I’d like to go to Afriky an’ hunt the lions there,
An’ the biggest ollyfunts you ever saw! 
I would track the fierce gorilla to his equatorial lair,
An’ beard the cannybull that eats folks raw! 
I’d chase the pizen snakes
And the ’pottimus that makes
His nest down at the bottom of unfathomable lakes—­
If I darst; but I darsen’t!

I would I were a pirut to sail the ocean blue,
With a big black flag a-flyin’ overhead;
I would scour the billowy main with my gallant pirut crew,
An’ dye the sea a gouty, gory red! 
With my cutlass in my hand
On the quarterdeck I’d stand
And to deeds of heroism I’d incite my pirut band—­
If I darst; but I darsen’t!

And, if I darst, I’d lick my pa for the times that he’s
licked me! 
I’d lick my brother an’ my teacher, too. 
I’d lick the fellers that call round on sister after tea,
An’ I’d keep on lickin’ folks till I got through! 
You bet!  I’d run away
From my lessons to my play,
An’ I’d shoo the hens, an’ teaze the cat, an’ kiss the girls
all day—­
If I darst; but I darsen’t!

RUBINSTEIN’S PLAYING.

ANONYMOUS.

“Jud, they say you have heard Rubinstein play when you were in New
York?”

“I did, in the cool.”

“Well, tell us all about it.”

“What! me?  I might’s well tell you about the creation of the world.”

“Come, now; no mock modesty.  Go ahead.”

“Well, sir, he had the biggest, catty-cornerdest pianner you ever laid your eyes on; somethin’ like a distracted billiard table on three legs.  The lid was heisted, and mighty well it was.  If it hadn’t, he’d a-tore the intire sides clean out, and scattered them to the four winds of heaven.”

“Played well, did he?”

“You bet he did; but don’t interrupt me.  When he first sat down he ’peared to keer mighty little ‘bout playin’, and wish’t he hadn’t come.  He tweedle-eedled a little on the trible, and twoodle-oodled some on the bass—­just foolin’ and boxin’ the thing’s jaws for bein’ in his way.  And I says to the man settin’ next to me, s’ I, ’What sort of fool-playin’ is that?’ And he says, ‘Hush!’ But presently his hands began chasin’ one ’nother up and down the keys, like a parcel of rats scamperin’ through a garret very swift.  Parts of it was sweet, though, and reminded me of a sugar-squirrel turning the wheel of a candy-cage.

“‘Now,’ I says to my neighbour, ‘he’s a showin’ off.  He thinks he’s a-doin’ of it, but he ain’t got no ide, no plan of nothin’.  If he’d play a tune of some kind or other I’d——­’

“But my neighbour says ‘Hush,’ very impatient.