Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Francis BretHarte

747 The Society upon the Stanislaus

I RESIDE at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James;

I am not up to small deceit, or any sinful games;

And I ’ll tell in simple language what I know about the row

That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow.

But first I would remark, that it is not a proper plan

For any scientific gent to whale his fellowman,

And, if a member don’t agree with his peculiar whim,

To lay for that same member for to “put a head” on him.

Now nothing could be finer or more beautiful to see

Than the first six months’ proceedings of that same Society,

Till Brown of Calaveras brought a lot of fossil bones

That he found within a tunnel near the tenement of Jones.

Then Brown he read a paper, and he reconstructed there,

From those same bones, an animal that was extremely rare;

And Jones then asked the Chair for a suspension of the rules,

Till he could prove that those same bones was one of his lost mules.

Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile, and said he was at fault,—

It seemed he had been trespassing on Jones’s family vault:

He was a most sarcastic man, this quiet Mr. Brown,

And on several occasions he had cleaned out the town.

Now I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent

To say another is an ass,—at least, to all intent;

Nor should the individual who happens to be meant

Reply by heaving rocks at him, to any great extent.

Then Abner Dean of Angel’s raised a point of order—when

A chunk of old red sandstone took him in the abdomen,

And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor,

And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more.

For, in less time than I write it, every member did engage

In a warfare with the remnants of a palæozoic age;

And the way they heaved those fossils in their anger was a sin,

Till the skull of an old mammoth caved the head of Thompson in.

And this is all I have to say of these improper games,

For I live at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James;

And I ’ve told in simple language what I know about the row

That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow.