Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1873-11-28
Poetry.
BRET H1RT'E'S NEW POEM.
IL u N E.
IN THE COLORADO PARK, 1871

(fH THE COLORADO PARK, 1879
wots that you're readin' "a novel? A novel-well
darn my skin
You man grown and bearded d, and histng such stun
ez that in
STUFF about gals and their sweethearts? No wonder
you're thin ez knife.
Look at me clar two hundred-and never read one
in my life.
That's my opinion o. novels. And ez 10 their lyin'
round here,
They belonged to the Jedgc's daushcr-the Jedge who
came up last year
On account Of his lungs and the mountains and the
balsam o. pine and fir;
And his daughter-well she read moves, and that's
what's the matter with her
Yet she was sweet on the Jcdge aud stuck by him day
and night,
Alone in tho cabin up yer-till she grew like ghost,
all white.
She was My slip of thing, light and cz up and
away
Ez rifle smoke blown through the woods, but she
wasn't my kind-no way
speakn o. gals dye mind that house you rise the
hri;
A mile and half from Whites, and iist above Mat
tingy's mill?
You do? Well, now, has gal! What, you saw
her? o, come now, thar, quit
She was only bedevlin you boys, fer to me she don't
cotton one bit.
Now she's what call a ga-ez pretty and plump ez a
quail:
Teeth as white ca hounds, and they'd go through
tenpenny nail;
Eyes that kin snap like cap. SO she asked TO Know
''whar was hid?"
She did? O. it's Jest like her sass, for she's pear ez
Katy-did
But what was talking of?-o! the Jedge and his
daughtcr-she read
Novels the whole day long, and reckon she read them
abed,
And sometimes she read them out loud to the Jedge on
the porch where he sat,
And twas how Lord Augustus" said this, and how
''Lady Blanche" she said that.
But the sckes of all that heerd, yarn thet they
read bout chap,
Leather Stocking" by name, and hunter chock full
O. the greenest o. sap;
And they aske me TO hear but / says, miss Mabel,
notany for me;
When likes kin sling my own lies, and thet chap
and I shouldn't agree"
her to mind
OF folks about when she had read or suthin belize Of
tibet kind,
And thar warn end o. the names that she give me
thet summer up here,
robin Hood" Leather Stocking" "Rob Roy,'-o, I
tell you, the critter was queer.
And yet she hadn't been spilled, she harmless
enough in her way,
She could abber in French to her dad and they say
that she knew how TO play,
Aud she worked that shot.pouch up thar-which
the man doesn't live ez kin USE
And the slippers-you see 'em down yer--ek would
cradle an Injin's pappoosc.
Yet along them novels, you see she wastip and
mopin' away
And then she got shy with her tongue and at last had
nothin' to say;
nd whenever happened around her face it was hid
by book,
And it warnt until she left that she gave much
look.
And this was the way it was. 1t was night when !
KEN up here
say TO 'em all "good bye" for reckoned to go for
deer
At 'sun up" the day they left. So shook 'em al
round by the hand,
Ce pt Mabel, and she sick, they gave to un
derstand
But jist as passed the house next morning at dawn
some one,
Like little o. mist got up on the hill with th'
Miss Mabel it was, alonc-al Wrapped in a mantle o
lace
And stood there straight in the l. with touch
the in her face
And she looked me right in the cyc-Id seen suthii
like it before
when hunted a wounded doe to the edge of Clca
Lake shore,
And had m, knee on lis neck and iist raisir
when it gave me look like that and-well, it got OF
with its life.
''we going today" she said, "and thought
would ray good-by
| To you in your own house, Luke-thesc woods an
the bright blue sky!
| You've always been kind to us, Luxe, and papa ha
found you still
As good the air he breathes, and wholesome
| Laurel Tree Hill.
| 'And we'll always think of YOU Luke as the thing "
could not take away:
The basam that dwells in the woods the rainbow tn;
| lives in the spray,
And youll sometimes think Of me, Luke, as you kno
You once used to say,
rifle smoke blown through the woods, momen
but never to stay"
And then shook hands. She turned, but a-su,
| dent she tottered and fell,
And caugh her sharp by tho waist and held her
minit-wel
II was only q mint, you know, that cz cold and ,
| white she lay
Ez a snowflake here on my breast, and then-we
| she melted away
And was gone 81" And there her books, but l "a
| not any for me,
Good enough, may be, for some, but them and
| mightn't agree
They spilled decent gal might have made son
| chap wife,
And look at me!-clar two hundred-and never re,
one in my lfe!-Scribnsr's.
THE END OF THE WORI.D-The hand