Then up the full street of the city
A pause of the coming rush,
And through all the din and the tumult
A painful minute of hush;
A tumble of scattered brushes,
As they lifted him up to the walk,
A gathering of curious faces,
And snatches of whispered talk;
Little Joe all trembling beside him
On the flagging, with gentle grace
Pushing the tangled, soft brown hair
Away from the still white face.
At his touch the shut lids lifted,
And swift over lip and eye
Came a glow as when the morning
Flushes the eastern sky;
And a hand reached out to his brother,
As the words came low but clear,—
"Joe, I reckon ye mind our mother:
A minute back she wor here,
Smilin' an' callin' me to her!
I tell ye, I'm powerful glad
Yer such a brave, smart youngster:
The leavin' yer ain't so bad.
Hold hard to the right things she learnt us,
An' alius keep honest an' true;
Good-by, Joe—but mind, I'll be watchin'
Just—over—the crossin'—fur you!"
SOMEHOW OR OTHER.
The good wife bustled about the house,
Her face still bright with a pleasant smile,
As broken snatches of happy song
Strengthened her heart and hand the while.
The good man sat in the chimney-nook,
His little clay pipe within his lips,
And all he'd made, and all he'd lost,
Ready and clear on his finger-tips.
"Good wife, I've just been thinking a bit:
Nothing has done very well this year;