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 No matter how hard his wife might try To please her husband, with scornful eye He'd look around, and then, with a scowl At something or other, begin to growl.

One day, as I loitered along the street, My old acquaintance I chanced to meet, Whose face was without the look of care And the ugly frown that it used to wear. "I may be mistaken, perhaps," I said, As, after saluting, I turned my head; "But it is, and it isn't, the Mr. Horner, Who lived for so long on Grumble Corner."

I met him next day, and I met him again, In melting weather and pouring rain, When stocks were up, and when stocks were down; But a smile somehow had replaced the frown. It puzzled me much; and so one day I seized his hand in a friendly way, And said: "Mr. Horner, I'd like to know What can have happened to change you so!"

He laughed a laugh that was good to hear, For it told of a conscience calm and clear, And he said, with none of the old-time drawl, "Why, I've changed my residence, that is all!" "Changed your residence?" "Yes," said Horner, "It wasn't healthy on Grumble Corner, And so I moved—'twas a change complete— And you'll find me now on Thanksgiving Street!"