rae SSRN GC AND SENTIME Coe: ONGS <>. NaTONS WO P= Price, 5 Cents. CONTENTS OF PAGE. The Rollicking Irishman. ..... CAs, St. Patrick’s Day........ pes Kiss Me! Would You. The Black Hussars 4 The Hat my Father Wor ties That’s Where You Make the Mgt coke enh en: seen tes Her and She Kissed © Hi : Vive:La,Bacchanal. ........... anal The ora WARIS... sce ee Do Not Heed Her Warning....... 4 Yankee Doodle $607 ail a 4 The Italian Guinea-Pig Boy... .... 4 Tose Sub Ur. ser yest ae ee Never Go Back on Your Friend... 3 - Barney Avourneen, I Will i THIS NUMBER. My Rattling Mare and I! The Waterford Boys Then You'll. Remeber M She Tossed Her Curls at M Oh! Susamnah.... ....... » Goethe Bel jadT «61... ia The Kiss in the Street........... ww I Wish He Would Decide, Mam- ME carat. atta a , The Dear Little Damsel.... .. 0 Let You. Our Grandfathers’ Days.. ...... Limeriek Races. .............-+.. i Charlie'De:Rogers.... ... .... i The: Harp that onee;thro’ Tara’s Ls The Modern Belle. .......... The American Boy.........+ The Irish Jaunting Car. sobs be eh Gi ot ale 6 "Tis Home Where’er the Heart is 12 I Think of Old Ireland R Wherever | Blue Glass. C0. ew iat cal sete ee .. 6| Farewell, Darling..............-+ 12 Sometimes . : * : 6|}Polly Perkins of Washington His Deeds Be Forgotten... é OL GMARMIO. oe afea ae agen s I Thought She was an Angel ..... Z | Still so Gently o’er Me Stealing.. 19 The.Dearest Spot,of Earth. ::.. .. a Protea egcremuny 2 ea . B “Rival Frogs.’’. wars chang te en ieee: 13 Come Sit’ by My Side, Little | Thou Hast Wounded ‘Spirit 14 Darling. SEGAL. SEB. 7 | “Phe Colored: Waitems.”’.......... 14 Come Into the Garden, Maud..... 7 | The Dutch Drum Major.. -M Tapping at the Garden Gate...... 7 | Erin is my Country... 4 The Land of St. Patrick Forever. 8 | ‘‘Keep Studying.”’... .M It’s Just. My Style .., 8| I Want,to go Home.... a | “You'll Sometimes ‘Think of Me.” 8 THE ROLLICKING IRISHMAN. Published by E., H.. Harpnsa,.229 Bowery, N.Y.. Music and.words, 10 cents. So, boys, I’m here once more you see, and a story I'm going to tell, It’s something new, between me and you, which an Irishman befell. ’Twas in the town of Liverpool, in a street | forget the name; But to pass the time, in the chorus join, just while:I will sing the : sam. CHORUS. ‘His name was Pat, just think. of that, and heat. it. if you, can; ‘There’s none so gay, both night and day, as a rollicking Irishman. Whack, whack, whack, hurroo! Tiddy I dow de dow! Whack, whack, whack, hurroo! Tiddy I:dow de dow! ; @h! at-a wake or a fair, we’re:always there, the Tipperary men. Now the weather wascold,and this hero bold, about for work did seek He got a job to carry bricks at eighteen shillings a week. He boughta hod for abalfacrown, from aman named Mickey Burke And Pat so gay, the very next day, at six o’clock went to work.. (CHoRUS.) They. were building ahouse, ‘twasvery high, but Pat.didn’tcare a jot To his work got drilled, when his hod was filled, how quick up the: ladder he'd trot. He was going to the top.about twelve o’clock, but whether ’twes frost or the rum, This hero, bold he missed his hold, and down he came by the run. (CHORUS.) Now.as Pat down did go, he put his hand so, and then a loud yeil he gave, He cried, ‘‘Och hone!’ as down he came, ‘‘ may the Lord miy poor soul save.” on his He turned o’er and o’er, when he reached the first floor, feet then he tried to jump, _ But his head first came.down, and when near the.ground, he cried, ‘‘Now fora thundering bump.” (CHORUS.) s in this issue! Sold by all newsdealers, five cents each; or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of six cents per copy. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y. THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. 7 tne hema of a fale, pani pill atin tay BAY. ST. PATRICK’S DAY. aes by O. Drrson & OCo., 451 Washington street, Boston, Music and d words, 35 cents. Oh! blest be the days when the Green Banner floated, Sublime o’er the mountains of free Innisfail, - ‘When her sons, to her glory and freedom devoted, Defied the invader to tread her soil.‘ ‘When back o’er the main they chased the Dane, And gave to religion and learning their spoil, ‘When valor and mind, together combined, é - But wherefore lament o’er the glories departed? Her star shall shine out with as vivid array, . For ne’er had she children more brave and trge hearted, Than those she now sees on St. Patrick's Day. Her scepter, alas! passed away to the stranger, And treason surrendered what valor had held; But true hearts remained amid darkness and danger, Which, spite of her tyrants, would not be quelled. Oft, oft, through the night flashed gleams of light, Which almost the darkness of bondage dispelled; But a star now is near, her heaven to cheer, Not like the wild gleams which so fitfully darted, But long to shine down with its hallowing ray, On daughters so fair, and sons as true hearted, As Erin beholds on St. Patrick's Day. Oh! blest be the hour, when begirt by her cannon, And hail’d as it rose by a nation’s applause, That flag waved aloft o’er the spire of Dungannon, Asserting for Jrishmen, Irish Laws. Once more shall it wave, o’er hearts as brave, Despite of the dastards who mock at her cause, And like brothers agreed, whatever their creed, Her children, inspired by those glories départed, No longer in darkness desponding will stay, But join in ber cause like the brave and true hearted, Who rise for their rights on St. Patrick’s Day. * . IRISH MOLLY, O. As I walked out one morning, all in the month of May, I met a pretty Irish girl, and thus to her did say, Piyael put my hand into my pocket, as it happened so, ‘And pulled out a guinea to treat my Molly, O. CHORUS. She is young, she is beautiful, she is the fairest one I know, The primrose of Ireland, before my guinea go, ' And the only one that entices me is my Irish Molly, O. I said, ‘‘My pretty fair maid, will you go along with mo? I will show you the straight way: across the country. ‘My: parients would be angry, if they should come to know, They will lay all the blame on my Scotch laddie, O.” (CHorus.) - When Molly’s own father he came to know That she had been courted by a Scotch laddie, O, _ He sent for young M’Donald, and these words to him did say, “Tf you re my daughter Mary. I will send you far away.” - “i (CHORUS. ) Since Molly has deceived me, all heed her father’s ways, »'Through some lone woods and valleys, it’s there 1’ll spend my days” Like some poor forlorn pilgrim I will wander to and fro, Tt is all the sake of my Irish Molly, O. (CHoRus.) There e a rose ots Dublin, I thought she would be mine, For to eome'te my funeral is all I do require; My body shall be ready by the dawning of the day, It is all for = sake of my bonny Irish maid. (CHorus.) “When that I am buried there is one thing more I crave, _ To lay a marble tombstone at the head of my grave, And on this tombstone a prayer shall be said, _ That young M’Donald lies here for his young "Trish maid. (CHo. ‘6 Come all you pretty fair maids, a warning take by. me, And never build a nest on the top of any. tree; _ ’ For the green leaves will wither and. the root.it will decay, fae Mime’ fon THE SWELL OF THE DAY. ied by perm: n of E. H. Harprne, ‘ Ye Cop " Peet reg Renae Music mnigaiiie? to Gots. “9 camidpee I am a swell of the day, &s you see, All other swells are but models of me, | You must have heard of the name which I bear, Surely you must, for I’m known’ ev’rywhere, Girls are enchanted when I am in view, Gents are bewilder’d, and gaze at me too, Some criticise me. and stare while they say, a “ Oh, ain’t he nobby, that, swell of the day!” Cxorvs—I am the swell of the day, — That’s what the people all ha, Go where I will, they say to me still, He’s a genuine swell of the day. Now I confess I’m alittle lowdown, ~~ How can I help it. when all thro’ the A gd ome People are praying for times to im: Still I’m contented and keep on the’ move. Why should I grumble when care I have nonet All my delight is in fashion and fun, Friends crowd around me and wine makes us gay, Then they all flatter the swell of the day. (CHo.) I am accomplished and very refined, Once I was rich but my purse has declined, Love is a stranger as yet to my heart, But from the ladies I ne’er can depart. They are the cause of my joy and despair, . None can resist them, so charming and fair; Some spoony fellows they drive to dismay, But they all cling to the swell of the day. a) (Cao) , KISS ME! WOULD You? Copyrighted by ARcHIBALD JonNson. Published by Wm. A. P 25 Union Square, New York. Music and woes 40 oer & ee Shame upon you, Robin, shame. upon you now! Kiss me! would you? with my hands milking the cow? Kiss me! would you? with my hands milking the cow? Daisies grow again, kingeups blow again, And you came and kiss’d me milking the cow, And you came and kiss’d mo milking the cow. © Robin came behind me, kiss’d me well I vow; Cuff him could I? with my hands milking the cow? Cuff him could I? with my hands milking’ the: scow? Swallows fly again, cuckoos cry And you came and kiss’d mo I And you came and kiss’d me milking the cow. ie the | cow, 7 ; iid Come, Robin, Robin, come and kiss me nOWwyriay hye si) ; Help it. can I? with my hands milking the cow? Help it can 1? with my hands milking the cow? Ringdoves coo again, All things woo again, , Come behind and pe me ng the cow, Come behind and kiss me m | the cow. V1 a Pee re ‘THE BLACK HUSSARS. by permission of O. Drrson ; 451 W n street, waned Saaatrot the copyright. ener shined ot street ms Tve heard a few remarks, by this one and by that, Peo The various regiments, of troops both black and white; And, while I do not wish to’ ict what’s said, — Tl tell you of a noble few who dearly love to fight.. — Oh! you may talk about soldiers, with uniforms so gay, Who look ‘‘so fresh” 1 ey Broadway. ' But when you gaze upo “ | They'll tell you “ we’re the Black Hussars. There is no sort of dow ‘About our léadi For if there is a row, th h And we look to Riptkin se he, kiastes ib tend wrcn: re Ohl you may, talk about your soldiers, etc, 4 * oct on oe eee tne down — THE SINGER'S NNR ‘LIBRARY. The Hat My Father Wore. Published by E. H. Harvie, 229 Bowery, N.Y. Music‘and words, 10 cents, I’m Paddy Miles, an Irish boy, just come across the sea, For singing or for dancing, boys, I think that [ll please ye; I can sing or dance with any. man, as I did in days of yore, oo on oh day I love to wear the hat my father wore. CHORUS. It’s old, but it’s beautiful, the best was ever seen, ’Twas worn for more than ninety years, in that little isle so green; From my father’s great ancestors, it descended times galore, It’s a relic of old dacency, the hat my father wore. > I bid you all good-evening, good luck to you I say, And when I cross the ocean, I hope for me you’ll pray, I am going to my native land, to a place call’d Ballymore, To be welcom’d pach it Paddy's land, with the hat my father wore, (CHORUS.) But when I do return , the ‘a0 and girls to see, \L hope that in old Irish Hs you'll kindly welcome-me ‘With the songs of dear old Ireland, to cheer me more and more, And make ~~ Trish heart feel glad, with the hat my father wore. (CHorvs.) , ‘That's ‘Where You Make the Mistake. Published by E. H. Harprne, 7 on New York. Music and words, cents. Some folks think they’re awfully clever, That all other folks are but fools, Some people will often endeavor, To make other people their tools. Some people will boast of their knowledge, And fancy they’re well wide awake, That none are so deep or so cute as themselves, That’s where they make the mistake. ' There’s just as good fish in the sea, bear in mind, \ As those we have managed to take, So don’t be too proud, and don’t crow too loud, For that’s where you make the mistake. Don’t imagine you'll meet with a Bobby, Whene’er there’s a row in the street, _ Don’t imagine you'll find a fishmonger '. Declare'that his fish are not sweet, © 7 {Do not fancy you'll meet with a cabman, Who more then his fare will not take, May as well think an oyster could crawl up a tree, And thereyou would make a mistake. If you fancy a girl dislikes a small kiss, ‘You must be what some folks call a cake! If you think your Collector of taxes won’t call, That’s where you make the mistake. we ‘Bont imagine aman ‘as no coin in his purse, ’ Because he’s nut dress’d as a ‘‘ swell;” A book with a cover that’s olden and worn, Has often a good tale to tell. You'll oft see a swell all collar and cuffs, ia his -tips white as snow flakes, In Philadelphia there’s a fair, . The town is full of strangers, i But while you are there, you must beware, , ' | Your pocket-book’s;in danger.. : Yankee doodle, mind your eye, ‘Look.out for every dandy, Don’t you let them play their tricks .On Yankee, doodle dandy. (CHORUS.) No matter how you rhyme the words, The music speaks them handy, And where's the fair can’t sing the air, Of Yankee doodle dandy. Yankee doodle, firm and true, Yankee doodle dand X We'll tralala and tra lalu, For Yankee doodle dandy. (CHORDS,): I-went to see my Yankee: girl, And: found her in the kitchen, She wore a charming: pull-back rea Which. made her look. bewitching. | Yankee, doodle, she. was nice, : Sweet.as sugar candy, ‘We got married and off we, went, With Yankee doodle dandy, (Caonrys.)) We went upon, our boner oon, From. Brooklyn: to pti thats a rn away, kad keg are 1 of tricks, nas must l run oe leave you in a fix; With Yankee doodle dandy. (Caonys.) Tho Tialian GuineaPig May: n Guinea lorence I See awn my ‘stock!’ : “Joseph, what for you er Vot leave him good h ome. Ven I leaneo Ita-ly my friends:say:“‘G@ood-by,” _ ‘We no see you ’gain,” but my Guinea, ery, ‘*Aueak.” fall in ze. water. seek ‘people, ailatams Bab moe une el and yl anh m ae, Oh! 80 good, Zo inn a ni A i e sister , when I lea-y hi : Oh! sa adhe pity. one ‘poor Italian ole netos ids kent uch THE SINGER'S LIBRARY. TOSS THE TURK. _ ‘THE MODERN BELLE.’ Copied by permission of E, H. Hinprvc, 229 Bowery, New York, owner The daughter sits in the parlor, of the copy right. Music and words, 10 cents. And rocks in the easy-chair— I put on my Sunday clothes, plug-hat and all; And jewels are in her hair. And I started proudly, while whistling loudly, She smiles and she sniggles and simpers, For Neal Brogaii’s raffle, at Hibernia Hall. And simpers and sniggles and winks, ' Going round a corner, a gang of rowdies— q And although she talks but a little, Oh! I know they’re rowdies for they never work— "Tis mostly more than she thinks. Says, “Let us give this old Tad a racket, 3 ‘ ” Her father goes clad in his russets, We will have a pic-nic, boys, and toss. the Turk. GA ragged an 4 dood nb thar. _ CHonvs— Now I’m not a fighter, nor yet a biter, », His coat is out at the elbows, : But when duty cills me I never shirk; Andhe, wears a most shocking bad hat; So Dll tell you.plainly, tho’ I look ungainly, He is hoarding and saving his shillings, , That they had no pic-nic when they toss’d the Turk, So carefully day by day, . ‘While she with her beavers and poodles, Ohlithe big ringleader, a free-inch raider; Y 2 Says, ‘ nee you had better paint the ‘tile,’ 4 Is throwing them all away. Put crape around il. get an ax and pound it!” She lies abed in the morning, ‘And he thought ’twas funny when the geng did smile, Till almost the hour of noon, : It was then my dander rosé like a gander, And comes down snapping and snarling, For I heard one loafer say he’d flash a dirk; Because they had call’d ner too soon, So I tapp’d him lightly and surprised him quitely, i Her hair was still in the papers, And they had no pic-nic when they toss’d the Turk. (CHo,) * | Her cheeks still daub’d with paint— » y, Oh! they gather’ round me, and thought fo pound mo, a a But I put my back against a big brick wall; : “You can’t go behind me,” says I, “‘now mind me, . Her feet are so very little, If you stand fornint me I can bate ye all.” . Her hands are so very white; ‘Then the gang/did face me and thought to Jace me, Her jewels are so very heavy, _ 5 But L.show’d them tricks I learn’d at Donegal; , Her head so yery light; Right and left I pounded, they. were dumbfounded, Her color is made of cosmetics, And at last for mercy they began to bawl. But this she will never own; ; Her body’s made mostly of cotton; ‘SPoKEN—Well, they looked rised, and ‘“‘Red-Handed Mike ” yam y 3 ‘says, “Who are you?” “ Se I, “my name is Cornelias Her heart is made wholly of stone, ‘Thomas Francis’ Meagher O’Brien, and moreover;” (CHORUS.) She falls in love with a fellow ‘Who swells with a foreign air; : He marries her for her money, f She marries him for his hair. One of the very best matches! i Both are well mated in life; : ii i oF a. ey She’s got a fool for a husband, N ever Go ‘Back on Y our Friend. And he’s got a fool for a wife, BY HARRY BURNS, OF PITTSBURG. ‘ ep ArRk—Poor, but a gentleman still. : “While back on the stage there, just waiting the play, ‘ * j TY i wae to come out here and sing : - The American. Boy. Now, r T hardly do know what to say, “ Father, And I scarcely know where to begin; _ : How pra tay ihm ‘But promise sincerely there will be.no game a Those pretty. stripes—they to be Should even my singing offend, A rainbow in the dere For truly I will tell you the’ reason T caine, ee 3 It was only to please an old friend. “ It is your ee flag, a son, _ Cuorvs—Should any misfortune e’er darken his dor; i ? gon oe eee oo cht, - And you bave but a dollar to lend, i oe are Of tik” ia. eons anak Give that to him freely, and wish it was more; p orvin Boen ym * "You must never go back on your friend. “Father, what fearful noise is that, Financial commotion may threaten’ our laid, wits, Sander ing, of the rolowset, aid , And thousands may stagger and reel,” | rh ss per’ iin dae ” hats, But give’ them a hearty and free helping hand, i : 7 rush along in crowds "Twill draw them from under the whe eel; | _“ Tt is the noise of cannon, child, If.in the dark days of their trouble you're kind, | The glad shouts of the free; _ most stubborn nature will bend, This is the day to memory dear—' in ys be sure and keep this in you're iniad, . ’Tis Freedom’s Jubilee.” , must never go back on your friend. (Cuorvs.) | “T wish that I were now a man, tof darigers are often oerthrdwn -Yd fire my cannon tco, apis nag eli ope a | . And cheer as loudly ns the ea ndir Be, cet eaeOt Ba ‘and alcne, : But, father, why don’t you?” ee indeed. « Pm. getting old and “veak—but still, B } ZO. beg hour of distress,” { ; My heart is big with joy; é py ‘sunshine you'll send; I've witness’d many a day like this~ re a, in return may God bil bless Shout you aloud, my boy.” who never go back on their friend. | (Cuonvs.) 4 ; ‘ fs “ Hurrah! for Freedom’s Jubilee! cette itceens ag | AA eR a eto keel epee Ie matters but lit, Siete asa lad aes tr medoe a Bie ede to spar 6. Qe H “ ‘Well done, m —grow and love — ont raat 5 de a aa = Ses oe ae Wt wre : ey at loves t6 4 1 a | Oh! one evening lately, I dress’d up nately, Bhe is dress’d in her silks and satins, y + The-Irish Jaunting Cary My name is Larry Doolan, I’m a native of the soil, If you want a day’s diversion, Vl drive you out in style, My car is painted red and green, and on the door a star, And the pride of Dublin City is my Irish jaunting car, Cuorus—Then if you want to hire me, step into Mickey Mar’s, And ask for Larry Doolan, and his Irish jaunting cars. When Queen Victoria came to Ireland her health to revive, She asked the Lord Lieutenant to take her out to drive, She replied unto his greatness, before they travel’d far, How delightful was the jogging of the Irish jaunting car. (CHO.) I’m hired by drunken men, teetotalers, and my friends, But a carman has‘so much to do, his duty never ends; Night and day, both wet and dry, I travel near and far, And at night I count the earnings of my Irish jaunting car. (CHORUS. ) Some say the Russian bear is tough, and I believe it’s true, Though we beat them at the Alma and Balaklava too, But if our Corinaught Rangers would bring home the Russian Czar, I would drive them off to blazes in my Irish jaunting car. (CHo.) Some say all wars are over, and I hope to God they are, For you know full well they never were good for a jaunting car, But peace and plenty—may they reign here both near and far, Then we'll drive to feasts and festivals in an Irish jaunting car, ( CHORUS.) They say they are in want of men, the French and English too, And it’s all about their commerce now they don’t know what to do; But if they come to Ireland our jolly sons to mar, Vl drive them to the devil in my Irish jaunting car, (CHoRUsS.) 40 I Think of Old Ireland Wherever I go. Arrn—“ My Heart’s in the Highlands.” I’m a wanderer, now, from the land of my birth, Far away from the scenes I hold dearest on earth, And I’ve séen both the beauties of the Nile and Arno, Still I think of old Ireland, wherever I go. CHORUS. I think of old Ireland, across the blue wave; ; I think of old Ireland, the land of the brave; ’Tis the home of. the brave, where the wild shamrocks grow, Oh! I think of old ireland, wherever I go. And ‘is soon I'll be home, in the land I love best, In my own dearest Emerald Isle of the West, “Though now I am chasing the wild buffalo; For, I think of old Ireland, wherever I go. ne Yet though far away from that dear blessed sod, I still offer up prayers to my country’s God, To chase from her borders the base Saxon foe; ame I think of old Ireland, wherever I go, (CHoRvs.) , Dear land of the Shamrock, and sweet swelling brier, ' Dear scenes of my childhood which never could tire, When a boy I picked beechnuis in wild Glenaboe; Oh! I think of old Ireland, wherever I go. (CuoRvs. ) And how oft have I drank out of Barranane’s Well, In whose clear waters there lurks a bright spell; The afflicted go there to find ease for their woe: For, I thfnk of old Ireland, wherever I go. (CHoRus.) - And how oft have I swam in the Blackwater’s tide, And roamed the sweet wild woods, around Castle Hyde; For, it’s through its wild woodland the Blackwater’s flow; Oh! | think of old Ireland, ware Igo. (CHOoRUS.) And how oft have’ I sported through its pastures so green, Where the wild fragrant daisy can always be seen; For, flowers in luxuriance there always do grow; Oh! I think of old Ireland, wherever I go. (CHORUS.) But all my sad. wanderings soon will be o’er, nee ptr isle of my I will never ahs. ‘more, deep is her sorrow,, and bitter her woe, “on es of old Ireland,” NOS Igo. (Cuonvs.) THE SINGER'S LIBRARY. OOOO SOMETIMES. Published by Freprrick Buume, eh Breedyay, N.Y. “Music and words, — cen Sometimes, when I’m sitting alone, Dreaming alone in the gloom, There comes on the wings of the twilight, Sweet music that fills the room. I know not from whence it comes, I know not what message it brings, Tho’ my soul of its burden is lighten’d By the sweet voice that plaintively sings, That plaintively sings. And all around is still, While the music faints and falls, But my heart leaps loud with the tender joy That old, old song recalls, ' , But my heart leaps loud with the tender joy > : That old, old song recalls. Sometimes, when I’m sitting alone, Sobbing alone in the night, There floats with the scent of the flowers, On moonbeams weird and white— The thrill of a well-known voice, That I thought to be silent for aye, With the cadence | lov’d to hear, In years that have roll’d away, In years roll’d away. And all around is still, While the music ‘faints and falls, But my heart leaps loud with the (ep engrs joy That old song: recalls, But my heart leaps loud with the passionate joy That old, old song recalls, That old, old song; My heart leaps loud with the passionate joy That old, old song recalls. His Deeds Be Forgotten. » BY KID KLYDE. Am—His Grave Kept Green. None can ever.more abuse him, 7 hy None can spurn him now with scorn; Gently. place the shroud about him O’er his cold and lifeless form. Grant that God his soul will pardon Tho’ his death was caused by rum; Pray that when he crossed the river Jesus beckoned him to come, CHOP oer Anca not of him now with censure, He is sleeping his last sleep; . : Oh, let his deeds be e’er forgotten— t them from thy memory keep. Gates clicking in the bar-roo: Fall on ears that?re cold in death; Loudly shout his boon companions, But forever them he has left. . Men who Urank with him so often Care not for the pulseless clay; ‘, Hushed was not their boist’rous ris As he passed from earth away, | Gaoads) In the dismal home his children ; ae Are sobbing, weeping fierce and { wild, , c O’er the one whose sleep is lasting ivy ~ O’er the one that’s been defiled. oo" The lone wife and the fond mother | ohn el. Move about the saddened room, __ — With a heart that’s nearly broken aa Over his swift and awful doom, (CuoRvs.) ; But we'll draw a yail before them ag) Leave them with their grief alone— si While we breathe a kind petition sats at For Him ie cheer their gloomy horney, rey On the orr pe ee them Uy ae ee te THE SINGER'S LIBRARY. -I/Thought She was an Angel. Lopied by permissi Prrens, 599 Broadway, New York, owner ” of tno Sopyraat, Music and words, 30 30 cents. " I thought she was an angel, So sweet she seemed to be, _ So, trusting, true and happy She then appeared to me; .» But since I’ve known her better, And found out all her ways, I simply turn)'my head and smile, But.don’t mind what she says. Cxrorvus—-For she’s so extremely lovely, And has such pretty eyes, And her dainty little foot encased With a number one in size. She’s fond of show and splendor, “And fickle as the wind, She draws admirers round her, Then leaves them all behind; She knows she’s gay and charming, And with her gifts divine Entrances all the weaker ones, Who think her monstrous fine, I sadly am mistaken, I know her mind so well, She ne’er can whisper love to me As I shall plainly tell: Her heart remains unbroken, 3 As far as any. one knows; . .. ?Tis doubtful if she e’er had one, For it she never shows. (CHoRUS.) (CHorvs.) The Dearest Spot of Earth. The dearest spot of earth to me is home, sweet home, The fairy-land I long to see is home, sweet home. There how charm’d the sense of hearing, There where love is so endearing, All the world is not so cheering As home, sweet home. The dearest spot of earth to me is home, sweet home, The fairy-land I’ve longed to see is home, sweet home, I’ve fevebt my heart the way to prize my home, T’ve learned to look with lover’s eyes on home— There, where vows were duly plighted, There, where hearts are so united, All the world besides I’ve slighted, For home, sweet home, - “The dearest spot, etc. “RIVAL FROGS.” Banjo solo, by Frank Dumont. Sung by Tom WaRFIELD Thare was a little frog that lived in a swamp, \ And a huikey little frog was he, / He’d sit on a log in de glimmer ob de ‘moon, And he’d wink at de owl in de tree; But he fell in love wid a fat widdow frog, And a rival soon came ’round— 2 (A cross-eyed frog wid warts on his heels, That sung bass from a hole in de ground. Now dis hunkey little frog soon jelious got, And he, began for to gwine on to fret, Pie de cross-eyed frog would skirmish in de rain, wn de widdow’s atop you bet! Bit de hunkey little frog didn’t wait very long; : his rival soon he dusted, Bt eelle | de cross-eyed frog drunk a dose of fusil oil, . le swelled we like a bladder and he bu’sted, Now de hunkey little frog he went on a bu’st, And he got de jim-jams in de ear; He stood on his head ‘wid his good clothes on, And his actions dey were queer. But a big buck nigger came dat way,” Por be “a de sohcone ‘soon cola ee See _ eS, Come Sit by My Side, Little Darling. SUNG BY D. S. WAMBOLD. _ Published by C. H. Drrson & Co., 848 Broadway, New York, Come sit by my side, little darling, And lay your brown head on my breast, While the angels of twilight around us Are singing the flowers to rest. ‘Your hands are as fair as the lilies That blossom in the shadows of green, And their touch has a magical power My heart from all sadness to wean. Cnorus—Come sit by my side, little darling, And lay your brown head on my breast, While the angels of twilight around us Are singing the flowers to rest. I dream, when your arms are around me, That life is an infinite calm, Your kiss has the spell of a charmer, Your kiss that is sweeter than balm. Oh! what could be sweeter than dreaming This dream that is on us to-night? — Let us think of the present, my darling, The future is out of our sight. (CHoRUS.) Sing low in the twilight some ballad, As sweet as the smile on your face, That shall thrill me with melody’s sweetness, And touch with its words’ tender grace. And I'll give you a kiss when it’s ended, A kiss that the singer shall earn, And perhaps, do you hear, little darling? I shall ask for a kiss in return. (CHORUS.) Come Into the Garden, Maud. Come into the garden, Maud; for the black bat, night, has flown; Come into the garden, Maud, Iam here, at the gate, alone: And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, and the musk of the roses blown; For, a breeze of the morning moves, and the planet of love is on high, eatiiatae to faint in the light that she loves, on a bed of daffo- dil sky, To faint in the light of the sun that she loves, to faint in the light and to die! Come into the garden, Maud, T am here at the gate, alone, I am here, at the gate, alone, I am here, at the gate, alone, Queen of the rosebud, onan of girls, come hit her, the dances are done; In gloss of satin and ida of pearls, Queen lily, and rose in one: Shine out, little head, running over with curls, to the flowers, and be their Sun, .. j Shine out, shine out, and be their Sun! Come into the garden, Mand: for, the black bat, night, has flown. | She is coming, my own, my sweet—were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear it, and beat, were it earth in an ay bed; Come, my own, my sweet, come, my own Maud, Tam here, at the gate, alone. _.-— Tapping at the Garden Gate. Who’s:that tapping at the garden gate? Tap, tap, tapping at the garden gate? Every night I've heard of late, Somebody tapping atthe garden gate. What, you sly little juss, don’t know’ . Why do you blush and falter so? What are you looking for under the chair? The tap, tap, tapping comes not from there. Every night, about half-past eight, There’s tap, tap, tapping at the garden gate. Oh, you sly little “ Fox,” you know, Fidgeting about until you go. Dropped the sugar-spoon! why there it lies, Bless the girl, where are your eyes? Were I able to leave my chair, Soon would I find out who is there; ‘Don’t tell me you think it’s a cat, Cats don’t tap, tap, tap like that; Cats don’t know when it’s half- -past eight, ‘And come tap, tapping at the aden gate. THE SINGER'S LIBRARY. The Land of St. Patrick Forever. Published by E. H. Harprxe, Bower New York. Music and words, , cent May ill luck be his only companion, Who sprung from that sweet spot of earth, And this day thro’ the world’s broad dominion, Forgets the dear land of his birth. Whose true children with tearful emotion, See alone wheresoe’er they may roam, With the eyes of their souls o’er the ocean, The hills and green valleys of home. For our heart’s love is all we can give her, So greet with an Irish hurrah! hurrah! The land of St Patrick forever In life and death, Erin-go-Bragh! So a health to all true men wherever they are, Who respond to this toast with an Irish hurrah! While their hearts to the echoes ring Erin-go-Bragh, The land of the Shamrock forever, hurrah! . Like the sea that with constant affection, Encircles her beautiful shore, In our bosoms the fond recollection, _ Life’s current surrounds evermore. - And when the cold hand chills its fountains, _ Our fading sight turns to the west, As the sun his last glance on her mountains, Bestows ere he sinks to his rest. For our heart’s love is all we can give her, etc. IT’S JUST MY STYLE. Written for Jussiz Mrroweut, by Harry Burns, Philadelphia, Am—“ Sweet forget-mé-not.” A darling little girl in town I met the other day, She was so pretty, sweet and nice,. It took my breath away; I would have fallen deep in love Had she not given a smile, And whispered—‘‘Take no stock in pal, You see it’s just my style!” Cxorus—So dashing and so sweet, Such a girl you’ve never seen; Hair waxed up in raven curls, Tied with lovely knots of green. She looked so archly up And answered with a smile— _ “ You mustn’t take much stock in me, For it is just my style!” “We had not walked along the square’ So vety ‘far, I know— ‘Some fellow on the other side Says—‘‘ Duckie there, helloa!” She says to him—“ Wipe off your chin, — And wait a little while, And you will see it’s only me— And it is just my style!” (eumatary I could not stand it longer— I thought I would sail in And try my luck a little while— I could but lose or win: you see it seemed to mo ‘Her dad had just struck ile, Although she told me like the rest— “You see it’s just my style!” (CHorvs.) T asked wernt aang’ very f she would take my arm; A quiet walk about the park Would really do no harm. iM noe ae ahhh ets ‘just look at me,, See mn I firt 1 am not a squirt— mn mn sGe 2 my ‘syle aad “You'll Sometimes Think of Me.” Copied rmission of FREDERICK BLUME, 861, Broadway, New ¥. —— of the copyright. Music and words, 30 cents. se The days are past, the time gone by, Since first I breath’d to thee Those tender words of love and truth, When yet thine heart was free. But now stern fate our sep’rate paths, Hath trac’d with harsh decree, My only hope is still that you Will sometimes think of me, My only hope is still that you Will sometimes think of me, In time to come whate’er betide, Wherever you may be, Though boundless ocean roll between, My thoughts will be with thee. And though all joys of life may cease, When you no more I see, My fervent trust will still be that ‘You'll sometimes think of me, .My fervent trust will still be that ‘You'll sometimes think of me. My Rattling Mare and I! Published by E. H. Harprna, 229 Bowery, New York. Music and words, e 10 cents. \ Iam a country carrier, 1 A jovial soul am I, / I whistle and sing from morn till And trouble I Suey: night T’ve one to bear me company, Of work she does her share, | It’s not my wife, upon my life; But a rattling old bay mare. CHoRrvs—Round goes the world, Trouble I defy, Jogging along together, my boys; My rattling mare and I. Up and down the country side, The mare and I we go, f The folks they kindly greet us As we journey to and fro. The little ones they cheer us, And the old ones stop and And lift their eyes with great surprise At Joe and his rattling mare. (Gabe: And when the roads are’ heavy, Or traveling up hill; I’m by her side assisting her, She works with such will. I know she loves me well CRONE, fy Because the whip I spare, Td rather hurt myself, than hurt | _ My rattling old bay mare, (Cuonvs:) And when the town we reach, ‘She rattles over the stones, She lifts her hoofs up splendidly, Ten" Clear the road whi José omy when Ji ° My crawlers all take care Of the carrier’s cart, the 9 antral And the rattling old bay mare, “ va.) I would not change my station With the noblest in the land; I would not be Prime Minister, Or anything so grand. Pein pee siheaee THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. -fHE WATERFORD BOYS’ Pave by H, Harvie, 229 Bowery, N.Y.’ Music and words; 10 cents, Well, boys! for divarsion we've all met together, Till tell how from Waterford hither I came; T cross’d the big.ocean in dark, gloomy weather, My heart it was light and my pocket the same. Sad at Yavin’ ould Ireland but once more on dry land, By the roadside a tavern I happen’d to spy, And as I was meltin’; my pockets I'felt in, The price ofa drink—I was mortally dry. Cuonus—For we are the boys of fun, wit, and element, Drinkin’ and dancin’ an’ all other joys, For ructions, ‘destruction, devarsion and devilment, Who ¢an compare with the Waterford boys, In the tavern I stroll’d, out the master he roll’d, “Morrow,” sez he, sez I, “ Av you please, Provide me a bed, but first bring me some bread, A bottle of porter and small piece of cheese. - For times they are queer, and provisions are dear, If you caniet’ get meat with cheese be content.” ‘Sez the landlord, “‘ You’re right,” so he bro’t me the bite; Troll’d up my ‘cuffs and at it T went. (Caorus.) My bread and cheese ended, I then condescended : To seek some repose, so it ax’d for a light, _ And soon in a doze I was under the clothes; I popp’d in my toes and I popp’d out the light. ‘But wakin’ from sleepin’ I heard somethin’ creepin’, Meanw’rin’ and wand’rin’ about my bed-post, Squeakin’ and scratchin’, thinks I ’mid my watchin’, “Pon my conscience; you’ve mighty long claws for ghos’.” (CHORUS.) My breath I'suspended, the noise it soon eiidled, I ventured to peep from beneath the bed-clothes, Millia murther! what's that?’ a thumpin’ jack rat, With a leap from the floor lit atop of my nose. “ Thunder sweep ye!” sez I, ‘for a schemin’ ould vagabone, Take that, and that,” as I leaped on the floor, Shouting ‘‘ Murther and fire, Tim, Jerry, Maria, _ The rats they are eatin’ me up by the score.” (CHORUS. ) The landlord affrighten’ came with a light!in, “ Tm murdered alive,” sez J, ‘‘so must away.” Sez he, “‘ Before goin’ I’d have you be knowin’, . bey For supper and bed you've five shillin’s to pay.” ' “ Five shillin’s for what? och don’t be disgracin’ Yourself for a rogue,” sez I, *‘ if you please; When I can’t sleep for rats, you, a brazen ould face on ye, To charge me five shillin’s for plain bread. and cheese.” (CHORUS. ) Sez he, ‘Perish the rats, I wish they would l’ave me, They ruin my trade and I’m not worth a rap.” * Sez I; “The five shillin’s would you forgive tne, An’ I'll tell you how to keep out‘every rat.” a oe. Then sez I, ‘‘ To supper invite them, And plain bread and cheese set before them,be sure, Don’t mind if they’re willin’, but charge them five shillin’; Bad:luck to the rat that youl ever see more,” (CHo, e Ae Then You'll Remember Me. When other lips and other hearts fe tale of love shall tell, _ In language whose excess imparts ig powr wey si so tig _ There _perhaps, in such a scene, ‘of So Ge sachsen be woe that have as happy been, eo remember me, ‘and You'll remember, you'll Hethetiitier me. ‘hen colds or dot salt ‘slight ig The beauty now they OE kale She Tossed Her Curls at Me. Copied by pérmission , 599 Broadway, New York, owner of i , the cour Hone ieee and words, 30 cents. *Twas a Saturday afternoon as down the street I — I passed a little damsel who was fair, And as she glided by I was stifled by the scent That came from her glossy curly hair. She wore a'gaiter boot, the size was number three, _ Which attracted my attention for a while, And whén'she saw me Jooking she tossed her curls at me, And also cast a most bewitching smile. ' Yes, she tossed her curls at me; In a manner that was free, Did this pretty little damsel so fair, I shall ne’er forget that foot, Or that natty little boot, Belonging to the girl with glossy hair. I watched her round the corner, till she was out of sight, Then waited near the crossing for a car; And when I took a seat; I noticed to the right The little one conversing with her ‘I knew:she had been shopping by the bundles that she had, But what they contained I couldn’t see; And when she réach’d her home she passed them to her dad, Then with a smile she tossed her curls at me. Yes, she tossed her curls at’me, éte. ‘ Of late I do not see her, but how often do I think Of the damsel with the glossy curly hair, Oh! those ruby tinted cheeks and those eyesas black as mink Are ornaments belonging to the fair. J look: for her by day, I look for her by night, But the pretty little one I fail to see, Perhaps again I’ll meet her, and when she gets'a sight, | I know she’ll toss:-her glossy curls at me. Yes, she tossed her curls at me, ete. OH! SUSANNAH. m Louisianna, '<. Wid de ‘banjo on my knee; T’m bound for Alabama, My own true lub to see. It thaw all night de week I left, ° De hailstone dey war dry, De sun so hot, I froze alive, Susannah, don’t you ery, Iecum CHORUS. . Oh! Susannah, you must not cry for me, I'm cum from "Touisianna wid de banjo on my_ knee; Oh! Susannah, you must not cry for me, ~ I’m cum trom Louisianna wid de banjo on my, knee, T'stepped on board de lightengraph, An steer it.by de trigger; My finger slip, it. bustified, ‘And kill a t’ousand nigger. . Pir omar igor my dearest: » I tought dat I should die, I shut my ears to keep my breff, Susannah, don’t youierys Some) I bad a. dream; to-morrow night, When all de’ ings war still, I t’ought [ see Susannah. Coming by de mill. She wore ae robe ob abichihas! And de tears war in her eye, Says I, “‘ Here am your 1 true lub, Susannah, don’t you cry.’ (CHorvs.) Seoadiesentibe till che Mtcltes Anndidars TH lok erousidy -” T shall sink into de DIET ttt ha Dis chile will , ut. ‘THE SINGER’S’ LIBRARY. pea © x COLINETTE. — I Wish He Would Decide, Mamma, © oan Published by. Oxrvmn Dimon 4 Co., 451 Washington street, Boston, Music Published by Wa. A./Poxp & Co., 547 Broadway, New York, ah , Sy i, 1 7 I wish he would decide, mam: i f j The maiden at the hostel, I wish he-would decide, ae } Stands at the,set.of sun, T’ve been a bridesmaid many a time, i: Peg. scldigen rection 9 ge sls When shall I be a bride? USS She has but.eyes forone. My cousin Anne and sister Fan, fi, a He drains the cup she brings him, The nuptial knot have tied, if -_: His bearded lips are wet, Yet come what will I’m single still, A. . ber ‘ “ Thy love,’’ he cries, ‘ fair maiden,” \ Yet come. what will I’m single still, i : “No! no!”, says Colinette, . TI wish he would decide. + From out the green leav’d lattice When will I be a bride? f. She leans and looks below, When will I be a bride? | « As further, ever further, For come what will I’m single still, Away the soldiers go. ; I wish he would decide. a ; His last few words reproachful 4 Are in her sad ears yet, “ Farewell, maybe forever!” He takes me to the play, mamma, And brings me pretty books, “ ” ; He woos me with his eyes, mamma, Ah me! may, YOHAGE: Such speechless things he. looks, } . The cruel war is over, Where’er I roam, abroad, at home, Once more with her is he, 4 He lingers by my, side, ** You've learnt to love since last we met!” Yet come what will I’m single still, But not a word said she. Yet come what will I’m single still, «You'll wed the happy somebody, : I wish he would decide. And me you'll quite forget, When shall I be a bride? Would I were ke, my darling!” ‘When shall I be a bride? : “You are!” cried Colinette, _ For come what will I’m single still, T wish he would decide. } ; : ve thrown out many a hint, mamma, Th i i I’ve spoke of other beaux, ee p, Kiss in the Street. Tve talked about domestic life, Be: BY DOR. Gy MCRMNZIE. And sung, ‘‘They don’t propose.” a The world is a world of glorious themes, Then if he means to break, mamma, By ) The world is a world of: wonder— : My passion and my pride, Asa web and a tissue of beautiful dreams, Unconquet’d yet I’ll scorn regret, To be torn by the world asunder. Unconquer’d yet I'll scorn regret, The world is an image of beauty; Although he won’t decide, }. The world is a type of bliss; Although he won’t decide, *Tis said, ‘‘ If we'd do our duty, Although he won’t decide, There would be no world like this.” Unconquer’d yet I'll scorn regret, Although he won’t decide, : ae I walked down the street on a sunshiny day— I walked and I watched the crowd— 5 The crowd that looked so happy and gay , } : Tae That they almost shouted aloud, : ' te I led by the hand my darling girl; She skipped and she danced along, : ’ Ri \ And, child-like, laughed at the ‘ane ‘and whirl f The Dear Little Damsel. : of the countless moving throng. BY KID KLYDE, I walked and I watched the myriad mass That was sweeping idly by, Arr—Old Oaken Bucket. And it made me glad to see them pass How, dear to my heart is the sweet little damsel, With a bright and laughing eye; The dear little damsel that I love so true; So T sung to myself a joyous song— With cheeks like the roses, and. lips red as chérries, A song on the happiest, theme, And eyes that sparkle like the evening dew, s _ To the crowd that was slowly passing along, Voice full of music as the rippling streamlet, ( Like the mythical form in a dream. The rippling streamlet that flows thro’ the dell, t So I sung as I walked along, _ Oh, my heart is filled with love overflowing, Led by my’ darling guide, With love One eS for this woodland belle.. And a man came out of the midst of the throng, me lked b aliiate sil j Cxorus—tThe dear little damsel, the sweet little damsel, ‘He wal paliiehibtshekd saroretbicled with woe, i The good little damsel that I love so oi +g NA cK But his garments were rich and rare, . ‘The blithe little damsel, the true ies | And a diamond gleamed ’neath his vest of snow, i ~The fair little damsel that lives in the As it daintily voatal there. . ae \ ‘ ] How often at eve when the twilight 4 as fading, ; He walked for awhile with a downcast eye; j ‘We rambled together by the: if sting rill; Then stooped, with a sudden bow, Listening to the bright plumaged songsters, And I heard thé moan of an inward sigh, cock Mme As sweetly they warbled their morning trill. As he kissed my darling’s brow. ._. | ‘When night with its mantle of shadowy darkness, In the crowded street, ’mid a thronged band, Envelops the earth with its deep somber spell; All eager with bustle and stir, Loving words I whisper to the sweet little damsel— _ He plainly said, as he pressed my hand, The dear little damsel that lives in the dell. (Cuo.) Am have lost a child like her.” { ( ‘Then silently passed that haggard one, One bright balmy eve wiins the rays of fair Tame nd waa io in the crowd again, ' Were streaming down upon mountain and lea; And the song I had in my heart begun, And the far-away stars, were twinkling-and gleaming, “Was hushed by a throb of pain. Together we lingered “neath a wide-spreading tree. It is many a year since that sunny day, : With my arm I eucircled the a little damsel, And my qering tine Above; . Pen drew. ae me to my own ores breast; ; all have j gained ploasate- f e he me soar of re / 7 _ The sweet li I word that thfiimats meets bit re “sg Palen LIMERICK RACES. I’m a simple Trish lad, I’ve resolved to see some fun, sirs; So, to satisfy my mind, to Limerick tewn I come, sirs; Oh, murther! what a precious place, and what a charming city, Where the boys are all so free, and the girls are all so pretty, Musha ring a ding & da, Ritoo ral laddy, oh! Musha ring a ding a da, Ri too ral laddy, oh! It was on the first of May, when I began my rambles, When everything was there, both jaunting cars and gambols; I looked along the road, what was lined with smiling faces, All driving off ding-dong, to go and see the races. Musha ring a ding a da, etc. \ So then I was resolved to go and see the race, sirs, And on a coach and four neatly took my place, sirs, When a chap bawls out: “ Behind!” and the coachman dealt a blow, sirs; ; Faith! he hit me just as fair as if his eyes were in his poll, sirs, Musha ring a ding a da, etc. So then, I had to walk, and make no great delay, sirs, Until 1 reached the course, where everything was gay, sirs; It’s then I spied a wooden house, and in the upper story, The band struck up a tune called, ‘‘ Garry Owen and glory.” Musha ring a ding a da, etc. There was fiddlers playing jigs, there was lads and lasses dancing, And chaps upon their nags, round the course sure they were prancing; © . » i Some were drinking whisky-punch, while others bawl’d out gayly; “Hurrah then for the Shamrock green, and the splinter of shille- lagh!” Oh, Barney Avourneen, I Will Let You In. Copied by permission of Wa. A. Ponp & Co., 547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright. : Oh, Barney avourneen, the sun it is shining, The'storm has gone by, and the sky it is blue; I sit all alone, and my heart is repining, ~ And sighing and thinking, dear Barney, of you. Oh, never believe that your love I'd be scorning, A thousand kind welcomes be sure that you'll win; So come when you please, in the gold of the morning, And Barney avourneen, I will let you in. So come when you please, etc. Oh, why did you come, when you knew I’d be sleeping, And dreaming of you on that same blessed night? I waited all day, till the stars were a-peeping, In hopes that your shadow would gladden my sight; I thought to myself you were courting some other, And wept in my sleep at the shame and the sin; Och! lové Iam sure is a care and a bother; But, Barney avourneen, I will let you in. Och! love I am sure, etc. I sighed for your sake, when afar you were going, Across the bleak hills, in the dark and the snow; My sorrowful tears all the while they were flowing, My heart it was with you.each step that you’d go; Oh, what would you say if your words I had minded? My love I am sure you’d be careless to wiu; So come when with sunlight—not whisky—you’re blinded, And Barney, avourneen, I’ll then let you in, So come when with sunlight, etc, / Musha ring a ding a da, etc. There was betters to and fro, to see who would win the race, sirs, And one of the sporting chaps, of course, came up to me, sirs; Says he, ‘1/1 bet you fifty pounds, and [’'ll:put it down this min- ute.” : *¢ Ah then! ten to one,” says I, ‘‘ the foremost horse will win it.” , Musha ring a ding a da, etc. OUR GRANDFATHERY’ DAYS. SUNG BY TONY PASTOR. A song for to please all my kind friends before me; I’ve been thinking of late, a new subject to raise, And one I haye got, and I know it will please you; I'm going to sing of our Grandfathers’ days. In our Grandfathers’ days, men were judged but by merit, And those who were’ sound, got their measure by praise; But nowadays, folks judge of men by their money— That wasn’t the case in our Grandfathers’ days. In our Grandfathers’ days, they had no patent leathers, Garote-choking collars, or no peg-top pants; ‘When the players came to town, and a funny set was they, I paid my two thirteens to go and see the play; They acted kings and cobblers, queens and everything so gayly, But I found myself at home when they struck up: ‘‘ Paddy Carey.” Musha ring a ding a da, etc.” , ¥ Young men didn’t go it with two-forty horses, Or visit ladies, at night, at their aunt’s; The boys didn’t then congregate on the corners Po see the gals crossing, on wet, slushy days, or the gals didn’t want a policeman to help them— That wasn’t the style in our Grandfathers’ days. In our Grandfathers’ days, billiard-makers ne’er sported Mustache-on their lips, or goatees on their chins; Nor did sixpenny barbers drive out in light wagons, Nor did fish-Lall waiters wear diamond pins. The gals didn’t paint, stuff themselves up with cotton, They didn’t wear hoops, patent bustles or stays, Didn’t smoke cigarettes, or drink cock-tails at Taylor's, That wasn’t the style in our Grandfathers’ days, In our Grandfathers’ days, married men they'were steady; You’d not find them out every day of their lives, Nor see them out, late, walking home with their cousins; _ They alway retired, in good time, to their wives; They had n» Champagne-suppers, no little flirtations, , No trying to go it in various ways; a : Didn’t stop in saloons with a female acquaintance— They had no waiter-girls in our Grandfathers’ days, In our Grandfathers’ days, when a man ran for office, He did it alone for the National good, _ And not for the dollars and cents he might pocket— _ That is something that, nowadays, ain’t understood. ns Government, then Was for om selected; ae had laze: Thi But CHARLIE DE ROGERS. Swell song, by Kin Kuypz. I’m Charlie De Rogers, a swell of the times; Tve plenty of cheek tho’ few of the dimes; I move in a circle that’s considered elite— They think ’m worth my millions, quite. I’m petted and courted by the maidens all, ~ And found at the party and fashionable ball; I’m the star of the beaux that brilliantly shine— I’m Charlie‘De Rogers, a swell of the time. Cxorvs—I’m Charlie De Rogers, one of the swells; I’m courted and petted by all of the belles; ‘They think I'm a count, with plenty of dimes— I’m Charlie De Rogers, a swell,of the times. My features are lovely—in truth, quite divine; My manners enchanting, and really refined, My style so dashing that I can well say, I am the only-—yes, the only swell of the day! Mammas who’ve girls and wish them wed well Are striving their best to entangle this swell, That sometimes methinks I'll seek other climes— ; I'm Charlie De Rogers, a swell of the times. (CHoRus.) — One evening of late while out toaball, I met a fair creature; she my heart did enthrall! Such dear winning ways one seldom finds— Just dantibated this swell of the times! ~ .Arm in arm we strolled from the heated ball-room, And rambled out-door ’mid flowers’ perfume; ‘ We parted at twelve; she her heart did bestow On Charlie De Rogers, yours truly, ye know. (Cuo.) ~— THE SINGER'S LIBRARY. The Harp that once thro’ Tare’ s Halls, The harp that once through Tara’s halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls, As if that soul were fled. r j So sleeps the pride of former days, Bis ; } So glory’s thrill is o’er, ai And hearts that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more. No more to chiefs and ladies bright, rel The harp of Tara swells; 4 The chord alone, that breaks at night, : Its tale of ruin tells. Thus freedom now but seldom wakes; The only throb she gives, Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives, ii iit WE MET BY CHANCE. When evening brings the twilight hour, | T pass a lonély spot, ; ‘Where oft she comes to cull the flower We call “ Forget-me-not.” She never whispers go, nor stay; She never whispers go, nor stay; We met by chance, the usual way, We met by*chanca, the usual way, We met by chance, We met by chance, We met by chance, the usual way. Once, how I can not well divine, Unless by chance we kiss’d, I found her lips were close to mine, So I could not resist; | As neither whisper’d yea, nor nay, A$ neither whisper’d yea, nor nay, They met by chance, the usual way, They met by chance, the usual way, They met by chance, They met by chance, They met by chance, the usual way. ‘The roses, when the zephyrs woo, Impart what they receive; They sigh and sip the balmy dew, But never whisper give. - Our lové is mutiial, this we know, Our love is mutual, this we know, Though neither tells the other 80, _ ~ Though neither tells the other so; , Our love is mutual, this we know, Though neither tells the other so. ne Sweet Love, ‘When You are Near.” : Te, Sung by Fox and Warp. Words by Franx Dumont. Music by Frep Turan Sweet love, the twilight shadows fall, The hour is drawing near, When you ani I will meet again, And whisper vows sincere. The birds have sought their sweet repose i While I wait beneath the' trees, ‘ And fancy that I hear your voice Borne on the evening breeze. Caorvs—When the nightingale is calling, (Symph.) And silv’ry moonbeams falling, oe ) TI linger in the quiet lane Until you do appear, And oh! what joy will thrill my heart, erry -. Sweet love, when you are near! (Daxcz.) Sweet love, let absence never catise hopes to fade and iat Has But keep our love like nt fiow'rs senso Pent you salt ae ) and wait; you appear; moment | es b # — LRSM ca nanny ‘Ge Bhe is dead and sweetly sleeping, ‘Tis Home Where’er the Hear't-is. *Tis home where’er the heart is, Where’er its loved ones dwell, In cities, or in cottages, Throng’d haunts or mossy dell, The heart’s a rover ever, : And thus on wave and wild, The maiden with her lover walks, The mother with her child. ‘Tis bright where’er the heart is; Its fairy spell can bring Fresh fountains to the wilderness, And to the desert sprins. Green isles are in the ocean, O’er which affection glides, A haven on each sunny shore, When love’s the sun that guides, - 'Tis froo where’er the heart is: Nor chains, nor dungeons dim May check the mind's aspiring thought, The spirit’s pealing hymn. The heart gives life its beauty, — ‘ Its glory and its power; *Tis sunlight to its rippling stream, And soft dew to its flowers. BLUE GLASS. BANJO SOLO, BY H. 8. SARGENT. You've héard ‘of ‘‘ Malone at the back of the bar,” But now, boys, I’ve got something new; It’s "bout a big humbug you’ve all heard of late; If you'll listen I'll tell it to you. As ’round through the city you chance for to go, You'll see in each window you pass, A big fancy sign on which are the words— . ere’s the place for to get your Blue Glass.” My gal she got sick with the ‘Bunko Skimboas,” EEN So I went for the doctor one day} nay de - Hesays, ‘State the case,” which I did quick, you bet! , , When the doctor then to me did say: “Go down to the druggist; and give him this note;” I went like a big streak of gas, When they give me a bundle as big as my head, With a card on it saying, ‘‘ Blue Glass.” I struck out for home with a hop, skip and jump, For to fix my dear duckey a mess; I mixed up the lot in my uncle’s swill tub, For my darling who was in distress. ‘ I gave her the dose’ with the greatest of lugs, When she made a big grin and a laugh, a And went fourteen flip-flaps, and lit on her. snoot, \ And croaked on account of ‘‘ Blue Glass,” , » FAREWELL, DARLINGS: BY ALDEN H. DAY. All day long I'm sad and ‘weeping, For my darling’s gone from me; — And her face I can not see. \ Oh my darling you have leftme, And I am unhappy now, i But I know you're safe in heaven, ' With a crown upon your brow, _Cxorvs—Thou art dead and I’m unhappy, : Gazing o’er the pathless sea, - I may go'from here unto thee, ; But thou canst not come to ‘me. Farewell, darling, I will meet thee zm When I too have crossed the tide, agen ae For on earth I knew and loved the, = ‘And in heaven you'll be my bride. — Thou art dead and they have laid thee _ In the dark and silent grave; STS Tandy “THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. —~ 43. AS SUNG BY TONY PASTOR, I’m a broken-héarted butcher-boy, In grief I’m arrayed, Through keeping the company x Of.a young servant-maid, Who lived on board-wages, The house to keep clear, In a gentleman’s family, Near Washington Square. Cxorvs—OQh! she was as beautiful as.a butterfly! There’s none could compare With pretty little Polly Perkins Of Washington, Square. Her eyes were as black As the pips of a pear; No.rose in the garden With her cheeks could compare; Her hair hung in ringerlets So beautiful and long! I thought that she loved me, But found I was wrong. (CHORUS.) When I'd call in the morning, 4 And cry: “Meat!” below, te At the sound of my voice, Her face she would show, With a smile upon her countenance And a laugh in her eye; If I thought she’d have loved me, Td haye laid down to die. (CHoRUS.) When I asked her to marry me, She said: ‘Oh! what stuff!” And told me to drop it; For, she’d had quite enough Of my nonsense—at the same time, I’d been very kind, But to marry a butcher-boy, She didn’t feel inclined. (CHoRYs.) Oh! the man that has me, Must have silver and gold— A chariot to ride in, And be handsome and bold; His hair must be curly As any watch-spring, And his whiskers as big Asa brush for clothing. (CHoRus.) The words that she uttered Went straight through my heart, ‘IT sob-bed, I sigh-ed, And straight did depart, P, With a.tear on my eyelid, ae . ing good-by 9. » And Washington Square, (CHoRUS,) In six months, she. married, This hard-hearted girl; It was. not, a, viscount, It, was not an,earl, _ It was not a baronet— : But re by; fer, "Twas a “legged conductor Qfa Third-avenue,car. (CHORUS.) Still so ‘Gently o'er Me Stealing. Still so gently o'er me stealing, Mem’ry will bring hack the tecling, Spite of all my grief, revealing That F love thee, that I dearly loye thee still, Tho’ some other swain may charm thee, Ab! no other e’er can warm me— Yet ne’er fear, f will.not harm thee, No! thou false one, no, no! I fondly love thee still, Ah! ne’er fear, I will not harm thee, No, false one, no! I love: thee— I love thee, false one, stil. _ CHoRruS—Still so gently o’er me stealing, “Mem’ry will bring back the feeling, "ltt f love toes that Tia owe tea. Polly Perkins of Washington Square. from sin; and cold. tell, well, stirr’d; dust, there, farewell! BY KID KLYDE. The Dying Californian. Lay up nearer, brother, nearer, for my limbs are growing cold, And thy presence seemeth dearer when™ thy arms around me fold I am dying, brother, dying, soon you'll miss me in your berth, And my forin will soon be lying ’neath the ocean’s briny surf. Hearken to me, brother, hearken, I have something I. would say, Ere this vail my vision darken, and I go from hence away; I am going, surely going, but my hopes in God are. strong, Iam willing, brother, knowing that He doeth nothing wrong. Tell my mother, God assist her, now that she is growing old, _ Tell, her son would glad have kiss’d her, when his lips grew pale Tell my sisters I.remember every kindly parting word, ' And my heart has been kept tender by. the thoughts their memory : Faith in Jesus and repentance will sesnte thi thei share; _ Hark! I hear my Savior calling—’tis I know his voice so well, | When I’m gone, oh, don’t be weeping, brother, hear my last See that My Nose is Kept Red. Arrn—“ See that My Grave's Kept Green.” ‘When F’m dead broke and bu'sted, fellows, When my last dime I have spent, When my bottle of rum is emptied ‘rte, And my coat for beer has went— When fF am thirsty and dry once Thinking of the aay ‘that have ‘fled,’ There’s.one little wish I ask of you, See that my nose is kept. red. Cnorus—OQh, the days will come. to me, fellows, en the pink in my. face. has, fied, Unless this wish you. will grant me— See,that my nose is kept red. Tho’ the hours of joy now are passing, ‘Yet how soon, alas, they: may. die; Tho’ your glasses of rum, are clicking my own, _This pleasure mntAG soon. pass by; When from the bar. and its drinks I go, Because my money has: fled; _ Tho’ whisky is nice, ab, will you. then See that my nose is kept.red? (CHoRws.) Will you keep me, boys, oe ot SO Tho’ of cash my pocket is slim? And ve you sip your lager or ae Imy glass to the brim? — ‘ell me y: ‘pay up my wi manrenumter bat From sweet Se tht my abs ring ae Tell my father when you greet him, that in death I pray’d for him, Pray’d that I might one day meet hint, in a world that’s free Hearken to me—catch,each whisper, ’tis my wife Ispeak of now, Tell, oh tell her, how I miss’d her, when the fever burnt my brow, Hearken to me, closely listen, don’t forget a single word, That in a dani my.eyes did glisten when. the tears her.memery Tell her then to kiss my children, like the kiss I last impress’d, _ Hold them fast as last I held them, folded closely to my breast; Give them early to their Maker, putting all their trust in God, And He will never forsake her—He has said so in His word. Oh my children, Heaven bless.them! they were all my life to me; Would I could once,more caress them, ere I sink beneath the sea; ’*T was for them I cross’d the.ocean—what my hopes were I'll not But they have gain’d an orphan’s portion—yet He doeth all things Tell them I never reach’d the haven where I sought the precious But I’ve e gain’d a port call’d heaven, where, the gold doth never _ Urge ther to secure an entrance, for they will find their brother | 4 nes = genset Og ota scagemnen viponnsennsnientcnys MERRIE ARR GS AI IEE HME Y PRR Thou Hast Wounded the Spirit. Thou bast wounded the spirit that loved thee, And cherished thine image for years; , Thou hast taught me at last to forget thee, In secret, in silence, and tears. As a young bird, when left by its mother Its earliest pinions to try, f *Round the nest will still lingering hover, Ere its trembling wings can fly. { Thus* we're taught in this cold world to sipeebes Each feeling that once was so dear; Like that young bird, I'll seek to discover A home of affection elsewhere. Tho’ this heart may still cling to thee fondly, And dream of sweet memories past, Yet Hope, like the rainbow of summer, ne pn & promise of Lethe at last. “THE COLORED WAITERS.” Music by F'rup Toro, Written by Franz Dumont, Published by F, W. Heumrcx;, Cincinnati, Ohio. It’s seldom that you will behold Such dandy ’coons as we; We glide and slide thro’ the dining room, At breakfast, dinner or tea. * °-‘We never get your orders mixed, _ But fly without delay, And bring your soup and mutton-hash In style upon this tray. Crorvus—Just watch this curious antic, (Symph. It sets the wenches frantic; | (Symph. We're the pink of sweet perfection— A bon-ton colored swell; ‘We're the observed of all observers At the ‘‘ Union Square ” Hotel. If you should order buttered toast, We'll slide off mighty quick, And we'll have it placed beside your plate Ere you can scarcely wink. We're active boys, you may believe; We'll almost read your mind, Polite, attentive ’coons like us Is mighty hard to find. (CHoRvS.) ——--—_ +. — The Dutch Drum Major. 7 BY H. 8. SARGENT. Arr—“ Johnny Morgan.” . Pl sing you ’bout a'Cherman pand, “2 Wot used der march der sdreed; . Bud now dey don’t vas march some more, 7 Dey’re music vas doo sweed; Do sind der beople roundt dese pards, Dey never dook a drick; Und ven dey blayed dot é Faderland,” *Dwould almosd make yer sick, Cxorus—Vone pig galoot he blayed her flude, Another blayed der bass, Yer’d tink dot py der music, © Dey vas drying do run a race, a race. Dey blayed demselves glean oud of town, Dere music vas so sour, You’d rather pe in chail six months, Den hear dem blay an hour. <' Der leader’was an A-flat man, .cwo © Und dought himself so gay; He fell'in love mit all der girls, Dey bassed upon dere way; He’d say do dem, “‘ Mine durtle-dove, Imead you pooty soon;” - (Und den he’d gall his pand do halt,» _ Und. blay dem all a dune. (Caoaus) i Ad lasd he med a young old maid, Vone whom. he did adore, Who dold him quick, dey: would got bijched, Of he didn’t. blay some more; But on dot nide, dey, vos got ved, .. He blayed her ‘‘ Abril Showers,” , -Do her der music had no jarms, UN lat tn — we in dwo hours. "(Gnomes 1 a a ae THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. | CHorus— PRO ERIN IS MY HOME. Oh, I have roam’d in many lands, And many friends I’ve met; Not one fair scene or kindly smile Can this fond heart forget; But I'll confess that I’m content, No more I wish to roam; Ob, steer my bark to Erin’s isle— For Erin is my home. Oh, steer my bark, etc. If England were my place of birth, I'd love her tranquil shore; But if Columbia were my home, Her freedom I’d adore. Though pleasant days in both I pass’d, I dream of days to come; : Oh, steer my bark to Erin’s isle— For Erin is my home. Oh, steer my bark, etc. “KEEP STUDYING.” Banjo solo by Frank Dumont. Sung by Tom WARSIELD. Now, Daniel was in de lions’ den, ‘And he nearly lost his breath; If my mother-in-law had been in dot den She’d talked dem lions to death. — Lot?’s wife was a busy-body, too; She’d go and tattle de news, But she was tured into a piller ob salt Way up in Syracuse. Cuonus—Keep studying de news dat’s going ’round, De smart man’s bound to rise; Keep studying de news—for knowledge is good, And sweet as custard pies. What makes this earth revolve on a turn While we're solid on de ground? It’s like a grindstone wid a crank And a nigger turning it ’round. In old Noah’s Ark dar was a pair Ob animals from land and sea; . Now tell me whar did he put de big whale, De pole-cat and de flea? (CHORUS.) t Who made de rail-roads and steam engines? Who made de telegraff? Twas de man dat kept a-studying— You can bet a dollar and a half! Who stole into dat chicken coop, ’ Grabbed a chicken‘and off did run? Dat man had better keep studying Bout dat farmer’s loaded gun. (Cuorvs.) a I WANT TO GO HOME. I want to go home, For never a place did T see, Wherever I roam, far away and alone, So dear as my own Tennessee. } But now I am far away, To my home I must go soon, I want to go back to hunt for the deer track, And watch for the ’possum and ’coon. -I want to go home, For never a place did I see, Wherever I roam far away and along, . So dear as my own Tennessee) I want to go where rriate The sugar cane’s growing so green, ote For many a day have I wandered away, . To watch the mill by the stream. : And when the night had come, . ‘ . ' And the darkey’s work was done, : We've gathered around, for a dance on ds green », By the sound of the old Tamborine. '(CHorvs. ) But now Iam far away, A And lonely and sad is my dotyic sale? of I never can rest till my journey. is past, | And. I again seek my. old.cot, .. From my childhood’s happy home, - I never more will roam, ; » I will take by my side, my joule Yann bride. And live ever r happy | = nee BC HORUS. ) fhHih—euMon - ' M . ag » ere : ,85 Buck Buckrams;, or, Bess, ‘rapper. By Captain ’J. F. C. Adams. 86 Dandy kock, the Man From Texas. By G. Waldo Brown. 4 87 the Land Pirates; or, The League. of = } Devil's Island. By Captain Mayne Reid. 8S Photograph Phil, the Boy Sleuth; or, hosebud Rob’s Reappearance. By Edward L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim; or, The Pet of the Family. By Bracebridge Hemyng. : 0 The Bread Rider; or, The Texan Duelist. : yy George W. Browne. ‘ 91 Khe Captain of the Club; or. oe Rival Athletes. By Bracebridge Hemyng, (Jac Harsaway.) 92 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief; or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp. By Ed- ward L. Wheeler, t 93 The Boy Miners; or, The Enchanted «Island. By Edward S. Ellis. : 8 94 Midnight Jack, the Road-Agent; or, ane Gid, the Boy Trapper of the Cheyenne. By T. C. Harbaug _.. of the Mississippi. By Licut.-Colonel: Hazeltine. 96 Watch-ftye, the Shadow; or, Arabs and Angels of a Great City. by Edward L. Wheeler. @%7 The Outlaw Brothers} or. The Captive of the Harpes. By John J. Marshall. 98 Kobin Hood, the Outlawed Earl; or, The Merry Men of Greenwood. By Prof. Stewart '__ Gildersleeve. ‘99 Whe Tiger of Taos} or, Wild Kate, Dandy : Rock’s Angel. By George Waldo Browne, 4200 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty, .By Edward L. > fgg ‘Wheeler. 401 Jack Harkaway in New York; or,The j Adventures of the Traveler’s Club. By Brace- A eae Hemyng (Jack Barnet. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, the Boy Smnggler; or, The Cruise of the Vixen. By Col. ee ta. 203 The Lion of the Sea; or, The Vailed Lady of San Tropez. By Colonel Delle Sara. 3104 Deadw od Dick’s Devices; or, The a n of the Double Cross. By E. L. Wheeler. 105 Oid Rube, the Hunter; or, The Crow Cap- tive. By Captain Hamilcon Holmes, -106 Old Frosty, the Guide: or, Niokana, the ' White Queen of the- Blackfeet.. By T. ©. Harbaugh; ugh; dne-Kyed Sim; or, The Abandoned Forest Home. By James i Bowen.’ Daring Davy, the Young Bear Killer; or, The Trail of the Border Wolf. By Harry St. ‘ George. y 109 Deadwood Dick As Detective. By ia Edward L, Wheeler. ‘ _ 110 ‘the Black Steed of the Prairies. By James L. Bowen. : a 111 The Sea-Devil; or, The Midshipman’s 4127 Legacy. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. he ad Hunter; or, The Cave of . Death, : 113 Jack le tas 8 Specul oyle e Youn eculator; or, _ «©... The’Road to: Fortune., By i L. I heeler, get 114 The Black Schooner; or, Jib sunk, the , “Old Tar. By Roger Starbuck. ye 107 ' 108 ’°115 The Mad Miner; or, Dandy Rock’s Doom. Paes aah By G Waldo Browne, ce ' <, 216 fhe BMussar Captain 3 or, The Hermit of : Hell-Gate. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. _ 117 Gilt-Kdgea Dick, the Sport-Detective; ee or, The Road Agent's Daughter. By Edward < 11g Will Somers, the’ Boy Detecti o e@ Bo; etectivi 44 Charles Morris. r . a ase Sam ; or, the King of the Plains. 420 the Branded Hana ate e Brande a or, The Man of ae ae Mystery. By —_ Dumoxt és < Cinnamon Chip e Gir rt; or. The are Golden Idol of Mt. Rosa. E, to Whecier 122 Phil Hardy, the Boss 3 or, The Mys- we a tery of the Strongbow. By Charles Morris. 123 Kiowa Charley, the White Mustanger; «or, Rocky Mountain Kit’s Last Scalp. Hunt. T. CG. Harbaugh. 7 the Texan; or, The Young Cham- tr y George Gleason. eo ee 2S aera ies Bill, Mimer; or, Madam Mys- _- tery, the Female Forger. By E. L. Wheeler. 126 Picayune Pete; or, Nicodemus, the Dog - *"s-Detective.. By Charles Morris. - 127 Wild-Fire, the Boss of the Road‘ or, The : Wolves of Satan’sGap. By Frank Dumont. 128 The oung Privateer 3; or, The Pirate’s _ Stronghold, By Harry Cavendish. - 129 Deadwood Dicks Doubles or, The ‘ Ghost of Gorgon’s Gulch. By E. L. Wheeler. * 130 Metective Dick 5 or, The Hero ‘in Rags. 4, By Charles Morris. } j 31 The Golden Hiand sor, Dandy Rock to , the Rescue, By George Waldo Browne. ne, Horsornay ofiie Pane ey Sees eae is: née Prairie. a the or mh Seti Ray, ockte nbrok lot. ‘Edward L. Wheeler. 134 Sure Shot Seth the Boy Rifleman; or,’ The aa Lome Patrioss ot the North. By Oll Coomes. Z aul, | ntucky Moonshiner; Spy Srehe Mountains, By C. it or, The Daughter of "ER. Ba dger, Jr ands" or. the Female 146 ‘95 The Rival Revers; or, The Freebooters | . Backwoods SRST Bs so | 139 Judge Lynch, Jr.; or, The Boy Vigilante. ¢ wo Ly a PRs ry Vig’ T. C. Harbaugh. “140 Blue Blazes; or, The Break o’ Day Boys Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. of Rocky . Be 141 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent; or, The Branced Brows. By Edward L. Wheeler. 142 Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detec- tive. By Charles Morris. 143 Sear-Face Saul, the Silent_ Hunter; or, The Mystery of Fort Rane. By Oll Coomes, 144 Dainty Lance, the Boy Sport; or, The Bank-Breakers’ Decoy Duck. Badger, Jr. 145 Captain Ferret, the New York Detective; or, Boss Bob’s Boss Job. By E. L. Wheeler. Silver Star, the Boy Knight. epen Coomes. Will Wildtire, the Thoroughbred; or, The Winning Hand. By Charles Morris. Sharp Samj_or, Friendless Boy,, By J. Alexander Patten. A Game of Gold} or, Deadwood Dick's Big Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler. Lanee and Lasso} or, The Children of the Chaco. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. Panther Paul, the Prairie Pirate; or, Dainty Lance to the Reseue. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer; or, Win- ning Against Odds. By Charles Morris. Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon; or, The Out- laws of the Gold Hills. By Oll Coomes. The Sword Hunters; or,-The Land of the Elephant Riders. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Gold Trigger, the Sport; or, The Girl Avenger. By T C. Harbaugh. Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 157 Wike Merry, the Harbor Police Boy; or, , we Night-Hawks of Philadelphia. . By Charles orris. 158 Fancy Frank, of Colorado; or, The Trap- re Trust. By Buffalo Bill. 5 159 The Lost Captain; or, Skipper Jabez Coffin’s Cruise to the Open Polar Sea. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. e The Black Giant; or, Dainty Lance in Jeopardy. By Jos, E. Badger. Jr. New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detéctive; or, Old Blakesly’s Money. By Ed. L. Wheeler. ~ Will Wildfire in the Woods; or, Camp Life in the Alleghanies. By Chas. Morris. Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. By Oll Coomes. Dandy Rock’s Pledge}; or, Hunted to Death. By George Waldo Browne. i47 148 149 150 160 161 162 163 164 165 Billy Bagg: ge, the Railroad Boy; or, Run to Earth. By Charles Morris. : 166 Hickory Marry; or, The Trapper-Bri- gade’s Spy. By Harry St. George. : 167 Asa Scott, the Steamboat Boy; or, The Land Pirates of the Mississippi. ky Ed. Willett. 168 Deadly Dash ; or, Fighting Fire With Fire. - By Jos. E. Padger, Jr. : 169 Tornado Tom; or, Injun Jack From Red Core. By T. C. Harbaugh. 170 “A Trump Card;. or, Will Wildfire Wins and Loses. By Charles Morris. 17% Ebony Dan; or, The Rival Leagues of Silver Circle. By Frank Dumont. 172 Thunderbolt Tom; or, The Wolf-Herder of the Rockies. By Horry St. George. _ 173 Dandy Rock’s R wae or, The Hunted _ Maid of Taos. ' By GaorRe aldo Browne. 174 Bob Rockett, the ry Dodger; or, Mys- teries of New York. By Charles Morris. 175 Captain Arizona, the King Pin of Road- Agents; or, Patent-Leather Joe’s Big Game. By Philip S. Warne... ‘ ee 176 The Boy Runaway; or, The Buccaneer , .of the Bay. By Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S. N. 177 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Scamps of the Sierras. By Edwari L. Wheeler. ; 178 Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper; or, The Dragon of Silver Lake. _By Oll Coomes, 179 Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner; or, The Road to Ruin. By Charles Morris. 180 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow Well Kept. | : aio. H. D. Perry, U.S.N. . 181 ild Frank, the Buckskin. Bravo; or, Lady Lily's Love. ;By Edward L; Wheeler. ~ 182 Little Hurricane, the Boy Oaptain; or, The Oath of the Young Avengers. , By oll Coomes. Puy 183 Khe Hidden Mand} or, Will Wildfire’s ae By naan rr: 184 The raile the War-Path. \By Joseph E: Badger, Jr: 185 Kvil Eye, King of Cattle Thieves; or, The Vultures of the Rio Grande. ‘By F. Dumont. 186 Cool Desmond, or, The Gambler’s Big Game. _ By Col. Delle Sara. ; 187 Fred. Halyard, the Life Boat Roy; or, The range omn of the Inlet. By. Charles Morris. 188 Ned Temple, the Border Boy; or, ‘The Mad Hunter of Powder River. By T. C. Harbaugh. 189 Bob Rockett, the Cracksman; or, Driven to the Wall. By bharles Morris, j 190 Panes Darke; or,, The Tigers of High Pine. By Wm. R. Eyster. | Sie 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bully 3.or, he Doomed Thirteen, By Capt A. B. Teylor. 192 Captain Kit, the: Will-o’-the-Wisp; or, The ystery of Mo Haes, Point. By Lieut. H. D. erry, U. S. N. ; 193 Captain nals + the Lad: Reog ts zor; Senet oeiner '0e’S Defeat By P. 8. Warne. 194 Bufible Bills he e. by ) ‘Guid ; bathe. aon ue y Joseph E. | 201 The Adventures of a’ ts; or, Dainty Lance on- 246 Giant Georses on The Ang'lot the ia sansp siant Geo r, The Ang’ ) Sy ; By Major Sam 8. reli" uckskin Sam. 196 Shadowed;-or. Bod Rockett’s Fight for Life. By Charles Morris. x 7 Little Grit, the Wild Rider; or: Bessie, the Stock-Tender’s Daugiiter. By Col. Ingraham. Arkausaw, the Man with the Knir ; o7, The Queen of Fate’s Revenge.‘ By Ma. baugL. Featherweight, the Boy Champion ot the Muskingum; or, On his Muscie, Wits and Honor. By Edward Willett. © The Boy Bedouins; or, Toe Brothers of the Plumed Lance. By Capt F. Whittaker. The Black Hills Jezebeis or, Dead- wood Dick’s Ward. By Ed. L. Whecies. Prospect Pete, of the Boy Frivade; or, The Young Outlaw Hunters. Ly Oli Coomes, ‘The Boy Pards; or, Dainty Lance Un- masks. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. . Gold Piume, the koy bandit; or, The Kia- Glove Sport. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Deadwood Dick’s Doom, or, Calamity Jane’s Last Adventure. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Dark Paul, the Tiger King; or, Caught in His Own Trap... By: Charles Morris. - : Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter; or, The Three Pards of the Vasaltic buttes, T. C. Harbaugh: Whe Boy’Merculess) or,The Prairie Tramps. O!1 Coomes, Fritz, the Round-Boy Detective; or, Dot Leetle Game Mit Rebecca. By KE. L. Wheeler, Faro Frank of High Pine; or, Dendy Darke’s Go-Down Pards. By Wm. R. Eyster. Crooked Cale, the Caliban of Cclest.al City, By Joseph E. Badger. Jr. y Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective; or, The League of the Secret Brotherhood. by Charles Morris. 213 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventriloquist ' Scamp-Hunter.. By Edward L. Wheclir. § 214° Wolfgang the Robber of the Rhine; cr, The Young Knight of the Crossicord.. Ly Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 215 Captain Bullet, the Raider King; or, Littlo » Topknot’s Crusade. By T. C. Harbaugh. - 216 Bison Bill, the Prince of the Reins; er, Tré Red Riders of the Overland. By Col. Prcniia: Ingraham. k , 217 Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl Drivarc; or, Gipsy Jack from Jimtown. By Edward L. Wheeler. 4 : 218 Viger Tom, the Texan Terrcr. [Ly Cli es. ws 219 Despard, the Duelist;' or, The Mountain Vampires. By Philip 8. Warne: 220 Tom Tanner, Scalawag and Scapezrace; or, The Black Sheep of the Flock. by Philip S. Warne. 221 Sugar-Coated Sam 3 or: The Black Gowns of Grim Gulch. - By Ed. 1. Wheeler, 222 Grit, the Bravo Sport; or, The Woman 198 199 200 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209. 210 211 212 Trailer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. : 223 Ozark Alf, King of the Mountain; or, ~- ' Featherweight Among the, Outlays. By Hd- ward Willett. é 224 Br On Gen Dick 5 or, Trapper Tom's Castle. Coomes. + 225 Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky; or, 3 How the Boy Got’ Even.’ By Chas: Morris. 226 Snoozer, the Boy Sharp; or, The Arab De- tectiye. By Edward L. Wheeler. é 227 Dusky Darrell, Trapper; or, The Green Ranger of the Yellowstone. By Edwin Emer- son, . 4 228 Little Wildfire, the You g Prairie Nomad; or, The Idyl of Echo Canyon. * ‘By Oll C. comes. 229 Crimson Kate, the Girl Trailer; or, The Cowboy’s Triumph.. By Col. P. Ingraham. 230 The ate or, The Fate of the Black Shereef. By C. Dunning Clark. 231 Plutky Phil, of the Mountain Traii; or, Rosa, the Red Jezebel. By T.C. Harbaugh. © 23> Gold