Part 2 (2/2)

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That trot no mortal could explain; Some said, ”Old Dutchman come again!”

Some took his time,--at least they tried, But what it was could none decide; One said he couldn't understand What happened to his second hand; One said 2.10; _that_ couldn't be-- More like two twenty two or three; Old Hiram settled it at last; ”The time was two--too dee-vel-ish fast!”

The parson's horse had won the bet; It cost him something of a sweat; Back in the one-hoss shay he went; The parson wondered what it meant, And murmured, with a mild surprise And pleasant twinkle of the eyes, ”That funeral must have been a trick, Or corpses drive at double-quick; I shouldn't wonder, I declare, If brother--Jehu--made the prayer!”

And this is all I have to say About that tough old trotting bay.

Huddup! Huddup! G'lang!--Good-day!

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Back in the one-horse-shay he went”]

Moral for which this tale is told: A horse _can_ trot, for all he's old.

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The

BROOMSTICK TRAIN

or

The Return of the WITCHES

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THE BROOMSTICK TRAIN

Look out! Look out, boys! Clear the track!

The witches are here! They've all come back!

They hanged them high,--No use! No use!

What cares a witch for a hangman's noose?

They buried them deep, but they wouldn't lie still, For cats and witches are hard to kill; They swore they shouldn't and wouldn't die,-- Books said they did, but they lie! they lie!

--A couple of hundred years, or so, They had knocked about in the world below, When an Ess.e.x Deacon dropped in to call, And a homesick feeling seized them all; For he came from a place they knew full well, And many a tale he had to tell.

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They long to visit the haunts of men, To see the old dwellings they knew again, And ride on their broomsticks all around Their wide domain of unhallowed ground.

In Ess.e.x county there's many a roof Well known to him of the cloven hoof; The small square windows are full in view Which the midnight hags went sailing through,

[Ill.u.s.tration]

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