t I've never seen,
And I reckon there is more for _me_ in some other kind uv queen."
"Git out!" sez Bill, disgusted-like, "and can't you never find
A pleasure in the things uv life wich ellervates the mind?
You've set around in Casey's restawraw a year or more,
An' heerd ol' Vere de Blaw perform shef doovers by the score,
Only to come down here among us _tong_ an' say you feel
You'd ruther take in faro than a opry like 'Cameel'!"

But it seems it wurn't no opry, but a sort uv foreign play,
With a heap uv talk an' dressin' that wuz both de_kolly_tay.
A young chap sparks a gal, who's caught a dook that's old an'
wealthy,--
She has a cold 'nd faintin' fits, and is gin'rally onhealthy.
She says she has a record; but the young chap doesn't mind,
And it looks ez if the feller wuz a proper likely kind
Until his old man sneaks around 'nd makes a dirty break,
And the young one plays the sucker 'nd gives the girl the shake.
"Armo! Armo!" she hollers; but he flings her on the floor,
And says he ainter goin' to have no truck with her no more.

At that Three-Fingered Hoover says, "I'll chip into this game,
And see if Red Hoss Mountain cannot reconstruct the same.
I won't set by an' see the feelin's uv a lady hurt,--
Gol durn a critter, anyhow, that does a woman dirt!"
He riz up like a giant in that little painted pen,
And stepped upon the platform with the women-folks 'nd men;
Across the trough of gaslights he bounded like a deer,
An' grabbed Armo an' hove him through the landscape in the rear;
And then we seen him shed his hat an' reverently kneel,
An' put his strong arms tenderly around the gal Cameel.

A-standin' in his stockin' feet, his height wuz six foot three,
And a huskier man than Hoover wuz you could not hope to see.
He downed Lafe Dawson wrasslin'; and one night I seen him lick
Three Cornish miners that come into camp from Roarin' Crick
To clean out Casey's restawraw an' do the town, they said.
He could whip his weight in wildcats, an' paint whole townships red,
But good to helpless folks and weak,--a brave and manly heart
A cyclone couldn't phase, but any child could rend apart;
Jest like the mountain pine, wich dares the storm that howls along,
But rocks the winds uv summer-time, an' sings a soothin' song.

"Cameel," sez he, "your record is ag'in you, I'll allow,
But, bein' you're a woman, you'll git justice anyhow;
So, if y