phraim's eye and heart, it was his claybank, Fan;
He boasted of her speed and looks, and of her pedigree--
Said more intelligence in a brute no man would ever see.

VII.

He kept her curried till her coat it shone like burnished gold--
With silver-mounted harness on, a beauty to behold.
A brand new buggy hitched to her, a-glinting in the sun,
She "took the cake" for speed and style from every other one.

VIII.

They heard that Eph. one night would call upon his Tildy Ann
To make arrangements all complete to carry out a plan:
It would be Sunday following, when all in style he'd go
With Tildy and the yellow mare to the country "bonnet-show."

IX.

Supplied with brushes, cans of paint of every shade and hue,
And to furnish light by which to work, a bull's-eye lantern, too,
At ten o'clock that night so dark you couldn't see a wink,
They striped his Fan with red and brown, and black and blue and pink.

X.

Next morning when he went to feed, and opened wide the door,
No zebra that was ever foaled could boast the stripes she wore;
Her ears were white, her legs were green, her tail was fiery red,
And as he gazed upon her then I can't tell what he said!

THAT OLD STRAW HAT OF MINE.

(WITH APOLOGIES TO RILEY.)

I.

As one who dreams at evening o'er the new hats that he's worn,
And muses on the better times that once to him were known,
So I turn the leaves of fancy till, in shadowy design,
I see the faded ribbon on that old straw hat of mine.

II.

The firelight seems to mock me as the ruddy flames arise,
And I turn about to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes;
And I ponder then in silence, save a sigh that seems to yoke
Its fate with my condition, and to vanish like the smoke.

III.

With fondest recollection the loving thoughts that start
Into being are but feelings from the bottom of my heart;
And to wear the new hats over is a luxury divine--
Till my truant fancy wanders with that old straw hat of mine.

IV.

Now I hear without my chamber, like a fluttering of wings,
The rustling of the autumn wind as through the trees it sings,
And I feel no twinge of conscience to deny me any scheme
That will bring to me a hat of which I now can only dream.

V.

In fact, to speak in earnest, if I could work a charm,
I'd try it on old Isaacs--'twouldn't do him much of harm--
And I'd find an extra flavor in memory's mellow wine
When I thought of how I swapped him that old straw hat of mine.