We venture LITERARY to say that NOTES. no one of the many readers who have accepted Mr. Holman Day's invitation to " have a chat 'bout common things in Maine " has thrown down in disappointment the author's recent book1 of verses. His muse, indeed, inspired no lofty flights; the verse is A homely rhyme, and easy understood — An echo from the weird domain of Spruce; but these poems give true and interesting glimpses of northern New England life and are good reading. As in the reading of all dialect poems homeopathic doses are to be prescribed,— but in the present instance repetition of the dose at frequent intervals can be advised. A pleasing variety marks these verses from the fact that Mr. Day finds his material in the inland country town, " 'long shore," and in the logging camp. A shrewd, homely sense of humor is the dominant note of the book, but with it is a judicious mixture of sentiment and pathos. Once, indeed, in his " Rear of the Drive," Mr. Day strikes quite a Kiplingesque pace. But it is proper to note, for legal readers, the verses which have a professional interest. For example, there is the log-driver's complaint against '. The Law 'Gainst Spike-Sole Boots." Certainly — from his point of view — It 's a blank of a note that a man with chink Can't prance to the rail and get his drink, But it's fine and costs if ye mar the paint, And ten if the feller that makes complaint Gets mad at a playful push in the eyes And goes into court with a lot of lies. The sympathy of their legal brethren we be speak for the unfortunate lawyers who, from time to time, Tried to settle down in Hudson, but they couldn't Never earn got aa speck dime, of business, never had a single case; — for in Hudson Rows were always settled young By the pacifying magic of Micajah's ready tongue; 1 Up in Maine. Stories of Yankee life told in verse l>v Holman F. Day. With an introduction by C. E. Littlefield. Fourth edition. Boston : Small. Maynard and Company. 1901. (Cloth, xv -j- 209 pp.)
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all because of a pernicious local custom, — 'Cause they wont fork up a fee, Long ' s he 's round to referee. 'Case of difference or doubt Folks say, ' Wal, we'll leave her out To Uncle Micajah Strout.' It may be a question, however, whether it be not better to lack practice altogether than to have to be content with such a fee as fell to the lot of Squire Crane. Uncle Benjy and Old Crane. Once there was a country lawyer, and his name was Hiram Crane, And he had a reputation as the worst old file in And as Maine. soon's he got a client, why, the first thing Was to that feel he the'd critter's do pocket and then soak him 'cordin' to. Well, sir, one day Benjy Butters bought a hoss, and oh, 'twas raw Way old Benjy he got roasted, and he said he'd have So he the gavelaw.the case to Hiram, and then Hiram brought a suit And got back the hoss and harness and what Benjy gave to boot. When he met him at the gros'ry Benjy asked him for the bill. And when Hiram named the figger, it was steeper'n Hobson's hill, Poor old Benjy hammed and swallered — bill jest sort of took his breath. And the crowd that stood a-listenin' thought per haps he'd choke to death. But it happened that the squire felt like jokin' some And hethat says,day, "Now, Uncle Benjy, there won't be a If you Ml cent right to here pay on the instant make me up a nice Hear you pat'rerhyme; pretty good at them things — give you jest three minutes' time.-' And the squire grinned like fury, tipped the crowd a knowing wink, While old Benjy started in, sir, almost 'fore you'd time to think, "Here you see the petty lawyer leanin' on his cork screw cane. Sartin parties call him Gander, other people call him Crane, Thoughheheis,'smy faowl. friends, it 's but somewavs still daoubtful what You candurned tell there critter's 's hawk bill." about him by the gaulCrane got mad, he wanted money, but the crowd let And they on tolaughed roar. the blamed old skinflint right square out the gros'ry store.
