ve.
_Georgius Secundus_ was then alive-- 10
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
And Braddock's army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown. 15
It was on the terrible Earthquake day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

Now in building of chaises I tell you what,
There is always _somewhere_ a weakest spot--
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In panel or crossbar or floor or sill,
In screw, bolt, thorough-brace,--lurking still, 5
Find it somewhere you must and will--
Above or below or within or without--
And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,
A chaise _breaks down_, but doesn't _wear out_.

But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, 10
With an "I dew vum" or an "I tell _yeou_")
He would build one shay to beat the taown
'N' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun';
It should be so built that it _couldn't_ break daown.

"Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain 15
Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain;
'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain,
Is only jest
T' make that place uz strong uz the rest."

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk 20
Where he could find the strongest oak,
That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke--
That was for spokes and floor and sills;
He sent for lancewood to make the thills;
The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees 25
The panels of whitewood, that cuts like cheese
But lasts like iron for things like these;
The hubs, of logs from the "Settler's ellum"--
Last of its timber--they couldn't sell 'em--

Never an ax had seen their chips,
And the wedges flew from between their lips,
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery tips;
Step and prop iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too, 5
Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
Thorough-brace, bison skin, thick and wide;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he "put her through." 10