My companion had paused here, and was looking through some printed slips in his pocket-book.  “I wanted you to see some of the fellow’s articles in print, but I have nothing of importance here—­only some of his ‘doggerel,’ as he calls it, and you’ve had a sample of that.  But here’s a bit of the upper spirit of the man—­and still another that you should hear him recite.  You can keep them both if you care to.  The boys all fell in love with that last one, particularly, hearing his rendition of it.  So we had a lot printed, and I have two or three left.  Put these two in your pocket and read at your leisure.”

But I read them there and then, as eagerly, too, as I append them here and now.  The first is called—­

SAYS HE.

  “Whatever the weather may be,” says he—­
    “Whatever the weather may be,
  It’s plaze, if ye will, an’ I’ll say me say,—­
  Supposin’ to-day was the winterest day,
  Wud the weather be changing because ye cried,
  Or the snow be grass were ye crucified? 
  The best is to make your own summer,” says he,
  “Whatever the weather may be,” says he—­
    “Whatever the weather may be!

  “Whatever the weather may be,” says he—­
    “Whatever the weather may be,
  It’s the songs ye sing, an’ the smiles ye wear,
  That’s a-makin’ the sunshine everywhere,
  An’ the world of gloom is a world of glee,
  Wid the bird in the bush, an’ the bud in the tree,
  An’ the fruit on the stim of the bough,” says he,
  “Whatever the weather may be,” says he—­
    “Whatever the weather may be!

  “Whatever the weather may be,” says he—­
    “Whatever the weather may be,
  Ye can bring the Spring, wid its green an’ gold,
  An’ the grass in the grove where the snow lies cold,
  An’ ye’ll warm yer back, wid a smiling face,
  As ye sit at yer heart like an owld fire-place,
  An’ toast the toes o’ yer soul,” says he,
  “Whatever the weather may be,” says he—­
    “Whatever the weather may be!”

“Now” said the Major, peering eagerly above my shoulder, “go on with the next.  To my liking, it is even better than the first.  A type of character you’ll recognize.—­The same ‘broth of a boy,’ only Americanized, don’t you know.”

And I read the scrap entitled—­

CHAIRLEY BURKE.

  It’s Chairley Burke’s in town, b’ys!  He’s down til “Jamesy’s Place,”
  Wid a bran’ new shave upon ‘um, an’ the fhwhuskers aff his face;
  He’s quit the Section Gang last night, and yez can chalk it down,
  There’s goin’ to be the divil’s toime, sence Chairley Burke’s in
    town.

  It’s treatin’ iv’ry b’y he is, an’ poundin’ on the bar
  Till iv’ry man he ‘s drinkin’ wid must shmoke a foine cigar;
  An’ Missus Murphy’s little Kate, that’s comin’ there for beer,
  Can’t pay wan cint the bucketful, the whilst that Chairley’s here!