Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1890-10-24
MECKlENBURG.
A CAT TALE AND RAT TALE OF THE
OLDEN TIME.
BY W. D. BRIsCoE.

A CAT TALE AND A KAT IABh Of Ih d
oLDEN TIME.
BY W. d. BRIsCoE.
On the Potomac's southern side,
Where the sunlight loved to culver
Through gnarled oaks, the burgher's
pride,
Stands Mecklenburg above the riv-
er.
Over the ridge 'twiIt houses brown
And the aspens' ceaseless shiver
The narrow street came struggling
In silence to the river.
Far distant through the oak and pine,
The travellers eye was able
To see the tavern's swinging sign,
The spire and church's gable.
About the old abutment wall
The idle angler tarried;
The boatman from his cobbler's stall,
Some horsemen over ferried.
Anon the sounding smithy beat
The plow-share worn for tillage;
Or dusty stage coach through the
street
Woke up the gaping village.
A place for rest, a place for dreams, -
Or some romance to follow;
So quaint, so cid, the hamlet seems
A kind of sleepy hollow.
And there the native dreamer clings
To customs swaying DER him,
Wise in the same dull round of things
His father priced before him.
Swearingens of Batavian build,
Black-lettered Herr Bedinger,
Hans Croft and Wessong of the guild,
The brawny anvil swinger.
Testy burghers with hats atilt,
And hardy sons of tillage,
Came from DER the seas and built
This quaint old German village.
Honest toll the gods invoked,
Content and thrift were neighbors;
The plethoric German sat and smoked
And rested from his labors.
Shadows slept upon the stream
Below the mountain crested;
And Indian summers placid dream
The town and vale invested.
Naught disturbed the towns repose
Or broke the tranquil slumber,
Save rats, and they at times arose
In vast and countless numbers.
Norway rats, old rats, young rats,
They infested house and stable;
They ate the cheese and stole the
sprats,-
The dinner off the table.
They gnawed the bins and ate the corn
They drank from pot and ladle;
They bit the men and maids forlorn,
The infant in the cradle.
Cut Dame Swearingen's silken vest,
The Town Recorders dockets,
And even built their filthy nests
In the Burgomaster's pockets.
To rid them of the cursed rats
A Council called determined
To import at once three hundred cats
And e1tirpate the vermin. y
Whether Whittington's famous breed
Or Ptolemys race adored,
l cannot say; but in good need
They were at last secured.
From motley Tab and spotted pard
The increase was supernal;
And Thomas cats in every yard
Made Luna's reign Internal.
Before the savage feline race
The vermin squeaked and scamper
ed,
As pussy darted from her place
Upon the lean and pampered.
Philip left, but Claudius stayed;
Clung closer than a brother
Unfolding like the Roman aid,
One evil for another.
One stormy night of hail and snow
And wild winds weird, long laugh
ter,
And hostlers' fires genial glow
Lit tap-room, roof and rafter.
Herr Croft who slipped his mug Of ale
(His thoughts with memory freight
ed),
Now saw again the Moselle vale,-
The river castelated
The purple hills where sunlight clunG
And breath of vineyerd ladens,-
The joyous song of vintage sung
By the merry grape-stained maidens
What happy visions of the past
Will thought from memory borrow
And as the eyes we backward cast
In bliss, forget the sorrow!
Faded the vine-clad bills OF yore!-
Herr Croft at last was mapping,
When, at the studded oahe door
Was heard a gentle tapping.
He started from his chair as would
ItOne whose dreams rude blow scat
ters,-
Before him in the doorway stood
A blown waif in tatters,
FROM when he came, no one could tell
Not even Herr Vanmeter,
Learned in the creed of books and bel
And mysteries Of st. Peter.
Herr Croft took in the storm-blowl
waif.