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 coomin' there for beer,
Can't pay wan cint the bucketful, the whilst that Chairley's
here!
He's joompin' oor the tops o' sthools, the both forninst an'
back!
He'll lave yez pick the blessed flure, an' walk the straightest
crack!
He's liftin' barrels wid his teeth, and singin "Garry Owen,"
Till all the house be strikin' hands, sence Chairley Burke's in
town.
The Road-Yaird hands coomes dhroppin' in, an' niver goin' back;
An' there's two freights upon the switch--the wan on aither
track--
An' Mr. Gearry, from The Shops, he's mad enough to swear,
An' durstn't spake a word but grin, the whilst that Chairley's
there!
Och! Chairley! Chairley! Chairley Burke! ye divil, wid yer ways
O' dhrivin' all the throubles aff, these dhark an' ghloomy days!
Ohone! that it's meself, wid all the graifs I have to dhrown,
Must lave me pick to resht a bit, sence Chairley Burke's in
town.
"Before we turn back, now," said the smiling
Major, as I stood lingering over the indefinable
humor of the last refrain, "before we turn back I
want to show you something eminently characteristic.
Come this way a half-dozen steps."
As he spoke I looked up, first to observe that we
had paused before a handsome square brick residence,
centering a beautiful smooth lawn, its emerald
only littered with the light gold of the earliest
autumn leaves. On either side of the trim walk
that led up from the gate to the carved stone
ballusters of the broad piazza, with its empty easy
chairs, were graceful vases, frothing over with
late blossoms, and wreathed with laurel-looking
vines; and, luxuriantly lacing the border of the
pave that turned the farther corner of the house,
blue, white and crimson, pink and violet, went
fading away in perspective as my gaze followed the
gesture of the Major's.
"Here, come a little farther. Now do you see
that man there?"
Yes, I could make out a figure in the deepening
dusk--the figure of a man on the back stoop--a
tired-looking man, in his shirt-sleeves, who sat upon
a low chair--no, not a chair--an empty box. He
was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees,
and the hands dropped limp. He was smoking,
too, I could barely see his pipe, and but for the
odor of very strong tobacco, would not have known
he had a pipe. Why does the master of the house
permit his servants so to desecrate this beautiful
home? I thought.
"Well, shall we go now?" said the Major.
I turned silently and we retraced our steps. I
think neither of us spoke for the distance of a
square.
"Guess you didn't know the man there on the
back porch?" said the Major.
"No; why?" I asked dubiously.
"I hardly thought you would, and besides the
poor fellow's tired, and it was best not to disturb
him," said the Major.
"Why; who was it--some one I know?"
"It was Tommy."
"Oh," said I inquiringly, "he's employed there in
some capacity?"
"Yes, as master of the house."
"You don't mean it?"
"I certainly do. He owns it, and made every
cent of the money that paid for it!" said the Major
proudly. "That's why I wanted you particularly
to note that 'eminent characteristic' I spoke of.
Tommy could just as well be sitting, with a fine
cigar, on the front piazza in an easy chair, as, with
his dhudeen, on the back porch, on an empty box,
where every night you'll find him. It's the
unconscious dropping back into the old ways of his
father, and his father's father, and his father's
father's father. In brief, he sits there the poor
lorn symbol of the long oppression of his race."