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LITTLE ORPHANT ALLIE.

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

[1853-.]

LITTLE Orphant Allie's come to our house to stay

An' wash the cups and saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board an' keep;
An' all us other children, when the supper things is done,

We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun

A list'nin' to the witch tales 'at Allie tells about,

An' the gobble-uns 'at gits you

Ef you

Don't

Watch

Out!

Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his pray'rs -
An' when he went to bed 'at night, away upstairs,

His mammy heerd him holler, an' his daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess,
But all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout!
An' the gobble-uns 'll git you

Ef you
Don't

Watch
Out!

An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever' one an' all her blood an' kin,

An' onc't when they was "company," an' ole folks was there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They was two great big Black Things a standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's
about!

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An' little Orphant Allie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin' bugs in dew is all squenched away, -
You better mind yer parents, and yer teachers fond and dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the gobble-uns 'll git you

Ef you

Don't

Watch

Out!

GRIGGSBY'S STATION.

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

PAP's got his patent right, and rich as all creation;

But where's the peace and comfort that we all had before? Le's go a visitin' back to Griggsby's Station

Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore!

The likes of us a livin' here! It's jest a mortal pity

To see us in this great big house, with cyarpets on the stairs, And the pump right in the kitchen! And the city! city! city!And nothin' but the city all around us ever'wheres!

Climb clean above the roof and look from the steeple,
And never see a robin, nor a beech nor ellum tree!

And right here in earshot of at least a thousan' people,

And none that neighbors with us, or we want to go and see!

Le's go a visitin' back to Griggsby's Station

Back where the latchstring's a hangin' from the door, And ever' neighbor 'round the place is dear as a relation – Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore!

I want to see the Wiggenses, the whole kit and bilin'

A drivin' up from Shallor Ford to stay the Sunday through; And I want to see 'em hitchin' at their son-in-law's and pilin' Out there at 'Lizy Ellen's like they ust to do!

I want to see the piece quilts the Jones girls is makin';

And I want to pester Laury 'bout their freckled hired hand,

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And joke her 'bout the widower she come purt' nigh a takin',
Till her pap got his pension 'lowed in time to save his land.

Le's go a visitin' back to Griggsby's Station

Back where they's nothin' aggervatin' any more; Shet away safe in the woods around the old locationBack where we ust to be so happy and so pore!

I want to see Marindy and he'p her with her sewin',
And hear her talk so lovin' of her man that's dead and gone,
And stand up with Emanuel to show me how he's growin',
And smile as I have saw her 'fore she put her mournin' on.

And I want to see the Samples, on the old lower eighty
Where John our oldest boy, he was tuk and burried,
His own sake and Katy's, and I want to cry with Katy
As she reads all his letters over, writ from The War.

What's in all this grand life and high situation,

And nary pink nor hollyhawk bloomin' at the door? Le's go a visitin' back to Griggsby's Station

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Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore!

for

THE CAVE OF LIGHT.1

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.

(From "The Great Stone of Sardis.")

[FRANK RICHARD STOCKTON, American story-writer, was born in Philadelphia, Pa., April 5, 1834. He was a wood engraver, and became a magazine writer, mostly of humorous short stories, with half-burlesque wonder tales for children. Among his longer books are: “Rudder Grange," a series of short stories on a common thread; "The Late Mrs. Null"; "The Hundredth Man"; "The Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine," with its sequel, "The Dusantes"; "The Merry Chanter"; "The Squirrel Inn"; "Ardis Claverden"; "The Great War Syndicate"; "The Adventures of Captain Horn," with its sequel, "Mrs. Cliff's Yacht"; and "The Great Stone of Sardis."]

ON the day that Margaret left Sardis, Roland began his preparations for descending the shaft. He had so thoroughly considered the machinery and appliances necessary for the undertaking, and had worked out all his plans in such detail,

1 Copyright, 1897, by Harper and Brothers.

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