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THE FACT AND THE REPORT.
A Portland Version of “the Ring and the Book.”
Live fact deadened down,
Talked over, bruited abroad, whispered away.
Robert Browning.
Talked over, bruited abroad, whispered away.
Robert Browning.
I.
THE FACTS IN THE CASE.
Bessie, little damsel fair,Whom this truthful tale concerns,
With her blondest of blonde hair,
Always minding one of Burns'
“Lassie wi' the lint-white locks—”
Bessie, by some oversight,
Had an accident, that shocks
Pen and paper to recite.
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She, in playing hide and seek,
Climbed the grape-vine lattice-work;—
And, to run and reach the goal,
Jumped off with a dreadful jerk
Fit to sever sense and soul.
Landing on the frozen ground
In a little aching heap,
Presently poor Bessie found
She had made a costly leap;
Broken by that dreadful hurt,
One poor ankle hung inert:
Twisted somehow, both the bones
Snapped like pipe-stems; and her groans
Called her playmates, half afraid
And half doubtful, to her aid,—
Two of whom, with careful tread,
Hopped her slowly home to bed.
II.
WHAT THE NEIGHBORS SAID.
“There! that child has got a bump!She 's a lively one to jump—
Climbing wall and fence and roof,
Never scared, and tumble-proof;
Anybody would have said
'T is a marvel, in its way,
That she did not break her head,
Or her neck, before to-day.”
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III.
THE RESULTING CIRCUMSTANCES.
Bessie, though laid up in splints,Dreaded much the public prints—
Did not wish this mournful tale
Carried up and down by mail;
“No,” said Bessie, “how 't would look!
No young lady in a book
Breaks her leg while romping—no,
Do not have it published so
In the papers' local news!”
So her friends, who shared her views,
Pitying her bashfulness,
Wrote the story out like this:
IV.
THE NEWSPAPER VERSION.
Pretty little Bessie B.,Sat one morning quietly
Hemming, by her mother's side,
Kitchen towels, long and wide,
Making labor do for sport,
Singing softly “Hold the fort.”
Ah, 't was an unlucky day!
With no warning creak at all,
Suddenly her chair gave way,
And poor Bessie caught a fall.
Down she went, with dreadful jar,
And, alas, untoward fate!
Tibia and fibula
Cracked off short beneath her weight.
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With no color in her cheeks,
Kept in bed by broken bones,
Caged for six or seven weeks.
V.
COMMENT OF THE READER.
Why should such a lovely child,Meek, industrious, quiet, mild,
Sweet, domestic, musical,
Suffer from a dreadful fall?
Had she been like some we meet,
Always romping in the street,
Like a tomboy wild and rude,
Never trying to be good—
Been as many others are,
Less obedient to her ma,
Less deserving of esteem,
Less afraid of doing wrong,
Less industrious at her seam,
Less religious in her song,
Less fastidious in her verse,
Things could not have happened worse!
VI.
VERDICT OF THE PUBLIC.
Gentlest ways and blondest curlsCannot alter Fate's intents,
And the nicest little girls
Meet, sometimes, with accidents.
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