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VOL. XLIX. NO. 2 133. 
NEW YORK, DECEMBER i3. i89o. 
THE YALLER DOG. 
With solemn visage and keen gray eye. 
He watched the crowd in the busy town. 
The empty sleeve of his army coat. 
With eloquent gesture hanging down. 
The blue of the soldier's overcoat 
Seemed stained and faded by war’s red hand. 
And seanr j d and scarred was the face beneath 
The old white h it with its tattered band. 
But all unheeded by passing crowd. 
Stood he who doubtless had led the way, 
Through rifle’s smoke and the cannon’s glare 
To crouching enemy’s line of gray. 
I said: ’■ Pray tell me your story, friend, 
I know by the army coat you wear, 
By the tale that empty sleeve doth tell, 
Your hand held Freedom’s In her despair. 
But tell me where did your right arm fall 
As bravely your blade It waved .on high ? 
The awful depths of the Wilderness ? 
On Lookout Mountain above the sky ? 
Perhaps on the ridge at Gettysburg 
You waited the charging Hue of gray, 
And saw, when dimly the war smoke rose, 
The lighter dawning of Freedom’s day.” 
The old man winked in his knowing way. 
A gleam of fun In his keen gray eye, 
He waved the stub of his missing arm 
In emphasis as he made reply'. 
" 1 ain’t no hero ez furz I know, 
I ain’t never yet set up to be. 
You don't ketch mo in no wilderness 
Ner in no marchlu to ary sea. 
I lost my arm when the old gun kicked. 
It didn't happen In ary tight, 
'Twnru’tat no man, but a yaller dog, 
I squinted keen through the big hind sight, 
'Twits way back yunder in old Vermont, 
Before I started to come out West, 
The school mar’in come to our house to board. 
And set us all by the ear?, I’m blest. 
The finest gal In the country ’round. 
And when she teaehed, every lumb'rln’ fool 
That couldn’t spell down a Jumpin' Jack, 
Would all turn cut to the deestrlct school. 
An’ when she wanted an’ errand done 
The hull of them big boys used to prance, 
'Cause Bob an’ Nathan an’ Bill an’ me 
Wuz Jest a flghtin’ ter git the chance. 
Now clos’t by us in a piece of woods, 
Live! old Hill Grimes with a big black hog, 
An’ live old sheep an’ a worn-out boss, 
A cow an’ utt ugly yaller dog, 
An’ that air dog wuz the meanest cur 
That ever barked at the shinin’ moon. 
There warn’t no hour of the day or night, 
But what he’d set up his whinin’ tune. 
He’d set all day by the dusty road, 
An’ bark an' growl at the passers-by, 
An' then run off fer a piece an' stand, 
An' kinder grin in his ynller eye. 
But take a club or a piece of stone 
And sling it at him, ye'd see him run, 
Ills Idg tall druggln’ betwixt his legs. 
Ez ef the day ter be Jedged had cum. 
But one day, orter the school let out, 
The school mar’m started off home alone 
An’ that dog see her a comln.' on 
An' quit his pollshin’ off a bone. 
An’ up he Jumped an’ he barked an' growled, 
An’ frightened the poor gal half to death, 
An’ school mar’tn run from that yaller dog. 
Until she couldn't draw In no breath 
An’ when he'd run her fer quite a piece. 
He lost his Interest In the race. 
“ Dad that Mornin’ had saw a Hawk.” 
He jest turned tail ez he alius did. 
An’ grinned all over his yallrr face. 
There warn't no hen off a nest of eggs, 
Ez mad ez the school mar’in wuz that night, 
An’ we all made up our minds apart. 
To shoot that dog when he come In sight. 
The only gun they wuz on the place 
Wuz an old flint-lock grandfather Mill 
Hed fetched along ez a sorter prize 
From the battle Held o’ Bunker Hill. 
It warn’t no good ez a target shoot, 
Fer It kicked ez much behind ez ’fore. 
But we jest kep it for shootin’ hawks, 
A-hangln’ over the wood-shed door. 
Now dad, that mornin’ had saw a hawk 
A-flyin’ over the corner lot. 
An’ so he'd loaded the old gun up. 
An’ put In a double charge o’ shot. 
But ro one knowed it except himself. 
An’ Nathan thought he’d bo awful smart. 
"He Jest Slipped into the Woodshed.” 
An’ shoot the dog when he llrst come 'round, 
An' not let none of us git the start. 
An' so. whilst Bob was a split tin' wood, 
An I was feedln’ the hogs with corn. 
He’Jest slipped in at the woo i sho t door 
Au’.gut a holKou!the;powder horn 
An’ poured HveTflugers^of powder In, 
An’ Nathan’s lingers wuz extry large, 
An’ then four fingers or more of shot, 
He thought he’d put In a killin' charge. 
Now Bob, he waut"d to kill that dog. 
An’ so helwaited'behlnd the rest, 
An’ let them_go Into supper first. 
An’ then, pretendin’ tolwash, I'm blest 
Ef he don’t go in a knowin' way, 
An’ take that gun from the wood shed door, 
An’ ram in another double charge. 
Although It fl'led her half full or more. 
An’ likewise Bill, when the coast wuz clear, 
He went aiF rattled in number four, 
Then hearin' somebody come, he hid, 
The young volcano behind the door. 
’Twas Jest ez light ez the day that night, 
The mo'in was full an' »he stars was bright, 
The moonlight laid on the dusty road, 
An’ every travelin' thing In sight, 
I 'low U might a ben nine o'clock. 
When up the road where the moonlight sot, 
I see that eur of a yaller dog, 
A cornin’ on at a slow jog trot. 
Then out I slipped to the wood shed door 
An’ hunted 'round till I found that gun. 
An' loaded her, though I couldn’t see 
That shot away from the muzzle run. 
An’ when that dog sneaked along the road, 
I tuck good aim at bis head an' fired 
An’ gut my dose of the hero’s fame 
An’ all the glory that I desired. 
I’ll bet a cookey there warn't more noise 
In all the battle of Lexington 
Than broke the air of that stilly night 
From them live charges In that old gun. 
They' pulled me out o’ the hen house door. 
An’ sent fer the doctors fur an’ near. 
They sawed an’ hacked an’ they cut an’ sewed. 
An’ left me jest ez ye see me here. 
An’ that air dog? Wall, I kinder thought 
I’d seen the last o’ the yelpiu’ cur. 
“They Pulled Me out of the Hen-house Door.” 
Fer all they found when the mornin’ come, 
Wuz jest a piece of his yaller fur. 
An’ when I seen it, it done me good, 
I sorter chuckled to think ez how, 
’Twotild need a drum an’ a life to call 
His scattered pieces together now. 
But Jest ez night wuz a coinin’ on 
The boys look’d out an ez sure’s yer born. 
They see that dog go a-sneakiu’ by 
With jest the end of his big tail gone. 
The strangest part of the hull thing is, 
What school mar’m done, and it goes to show 
That wheu the wimniiu folks git a start. 
There ain’t no tollin' where they won’t go. 
Ye see, Bill Grimes struck a streak o’ luck, 
His uncle died an’ he made a will, 
That left the heft of his ready cash, 
His farm, an’ all of his s’oek to Bill. 
An' Bill, he felt pooty well set up. 
An’ so It happened the follerln' fall, 
The school mar’m give lip the deestrict school, 
An’ up an’ married him- dog an' nil. 
Now ’pears to mo there's a sermon hid. 
In this hero tale it ’ll pay lo heed. 
The world's Just crowded with smart young folks. 
Brash to kick sure out an’ put in speed. 
An' some Is jealous an’ tries to keep 
The folks all off from their plans an’ schemes. 
An’ Are ’em off on their own small hook; 
When such things kick, I declare It seems 
Like that old charge in the flint-lock gun, 
It.kuoeks you out while the dog goes free. 
Ef ye don’t know what your gun has in. 
Find out ’fore ye lire it off—that’s me." 
