Children and grandchildren—where were they?
But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay
As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day!

EIGHTEEN HUNDRED;

The Deacon's masterpiece1 strong and sound.
Eighteen hundred increased by ten;-
"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then.
Eighteen hundred and twenty came;-
Running as usual; much the same.
Thirty and forty at last arrive,

And then came fifty, and FIFTY-FIVE.
Little of all we value here

Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.
In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.2
(This is a moral that runs at large; 3

Take it. You're welcome. No extra charge.)

FIRST OF NOVEMBER, - the Earthquake-day. -
There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,
A general flavor of mild decay,

But nothing local, as one may say.

There couldn't be-for the Deacon's art

Had made it so like in every part

That there wasn't a chance for one to start.

1 masterpiece, literally, a piece observe this impressive maxim done by a master; any thing made] (“ moral ”).

with superior skill.

2 there's nothing

8 that runs at large. Explain truth: the metaphor.

For the wheels were just as strong as the thills,
And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
And the panels just as strong as the floor,
And the whippletree neither less nor more,
And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore,
And spring and axle and hub encore.1
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be worn out!

First of November, 'Fifty-five!

This morning the parson takes a drive.2
Now, small boys, get out of the way!
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.
"Huddup!" said the parson.-Off went they.
The parson was working his Sunday's text,-
Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed
At what the Moses-was coming next.
All at once the horse stood still,
Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill.
-First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill,-
And the parson was sitting upon a rock,
At half-past nine by the meet'n'-house clock.—
Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!
-What do you think the parson found,
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,
As if it had been to the mill and ground.

1 encore, French for again; here equivalent to also.

2 takes a drive. Note the historical present. Give other examples.

You see, of course, if you're not a dunce,1
How it went to pieces all at once,-
All at once, and nothing first,
Just as bubbles do when they burst.2

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.
Logic is logic. That's all I say.

[The following pleasant reference to this poem is made by Whittier in an essay on Holmes's poetry: "That unique compound of humor and pathos, The Last Leaf, shows that Holmes possesses power, - the power of touching the deeper chords of the heart, and of calling forth tears as well as smiles." Then, quoting the third and fourth stanzas, he asks, "Who does not feel the power of this simple picture of the old man?"]

1 dunce.

I SAW him once before,

As he passed by the door,
And again

The pavement stones resound,
As he totters o'er the ground
With his cane.

They say that in his prime,3
Ere the pruning-knife of Time
Cut him down,4

See Webster for the curious derivation of this word.

2 Just as bubbles, etc. What is the figure of speech?

3 prime (Latin primus, first), early manhood.

4 the pruning-knife ... down. What is the figure of speech?

On the lips that he has pressed
In their bloom;

And the names he loved to hear
Have been carved for many a year
On the tomb.2

the crier: that is, the town- | Note the fine effect of the alliteracrier of olden times.

tion.

2 The mossy marbles... tomb.

3 like a rose, etc. What figure?

And a crook is in his back,
And a melancholy crack
In his laugh.

I know it is a sin

For me to sit and grin
At him here;

But the old three-cornered hat,
And the breeches, and all that,
Are so queer!

And if I should live to be
The last leaf upon the tree
In the spring,

Let them smile, as I do now,
At the old forsaken bough
Where I cling.

[This brilliantly sparkling poem commemorates a festal meeting of the Harvard class to which Dr. Holmes belonged (the class of 1829), long after the graduates had ceased to be boys," in which condition, however, the poet insists on keeping them. The sly humor and drollery of the piece will be readily appreciated.]

HAS there any old fellow got mixed with the boys? If there has, take him out, without making a noise. Hang the Almanac's cheat and the Catalogue's spite!1 Old Time2 is a liar! We're twenty 3 to-night!

1 the Catalogue's spite: that is, the telltale college catalogue which records the birth-date of the graduates.

2 Time. Note the personification. What suffix in "liar"?

3 twenty: that is, twenty years of age.