it was jest abreast the eaves;
And he nipped, sah, quicker 'n lightnin', and he gripped there with
his teeth,
And he never dropped the shingles, but he hung to both the sheaves,
Though the solid ground was suttenly more 'n thirty feet beneath.

He held there and he kicked there and he squirmed, but no one come;
He was workin' on the roof alone--there war'n't no folks around--
He hung like death to niggers till his jaw was set and numb,
And he reely thought he'd have to drop them shingles on the ground.

But all at once old Skillins come a-toddlin' down the street;
Old Skil is sort of hump-backed, and he allus looks straight down;
So he never seed the motions of them number 'leven feet,
And he went a-amblin' by him--the goramded blind old clown!

Now this ere part is truthful--ain't a-stretchin' it a mite,--
When the feller seed that Skillins was a-walkin' past the place,
Let go his teeth and hollered, but he grabbed back quick and tight,
'Fore he had a chance to tumble, and he hung there by the face.

And he never dropped the shingles, and he never missed his grip,
And he stepped out on the ladder when they raised it underneath;
And up he went a-flukin' with them shingles on his hip,
And there's the satisfaction of a havin' double teeth.

PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES

BY BRET HARTE

Which I wish to remark--
And my language is plain--
That for ways that are dark,
And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar,
Which the same I would rise to explain.

Ah Sin was his name,
And I shall not deny
In regard to the same
What that name might imply;
But his smile it was pensive and childlike,
As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye.

It was August the third,
And quite soft was the skies;
Which it might be inferred
That Ah Sin was likewise;
Yet he played it that day upon William
And me in a way I despise.

Which we had a small game,
And Ah Sin took a hand;
It was euchre--the same
He did not understand;
But he smiled as he sat at the table
With the smile that was childlike and bland.

Yet the cards they were stocked
In a way that I grieve,
And my feelings were shocked
At the state of Nye's sleeve,
Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers,
And the same with intent to deceive.

But the hands that were played
By that heathen