and all night, too,
And only jest git up

When I git 'nough sleep to suit me

Ef all the world yells, "You git up!"

By permission of G. W. Dillingham Company.

PRESENTATION OF THE TRUMPET

ANONYMOUS

In the days of the old volunteer fire department there existed in this city a certain hose company noted for the bravery of its foreman, whose reckless daring in time of danger, coupled with his pugilistic attainments, had made him a local celebrity.

The members of his company decided to present him with a handsome silver trumpet, as an expression of their regard and appreciation of his pluck, courage and fighting qualities. One of the members was chosen to prepare a fitting speech for the occasion, and after some weeks of labor announced himself as being thoroughly prepared for the task.

In the meantime, the foreman, who was supposed to be in blissful ignorance of all the preparations being made to surprize him, was let into the "secret" through the kindness of one of the boys. He recognized this as his supreme opportunity to display his literary qualifications in the shape of a speech of acceptance. He secured the services of a literary friend to write a glowing oration, replete with metaphors, similes, and sweet-sounding poetry, expressing his "unworthiness of the honor," the "deep gratitude which words failed him to adequately express," etc.

The night in question at last arrived. The building was filled to overflowing. The band played "See the Conquering Hero Comes," and the boys gave three hearty cheers and a "tiger" for the proud foreman.

The chairman advanced to the front, holding the massive trum