cushions are worn, It's a kind of a ghost of a carriage, forlorn, And the dust from the roof settles down like a pall On the sorrowin' shape of the old carryall. It was built long ago, when the world seemed ter be A heaven, jest made up for Mary and me, And my mind wanders back to that first happy ride When she sat beside me,—my beauty and bride. Ah, them were the days when the village was new And folks took time to live, as God meant 'em ter do; And there's many a huskin' and quiltin' and ball That we drove to and back in the old carryall. And here in the paint are the marks of the feet Where a little form climbed ter the high-fashioned seat, And soft baby fingers them curtains have swung, And a curly head's nestled the cushions among; And then come the gloom of that black, bitter day When "Thy will be done" looked so wicked ter say As we drove to the grave, while the rain seemed to fall Like the tears of the sky on the old carryall. And so it has served us through sunshine and cloud, Through fun'rals and weddin's, from bride-wreath ter shroud; It's old and it's rusty, it's shaky and lame, But I love every j'int of its rickety frame. And it's restin' at last, for its race has been run, It's lived out its life and its work has been done, And I hope, in my soul, at the last trumpet call I'll have done mine as well as the old carryall.  

 

     OUR FIRST FIRE-CRACKERS 

  O you boys grown gray and bearded, you that used ter chum with me In that lazy little village down beside the tumblin' sea, When yer sniff the burnin' powder, when yer see the banners fly, Don't yer thoughts, like mine, go driftin' back to Fourths long since gone by? And, amongst them days of gladness, ain't there one that stands alone, When yer had yer first fire-crackers—jest one bunch, but all yer own? Don't yer 'member how yer envied bigger chaps their fuss and noise,   'Cause yer Ma had said that crackers wasn't good fer little boys? Do yer 'member how yer teased her, morn and eve and noon and night, And how all the world yelled "Glory!" when at last she said yer might? Do yer 'member how yer bought 'em, weeks and weeks ahead of time, After savin' all yer pennies till they footed up a dime? Do yer 'member what they looked like? I can see 'em plain as plain, With a dragon on the package, grinnin' through a fiery rain. 

 

  Do yer 'member how yer fired 'em, slow and careful, one by one? Do'n't it seem like each was louder than the grandest sort of 

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