human
Can you write me a poem about j. b. lippincott company, mist and goblin?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about j. b. lippincott company, mist and goblin:
  "Sic as folk tell ower at a winter ingle"
Copyright, 1891, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
"I here beheld an agreeable old
fellow, forgetting age, and showing
the way to be young at sixty-five."
oppression.
Things went on from bad to worse, till, at the time of our story,
Bad as this disreputable old baron was, he had a respect for the
At first these excursions had been undertaken principally from
Of late, however, another cause had led her to take even stronger
The fact is, some months before the time of our story, Bertha had
confidentially, was the very thing he had been waiting for.
It so chanced that, on one particular afternoon, the maid, either
wouldn't tell the date if I knew,--but I don't.
Such was the state of things, however, on the particular 24th of
The shades of the winter afternoon had deepened into the evening
The fire, which had been piled up mountain-high earlier in the
wardrobe opposite, in which the baron's choicest vintages were
His head was encircled by a crown of holly and mistletoe.
"Eh?" said the baron.
"And pray what's your business here?" said the baron.
"Not anything you're likely to offer me!"
"Confound your impudence!" roared the baron, with a horribly
It did strike the baron as peculiar, that the bottle, when once
"I believe you, my b-o-o-oy!" The baron brought out this earnest
The baron had another glass, and another after that.
"Well, if you ask my advice," replied the goblin, "I should say,
"A fairy! me!" exclaimed the baron. "Get out. I'm too fat."
"I do, indeed," said the visitor. "You don't dislike it, do you?"
"Come along, then," said the goblin.
"Eh, what? You know that, too?" said the baron.
"Come along," said the goblin; "you won't wake her. Now, old
flinty-heart, look there."
subject, but to-night something made him view things in quite a
different light.
"You made her very happy, didn't you?"
The tone in which the goblin spoke was harsh and mocking.
The baron's head had sunk upon his bosom. Old recollections were
inarticulate in its unnatural hoarseness.
Strange to say, the baron, instead of feeling chilled when he had
ordinary mortals.
daybreak, he tumbled out of bed and proceeded to dress.
breakfast.
Having completed his tour of charity, the baron returned home to
The gentle eyes filled with tears at the harshness of the reply;
"Why, pa, you don't mean--yes, I do really believe you do----"
The baron's eyes were winking nineteen to the dozen.
"Why, you dear, dear, dear old pa!" and at the imminent risk of
thoroughly enjoyed any other wine after it, and as he did not
_The Spaniard's Episode._
"He was a pleasant-looking fellow,
with huge black whiskers
and a roguish eye. He touched
the guitar with masterly skill,
and sang little amorous ditties
with an expressive leer."
"It is I, señor, Jose Rosado."
"I, señor, am the host."
"Ah," said mine host, as if preparing to swallow a savory morsel,
"Who, Señor Jose, lives in the castle now?"
The little inn was lively enough as we emerged from the bower and
"And do they still live in the town?" I asked.
As I had come a long journey to see this same Christmas play, my
"Hist! here's the Donna Isabella, señor! She looks like a saint
sanctuary arch, where he sang a carol to the shepherds,--
"Shepherds, hasten all
With flying feet from your retreat;
On rustic pipes now play
Your sweetest, sweetest lay;
Up they got, with long cloaks and crooked staffs, murmuring their
willingness to go to the manger,--and at the same moment an angel
"Pray, good master of the inn,
Open the door and let us in."
All these ceremonies had so claimed my attention that I had given
"In Bethlehem, at midnight,
The Virgin mother bore her child.
This world contains no fairer sight
Than this fair Babe and Mary mild.
Well may we sing at sight like this,
One of the acolytes reached his arms forth to take it from Donna
Now, Jose Rosado was too old a hand, too jolly a host, to be long
At last, as we neared La Fonda's vine-run walls, he said:
"Señor, do you think the miracles are all over nowadays?"
_From a Cuirassier's Note-Book._
"He was a handsome fellow, the
son of a peasant; but he carried
his blue dolman very well, this
young soldier."
This is, in truth, no ordinary Christmas. It is the year of grace
"Haf you anyting to sell?"
These two Frenchmen are named Salvette and Bernadou. They are
"Are you asleep, Bernadou?"
"No; I like the 'Shepherds' best. We chant that always at home."
"Then, here's for the 'Shepherds.'"
"Joseph says, 'Go! be very sage:
Return, and make you good voyage,
Take your leave!'"
Take your leave!"
_A Breton Peasant's Romance._
"Eyes dark; face thin, long, and
sallow; nose aquiline, but not
straight, having a peculiar inclination
towards the left cheek;
expression, therefore, sinister."
Round and round the circle they pass in opposite directions, and,
When Martin Ker, the husband of Dame Josserande, died, their son
permission to follow the studies in the convent school.
Most assuredly such precepts would not be well received by modern
furnaces.
"I do it," replied the boy, "because my dear mother is so poor."
He was then a youth of fine appearance, with a noble, frank face,
And each one mentally added,--
Pol, who was there, also laughed, and said, "I will assuredly be
"I need not go far to see Matheline's two pearls."
But Matheline wept bitterly, and cried,--
"Sylvestre, O Sylvestre Ker! my only friend, I cannot swim. Come
Sylvestre Ker asked,--
"Will you be my groomsman?" And Bihan replied,--
"When shall the wedding be?"
"You must wait, Sylvestre, my saviour, until your leg and eye are
"That is true," said Bihan.
"Where did all this happen," she asked, with tears.
god-daughter's two pearls, and cried,--
"By all that is holy, he has also lost his mind!"
"He is lighting his furnaces," replied Josserande.
The wise man paused to reflect, and after a little while said,--
For it was near the glorious Feast of Christmas.
cider,--to make merry with the godmother.
Sylvestre Ker, whose eye shot forth lurid flame, replied,--
"Between to-day and to-morrow."
"And can it not be put off?"
"Yes, it can be put off for seven years."
Matheline laughed no longer, and thought,--
"Seven years! Can I wait seven years?" Then she continued:
Josserande instantly left her wheel.
"My handsome friend, you have plenty of time."
Pol, on his side, said to Dame Josserande,--
As they were leaving, Pol whispered to Matheline,--
"Amuse the good woman well, for the fool must remain here."
And the girl replied,--
Sylvestre Ker turned pale with joy.
weeping,--that's the real truth."
"What a pity! What a great, great pity!"
"What is a pity?" asked Sylvestre Ker.
"It is a pity to miss such a rare opportunity."
"Why, yes," replied Pol. "I always have an ear open to hear what
"I have promised," said Sylvestre.
"The Magi has started, my friend."
"My friend, the Star shines in the East."
"Sylvestre Ker will surely go with the shepherds."
"Not at all; Sylvestre Ker will not go."
"Good Christian he was."
"Good Christian he is no longer."
"He has forgotten the name of Joseph."
"And the name of Mary."
"He will go!"
"He will not go!"
"He will go, since he promised Dame Josserande."
"He will not go, since Matheline told him to stay."
From all the corners of the room came laughter; Matheline seemed
"My friend, what are they saying?"
"They say Christmas, my friend--Christmas, Christmas, Christmas!"
"Not at all! They say, Gold, gold, gold!"
"You lie, my friend!"
"My friend, you lie!"
In vain did Sylvestre Ker sweep with his holly broom; between the
perspiration.
After the bells had finished their second peal, he said,--
"Sylvestre Ker will go! Sylvestre Ker will not go!"
Not a spirit from within flew out, while all the outside spirits
entered, muttering, chattering, laughing,--
"Yes, yes, yes, yes! No, no, no, no!" And I believe they fought.
rebuilt.
"Be silent, for there is my tenant wide awake at his window."
"Sylvestre Ker, you have barely time; make haste!"
Matheline's laughter.
"Christmas!" cried a voice in the air.
"Christmas, Christmas, Christmas!" repeated all the other voices.
But thousands of little voices stung his ears with the words,--
"Too late, too late, too late! It is too late!"
On the spot where had stood the furnace, of which not a vestige
"Look!" said Satan.
"I have seen enough," said Sylvestre Ker.
"Then," replied Satan, "listen!" And immediately the sacred music
"How much will the fool give?" asked Matheline.
Sylvestre Ker felt his heart die away within him.
Meanwhile, Josserande prayed earnestly for Sylvestre Ker.
"That is true; but for how long?"
Sylvestre Ker held his breath to hear the better.
"As long as you please," answered Pol Bihan.
"I have heard enough," said Sylvestre Ker to Satan.
"And do you still love this Bihan?"
"No: I despise him."
"And Matheline,--do you love her yet?"
"Am I the master of all this?" asked Sylvestre Ker.
"I have chosen," said Sylvestre Ker. "I keep my soul."
"You have firmly decided?"
And he added,--
"For the third time, ... adjudged!"
"Since all is ended, retire!"
But the demon did not stir.
"Dear godmother, I shall always be with you," said Matheline, "to
Pol Bihan continued,--
"It is the convent horn," said Matheline.
"And it sounds the wolf-alarm," added Pol.
oaten-porridge,--or rather a race-course, to exercise horses.
Then a strange thing happened. The cavalcade of monks was seen to
"Wolf, wicked wolf, I forbid you to touch God's servants!" But it
precious charge. The grand abbot called Josserande and said,--
And he resumed his course, followed by his escort.
Day dawned. A man slept in the bed of Sylvestre Ker, where widow
"Will you come to-night to see the wolf run around?"
The grand abbot received her, surrounded by great books and dusty
"Yes," answered Josserande; "and would to heaven my Sylvestre had
"And have you found it, father?"
"If you should order me to do it, I would."
"Woman, I adore you in the most holy faith. Prepare your axe, and
By some means or other, the entire country around for five or six
wished-for moment had arrived.
"'Tis the widow of the armed keeper of the great door!"
"'Tis the mother of the wolf, Sylvestre Ker!"
"She also has come to see...."
"But what has she in her hand?"
But there were two or three good souls who said in low tones,--
"Poor widow! her heart must be full of sorrow."
"But what does she want with that axe?"
"See, see!" said Pol Bihan; "he no longer limps." And Matheline,
Pol brandished his club, and continued,--
"What are we waiting for? Why not attack him?"
"Go you first," said the men.
Dame Josserande heard her, and sighed,--
"Let us alone, godmother," boldly replied Matheline.
"As last night, we are here!"
And Josserande, who was kneeling down, said imploringly,--
"Listen, listen to the saint!"
But from behind, Pol Bihan cried out,--
"The wolf! the wolf! Where has the wolf gone?"
"Help! help! Matheline!"
"The pearls of a smile make a dainty morsel for a wolf to eat.
And the legend says that the tenant of Coat-Dor, Matheline's poor
"Death to the wolf! death to the wolf! death to the wolf!"
Josserande's heart sank within her, and she murmured,--
"My beloved one, my beloved one, whom I have borne in my arms and
"I weep for you, my mother."
"Strike!" cried the crowd; for what remained of Pol and Matheline
supporting her in his arms.
This is the legend that for many centuries has been related at
As to the authenticity of the story, I have already said that the
_An Indian Officer's Idyll._
"An officer and a gentleman--which
is an enviable thing."
reason--though the children were performing that ancient and most
conquer, that he constantly tried to reconcile the father to his
The Captain alone was a match for his strong-willed son.
The Captain fingered his heavy moustache to hide a smile, but he
listened patiently to Sarah's complaints.
"Have you spoken to your mistress?" asked the Captain.
With this Sarah had to content herself, and she went back to the
nursery. Robert was nowhere to be seen, and made no reply to her
"You're under arrest," he shouted through the keyhole.
"Let me out!" shrieked Sarah.
"I'll send a file of the guard to fetch you to the orderly-room
"Who goes there?" said the Captain.
"Mayn't I go to bed, please?" whined poor Robert.
"Certainly not," said the Captain. "You're on duty."
"No, Master Robert," said Sarah.
"I do," said Sarah.
"You don't," said Robin.
To keep a secret was beyond Sarah's powers.
"What lies you do tell, Sarah!"
"Oh, Robin!" cried Nicholas, who had drawn near, his thick curls
"Oh, not yet, not yet!" cried Dora, clasping the doll to her, and
Dora began to cry.
"Couldn't we make a coffin, and pretend the body was inside?" he
suggested.
Nicholas had sore work to console his little sister, and Betsey's
"Then are you the mummers who come round at Christmas, and act in
"We like it well enough," St. George admitted.
Robin bought a copy of "The Peace Egg." He was resolved to have a
There were times, now, when the Captain almost regretted the old
Christmas Eve came.
"And now we'll go and act in the kitchen," said Nicholas.
The Valiant Slasher grinned with delight.
"But will mamma let us?" he inquired.
"Much," responded Nicholas, with intense feeling.
"They're drunk," said Nicholas; "and they're shouting at us."
"Who's there," she said, "at this time of night?"
"Yes, sir. Shall I take them to the kitchen sir----"
The old man was seated in a carved oak chair by the fire.
"I never said the dogs were to come in," he said.
"I am St. George, who from Old England sprung,
My famous name throughout the world hath rung."
And the performance went off quite as creditably as before.
Robin looked, and said, abruptly, "It's Dora."
"Which is Dora?" asked the old man, in a strange, sharp tone.
It was wet with tears.
"Why, you're crying!" exclaimed the children, with one breath.
"Who's Sarah?" asked the grandfather.
"About me?" said the old man.
"How did you know it wasn't true?" the old man asked.
"Would you like it?" asked the old man of Dora.
"I will see you home," he said.
But it was her father, with her child in his arms!
afterwards, but for the startling sight that met the gaze of the
"She's gone into his seat," cried Lucy Jane, in a shrill whisper.
"Over his tumbler of Gukguk he
sat reading journals, sometimes
contemplatively looking into
the clouds of his tobacco-pipe:
an agreeable phenomenon,--more
especially when he opened
his lips for speech."
Startled, and not a little alarmed, he checked his rapid walk and
"He is a humpback," she said, slowly.
"Nuremberg's hand
Goes through every land."
Clearly and joyfully they pealed, as if their brazen tongues were
Mass had begun, and the great church was hardly a third full, for
ambition, he gained in their place the peace which passeth all
_The Italian Guest's Selection._
"He is a Tuscan born, of an old
noble race in that part of Italy."
CAVALCA: _Life of the Magdalen_.
But scarcely were they settled than an earthquake rent the place,
astonished and in terror, and returned into the town.
And Hilarion wondered and said ten Paters and ten Aves.
travel-stained.
"He prepares to read by wiping
his spectacles, carefully adjusting
them on his eyes, and drawing
the candle close to him--is
very particular in having his
slippers ready for him at the
"back-hair glass." He was a handsome boy, too; tall, and like
To which the dear boy replied as above, and concluded with the
argument, cut it short.
"I have decided. You must amuse yourself some other way. And just
_"O dearest Augustine,
All's clean gone away!"_
"_I wish I were an only son!_"
dissatisfied!) this was Christmas Eve.
remonstrance:--
"Don't, Jack! you're treading on me."
"You needn't take all the fire, Tom."
"Keep your legs to yourself, Benjamin."
"It wasn't I," etc., with occasionally the feebler cry of a small
"Oh! you boys are so rough."
"And by the same rules, ten is better than one," said the friend.
"I know what would be very nice," insinuated one of the sisters.
"Well, what sort of a story is it to be?"
"I smell a moral," murmured the said Richard.
"Thank goodness we have not come to that!" said the incorrigible
"'Who are you?' said Melchior, feeling rather creepy.
"'Oh, to be sure, yes! In copper plate capitals.'
"'What's in copper-plate capitals?' inquired Time.
"'Your name, under the print.'
"'Very likely,' said Time.
"'Not at all.' said Time; 'I have come on purpose to see you.'
"'Indeed,' said Melchior; 'I never heard of it.'
"'Driving!' said Melchior.
"'Must families be together?' inquired Melchior, dolefully.
"Poor Melchior! Surely there never was a clearer case of a young
gentleman's comfort destroyed solely by other people's perverse
determination to be happy in their own way instead of in his.
"'Now for it,' said Melchior; 'here goes one at any rate.'
"'What are you looking at?' said Melchior to the lame sister.
"'At a strange figure in the crowd,' she answered.
"'Who is it?' Melchior asked of the godfather.
"'A friend of mine,' Time answered. 'His name is Death.'
"'What are you doing?' shrieked Melchior. 'Drive on! drive on!'
"'To take her, and to leave the rest! Cruel! cruel!'
"'You never told her so before,' muttered young Hop-o'-my-thumb.
"He was a bronzed, hairy man, with one sleeve empty, and a breast
"'To enjoy his well-earned honors,' murmured the crowd.
"'What is that man talking about?' he asked of some one near him.
"'Has he corrected it?' said Melchior.
"'You had better hear for yourself,' said the man. 'Listen.'
"The philosopher turned his head coldly, and smiled. 'I thank the
"'There is a separation more bitter than death,' said Melchior.
"'But what a squeeze with all the brats!' said Godfather Time,
ironically.
"'Oh, thank God, I have got you safe, my brother!'
"'Has powder come into fashion, brother?' he said. 'Your hair is
streaked with white.'
"'You see what?' said Melchior.
"'A figure in a cloak, gliding in and out----'
"Surely yes! Too surely the well-known figure came on; and the
"'True,' said Melchior. 'Where are the girls to-night?'
"'In the little room at the end of the long passage,' said Hop
"'Anything!' was the reply, in an enthusiastic whisper.
"'I couldn't stand another night of it.'
"Still, the young head was bent and the handsome face hidden; and
"Is that the end?" inquired the young lady on his knee, as the
story-teller paused here.
"Yes, that is the end."
"A jolly negation, who took upon
him the ordering of the bills of
"Week and six days; comes on Thursday."
"Two a day!" suggested Mrs. Grapewine, in her sharp manner.
"No, no, no! Mrs. G., you _are_ an experienced cateress, that I
"Trip across Sahara!" interpolated Mrs. Grapewine.
"Turkish bath!"
"What a woman you are. A Turkish bath! How, Mrs. Grapewine, can a
"Empty stomach."
"Who?" said Mrs. Grapewine.
"Who?" said Mrs. Grapewine, somewhat loudly.
"Who's Pill?" said she.
"A little bilious, sir," said William.
invitation.
immediately, ma'am."
"Yours, sincerely,
"I enclose a ticket for a Turkish bath----"
"Great heavens!" he cried, "what can this mean?"
He read the words again, and then read the coupon.
"Ask Major Fobbs to call at my table as soon as he can."
"Major," said the colonel, "will you please spell those words?"
"Lord a-mercy!" says Mrs. Gildenfenny, when she had read a little
"But your breakfast, ma'am," says Susan.
Mr. and Mrs. Totty were served with their invitation over a
Mr. Totty would paint the miseries of the epicure, and Mrs.
Totty those of the dyspeptic, in words of eloquence which made
"Why not?" exclaims Mrs. Totty, eagerly.
Dr. Tuggle and lady read the invitation together over their
"Where is he?"
"Bring him down, or I'll go up after him!"
"What does he mean by it?"
"Insult a respectable lady!"
"Let me catch him, that's all!"
"Where has he gone?"
"I'll send him a challenge by Fobbs!"
"Where's his wife?"
explanations.