A man of ready tongue and wit,
A politician who could hit
And sway with eloquence the throng,
Which shouts alike for right or wrong.
Father of Henry James, who died.
Just as his eye of hope descried
The goal he labored to attain--
The honors he had fought to gain.
Tis no uncommon thing to find
A little man with full grown mind:
And 'mongst those who have gone to rest--
Who of their chances made the best
In life's o'er turning changing reel,
I freely rank Henry J. Friel.
And Daniel Fisher, too, is gone,
Of Scotia's children he was one
Who clothed the naked in his day--
That is, the naked who could pay.
I have a friendly feeling yet
For him, for I can ne'er forget
The jacket blue which first I wore
In the old cherished days of yore,
That jacket which I don'd with pride.
Caused me to feel a man beside
The urchin in the pinafore
Which I had just arisen o'er;
In Daniel Fisher's shop 'twas made--
Headquarters of the fig-leaf trade.--
In that most ancient grand device
Which had its rise in Paradise.