ks' heart's bigger 'n their money-pu's';
And where a _common_ feller's jes as good
As ary other in the neighborhood:
The World at large don't worry you and me
Right here at home, boys, where we ort to be!

Right here at home, boys--jes right where we air!--
Birds don't sing any sweeter anywhere:
Grass don't grow any greener'n she grows
Acrost the pastur' where the old path goes,--
All things in ear-shot's purty, er in sight,
Right here at home, boys, ef we _size_ 'em right.

Right here at home, boys, where the old home-place
Is sacerd to us as our mother's face,
Jes as we rickollect her, last she smiled
And kissed us--dyin' so and rickonciled,
Seein' us all at home here--none astray--
Right here at home, boys, where she sleeps to-day.

THE LITTLE FAT DOCTOR.

He seemed so strange to me, every way--
In manner, and form, and size,
From the boy I knew but yesterday,--
I could hardly believe my eyes!

To hear his name called over there,
My memory thrilled with glee
And leaped to picture him young and fair
In youth, as he used to be.

But looking, only as glad eyes can,
For the boy I knew of yore,
I smiled on a portly little man
I had never seen before!--

Grave as a judge in courtliness--
Professor-like and bland--
A little fat doctor and nothing less,
With his hat in his kimboed hand.

But how we talked old times, and "chaffed"
Each other with "Minnie" and "Jim"---
And how the little fat doctor laughed,
And how I laughed with him!

"And it's pleasant," I thought, "though I yearn to see
The face of the youth that was,
To know no boy could smile on me
As the little fat doctor does!"

THE SHOEMAKER.

Thou Poet, who, like any lark,
Dost whet thy beak and trill
From misty morn till murky dark,
Nor ever pipe thy fill:
Hast thou not, in thy cheery note,
One poor chirp to confer--
One verseful twitter to devote
Unto the Shoe-ma-ker?

At early dawn he doth peg in
His noble work and brave;
And eke from cark and wordly sin
He seeketh soles to save;
And all day long, with quip and song,
Thus stitcheth he the way
Our feet may know the right from wrong,
Nor ever go a stray.

Soak kip in mind the Shoe-ma-ker,
Nor slight his lasting fame:
Alway he waxeth tenderer
In warmth of our acclaim;--
Aye, more than any artisan