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LITTLE GIFFEN

FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR

FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR (1822-1874), an American poet and physician, spent most of his life at his home near Columbus, Georgia. He lived the life of a country doctor, busy, beloved, useful. Little Giffen was based on an incident of the Civil War. 5 The young hero of the poem was taken to the poet's own home.

Out of the focal and foremost fire,
Out of the hospital walls as dire;
Smitten of grapeshot and gangrene -
(Eighteenth battle, and he sixteen!)
Specter such as you seldom see,
Little Giffen of Tennessee.

"Take him and welcome!" the surgeons said;

Little the doctor can help the dead!

So we took him; and brought him where

The balm was sweet in our summer air;

And we laid him down on a wholesome bed
Utter Lazarus, heel to head!

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And we watched the war with bated breath,-
Skeleton Boy against skeleton Death.
Months of torture, how many such?
Weary weeks of the stick and crutch;
And still a glint of the steel-blue eye
Told of a spirit that would n't die,

And did n't. Nay, more, in death's despite
The crippled skeleton learned to write.
"Dear mother," at first, of course; and then
"Dear captain," inquiring about the men.
Captain's answer: "Of eighty-and-five,
Giffen and I are left alive."

Word of gloom from the war, one day;
"Johnson pressed at the front," they say.
Little Giffen was up and away;

A tear-his first- as he bade good-by,
Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye.

"I'll write, if spared!" There was news of

the fight;

But none of Giffen. He did not write.

I sometimes fancy that were I king
Of the princely Knights of the Golden Ring,
With the song of the minstrel in mine ear,
I'd give the best on his bended knee,
The whitest soul of my chivalry,

For "Little Giffen" of Tennessee.

focal center. grapeshot: small balls for cannon. grene: the death of a tissue in a living body.

gan

- specter: a ghostly

figure. - Lazarus: a Biblical character who was covered with

sores.

Golden Ring: a reference to King Arthur's Knights of

the Round Table. - chivalry: a body of knights.

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THE SICK LITTLE OYSTER AND THE

PEARL 1

EUGENE FIELD

EUGENE FIELD (1850-1895), an American poet and storyteller, was born in St. Louis, Missouri. His course at Williams College being interrupted by his father's death, he spent two years at Knox College, Illinois, and then a year at the University 5 of Missouri.

In 1873 he took up newspaper work, and, in various capacities, followed this pursuit until 1880. He was reporter, editorial writer, managing editor in St. Louis, Kansas City, Denver, and Chicago. After 1880 his time was spent in lecturing and writing. Among his best known works are A Little Book of Profitable Tales, Songs and Other Verse, The Holy Cross and Other Tales, Echoes from the Sabine Farm, the Eugene Field Book.

In a certain part of the sea, very many leagues from here, there once lived a large family of oysters 15 noted for their beauty and size. But among them

was one so small, so feeble, and so ill-looking as to excite the pity, if not the contempt, of the others.

The father, a venerable, bearded oyster of august appearance and solemn deportment, was much 20 mortified that one of his family should happen

to be so sickly; and he sent for all the doctors in the sea to come and treat her; from which

1 From Eugene Field Book. Copyright, 1898. Charles Scribner's Sons, Publishers.

circumstance you are to note that doctors are an evil to be met with not alone upon terra firma.

The first to come was Dr. Porpoise, a gentleman of the old school, who floundered around in an important manner and was full of imposing ceremonies.

"Let me look at your tongue," said Dr. Porpoise, stroking his beard with one fin. "Ahem! somewhat coated, I see. And your pulse is far from normal. No appetite, I presume? Yes, my dear, your system is out of order. You need medicine."

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The little oyster hated medicine; so she cried, -yes, she actually shed cold, briny tears at the very thought of taking old Dr. Porpoise's prescriptions. But the father oyster and the mother oyster chided her sternly; they said that the medicine 15 would be nice and sweet, and that the little oyster would like it. But the little oyster knew better than all that; yes, she knew a thing or two, even though she was a little oyster.

Now Dr. Porpoise put a plaster on the little 20 oyster's chest and a blister at her feet. He bade her eat nothing but a tiny bit of sea foam on toast twice a day. Every two hours she was to take a spoonful of cod-liver oil, and before each meal a wineglassful of the essence of distilled cuttlefish. 25 The plaster she did n't mind, but the blister and

well, she

the cod-liver oil were terrible; and when it came to the essence of distilled cuttlefish just could n't stand it!

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In vain her mother reasoned with her, and 5 promised her a new doll and a skipping rope and other nice things; the little oyster would have none of the horrid drug, until at last her father, abandoning his dignity in order to maintain his authority, had to hold her down by main strength 10 and pour the medicine into her mouth. This was, as you will allow, quite dreadful.

But this treatment did the little oyster no good; and her parents made up their minds that they would send for another doctor, and one of a differ15 ent school. Fortunately they were in a position to indulge in almost any expense, since the father oyster himself was president of one of the largest banks of Newfoundland. So Dr. Sculpin came with his neat little medicine box under his arm. 20 And when he had looked at the sick little oyster's tongue, and had taken her temperature, and had felt her pulse, he said he knew what ailed her; but he did not tell anybody what it was. He threw away the plasters, the cod-liver oil, and the 25 essence of distilled cuttlefish, and said it was a wonder that the child had lived through it all.

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