BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME FROM THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE.QIFT OF 1891 ^..-^..^.S. ^.f'.^- /.¥/.7e^./^A.. 6S96-1 Cornell University Library PS 595.H8P13 The poetry of American wit and humor. 3 1924 022 499 457 Cornell University Library The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022499457 THE POETRY OF AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR Golden Treasury Series * Each volume an anthology of the best poetry in its chosen field of sentiment The Golden Tfeasufy of American Songs and Lyrics. Edited by Fkbdekic Lawrence Knowles. The Poetry of American Wit and Humour. Edited by R. L. Paget. Poems of American Patriotbm from 1776 TO 1898. Edited by R. L. Paget. Througli Love to Light. Edited by John White Chadwick and Annie Hathaway Chadwick. The Two Voices. Edited by John W. Chadwick. My Lady Sleeps. Edited by Katharine Stearns Page. Pipe and Pouch. Edited by Joseph Knight Out of the Heart. New illustrated edition. Selected by John W. Chadwick and Annie Hathaway Chadwick. « L. C PAGE & COMPANY 200 Summer Street, Boston, Mass. The Poetry of American Wit and Humor SELECTED BY R. L. PAGET Editor of Poems of A merican Patriotism BOSTON L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY (incorporated) MDCCCXCIX Copyright, i8gq By L. C. Page and Company (incorporatbd) Third Impression dToIonial ^iras: Electrotyped and Printed by c. H. Simonds & Co. Boston, Mass., U. S. A. PREFACE. American humorous poetry scarcely existed before Holmes and Saxe. In their hands it became a highly polished and, in its way, most effective literary in- strument. Their witty verse, however, like the contemporary American prose humor, represented by the school of Irving, might easily have been written, for the most part, in the mother country. There is the same sprightly metre, the same fondness for puns, the same spirit of geniality and good breeding that one finds, for example, in Tom Hood. Saxe even sings of shillings and pence and half-crowns, and places his Ghost-player on the boards of Drury Lane. But a new school of prose humorists, represented by Twain and Artemus Ward, was accompanied or immediately followed by a corresponding school of humorous poets whose work smacked strongly of the native soil. "The Biglow Papers" of Lowell, and PREFACE. the California ballads of Bret Harte stood for a type of humor worlds removed from that which was dominant a century earlier. Its success and point was not de- pendent on pun and epigram and metrical polish, but rather on its homely truth to fact in the depiction of novel though perfectly real conditions of American life. The most original type of our subsequent hu- morous poetry has been of similar character. We have become aware that there is no necessity for tor- turing language into fantastic shapes, for resorting to the conventional devices of European humorists. There is a surplus of irresistible fun in the present conditions of our great, multiform people, and when Riley gives us the Hoosier, Foss the Yankee farmer, Irwin Russell the negro, Leland and FoUen Adams the German-American, the whole world laughs not at us, but with us. The editor regrets that the conservatism of their publishers has limited the selections from Harte. Field, Bunner, Saxe, and one or two others to th^ small number included. Yet these limitations are noV to be viewed wholly in the light of a disadvantage. If a number of favorite poems are excluded, this only leaves room for a larger representation from sources less well-known but perhaps quite as meritorious. Looked at, indeed, from the reader's point of view rather than from that of the editor who has a pride in making his collection representative, there is a PREFACE. very distinct gain in having hackneyed selections replaced by those which present the fresher interest of unfamiliarity. Acknowledgments : Poems by the following authors are " used by permission of, and by special arrange- ment with Houghton Mifflin 6-= Co., authorized pub- lishers of those authors : " Ralph Waldo Emerson, James T. Fields, Bret Harte, John Hay, Oliver Wendell Holmes, James Russell Lowell, John G. Saxe, Edmund Clarence Stedman, Bayard Taylor, Charles Henry Webb. Bowen-Merrill Co. James Whitcomb Riley. Dodd, Mead Sr" Co. Paul Laurence Dunbar. Harper Sr' Brothers. Will Carleton, Charles G. Halpine, Charles Follen Adams (" Der Oak und Der Vine "). Funk and Wagnalls. Edgar Fawcett. H. S. Stone &= Co. R. K. Munkittrick (« October "). Small, Maynard &" Co. Charlotte P. Stetson. Adam and Charles Black. Charles G. Leland. Charles Scribner's Sons. H. C. Bunner, Eugene Field. PREFACE. D. Apfihion fir» Co. J. C. Harris. Frederick A. Stokes Company. S. M. Peck, F. D. Sherman. Lee &= Shepard. Sam Walter Foss, Charles Follen Adams ("Leedle Yawcob Strauss," "Dot Baby off Mine," " A Tale of a Nose "). The Century Company. Irwin Russell, J. A. Macon, Carolyn Wells, S. W. Norris, W. W. Fink, Esther B. Tiffany, Mather D. Kimball, Mary L. Henderson, R. K. Mun- kittrick (" What's in a Name," " The Patriotic Tourist," "'Tis Ever Thus"), Albert Bigelow Paine (" Why Sammy Left the Farm "), George Birdseye (" June 2ist "). Personal Acknowledgments : Nathan Haskell Dole (" Larks and Nightingales "), Charles Follen Adams (all his poems included), James Jeffrey Roche (all his poems included), Albert Bigelow Paine (all his poems included), George Birdseye (all his poems included). CONTENTS. ham and Ephiaim . . S. W. Fuss . 266 pted and WiU Appear . . P. Mix. i8i red of a Gal . Anon 287 )ond of Swat, The . G. T. Lanigan . 34 rican Traveller, The . R.H.NeweU . 21X One Will Do . . Anon. . ■77 led Astronomy . E. B. Tiffany . 24 led Mathematics . Cap and Gown . 302 of the Average Fisherman . H, C. Dodge 175 id of Charity, The . C. G. Leland . ■3 id of Hiram Hover, 1 rhe . . B. Taylor 203 id of the Green Old I Ian, The . C. G. Leland . '93 id of the Mermaid C.G. Leland . 325 le Brown, M. D. . S. M. Peck . 333 on Lullaby, A . . J.J.Roche . 160 lor . . . H. C. Bunner 23l lis of Anglomaniacs . E. Fawceii . 56 ugal Conjugations A.W.Sellaw . 190 itancy . J. B. O'Reilly . 221 tin', The . . J. R. Lowell r . 133 ting in Kentucky . F.E.Pratt 9' boy's Tale, The . .W.Kit . . . «S« JUS Want, A . . . M.Cook . . . »79 ion's Masterpiece, Tl le . .0. ir. Holmes *'> . 169 Oak und Der Vine . C.F.Adams 4 CONTENTS. Discovered DoUie .... Doorstep, The , Dot Baby o£E Mine . Dot Long-Handled Dipper Dutchman's Dog Story, A Early Rising Echo from the x/th, An . Elder Lamb's Donation . Elf-Child, The . Epigram .... Eve's Daughter Fable . . . F^ Exchange, A . Feminine Arithmetic Five Lives . . Fly, The .... From "Christmas Night in Quarters " . Hans Breitmann's Party . Hasty Pudding, The He Came to Pay Height of the Ridiculous, The In jEsop's Vein • . Irish Astronomy Jim- Jam King of the Jou-Jous, June 2ist . King's Daughter, The Kiss in the Rain, A . Knittin' at th' Stockin' Larks and Nightingales Larrie O'Dee . Latest Version, The Lawyer's Invocation to Spring, Learned Negro, The Leedle Yawcob Strauss Let Us Alone . Letter from Mr. Ezekiel Biglow, A J. R. Lowell ^ X . P. L. Dunbar . S. M. Peck . . E. C. Siedman . C. F. Adams . C. F. A dams . J. T. Brown . J. G. Saxe . . F. T. Easton . Win Carleton . J. W. Riley V . C. G. Halpine . E. R. Sill . , R. W, Emerson . G. Birdseye . . C. G. Halpine . E. R. Sill . T. Tilton the /. Russell . C. G. Leland J. Barlow . P. Mix O. W. Holmes "* W. H. Mitchell C. G. Halpine W. Riley. ^ J. The A . B. Start . . G. Birdseye . M. JL. Henderson . S. M. Peck . . A. IV. Bettaw . N. H. Dole . . IV. W. Fink . G. T. Lanigan The H.H.Brownen . Anon. . . C. F. A dams . H. H. Brownell A 303 339 60 186 329 no 318 349 47 223 50 274 332 168 127 232 123 52 206 284 97 353 323 235 156 166 183 63 89 83 94 95 116 228 CONTENTS. Little Breeches J. Hay. . . Little Brown Baby . . . . P. L. Duntar < Little Mamma C. H. IVebb . Lot Skinner's Elegy. J. T. Fields ^' . Love in a Cottage . . . . N. P. Willis Lover without Arms, A . H. Davenport . Marry Me, Dailint, To-night . W. W. Fink Masher, The .... C. G. Leland . Meeting of the Clabberhuses, The . S. W. Foss . Mine Moder-in-law .... C. F. Adams Miss Flora M'Flimsey . W. A. Butler . Mis' Smith A . B. Paine Modem Belle, The . Anon, , Modem Martyrdom, A . S. W. Foss . Music-giinders, The . 0. W.Holmes'' . My Aunt ...... 0. W. Holmes^ . My Familiar J. G. Saxe . New Church Organ, The . W. Carleton New Doctor, The . . . . P. Mix. New House, The . . . . J.R.Lowell <^ . No Wonder F. T. Easion October R. K. Munkittrick Ode on a Jar of Pickles . B. Taylor . Ol' Pickett's Nell . . . . M.D.Kimhall . Old Grimes A . G. Greene , . Owl Critic, The . . . . J. r. Fields ." . Palabras Grandiosas B. Taylor . Paradise ...... G. Birdseye . Patriotic Tourist, The . R. K. Munkittrick Philosopher, A S. W. Foss . Piazia, The Anon. . Plain Language from Truthful James B.Harte "'■ . Pledge at Spunky Point, The . J. Hay . . . Poster Girl, The . . . . C. Wells . Prayer of Cyrus Brown, The . S. W. Foss . Prehistoric Smith . . . . D. L. Proudfit . Prior to Miss Belle's Appearance . Reflections on Cleopathera's Needle J. W. Riley . V . C.O'Leary . . 107 51 289 343 296 346 319 215 "3 327 37 176 256 270 ig 86 242 354 81 258 262 321 149 103 27s 28 138 294 7' 29S 164 6S 305 118 32 CONTENTS. Retort, The Rev. Gabe Tucker's Remarks Revival Hymn . Rhyme ior Priscilla, A Robinson Crusoe Romance of the Carpet, The Sary *' Fixes Up " Things Sermon for the Sisters, A Signs of the Times . Similar Cases . . . Song of Degrees, A . Smack in School, The " 'Spacially Jim " . Stuttering Lass, The Tale of a Nose, A Theology in the Quarters 'Tis Ever Thus To My Big Sweetheart . To My Poland Rooster . To the Pliocene Skull Too Great a Sacrifice Too Much of It Truth about Horace, The Two Fishers . Uncle Sammy . " Vas Marriage a Failure ? " Waban Ripple, A . Wedded Bliss . What Mr. Robinson Thinks What's in a Name . What Will We Do?. When Greek Meets Greek Why Sammy Left the Farm Widow Bedottto Elder Sniffler G. P. Morrit Anon. . /. C. Harris F. D, Sherman C. E. Carryl R.J. BurdttU A . B. Paine I. Russell . H. C. Dodee C. P. Stetson M. Vandergrift . W. P. Palmer B. Morgan . A nan. . . C. F. A dams J. A . Macon R. K. Munkit trick F. S. Cozzens F. S. Cozzens B. Harte V A non. . G. Birdseye . Eugene Field ^ W. Carleton C. F. Adams Cap a-nd Gown C. P. Stetson J. R. Lowell R. K. Munkittrick R.J. Burdeiie Anon. , A . B. Paine F. M. Whiicher . 222 3>5 IS8 263 278 74 130 78 140 245 336 69 9 200 '54 7 317 188 162 250 202 283 313 240 307 58 269 loz- 253 26 342 341 224 230 xii THE POETRY OF AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ^fain Eanguase from Zvtxt^fvd 2icnMe. ■ll/'HICH I wish to remark — And my language is plain - That for ways that are dark, And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar, Which the same I would rise to explain. Ah Sin was his name. And I shall not deny In regard to the same What that name might imply ; But his smile it was pensive and childlike, As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. It was August the third, And quite soft was the skies ; Which it might be inferred That Ah Sin was likewise ; Yet he played it that day upon William And me in a way I despise. Which we had a small game, And Ah Sin took a hand ; It was euchre — the same He did not understand ; But he smiled as he sat at the table With the smile that was childlike and bland Yet the cards they were stocked In a way that I grieve, And my feelings were shocked At the state of Nye's sleeve. Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers, And the same with intent to deceive. But the hands that were played By that heathen Chinee, And the points that he made Were quite frightful to see. Till at last he put down a right bower, Which the same Nye had dealt unto me. PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES. Then I looked up at Nye, And he gazed upon me ; And he rose with a sigh, And said, " Can this be ? We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor ; " And he went for that heathen Chinee. In the scene that ensued I did not take a hand, But the floor it was strewed Like the leaves on the strand With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding In the game " he did not understand." In his sleeves, which were long. He had twenty-four packs. Which was coming it strong, Yet I state but the facts ; And we found on his nails, which were taper. What is frequent in tapers — that's wax. Which is why I remark — And my language is plain — That for ways that are dark, And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar. Which the same I am free to maintain. Bret Harte. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ®ef daft un& ©et ^ifint.' T DON'D vas preaching voman's righdts, Or anyding like dot, Und I likes to see all beoples Shust gondented rait dheir lot ; Budt I vants to gondradict dot shap Dot made dis leedle shoke ; " A voman vas der glinging vine, Und man, der shturdy oak." Berhaps, somedimes, dot may be dnie ; Budt, den dimes oudt o£E nine, I find me oudt dot man himself Vas peen der glinging vine ; Und ven hees friendts dhey all vas gone, Und he vas shust " tead proke," Dot's ven der voman shteps righdt in, Und peen der shturdy oak. Shust go oup to der paseball groundts Und see dhose " shturdy oaks " All planted roundt ubon der seats — Shust hear dheir laughs und shokes ! » From " Dialect Poems," copyright, 1888, by Harper & Brothers. DER OAK UND DER VINE. Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs, Mit glothes oudt on der lines ; Vhich vas der shturdy oaks, mine friendts, Und vhich der glinging vines ? Vhen Sickness in der householdt comes, Und veeks und veeks he shtays, Who vas id fighdts him mitoudt resdt, Dhose veary nighdts und days ? Who beace und gomfort alvays prings, Und cools dot f ef ered prow ? More like id vas der tender vine Dot oak he glings to, now. " Man vants budt leedle here below," Der boet von time said ; Dhere's leedle dot man he dorCd vant, I dink id means, inshted ; Und ven der years keep rolling on, Dheir cares und droubles pringing, He vants to pe der shturdy oak, Und, also, do der glinging. Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more, Und don'd so shturdy peen, Der glinging vines dhey haf some shance To helb run Life's masheen. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. In belt und sickness, shoy und pain, In calm or shtormy veddher, 'Twas beddher dot dhose oaks und vines Should alvays gling togeddher. Charles Follen Adams. THEOLOGY IN THE QUARTERS. Century Magazine. "KX OW, I's got a notion in my head dat when you come to die, An' Stan' de 'zamination in de Cote-house in de sky, You'll be 'stonished at de questions dat de angel's gwine to ax When he gits you on de witness-stan' an' pin you to de f ac's ; 'Cause he'll ax you mighty closely 'bout your doin's in de night, An' de water-milion question's gwine to bodder you a sight ! Den your eyes'll open wider dan dey ebber done befo', When he chats you 'bout a chicken scrape dat hap- pened long ago ! De angels on de picket-line erlong de Milky Way Keeps a-watchin' what you're dribin' at, an' hearin' what you say ; No matter what you want to do, no matter whar you's gwine, AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Dey's mighty ap' to find it out an' pass it 'long de line; And of en at de meetin', when you make a fuss an' laugh, Why, dey send de news a-kitin' by de golden tele- graph ; Den de angel in de orfis, what's a-settin' by de gate, Jes' reads de message wid a look an' claps it on de slate ! Den you better do your duty well an' keep your con- science clear, An' keep a-lookin' straight ahead an' watchin' whar you steer ; 'Cause arter while de time'll come to journey fum de Ian', An' dey'll take you way up in de a'r an' put you on de Stan' ; Den you'll hab to listen to de clerk, an' answer mighty straight, Ef you ebber 'spec' to trabble froo de alaplaster gate ! John Alfred Macon. "'SPACIALLY JIM." T WUS mighty good-lookin' when I wus young, Peert an' black-eyed an' slim, With fellers a-courtin' me Sunday nights, 'Specially Jim. The likeliest one of 'em all wus he, Chipper an' han'som' an' trim ; But I tossed up my head an' made fun o' the crowd, 'Spacially Jim. I said I hadn't no 'pinion o' men. An' I wouldn't take stock in him ! But they kep' on a-comin' in spite o' my talk, 'Spacially Jim. I got so tired o' havin' 'em roun' (Spacially Jim ! ) I made up my mind I'd settle down An' take up with him. So we wus married one Sunday in church, 'Twas crowded full to the brim ; 'Twas the only way to git rid of 'em all, 'Spacially Jim. Bessie Morgan. 9 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ^viox io (Sti0S (^effe'0 Appearance. * ' Rhymes of Childhood?^ Air HAT makes you come here fer, Mister, So much to our house ? — Say f Come to see our big sister ! — An' Charley he says 'at you kissed her An' he ketched you, thuther day ! — Didn' you, Charley ? — But we p'omised Belle An' crossed our heart to never to tell — ■ 'Cause she gived us some o' them-er Chawk'lut-drops 'at you bringed to her ! Charley he's my little b'uther — An' we has a-mostest fun, Don't we, Charley ? — Our Muther, Whenever we whips one-anuther. Tries to whip us — an' we run — Don't we, Charley ? — An' nen, bime-by, Nen she gives us cake — an' pie — Don't she, Charley ? — when we come in An' p'omise never to do it agin ! PRIOR TO MISS BELLE'S APPEARANCE. He^s named Charley. — I'm Willie — An' I'm got the purtiest name ! But Uncle Bob he calls me " Billy " — Don't he, Charley ? — ■ 'Nour filly We named " Billy," the same 1st like me ! An' our Ma said 'At " Bob put foolishnuss into our head ! " — Didn' she, Charley? — An' she don't know Much about boys ! ^ 'Cause Bob said so ! Baby's a funniest feller ! Naint no hair on his head — Is they, Charley ? It's meller Wite up there ! An' ef Belle er Us ask wuz we that way. Ma said, — " Yes ; an' yer Pa^s head wuz soft as that, An' it's that way yet ! " — An' Pa grabs his hat An' says, " Yes, childern, she's right about Pa — 'Cause that's the reason he married yer Ma ! " An' our Ma says 'at " Belle couldn' Ketch no thin' at all but ist ' bows .' ' " An' Pa says 'at " you're soft as puddun ! " — An' Uncle Bob says " you're a good-un — 'Cause he can tell by yer nose ! " — Didn' he, Charley ? An' when Belle'U play In the poller on th' pianer, some day, II AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Bob makes up funny songs about you, Till she gits mad — like he wants her to ! Our sister Fanny she's ''leven Years old ! 'At's mucher 'an / — Aint it, Charley? ... I'm seven! — But our sister Fanny's in Heaven ! Nere's where you go ef you die ! — Don't you, Charley? Nen you has -wings — 1st like Fanny / — an' purtiest things ! — Don't you, Charley ? An' nen you cdXifly — 1st fly — an' ^7/er'thing ! . . . Wisht Pd die ! James Whitcomb Riley. THE BALLAD OF CHARITY. t^t QSftffftb of COftttfs. T T was in a pleasant deepQ, sequestered from the rain, That many weary passengers were waitin' for the train; Piles of quite expensive baggage, many a gorgeous portmantd, Ivory-handled umberellas made a most touristic show. Whereunto there came a person, very humble was his mien, Who took an observation of the interestin' scene ; Closely scanned the umberellas, watched with joy the mighty trunks. And observed that all the people were securin' Pull- man bunks : Who was followed shortly after by a most unhappy tramp. Upon whose features poverty had jounced her iron stamp ; 13 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And to make a clear impression as bees sting you while they buzz, She had hit him rather harder than she generally does. For he was so awful ragged, and in parts so awful bare, That the folks were quite repulsioned to behold him begging there ; And instead of drawing currency from out their pocket-books. They drew themselves asunder with aversionary looks. Sternly gazed the first newcomer on the unindulgent crowd. Then in tones which pierced the deepo he solilicussed aloud : — " I hev trevelled o'er this cont'nent from Quebec to Bogotiw, But sech a set of scallawags as these I never saw. " Ye are wealthy, ye are gifted, ye have house and lands and rent, Yet unto a suff' rin' mortal ye will not donate a cent ; Ye expend your missionaries to the heathen and the Jew, But there isn't any heathen that is half as small as you. 14 THE BALLAD OF CHARITY. " Ye are lucky — ye hev cheque-books and deeposits in the bank, And ye squanderate your money on the titled folks of rank ; The onyx and the sardonyx upon your garments shine, An' ye drink at every dinner p'r'aps a dollar's wuth of wine. " Ye are goin' for the summer to the islands by the sea. Where it costs four dollars daily — setch is not for setch as me ; Iv'ry-handled umberellers do not come into my plan, But I kin give a dollar to this suff'rin' fellow-man. " Hand-bags made of Rooshy leather are not truly at my call. Yet in the eyes of Mussy I am richer 'en you all, For I kin give a dollar wher' you dare not stand a dime, And never miss it nother, nor regret it ary time." Sayin' this he drew a wallet from the inner of his vest, And gave the tramp a daddy, which it was his level best ; IS AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Other people havin' heard him soon to charity inclined — One giver soon makes twenty if you only get their wind. The first who gave the dollar led the other one about, And at every contribution he a-raised a joyful shout, Exclaimin' how 'twas noble to relieveate distress, And remarkin' that our duty is our present happiness. Thirty dollars altogether were collected by the tramp, When he bid 'em all good evenin' and went out into the damp. And was followed briefly after by the one who made the speech. And who showed by good example how to practise as to preach. Which soon around the corner the couple quickly met, And the tramp produced the specie for to liquidate his debt ; And the man who did the preachin' took his twenty of the sum. Which you see that out of thirty left a tenner for the bum. i6 THE BALLAD OF CHARITY. And the couple passed the summer at Bar Harbor with the rest, Greatly changed in their appearance and most ele- gantly dressed. Any fowl with change of feathers may a brilliant bird become : Oh, how hard is life for many ! oh, how sweet it is for some ! Charles Godfrey Leland. 17 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. tl^c (Qlugicsigrtnieirs. 'INHERE are three ways in which men take One's money from his purse, And very hard it is to tell Which of the three is worse ; But all of them are bad enough To make a body curse. You're riding out some pleasant day, And counting up your gains ; A fellow jumps from out a bush And takes your horse's reins, Another hints some words about A bullet in your brains. It's hard to meet such pressing friends In such a lonely spot ; It's very hard to lose your cash, But harder to be shot ; And so you take your wallet out, Though you would rather not. j8 THE MUSIC -GRINDERS. Perhaps you're going out to dine, — Some odious creature begs You'll hear about the cannon-ball That carried off his pegs, And says it is a dreadful thing For men to lose their legs. He tells you of his starving wife. His children to be fed. Poor little, lovely innocents. All clamorous for bread, — And so you kindly help to put A bachelor to bed. You're sitting on your window-seat Beneath a cloudless moon ; You hear a sound, that seems to wear The semblance of a tune. As if a broken fife should strive To drown a cracked bassoon. And nearer, nearer still, the tide Of music seems to come. There's something like a human voice, And something like a drum ; You sit, in speechless agony, Until your ear is numb. «9 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Poor " home, sweet home," should seem to be A very dismal place ; Your " auld acquaintance," all at once, Is altered in the face ; Their discords sting through Burns and Moore, Like hedgehogs dressed in lace. You think they are crusaders, sent From some infernal clime, To pluck the eyes of Sentiment, And dock the tail of Rhyme, To crack the voice of Melody, And break the legs of Time. But hark ! the aif again is still. The music all is ground. And silence, like a poultice, comes To heal the blows of sound ; It cannot be, — it is, — it is, — A hat is going round ! No ! Pay the dentist when he leaves A fracture in your jaw. And pay the owner of the bear, That stunned you with his paw, THE MUSIC -GRINDERS. And buy the lobster, that has had Your knuckles in his claw ; But if you are a portly man, Put on your fiercest frown. And talk about a constable To turn them out of town ; Then close your sentence with an oath, And shut the window down ! And if you are a slender man, Not big enough for that. Or, if you cannot make a speech. Because you are a flat, Go very quietly and drop A button in the hat ! Oliver Wendell Holmes. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. A Veritable Myth, Touching the Constellation of O'Ryan, ignorantly and falsely spelled Orion. From the Poetical Works of C. G. Hal- pine, published by Harper & Brothers. /^'RYAN was a man of might Whin Ireland was a nation, But poachin' was his heart's delight And constant occupation. He had an ould militia gun, And sartin sure his aim was ; He gave the keepers many a run, And wouldn't mind the game laws. St. Pathrick wanst was passin' by O'Ryan's little houldin', And, as the saint felt wake and dhry, He thought he'd enther bould in. " O'Ryan," says the saint, " avick ! To praich at Thurles I'm goin'; So let me have a rasher quick. And a dhrop of Innishowen." « No rasher will I cook for you While betther is to spare, sir, IRISH ASTRONOMY. But here's a jug of mountain dew. And there's a rattlin' hare, sir." St. Pathrick he looked mighty sweet, And says he, " Good luck attind you, And when you're in your windin' sheet. It's up to heaven I'll sind you." O'Ryan gave his pipe a whiff, — " Them tidin's is thransportin'. But may I ax your saintship if There's any kind of sportin' ? " St. Pathrick said, " A Lion's there, Two Bears, a Bull, and Cancer " — " Bedad," says Mick, » the huntin's rare ; St. Pathrick, I'm your man, sir." So, to conclude my song aright, For fear I'd tire your patience. You'll see O'Ryan any night Amid the constellations. And Venus follows in his track Till Mars grows jealous raally, But, faith, he fears the Irish knack Of handling the shillaly. Charles Graham Halpine. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Century Magazine, March, 1887. T T E took me out to see the stars, That astronomic bore ; He said there were two moons near Mars, While Jupiter had four. 1 thought of course he'd whisper soon What fourfold bliss 'twould be To stroll beneath that fourfold moon On Jupiter with me. And when he spoke of Saturn's ring, I was convinced he'd say That was the very kind of thing To offer me some day. But in a tangent off he went To double stars. Now that Was most suggestive, so content And quite absorbed I sat. But no, he talked a dreary mess. Of which the only fraction 24 APPLIED ASTRONOMY. That caught my fancy, I confess, Was " mutual attraction." I said I thought it very queer And stupid altogether, For stars to keep so very near. And yet not come together. At that he smiled, and turned his head ; I thought he'd caught the notion. He merely bowed good-night and said, Their safety lay in motion. Esther B. Tiffany. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. W^afs in a (Tiftme? Century MagaziTU. T N letters large upon the frame, That visitors might see, The painter placed his humble name : O' Callaghan McGee. And from Beersheba unto Dan, The critics with a nod Exclaimed : " This painting Irishman Adores his native sod. " His stout heart's patriotic flame There's naught on earth can quell ; He takes no wild romantic name To make his pictures sell ! " Then poets praised in sonnets neat His stroke so bold and free ; No parlor wall was thought complete That hadn't a McGee. All patriots before McGee Threw lavishly their gold ; 26 WHAT'S IN A NAME. His works in the Academy Were very quickly sold. His " Digging Clams at Barnegat," His " When the Morning Smiled," His " Seven Miles from Ararat," His " Portrait of a Child," Were purchased in a single day And lauded as divine. That night as in his atalier The artist sipped his wine, And looked upon his gilded frames, He grinned from ear to ear : " They little think my real name's V. Stuyvesant De Vere ! " Richard Kendall Munkittrick. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ^^e &ViUctifxc. " "YTirHO stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop, The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop ; The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading The " Daily," the " Herald," the " Post," little heeding The young man who blurted out such a blunt question ; Not one raised a head, or even ma'lea suggesition; And the barber kept on shaving. r' " Don't you see, Mr. Brown," . Cried the youth, with a frown, " How wrong the whole thing is, How preposterous each wing is. How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is — In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis ! I make no apology ; I've learned owl-eology. I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections. And cannot be blinded to any deflections Arising from unskilful fingers that fail To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail. 28 THE OWL -CRITIC. Mister Brown ! Mister Brown ! Do take that bird down, Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town ! " And the barber kept on shaving. "I've studied owls, And other night fowls. And I teU you What I know to be true ; An owl cannot roost With his limbs so unloosed ; No owl in this world Ever had his claws curled, Ever had his legs slanted. Ever had his bill canted. Ever had his neck screwed Into that attitude. He can't do it, because 'Tis against aU bird-laws. Anatomy teaches, Ornithology preaches An owl has a toe That can't turn out so ! I've made the white owl my study for years. And to see such a job almost moves me to tears ! Mister Brown, I'm amazed You should be so gone crazed 29 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. As to put up a bird In that posture absurd ! To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness ; The man who stuffed him don't half know his busi- ness r " And the barber kept on shaving. " Examine those eyes. I'm filled with surprise Taxidermists should pass Off on you such poor glass ; So unnatural they seem They'd make Audubon scream, And John Burroughs laugh To encounter such chaff. Do take that bird down ; Have him stuffed again, Brown ! " And the barber kept on shaving. " With some sawdust and bark I could stuff in the dark An owl better than that. I could make an old hat Look more like an owl Than that horrid fowl. Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather. In fact, about him there's not one natural feather." 30 THE OWL -CRITIC. Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch, The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch. Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic (Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic. And then fairly hooted, as if he should say : " Your learning's at fault this time, anyway ; Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray. I'm an owl ; you're another. Sir Critic, good day ! " And the barber kept on shaving. James Thomas Fields. 3» AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. QUATERNARY EPOCH — POST-PLIOCENE PERIOD. A MAN sat on a rock and sought Refreshment from his thumb ; A dinotherium wandered by And scared him some. His name was Smith. The kind of rock He sat upon was shale. One feature quite distinguished him — He had a tail. The danger past, he fell into A revery austere ; While with his tail he whisked a fly From off his ear. " Mankind deteriorates," he said, " Grows weak and incomplete ; And each new generation seems Yet more effete. " Nature abhors imperfect work, And on it lays her ban ; 32 PREHISTORIC SMITH. And all creation must despise A tailless man. " But fashion's dictates rule supreme, Ignoring common sense ; And fashion says, to dock your tail Is just immense. "And children now come in the world With half a tail or less ; Too stumpy to convey a thought, And meaningless. " It kills expression. How can one Set forth, in words that drag, The best emotions of the soul. Without a wag ? " Sadly he mused upon the world, Its follies and its woes ; Then wiped the moisture from his eyes, And blew his nose. But clothed in earrings, Mrs. Smith Came wandering down the dale ; And, smiling, Mr. Smith arose. And wagged his tail. David Law Proudfit. 33 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. t^e ^^ftoonb of #«jftt. "The Ahkoond o£ Swat is dead."— London Papers of Jan. 22, 1878. "ITITHAT, what, what, What's the news from Swat ? Sad news. Bad news. Comes by the cable led Through the Indian Ocean's bed, Through the Persian Gulf, the Red Sea and the Med- iterranean — he's dead ; The Ahkoond is dead ! For the Ahkoond I mourn. Who wouldn't? He strove to disregard the message stem, But he Ahkoodn't. Dead, dead, dead : (Sorrow, Swats !) Swats wha hae wi' Ahkoond bled, Swats whom he hath often led Onward to a gory bed. Or to victory, 34 THE AHKOOND OF SWAT. As the case might be. Sorrow, Swats ! Tears shed, Shed tears like water. Your great Ahlcoond is dead ! That Swats the matter ! Mourn, city of Swat, Your great Ahkoond is not But lain 'mid worms to rot. His mortal part alone, his soul was caught (Because he was a good Ahkoond) Up to the bosom of Mahound. Though earthy *alls his frame surround (For ever hallowed be the ground !) And sceptics mock the lowly mound And say " He's now of no Ahkoond ! " His soul is in the skies — The azure skies that bend above his loved Metropolis of Swat. He sees with larger, other eyes. Athwart all earthly mysteries — He knows what's Swat. Let Swat bury the great Ahkoond With a noise of mourning and of lamentation ! 35 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Let Swat bury the great Ahkoond With the noise of the mourning of the Swattish nation ! Fallen is at length Its tower of strength ; Its sun is dimmed ere it had nooned ; Dead lies the great Ahkoond, The great Ahkoond of Swat Is not ! George Thomas Lanigan. 36 MISS FLORA M'FLIMSEY. (glisg Sfora (Ul'SftmseB.' Tl/r ISS Flora M'Flimsey, of Madison Square, Has made three separate journeys to Paris ; And her father assures me, each time she was there. That she and her friend Mrs. Harris (Not the lady whose name is so famous in history, But plain Mrs. H., without romance or mystery) Spent six consecutive weeks without stopping, In one continuous round of shopping ; — Shopping alone, and shopping together, At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of weather: For all manner of things that a woman can put On the crown of her head or the sole of her foot, Or wrap round her shoulders, or fit round her waist, Or that can be sewed on, or pinned on, or laced. Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a bow, In front or behind, above or below ; For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collars, and shawls ; Dresses for breakfasts, and dinners, and balls ; Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in ; Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in ; Dresses in which to do nothing at all ; ' From " Nothing to Wear." 37 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOBL Dresses for winter, spring, summer, and fall, — All of them different in colour and pattern, Silk, muslin, and lace, crape, velvet, and satin, Brocade, and broadcloth, and other material Quite as expensive and much more ethereal : In short, for all things that could ever be thought of, Or milliner, modiste, or tradesman be bought of. From ten-thousand-francs robes to twenty-sous frills ; In all quarters of Paris, and to every store : While M'Flimsey in vain stormed, scolded, and swore. They footed the streets, and he footed the bills. The last trip, their goods shipped by the steamer Argo Formed, M'Flimsey declares, the bulk of her cargo. Not to mention a quantity kept from the rest. Sufficient to fill the largest-sized chest, Which did not appear on the ship's manifest. But for which the ladies themselves manifested Such particular interest that they invested Their own proper persons in layers and rows Of muslins, embroideries, worked underclothes. Gloves, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and such trifles as those ; Then, wrapped in great shawls, like Circassian beauties, 38 MISS FLORA M'FLIMSEY. Gave good-by to the ship, and go-by to the duties. Her relations at home all marvelled, no doubt. Miss Flora had grown so enormously stout For an actual belle and a possible bride ; But the miracle ceased when she turned inside out, And the truth came to light, and the dry-goods beside, Which, in spite of collector and custom-house sentry. Had entered the port without any entry. And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day This merchandise went, on twelve carts, up Broad- way, This same Miss M'Flimsey of Madison Square, The last time we met, was in utter despair. Because she had nothing whatever to wear ! Nothing to wear ! Now, as this is a true ditty, I do not assert — this you know is between us — That she's in a state of absolute nudity. Like Powers's Greek Slave or the Medici Venus ; But I do mean to say I have heard her declare. When at the same moment she had on a dress Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less. And jewelry worth ten times more, I should guess. That she had not a thing in the wide world to wear ! 39 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora's Two hundred and fifty or sixty adorers, I had just been selected as he who should throw all The rest in the shade, by the gracious bestowal On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections. Of those fossil remains which she called her " affec- tions," And that rather decayed but well-known work of art, Which Miss Flora persisted in styling " her heart." So we were engaged. Our troth had been plighted Not by moonbeam or starbeam, by fountain or grove : . But in a front parlor, most brilliantly lighted, .; ' Beneath the gas-fixtures we whispered our love — Without any romance, or raptures, or sighs, Without any tears in Miss Flora's blue eyes. Or blushes, or transports, or such silly actions ; It was one of the quietest business transactions. With a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any. And a very large diamond imported by Tiffany. On her virginal lips while I printed a kiss. She exclaimed, as a sort of parenthesis, " You know, I'm to polka as much as I please, And flirt when I like, — now stop, don't you speak, — And you must not come here more than twice in a week. Or talk to me either at party or ball ; 40 MISS FLORA M'FLIMSEY. But always be ready to come when I call : So don't prose to me about duty and stuff, — If we don't break this off, there will be time enough For that sort of thing ; but the bargain must be. That as long as I choose I am perfectly free : For this is a sort of engagement, you see, Which is binding on you, but not binding on me." Well, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey, and gained her. With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that contained her, I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder At least in the property, and the best right To appear as its escort by day and by night ; And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand ball, — Their cards had been out for a fortnight or so, And set all the Avenue on the tiptoe, — I considered it only my duty to call And see if Miss Flora intended to go. I found her — as ladies are apt to be found When the time intervening between the first sound Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter Than usual — I found — I won't say I caught — her Intent on the pier-glass, undoubtedly meaning To see if perhaps it didn't need cleaning. She turned as I entered — " Why, Harry, you sinner, 41 American wit and humor. I thought that you went to the Flashers' to dinner ! " " So I did," I replied ; " but the dinner is swallowed, And digested, I trust ; for 'tis now nine and more : So being relieved from that duty, I followed Inclination, which led me, you see, to your door. And now will your Ladyship so condescend As just to inform me if you intend Your beauty and graces and presence to lend (All which, when I own, I hope no one will borrow) To the Stuckups', whose party, you know, is to. morrow ? " The fair Flora looked up with a pitiful air, And answered quite promptly, "Why, Harry, mon- cher, I should like above all things to go with you there ; But really and truly — I've nothing to wear." " Nothing to wear ? Go just as you are : Wear the dress you have on, and you'll be by far, I engage, the most bright and particular star On the Stuckup horizon — " I stopped, for her eye, Notwithstanding this delicate onset of flattery, Opened on me at once a most terrible battery Of scorn and amazement. She made no reply. But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose (That pure Grecian feature), as much as to say, " How absurd that any sane man should suppose 42 MISS FLORA M'FLIMSEY. That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes, No matter how fine, that she wears every day ! " So I ventured again — « Wear your crimson bro- cade." (Second turn-up of nose) — " That's too dark by a shade." — "Your blue silk — " "That's too heavy." — "Your pink — " "That's too light." — " Wear tulle over satin." " I can't endure white.'' — " Your rose-colored, then, the best of the batch — " " I haven't a thread of point-lace to match." — " Your brown moire-antique — " " Yes, and look like a Quaker." — " The pearl-colored — " "I would, but that plaguy dressmaker Has had it a week.'' — " Then that exquisite lilac. In which you would melt the heart of a Shylock." (Here the nose took again the same elevation) — " I wouldn't wear that for the whole of creation." — "Why not? It's my fancy, there's nothing could strike it As more comme ilfaut — " " Yes, but, dear me, that lean Sophronia Stuckup has got one just like it ; And I won't appear dressed like a chit of sixteen." — ■ " Then that splendid purple, that sweet mazarine, That superb /ot«/ d' aiguille, that imperial green, 43 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. That zephyr-like tarlatan, that rich grenadine — " " Not one of all which is fit to be seen,'' Said the lady, becoming excited and flushed. " Then wear," I exclaimed, in a tone which quite crushed Opposition, " that gorgeous toilette which you sported In Paris last spring, at the grand presentation. When you quite turned the head of the head of the nation ; And by all the grand court were so very much courted." The end of the nose was portentously tipped up. And both the bright eyes shot forth indignation, As she burst upon me with the fierce exclamation, " I have worn it three times at the least calculation, And that and the most of my dresses are ripped up ! " Here I ripped out something, perhaps rather rash — Quite innocent though ; but to use an expression More striking than classic, it " settled my hash," And proved very soon the last act of our session. " Fiddlesticks, is it, sir? I wonder the ceiling Doesn't fall down and crush you ! — oh, you men have no feeling. You selfish, unnatural, illiberal creatures. Who set yourselves up as patterns and preachers. Your silly pretence — why, what a mere guess it is ! Pray, what do you know of a woman's necessities ? 44 MISS FLORA M'FLIMSEY. I have told you and shown you I've nothing to wear, And it's perfectly plain you not only don't care, But you do not believe me " (here the nose went still higher) : " I suppose if you dared you would call me a liar. Our engagement is ended, sir — yes, on the spot ; You're a brute, and a monster, and — I don't know what." I mildly suggested the words Hottentot, Pickpocket, and cannibal, Tartar, and thief, As gentle expletives which might give relief : But this only proved as spark to the powder. And the storm I had raised came faster and louder ; It blew, and it rained, thundered, lightened, and hailed Interjections, verbs, pronouns, till language quite failed To express the abusive, and then its arrears Were brought up all at once by a torrent of tears ; And my last faint, despairing attempt at an obs- Ervation was lost in a tempest of sobs. Well, I felt for the lady, and felt for my hat too. Improvised on the crown of the latter a tattoo. In lieu of expressing the feelings which lay Quite too deep for words, as Wordsworth would say : Then, without going through the form of a bow, 45 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Found myself in the entry, — I hardly knew how, — On doorstep and sidewalk, past lamp-post and square. At home and up-stairs, in my own easy-chair ; Poked my feet into slippers, my fire into blaze, And said to myself, as I lit my cigar, — Supposing a man had the wealth of the Czar Of the Russias to boot, for the rest of his days. On the whole do you think he would have much to spare If he married a woman with nothing to wear ? William Allen Butler. 46 THE ELF -CHILD. T ITTLE Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay, An' wash the cups and saucers up, an' brush the crutnbs away An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth an' sweep An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board an' keep ; An' all us other children, when the supper things is done. We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun A-list'nin' to the witch tales 'at Annie tells about. An' the gobble-uns 'at gits you Ef you Don't Watch Out! Onc't they was a little boy who wouldn't say his prayers — An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs, 47 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. His mammy heerd him holler an' his daddy heerd him bawl, An' when they turn't the kivvers down he wasn't there at all ! An' they seeked him in the rafter room an' cubby- hole an' press, An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' everywheres, I guess. But all they ever found was thist his pants an' round- about ! — An' the gobble-uns '11 git you Ef you Don't Watch Out! An' one time a little girl 'ud alius laugh an' grin, An' make fun of ever' one an' all her blood an' kin, An' onc't when they was " company " an' old folks was there, She mocked 'em, an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care; An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide. They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side. THE ELF -CHILD. An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about ! An' the gobble-uns '11 git you Ef you Don't Watch Out! An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue, An' the lampwick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo ! An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray, An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away — You better mind yer parents, an' yer teachers fond an' dear, An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear An' he'p the pore an' needy ones *at clusters all about, Er the gobble-uns '11 git you Ef you Don't Watch Out! James Whitcomb Riley. 49 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. T WAITED in the little sunny room : The cool breeze waved the window-lace, at play, The white rose on the porch was all in bloom, And out upon the bay I watched the wheeling sea-birds go and come. " Such an old friend, — she would not make me stay While she bound up her hair." I turned, and lo, Danae in her shower ! and fit to slay All a man's hoarded prudence at a blow : Gold hair, that streamed away As round some njonph a sunlit fountain's flow. " She would not make me wait ! " — but well I know She took a good half-hour to loose and lay Those locks in dazzling disarrangement so ! Edward Rowland Sill. so LITTLE BROWN BABV. feiftfe QSroton (J5ft6e.' T ITTLE brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes, Come to yo' pappy an' set on his knee. What you been doin', suh — makin' san' pies ? Look at dat bib — you's ez du'ty ez me. Look at dat mouf — dat's merlasses, I bet ; Come hyeah, Maria, an' wipe off his ban's. Bees gwine to ketch you an' eat you up yit, Bein' so sticky an' sweet — goodness lan's ! Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes, Who's pappy's darlin' an' who's pappy's chile ? Who is it all de day nevah once tries Fu' to be cross, er once loses dat smile ? Whah did you git dem teef ? My, you's a scamp ! Whah did dat dimple come f 'om in yo' chin ? Pappy do' know yo — I b'lieves you's a tramp ; Mammy, dis hyeah's some ol' straggler got in ! Let's th'ow him outen de do' in de san', We do' want stragglers a-layin' 'roun' hyeah ; * By permission of Dodd, Mead and Company, publishers of " Lyrics of the Hearthside," copyrighted iSgg. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Let's gin him 'way to de big buggah-man ; I know he's hidin' erroun' hyeah right neah, Buggah-man, buggah-man, come in de do', Hyeah's a bad boy you kin have fu' to eat. Mammy an' pappy do' want him no mo', Swaller him down f 'om his haid to his feet ! Dah, now, I t'ought dat you'd hug me up close. Go back, ol' buggah, you sha'n't have dis boy. He ain't no tramp, ner no straggler, of co'se ; He's pappy's pa'dner an' playmate an' joy. Come to you' pallet now — go to yo' res' ; Wisht you could alius know ease an' cleah skies ; Wisht you could stay jes' a chile on my breas' — Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes ! Paul Laurence Dunbar. S2 HANS BREITMANN'S PARTY. ^ans (gttitmann'6 (pMt^. TT ANS BREITMANN gife abarty; Dey had biano-blayia' : I felled in lofe mit a Merican frau, Her name was Madilda Yane. She hat haar as prown ash a pretzel, Her eyes vas himmel-plue, Und ven dey looket indo mine, Dey shplit mine heart in two. Hans Breitmann gife a barty: I vent dere, you'll pe pound. I valtzet mit Madilda Yane Und vent shpinnen round und round. De pootiest Fraulein in de house. She vayed 'pout dwo hoondred pound, Und efery dime she gife a shoomp She make de vindows sound. Hans Breitmann gife a barty : I dells you it cost him dear. Dey rolled in more ash sefen kecks Of foost-rate Lager Beer, S3 American wit and humor. Und venefer dey knocks de shpicket in De Deutschers gifes a cheer. I dinks dat so vine a barty Nefer coom to a het dis year. Hans Breitmann gife a barty: Dere all vas Souse und Brouse ; Ven de sooper corned in, de gompany Did make demselfs to house. Dey ate das Brot and Gensy broost, De Bratwurst and Braten fine, Und vash der Abendessen down Mit four parrels of Neckarwein. Hans Breitmann gife a barty. We all cot troonk ash bigs. I poot mine mout to a parrel of bier, Und emptied it oop mit a schwigs. Und denn I gissed Madilda Yane Und she shlog me on de kop, Und de gompany fited mit daple-lecks Dill de coonshtable made oos shtop. Hans Breitmann gife a barty — Where ish dat barty now ! Where ish de lofely golden cloud Dat float on de moundain's prow ? 54 HANS BREITMANN'S PARTY. Where ish de himmelstrahlende Stem — De shtar of de shpirit's light ? All goned af ay mit de Lager Beer — Af ay in de ewigkeit ! Charles Godfrey Leland. SS AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. C^oxm of ^ngfomaniacs.' T T is positively false to call us frantic, For the soundness of our mental state is sure, Yet we look upon this side of the Atlantic As a tract of earth unpleasant to endure. We consider dear old England as the fountain Of all institutions reputably sane ; We abominate and loathe a Rocky Mountain ; We regard a rolling prairie with disdain. We assiduously imitate the polish That we notice round the English nabob hang. We unfailingly endeavor to abolish From our voices any trace of nasal twang. Every patriotic duty we leave undone, With aversion such as Hebrews hold for pork. Since we venerate the very name of London In proportion to our hatred of New York. No entreaty could in any manner soften Our contempt for native tailors when we dress ; > From " The Buntling Ball." 56 CHORUS OF ANGLOMANIACS. If we bet, we " lay a guinea," rather often, And we always say " I f arncy " for " I guess." We esteem the Revolution as illegal ; If you mention Bunker Hill to us, we sigh ; We particularly execrate an eagle. And we languish on the fourth day of July. We are not prepared in any foolish manner The vulgarities of Uncle Sam to screen ; We dislike to hear that dull "Star-Spangled Banner," But we thoroughly respect " God Save the Queen." We revere the Prince of Wales, though he should prick us With a sneer at the republic we obey ! We would rather let his Royal Highness kick us Than have been the bosom-friend of Henry Clay! Edgar Fawcett. 57 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. "0)ag Oflamoge a Satfure?" "\ /■ AS marriage a failure ? Veil, now, dot depends Altogeddher on how you look at it, mine friends. Like dhose double-horse teams dot you see at der races, It depends pooty mooch on der pair in der traces ; Eef dhey don't pool togeddher right off at der shtart, Ten times oudt off nine dhey was bedder apart. Vas marriage a failure ? Der vote vas in doubt ; Dhose dot's oudt vould be in, dhose dot's in vould be oudt ; Der man mit oxberience, goot looks und dash. Gets a vif e mit some fife hundord dousand in cash ; Budt, after der honeymoon, vhere vas der honey? She haf der oxberience — he haf der money. Vas marriage a failure ? Eef dot vas der case, Vot vas to pecome off der whole human race .■' Vot you dink dot der oldt " Pilgrim faders " vould say, Dot came in der Sunflower to oldt Plymouth bay. To see der fine coundtry dis peoples haf got, Und dhen hear dhem ask sooch conondhrums as dot ? 58 "VAS MARRIAGE A FAILURE?" Vas marriage a failure ? Shust go, ere you tell, To dot Bunker Mon Hillument, vhere Varren fell ; Dink of Vashington, Franklin und " Honest Old Abe" — Dhey vas all been aroundt since dot first Plymouth babe. I vas only a Deutscher, budt I dells you vot ! I pelief every dime, in such " failures " as dot. Vas marriage a failure ? I ask mine Katrine, Und she look off me so dot I feels pooty mean. Dhen she say : " Meester Strauss, shust come here eff you blease," Und she dake me vhere Yawcob und little Loweeze By dhere shnug trundle-bed vas shust saying der prayer, Und she say, mit a smile : " Vas dhere some failures dhere?" Charles Follen Adams. 59 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. 'TTHE conference-meeting through at last, We boys about the vestry waited To see the girls come tripping past Like snow-birds willing to be mated. Not braver he that leaps the wall By level musket-flashes litten, Than I, that stepped before them all Who longed to see me get the mitten. But no, she blushed and took my arm ! We let the old folks have the highway, And started toward the Maple Farm Along a kind of lovers' by-way. I can't remember what we said, 'Twas nothing worth a song or story ; Yet that rude path by which we sped Seemed all transformed and in a glory. The snow was crisp beneath our feet, The moon was full, the fields were gleaming ; By hood and tippet sheltered sweet. Her face with youth and health was beaming. 60 THE DOORSTEP. The little hand outside her muff — O sculptor, if you could but mould it ! — So lightly touched my jacket-cuff, To keep it warm I had to hold it. To have her with me there alone, — 'Twas love and fear and triumph blended. At last we reached the foot-worn stone Where that delicious journey ended. The old folks, too, were almost home ; Her dimpled hand the latches fingered, We heard the voices nearer come, Yet on the doorstep still we lingered. She shook her ringlets from her hood And with a " Thank you, Ned," dissembled, But yet I knew she understood With what a daring wish I trembled. A cloud passed kindly overhead, The moon was slyly peeping through it, Yet hid its face, as if it said, " Come, now or never ! do it ! do it / " My lips till then had only known The kiss of mother and of sister, 6i AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. But somehow, full upon her own Sweet, rosy, darling mouth, — I kissed her ! Perhaps 'twas boyish love, yet still, O listless woman, weary lover ! To feel once more that fresh, wild thrill I'd give — but who can live youth over? Edmund Clarence Stedman. 62 LARKS AND NIGHTINGALES. EatrSs ant (I^ig0tinsafe0. A LONE I sit at eventide : The twilight glory pales, And o'er the meadows far and wide Chant pensive bobolinks. (One might say nightingales ! ) Song-sparrows warble on the tree, I hear the purling brook, And from the old " manse o'er the lea " Flies slow the cawing crow. (In England 'twere a rook ! ) The last faint golden beams of day Still glow on cottage panes, And on their lingering homeward way Walk weary laboring men. (Oh, would that we had swains ! ) From farm-yards, down fair rural glades Come sounds of tinkling bells. And songs of merry brown milkmaids, Sweeter than oriole's. (Yes, thank you — Philomel's ! ) 63 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. I could sit here till morning came, All through the night hours dark, Until I saw the sun's bright flame And heard the chickadee. (Alas ! we have no lark ! ) We have no leas, no larks, no rooks, No swains, no nightingales. No singing milkmaids (save in books) : The poet does his best — It is the rhyme that fails ! Nathan Haskell Dole. 64 THE PLEDGE AT SPUNKY POINT. $5e ^feige at ^iJunftu ^oint A TALE OF EARNEST EFFORT AND HUMAN PERFIDY. T T'S all very well for preachin', But preachin.' and practice don't gee : I've give the thing a fair trial, And you can't ring it in on me. So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, Ef that's what you want me to sign ; Betwixt me and you, I've been thar, And I'll not take any in mine. A year ago last Fo'th July A lot of the boys was here. We all got corned and signed the pledge For to drink no more that year. There was Tilman Joy and SherifE McPhail And me and Abner Fry, And Shelby's boy Leviticus And the Golyers, Luke and Cy. And we anteed up a hundred In the hands of Deacon Kedge, 65 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. For to be divided the follerin' Fo'th 'Mongst the boys that kep' the pledge. And we knowed each other so well, Squire, You may take my scalp for a fool, Ef every man when he signed his name Didn't feel cock-sure of the pool. Fur awhile it all went lovely ; We put up a job next day Fur to make Joy b'lieve his wife was dead, And he went home middlin' gay ; Then Abner Fry he killed a man And afore he was hung McPhail Jest bilked the widder outen her sheer By getting him slewed in jail. But Chris'mas scooped the Sheriff, The egg-nogs gathered him in ; And Shelby's boy Leviticus Was, New Year's, tight as sin ; And along in March the Golyers Got so drunk that a fresh-biled owl Would 'a' looked 'long-side o' them two young men. Like a sober temperance fowl. Four months alone I walked the chalk, I thought my heart would break ; 66 THE PLEDGE At SPUNKY POINT. And all them boys a-slappin' my back And axin', " What'U you take ? " I never slep' without dreamin' dreams Of Burbin, Peach, or Rye, But I chawed at my niggerhead and swore I'd rake that pool or die. At last — the Fo'th — I humped myself Through chores and breakfast soon. Then scooted down to Taggart's store — For the pledge was o£E' at noon ; And all the boys was gethered thar. And each man hilt his glass — Watchin' me and the clock quite solemn-like Fur to see the last minute pass. The clock struck twelve ! I raised the jug And took one lovin' pull — I was holler clar from skull to boots, It seemed I couldn't git full. But I was roused by a fiendish laugh • That might have raised the dead — Them ornary sneaks had sot the clock A half an hour ahead ! " All right ! " I squawked. " You've got me. Jest order your drinks agin, 67 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And we'll paddle up to the Deacon's And scoop the ante in." But when we got to Kedge's, What a sight was that we saw ! The Deacon and Parson Skeeters In the tail of a game of Draw. They had shook 'em the heft of the mornin', The Parson's luck was fa'r, And he raked, the minute we got thar, The last of our pool on a pa'r. So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, I 'low it's all very fine, But ez fur myself, I thank ye, I'll not take any in mine. John Hay. 68 THE SMACK IN SCHOOL. t^e ^macft in ^c^oof. A DISTRICT school, not far away, Mid Berkshire's hills, one winter's day, Was humming with its wonted noise Of threescore mingled girls and boys ; Some few upon their tasks intent. But more on furtive mischief bent. The while the master's downward look Was fastened on a copy-book ; When suddenly, behind his back. Rose sharp and clear a rousing smack ! As 'twere a battery of bliss Let off in one tremendous kiss ! "What's that?" the startled master cries; " That, thir," a little imp replies, " Wath William Willith, if you pleathe, — I thaw him kith Thuthanna Peathe ! " With frown to make a statue thrill. The master thundered, « Hither, Will ! " Like wretch o'ertaken in his track, With stolen chattels on his back, Will hung his head in fear and shame. And to the awful presence came, — 69 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. A great, green, bashful simpleton, The butt of all good-natured fun. With smile suppressed, and birch upraised, The thunderer faltered, — "I'm amazed That you, my biggest pupil, should Be guilty of an act so rude ! Before the whole set school to boot — What evil genius put you to't ? " " ' Twas she herself, sir," sobbed the lad, " I did not mean to be so bad ; But when Susannah shook her curls, And whispered, I was 'fraid of girls And dursn't kiss a baby's doll, I couldn't stand it, sir, at all. But up and kissed her on the spot ! I know — boo — hoo — I ought to not. But, somehow, from her looks — boo — hoo — I thought she kind o' wished me too ! " William Pitt Palmer. TO THE PATRIOTIC TOURIST. $Pe (Jpftttiofic Zoutief. Century Magazine. C OME folks the Old World find so fair, And fancy it so grand, They see its marvels everywhere About their native land. When they the Hudson sail by day. While all its beauties shine. They most enthusiastic say : " Behold the Yankee Rhine ! " As on Lake George they dream and drift, Enrapt at every turn, 'Tis thus their voices up they lift : " America's Lake Lucerne ! " At Saranac sublimely frown The Alps their travels know. And then they breathe in Morristown The air of Monaco. 71 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Forsooth it's not the same with me, For, from an Alpine gorge, I view Lucerne, and sing in glee : " 'Tis Switzerland's Lake George ! " When off Sorento, in a boat, I drift, serene and gay, I fancy, in a dream, I float On great Peconic Bay. When in the Scottish Highlands, I Upon the heather bunk, I look about and fondly sigh O'er Caledon's Mauch Chunk. In London town, aiJ smoke ana fog, I wander happy, when I fancy that I gaily jog Around in Pittsburgh, Penn. The Rhine is Europe's Hudson long, The Alps the Swiss Catskills ; Lake Como is the Ho-pat-cong Of the Italian hills. 72 THE PATRIOTIC TOURIST. I see, from Dan to Jericho, From Berne to Ispahan, Wonders that imitate, I know, Our own as best they can. And I shall cheer, until I cease To tread this earthly way, Sky high in classic Athens, Greece, Manunka Chunk, N. J. Richard Kendall Munkittrick. 73 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. $^e (gomftnce of f^e CMpet. ■p) ASKING in peace in the warm spring sun, South Hill smiled upon Burlington. The breath of May ! and the day was fair, And the bright motes danced in the balmy air. And the sunlight gleamed where the restless breeze Kissed the fragrant blooms on the apple-trees. His beardless cheek with a smile was spanned. As he stood with a carriage whip in his hand. And he laughed as he doffed his bobtail coat, And the echoing folds of the carpet smote. And she smiled as she leaned on her busy mop. And said she'd tell him when to stop. So he pounded away till the dinner-bell Gave him a little breathing spell. But he sighed when the kitchen clock struck one, And she said the carpet wasn't done. 74 THE ROMANCE OF THE CARPET. But he lovingly put in his biggest licks, And he pounded like mad till the clock struck six. And she said, in a dubious sort of way. That she guessed he could finish it up next day. Then all that day, and the next day, too That fuzz from the dirtless carpet flew. And she'd give it a look at eventide. And say, " Now beat on the other side." And the new days came as the old days went. And the landlord came for his regular rent. And the neighbors laughed at the tireless broom, And his face was shadowed with clouds of gloom. Till at last, one cheerless winter day. He kicked at the carpet and slid away. Over the fence and down the street. Speeding away with footsteps fleet. And never again the morning sun Smiled on him beating his carpet-drum. 75 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And South Hill often said with a yawn, " Where's the carpet-martyr gone ? " Years twice twenty had come and passed And the carpet swayed in the autumn blast. For never yet, since that bright spring-time. Had it ever been taken down from the line. Over the fence a gray-haired man Cautiously dim, dome, clem, clum, clamb. He found him a stick in the old woodpile. And he gathered it up with a sad, grim smile. A flush passed over his face forlorn As he gazed at the carpet, tattered and torn. And he hit it a most resounding thwack. Till the startled air gave his echoes back. And out of the window a white face leaned. And a palsied hand the pale face screened. She knew his face ; she gasped, and sighed, " A little more on the other side." 76 THE ROMANCE OF THE CARPET. Right down on the ground his stick he throwed, And he shivered and said, " Well, I am blowed ! " And he turned away, with a heart full sore, And he never was seen not more, not more. Robert Jones Burdette. 77 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. T NEBBER breaks a colt afore he's old enough to trabbel ; I nebber digs my taters tell dey plenty big to grabble. An' when you sees me risin' up to structify in meetin', I's fust dumb up de knowledge-tree an' done some apple-eatin'. I sees some sistahs pruzint, mighty proud o' whut dey wearin' : It's well you isn't apples, now, you better be declarin' ! Fur when ye heerd yo' markit-price, 't'd hurt yo' little feelin's: ' You wouldn't fotch a dime a peck, fur all yo fancy peelin's. sistahs! — leetle apples (fur you're r'ally mighty like 'em) — 1 lubs de ol'-time russets, dough its suldom I kin strike 'em ; An' so I lubs you, sistahs, fur yo' grace an' not yo' graces — I don't keer how my apple looks, but on'y how it tas'es. 78 A SERMON FOR THE SISTERS. Is dey a Sabbaf-scholar heah ? Den let him 'form his mudder How Jacob-in-de-Bible's boys played off upon dey brudder ! Dey sol' him to a trader — an' at las' he struck de prison ; Dat corned ob Joseph's struttin' in dat streaked coat ob his'n. My Christian frien's, dis story proobs dat eben men is human — He'd had a dozen fancy coats, ef he'd 'a' been a 'ooman ! De cussidness ob showin' off, he foun' out all about it; An' yit he wuz a Christian man, as good as ever shouted. It I'amed him ! An' I bet you when he come to git his riches Dey didn't go fur stylish coats or Philadelphy breeches ; He didn't was'e his money when experunce taught him better, But went aroun' a-lookin' like he's waitin' fur a letter! 79 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Now, sistahs, won't you copy him ? Say, won't you take a lesson, An' min' dis solium wahnin' 'bout de sin ob fancy dressin' ? How much you spen' upon yo'self ! I wish you might remember Yo' preacher ain't been paid a cent sence somewhar in November. I better close. I sees some gals dis sahmon's kinder hittin' A-whisperin', an' 'sturbin' all dat's near whar dey's a-sittin' ; To look at dem, an' listen at dey onrespec'ful jabber. It turns de milk ob human kin'ness mighty nigh to clabber ! A-a-a-men ! Irwin Russell. So THE NEW DOCTOR. 'pHROUGH the " Philadelphy " college he went -*■ in a week, He had lots of assurance — in other words, cheek, And his manner of study was rather unique. Yet the fact is, After hearing the regular lectures, which stuck To his mind like the rain on the back of a duck, He got a diploma and instantly struck For a practice. A neighborhood clear in the rear of the age, Where a man was accepted at once as a sage Who could show a diploma, he chose as his stage Of endeavor. And soon an old farmer, with plethoric purse, Who had long been afflicted, but now had grown worse. Was able to take a short ride — in a hearse, Cured forever. But he didn't go there, as he moodily said. To cure hopeless cases and raise up the dead. 8i AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And he left for the side of an invalid's bed Who was ailing With pains in the back, and he gave him six pills Intended for patients with ague or chills, And the folks who resided just over the hills Heard him wailing ! But, as fully two-thirds of the patients who call On the doctor would mend with no doctor at all. Our hero made friends 'mong the great and the small And the wealthy. And, learning the whims of the class who suppose That there's health in the touch of a doctor's old clothes. And who swallow some drugs if they bleed at the nose, Kept them healthy. Parmenas Mix. 82 THE LATEST VERSION. t^c feftfegf TJergion. "VITHEN Washington was young, and not As yet his country's sire and saviour, An Ax for him his father bought, Reward of excellent behaviour. Well loving what he drank and ate, That father, in a corner handy, A row of Cherry Trees had set. Suggesting Jam and Pie and Brandy. Armed with his little Tomahawk, George to that orchard forth did sally, And root and branch and leaf and stalk He mutilated generally. His father, wild, though not with joy. To see his darling fruit-trees wither. Crooked his forefinger at his boy. And said to him, " Sirrah, come hither ! " Straightway to him the urchin hied. And, through the orchard as he ran, " Sir, 83 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Axe me no questions," loudly cried, " And I will make no lying answer." His father led him by the ear To view his desolation's traces ; " Now, George," he said, in tones severe, " Who's chopped that Cherry tree to blazes ? " The boy an instant looks around, And at that very moment hies ac- Ross that meteory-haunted ground The negro gardener, Ike or Isaac. Brief space was his for thought ; he saw. Unless he fibbed, he'd surely catch it ; " I cannot tell a lie, papa ! Ike cut it with my little Hatchet ! " " My dear, dear child, come to my knees — For I had infinitely rather You lied like ten Tom Ochiltrees Than spoiled them cherries," cried his father. He placed the boy across his lap, Nor thence did let him rise before he Had an appeal, with leathern strap. Made to his a posteriori. 84 THE LATEST VERSION. And so when George was President, And first in peace, and first in war, he, Remembering this incident. Lied no more than was necessary. George Thomas Lanigan. 8S AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. TV/r Y aunt ! my dear unmarried aunt ! Long years have o'er her flovra ; Yet still she strains the aching clasp That binds her virgin zone ; I know it hurts her, — though she looks As cheerful as she can ; Her waist is ampler than her life, For life is but a span. My aunt, my poor deluded aunt ! Her hair is almost gray ; Why will she train that winter curl In such a spring-like way ? How can she lay her glasses down, And say she reads as well, When, through a double convex lens, She just makes out to spell ? Her father, — grandpapa! forgive This erring lip its smiles, — Vowed she should make the finest girl Within a hundred miles. 86 MY AUNT. He sent her to a stylish school ; 'Twas in her thirteenth June ; And with her, as the rules required, " Two towels and a spoon." They braced my aunt against a board, To make her straight and tall ; They laced her up, they starved her down, To make her light and small ; They pinched her feet, they singed her hair, They screwed it up with pins ; — O never mortal suffered more In penance for her sins. So, when my precious aunt was done, My grandsire brought her back ; (By daylight, lest some rabid youth Might follow on the track ;) •' Ah ! " said my grandsire, as he shook Some powder in his pan, " What could this lovely creature do Against a desperate man ! " Alas ! nor chariot, nor barouche, Nor bandit cavalcade 87 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Tore from the trembling father's arms His all-accomplished maid. For her how happy had it been ! And Heaven had spared to me To see one sad, ungathered rose On my ancestral tree. Oliver Wendell Holmes. 88 LARRIE O'DEE. feftrrie d'®ee. ■VT OW the Widow McGee, And Larrie O'Dee, Had two little cottages out on the green, With just room enough for two pig-pens between. The widow was young and the widow was fair, With the brightest of eyes and the brownest of hair. And it frequently chanced, when she came in the morn With the swill for her pig, Larrie came with the corn, And some of the ears that he tossed from his hand In the pen of the widow were certain to land. One morning said he : " Och ! Misthress McGee, It's a waste of good lumber, this runnin' two rigs, Wid a fancy purtition betwane our two pigs ! " " Indade sur, it is ! " answered Widow McGee, With the sweetest of smiles upon Larrie O'Dee. " And thin, it looks kind o' hard-hearted and mane, Kapin' two friendly pigs so exsaidenly near That whiniver one grunts the other can hear. And yit kape a cruel purtition betwane." 89 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. " Shwate Widow McGee," . Answered Larrie O'Dee, " If ye fale in your iieart we are mane to the pigs, Ain't we mane to ourselves to be runnin' two rigs ? Och ! it made me heart ache when I paped through the cracks Of me shanty, lasht March, at yez shwingin' yer axe ; An' a-bobbin' yer head an' a-shtompin' yer fate, Wid yer purty white hands jisht as red as a bate, A-shplittin' yer Icindlin'-wood out in the shtorm, When one little shtove it would kape us both warm ! " " Now, piggy," says she, " Larrie's courtin' o' me, Wid his dilicate tinder allusions to you ; So now yez must tell me jisht what I must do : For, if I'm to say yes, shtir the swill wid yer snout; But if I'm to say no, ye must kape yer nose out. Now Larrie, for shame ! to be bribin' a pig By a-tossin' a handful of corn in its shwig ! " " Me darlint, the piggy says yes," answered he. And that was the courtship of Larrie O'Dee. W. W. Fink. 90 COURTING IN KENTUCKY. Courting in dtentucftg. AX rHEN Mary Ann DoUinger got the skule daown thar on Injun Bay, I was glad, fer I like ter see a gal makin' her honest way. I heerd some talk in the village abaout her flyin' high, Tew high fer busy farmer folks with chores ter dew ter fly ; But I paid no sorter attention ter all the talk ontell She come in her reg'lar boardin' raound ter visit with us a spell. My Jake an' her had been cronies ever since they could walk, An' it tuk me aback to hear her kerrectin' him in his talk. Jake ain't no hand at grammar, though he hain't his beat for work ; But I sez ter myself " Look out, my gal, yer a-foolin' with aturk!" 91 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Jake bore it wonderful patient, an' said in a mourn- ful way, He p'sumed he was behindhand with the doin's at Injun Bay, I remember once he was askin' for some o' my Injun buns. An' she said he should alius say, " them air," stid o' " them is " the ones. Wal, Mary Ann kep' at him stiddy mornin' an' evenin' long. Tell he dassent open his mouth for fear o' talkin' wrong. One day I was pickin' currants daown by the old quince-tree, When I heerd Jake's voice a-sayin' " Be yer willin' ter marry me ? " An Mary Ann kerrectin' " Air ye wUlin' yeou sh'd say ; " Our Jake he put his foot daown in a plum, decided way, " No wimmen-folks is a-goin' ter be rearrangin' me, Hereafter I says 'craps,' 'them is,' ' I calk'late,' an' ' I be.' Ef folks don't like my talk they needn't hark ter what I say; 92 COURTING IN KENTUCKY. But I ain't a-goin' to take no sass from folks from Injun Bay. I ask you free an' final, ' Be ye goin' ter marry me ? ' " An Mary Ann sez, tremblin' yet anxious-like, " I be." Florence E. Pratt. 93 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. "IXTHEREAS, on certain boughs and sprays Now divers birds are heard to sing, And sundry flowers their heads upraise, Hail to the coming on of Spring ! The songs of those said birds arouse The memory of our youthful hours, As green as those said sprays and boughs. As fresh and sweet as those said flowers. The birds aforesaid — happy pairs — Love, 'mid the aforesaid boughs, inshrines In freehold nests ; themselves their heirs, Administrators, and assigns. O busiest term of Cupid's Court, Where tender plaintiffs actions bring, — Season of frolic and of sport. Hail, as aforesaid, coming Spring ! Henry Howard Brownell. 94 THE LEARNED NEGRO. ^^e feearnei (Jlegifo. 'T'HERE was a negro preacher, I have heard, In Southern parts before rebellion stirred, Who did not spend his strength in empty sound ; His was a mind deep-reaching and profound. Others might beat the air, and make a noise, And help to amuse the silly girls and boys ; But as for him he was a man of thought. Deep in theology, although untaught. He could not read or write, but he was wise, And knew right smart how to extemporize. One Sunday morn, when hymns and prayers were said, The preacher rose, and rubbing up his head, " Bredren and sisterin, and companions dear. Our preachment to-day, as you shall hear. Will be ob de creation, — ob de plan On which God fashioned Adam, de fust man. When God made Adam, in de ancient day. He made his body out ob earth and clay. He shape him all out right, den by and by. He set him up agin de fence to dry.'' " Stop," said a voice ; and straightway there uprose. An ancient negro in his master's clothes. 95 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. " Tell me," said he, " before you farder go, One little thing which I should like to know. It does not quite get through dis niggar's har, How came dat fence so nice and handy dar ? " Like one who in the mud is tightly stuck, Or one non-plussed, astonished, thunderstruck. The preacher looked severely on the pews, And rubbed his hair to know what words to use : " Bredren," said he, " dis word I hab to say ; De preacher can't be bothered in dis way ; For, if he is, it's jest as like as not, Our whole theology will be upsot." Anonymous. 96 THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS. t^i ^dq^t of f^e (gibicufous. T WROTE some lines once on a time, In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. They were so queer, so very queer, I laughed as I would die ; Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. I called my servant, and he came ; How kind it was of him, To mind a slender man like me. He of the mighty limb ! " These to the printer," I exclaimed, And, in my humorous way, I added, (as a trifling jest,) " There'll be the devil to pay." He took the paper, and I watched. And saw him peep within ; At the first line he read, his face Was all upon the grin. 97 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. He read the next ; the grin grew broad, And shot from ear to ear ; He read the third ; a chuckling noise I now began to hear. The fourth ; he broke into a roar ; The fifth ; his waistband split ; The sixth ; he burst five buttons off, And tumbled in a fit. Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, I watched that wretched man. And since, I never dare to write As funny as I can. Oliver Wendell Holmes. 98 A DUTCHMAN'S DOG STORY. (S ®ufc0mftn's ®og ^forg. T^ERE vhas a leedle vomans once Who keept a leedle shtore, Und had a leedle puppy dog Dot shtoodt pefore der door. Und evfery dime der peoples coom He opened vide him's jaw. Schnip ! Schnap ! shoost so, Und bite dem. Vun day anoder puppy dog Cooms runnin' down der shtreet, Oudt of Herr Schneider's sausage-shop, Vhere he had shtoled some meat ; Und after him der Schneider man — Der vhind vhas not more fleet. Whir-r-r ! Whist ! shoost so. Like vinkin ! Der leedle voman's puppy dog Vhas lookin' at der fun, He barkit at der Schneider man, Und right pefore him run ; 99 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Den fell him down, dot Schneider man, Like shooted mit a gun. Bang ! Crash ! shoost so, Und voorser. Der puppy dog dot shtoled der meat, Roon'd on und got avhay ; Der leedle voman's puppy dog Der Schneider man did slay, Und make him indo sausages — Dot's vot der peoples say. Chip ! Chop ! shoost so, Und sell him. DER MORAL. Der moral is, don't interfere Vhen droubles is aroundt ; Der man dot's in der fightin' crowd Vhill get hurt I'll be pound. Mind your own peesness, dot is pest, In life she vhill be found. Yaw ! yaw ! shoost so, I pet you. John Thomas Brown. Wedded bliss. " r\ COME and be my mate ! " said the Eagle to the Hen; " I love to soar, but then . I want my mate to rest Forever in the nest ! " Said the Hen, " I cannot fly, I have no wish to try, But I joy to see my mate careering through the sky ! " They wed, and cried, " Ah, this is Love, my own ! " And the Hen sat, the Eagle soared, alone. " O come and be my mate ! " said the Lion to the Sheep ; " My love for you is deep ! I slay, a Lion should, But you are mild and good ! " Said the Sheep, " I do no ill — Could not, had I the will — But I joy to see my mate pursue, devour, and kill." They wed, and cried, " Ah, this is Love, my own ! " And the Sheep browsed, the Lion prowled, alone. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. " O come and be my mate ! " said the Salmon to the Clam; " You are not wise, but I am. I know sea and stream as well ; You know nothing but your shell." Said the Clam, " I'm slow of motion, But my love is all devotion, And I joy to have my mate traverse lake and stream and ocean ! " They wed, and cried, " Ah, this is Love, my own ! " And the Clam sucked, the Salmon swam, alone: Charlotte Perkins Stetson. OL' PICKETT'S NELL. Century Magazine. "pEEL more 'an ever like a fool Sence Pickett's Nell come back from school. She oncet wuz twelve 'nd me eighteen ('Nd better friends you never seen) ; But now — oh, my ! She's dressed so fine, 'nd growed so tall, 'Nd I'arnin' — she jes knows it all. She's eighteen now, but I'm so slow I'm whar I wuz six year ago. Six year ! Waal, waal ! doan't seem a week Sence we rode Dolly to th' creek, 'Nd fetched th' cattle home at night, Her hangin' to my jacket tight. But now — oh, my ! She rides in Pickett's new coopay Jes like she'd be'n brung up thet way, 'Nd lookin' like a reg'lar queen — Th' mostest like / ever seen. 103 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. She uster tease, 'nd tease, 'nd tease Me fer to take her on my knees ; Then tired me out 'ith Marge'y Daw, 'Nd laffin' tell my throat wuz raw. But now — oh, my ! She sets up this way — kinder proud, 'Nd never noways laughs out loud. You w'u'dn't hardly think that she Hed ever see-sawed on my knee. 'Nd sometimes, ef at noon I'd choose To find a shady place 'nd snooze, I'd wake with burdocks in my hair 'Nd elderberries in my ear. But now — oh, my ! Somebody said ('twuz yesterday) : " Let's hev some fun w'ile Ned's away; Let's turn his jacket inside out ! " But Nell — she'd jes turn red 'nd pout. 'Nd oncet when I wuz dreamin'-like, A-throwin' akerns in th' dike, She put her arms clean round my head, 'Nd whispered soft, " I like you, Ned ; " But now — oh, my ! 104 OL' PICKETT'S NELL. She curteseyed so stiff 'nd grand, 'Nd never oncet held out her hand, 'Nd called me " Mister Edward ! " Laws ! Thet ain't my name, 'nd never wuz. 'Nd them 'at knowed 'er years ago Jes laughed t' see 'er put on so ; Coz it wuz often talked, 'nd said, " Nell Pickett's jes cut out fer Ned." But now — oh, my ! She held her purty head so high, 'Nd skasely saw me goin' by — I w'u'dn't dast (afore last night) A-purposely come near her sight. Last night ! — Ez I wuz startin' out To git th' cows, I heerd a shout ; 'Nd, sure ez ghostses, she wuz thar, A-settin' on ol' Pickett's mar' ; 'Nd then — oh, my ! She said she'd cried fer all th' week To take th' ol' ride to th' creek ; Then talked about ol' times, 'nd said, " Them days wuz happy, wa'n't they, Ned ? " loS AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Th' folks wuz talkin' ev'rywhars 'Bout her a-puttin' on sech airs, 'Nd seemed t' me like they wuz right, Afore th' cows come home last night. But now — oh, my ! Mather Dean Kimball. 106 LITTLE BREECHES. A PIKE COUNTY VIEW OF SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. T DON'T go much on religion, I never ain't had no show ; But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir, On the handful o' things I know. I don't pan out on the prophets And free-will, and that sort of thing, — But I b'lieve in God and the angels, Ever sence one night last spring. I come into town with some turnips. And my little Gabe come along, — No four-year-old in the county Could beat him for pretty and strong. Peart and chipper and sassy. Always ready to swear and fight, — And I'd larnt him ter chaw terbacker. Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. The snow come down like a blanket As I passed by Taggart's store ; 107 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. I went in for a jug of molasses And left the team at the door. They scared at something and started, — I heard one little squall, And hell-to-split over the prairie Went team, Little Breeches and all. Hell-to-split over the prairie ! I was almost froze with skeer ; But we rousted up some torches, And sarched for 'em far and near. At last we struck hosses and wagon, Snowed under a soft white mound, Upsot, dead beat, — but of little Gabe No hide nor hair was found. And here all hope soured on me Of my fellow-critters' aid, — I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. By this, the torches was played out. And me and Isrul Parr Went off for some wood to a sheepfold That he said was somewhar thar. 1 08 LITTLE BREECHES. We found it at last, and a little shed Where they shut up the Iambs at night. We looked in, and seen them huddled thar, So warm and sleepy and white ; And thar sot Little Breeches and chirped, As peart as ever you see, " I want a chaw of terbacker. And that's what's the matter of me." How did he git thar ? Angels. He could never have walked in that storm. They jest scooped down and toted him To whar it was safe and warm. And I think that saving a little child. And bringing him to his own, Is a derned sight better business Than loafing around The Throne. John Hay. 109 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. (Bftrfu (gteing. « /"* OD bless the man who first invented sleep ! " So Sancho Panza said, and so say I : And bless him, also, that he didn't keep His great discovery to himself ; nor try To make it — as the lucky fellow might — A close monopoly by patent-right ! Yes — bless the man who first invented sleep, (I really can't avoid the iteration ; ) But blast the man, with curses loud and deep, Whate'er the rascal's name, or age, or station, Who first invented, and went round advising. That artificial cut-off — Early Rising ! " Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed," Observes some solemn, sentimental owl ; Maxims like these are very cheaply said ; But, ere you make yourself a fool or fowl. Pray just inquire about his rise and fall. And whether larks have any beds at all ! The time for honest folks to be a-bed Is in the morning, if I reason right; EARLY RISING. And he who cannot keep his precious head Upon his pillow till it's fairly light, And so enjoy his forty morning winks, Is up to knavery ; or else — he drinks ! Thompson, who sung about the " Seasons," said It was a glorious thing to rise in season ; But then he said it — lying — in his bed. At ten o'clock a. m., — the very reason He wrote so charmingly. The simple fact is His preaching wasn't sanctioned by his practice. 'Tis, doubtless, well to be sometimes awake, — Awake to duty, and awake to truth, — But when, alas ! a nice review we take Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth. The hours that leave the slightest cause to weep Are those we passed in childhood or asleep ! 'Tis beautiful to leave the world awhile For the soft visions of the gentle night ; And free, at last, from mortal care or guile. To live as only in the angels' sight. In sleep's sweet realm so cosily shut in, Where, at the worst, we only dream of sin ! AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. So let us sleep, and give the Maker praise. I like the lad who, when his father thought To clip his morning nap by hackneyed phrase Of vagrant worm by early songster caught, Cried, " Served him right ! — it's not at all sur- prising ; The worm was punished, sir, for early rising ! " John Godfrey Sake. THE MEETING OF THE CLABBERHUSES. $:$e (Wteefing of t^e CMfietr^ufieo. T T E was the Chairman of the Guild Of Early Pleiocene Patriarchs ; He was chief Mentor of the Lodge Of the Oracular Oligarchs. He was the Lord High Autocrat And Vizier of the Sons of Light, And Sultan and Grand Mandarin Of the Millennial Men of Might. He was Grand Totem and High Priest Of the Independent Potentates; Grand Mogul of the Galaxy Of the Illustrious Stay-out-lates ; The President of the Dandydudes, The Treasurer of the Sons of Glee ; The Leader of the Clubtown Band And Architects of Melody. II. She was Grand Worthy Prophetess Of the Illustrious Maids of Mark ; "3 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Of Vestals of the Third Degree She was Most Potent Matriarch ; She was High Priestess of the Shrine Of Clubtown's Culture Coterie, And First Vice-President of the League Of the Illustrious G. A. B. She was the First Dame of the Club For Teaching Patagonians Greek ; She was Chief Clerk and Auditor Of Clubtown's Anti-Bachelor Clique ; She was High Treasurer of the Fund For Borrioboolaghalians, And the Fund for Sending Browning's Poems To Native-born Australians. Once to a crowded social fete Both these much-titled people came, And each perceived, when introduced, They had the selfsame name. Their hostess said, when first they met : " Permit me now to introduce My good friend Mr. Clabberhuse To Mrs. Clabberhuse." 114 THE MEETING OF THE CLABBERHUSES. " 'Tis very strange,'' said she to him, " Such an unusual name. A name so very seldom heard, That we should bear the same." " Indeed, 'tis wonderful," said he, " And I'm surprised the more. Because I never heard the name Outside my home before. " But now I come to look at you," Said he, " upon my life. If I am not indeed deceived. You are — you are — my wife." She gazed into his searching face And seemed to look him through ; " Indeed," said she, " it seems to me You are my husband, too. " I've been so busy with my clubs And in my various spheres I have not seen you now," she said, " For over fourteen years." " That's just the way it's been with me. These clubs demand a sight " — And then they both politely bowed, And sweetly said " Good night." Sam Walter Foss. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. T HAF von funny leedle poy, Vot comes schust to mine knee ; Der queerest schap, der creates! rogue, As efer you dit see. He runs, und schumps, und schmashes dings In all barts off der house : But vot off dot ? He vas mine son, Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss. He get der measles und der mumbs Und eferyding dot's oudt ; He sbills mine glass off lager bier, Foots schnuff indo mine kraut. He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese — Dot was der roughest chouse ; I'd dake dot vrom no oder poy But leedle Yawcob Strauss. He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum, Und cuts mine cane in dwo, To make der schticks to beat it mit — Mine cracious, dot vas drue ! ii6 LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS. I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart, He kicks oup sooch a touse : But nefer mind ; der poys vas few Like dot young Yawcob Strauss. He asks me questions sooch as dese : Who baints mine nose so red ? Who vas it cuts dot schmoodth blace oudt Vrom der hair ubon mine hed ? Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp Vene'er der glim I douse. How gan I all dose dings eggsblain To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss ? I somedimes dink I schall go vild Mit sooch a grazy poy, Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest, Und beaceful dimes enshoy ; But van he vas aschleep in ped, So guiet as a mouse, I prays der Lord, " Dake anyding. But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss." Charles Follen Adams. "7 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. t^t ^tat^t of Cttm Q^troujn. " 'T'HE proper way for a man to pray," Said Deacon Lemuel Keyes, " And the only proper attitude Is down upon his knees." " No, I should say the way to pray," Said Rev. Dr. Wise, " Is standing straight with outstretched arms And rapt and upturned eyes." " Oh, no ; no, no," said Elder Slow, " Such posture is too proud : A man should pray with eyes fast closed And head contritely bowed." " It seems to me his hands should be Austerely clasped in front, With both thumbs pointing toward the ground," Said Rev. Dr. Blunt. " Las' year I fell in Hodgkin's well Head first," said Cyrus Brown, ii8 The prayer of gyrus brown. " With both my heels a-stickin' up, My head a-pinting down ; " An' I made a prayer right then an' there — Best prayer I ever said, The prayingest prayer I ever prayed, A-standing on my head." Sam Walter Foss. 119 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. 3im. T T E was jes' a plain, ever'-day, all-round kind of a jour., Consumpted-lookin' — but la ! The jokiest, wittiest, story-tellin', song-singin', laugh' in'est, jolliest Feller you ever saw ! Worked at jes' coarse work, but you kin bet he was fine enough in his talk, And his f eelin's too ! Lordy ! ef he was on'y back on his bench agin to- day, a-carryin' on Like he ust to do ! Any shop-mate'U tell you there never was, on top o dirt, A better feller'n Jim ! You want a favor, and couldn't git it anywhere else- — You could git it o' him ! Most free-heartedest man thataway in the world, I guess. Give up ever' nickel he's worth — JIM. And, ef you'd a-wanted it, and named it to him, and it was his. He'd a-give you the earth ! Alius a-reachin' out, Jim was, and a-he'pin' some Pore feller onto his feet — He'd a-never a-keered how hungry he was hisse'f, So's the feller got somepin' to eat ! Didn't make no difference at all to him how he was dressed, He list to say to me, — " You togg out a tramp purty comfortable in winter time, a-huntin' a job. And he'll git along ! " says he. Jim didn't have, ner never could git ahead so overly much O' this world's goods at a time, — 'Fore now I've saw him more'n onc't lend a dollar, and haf to, more'n likely. Turn 'round and borry a dime ! Mebby laugh and joke about it hisse'f fer a while — then jerk his coat. And kindo' square his chin. Tie on his apern, and squat hisse'f on his old shoe- bench, And go to peggin' agin ! AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Patientest feller too, I reckon, at ever jes' naturely Coughed hisse'f to death ! Long enough after his voice was lost he'd laugh in a whisper and say He could git ever'thing but his breath — " You fellers," he'd sort o' twinkle his eyes and say, " Is a-pilin' onto me A mighty big debt for that air little weak-chested ghost o' mine to pack Through all Eternity ! " Now there was a man 'at jes' 'peared like, to me, 'At ortn't a-never a-died ! " But death hain't a-showin' no favors," the old boss said, " On'y to Jim ! " and cried : And Wigger, who puts up the best sewed work in the shop, Er the whole blame neighborhood. He says, " When God made Jim, I bet you He didn't do anything else that day But jes' set around and feel good ! " James Whitcomb Riley. "CHRISTMAS -NIGHT IN THE QUARTERS.' /~*0 'way, fiddle! Folks is tired o' hearin' you a-squawkin', Keep silence fur yo' betters! — don't you heah de banjo talkin' ? About de 'possum's tail she's gwine to lecter — ladies, listen — About de ha'r whut isn't dar, and why de h'ar is missin'. " Dar's gwine to be a' oberflow," said Noah, lookin' solemn — Fur Noah tuk the " Herald," and he read de ribber column — An' so he sot his hands to wuk a-cl'arin' timber patches, An' 'lowed he's gwine to build a boat to beat the steamah " Natchez." Ol' Noah kep' a-nailin', an' a-chippin', an' a-sawin' ; An' all de wicked neighbors kep' a-laughin' an' a-pshawin', 123 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. But Noah didn't min' 'em, knowin' whut wuz gwine to happen, t An' iprty days an' forty nights de rain it kep' a-drap- pin'. Now, Noah had done catched a lot ob ebry sort of beas'es, Ob all de shows a-trabbelin', it beat 'em all to pieces ! He had a Morgaw colt an' sebral head o' Jarsey cattle — An' druv 'em board de Ark as soon's he heered de thunder rattle. Den sech anoder fall ob rain ! It come so awful hebby De ribber riz immejitly, an' busted troo de lebbee ; De people all wuz drownded out — 'cep' Noah an' de critters An' men he'd hired to work de boat, an' one to mix de bitters. De Ark she kep' a-sailin' an' a-sailitf an' a-sailin' ; De lion got his dander up, an' like to bruk de palin' ; De sarpints hissed ; de painters yelled ; tell whut wid all de f ussin' You c'u'dn't hardly heah de mate a-bossin' 'roun' an' cussin'. 124 " CHRISTMAS - NIGHT IN THE QUARTERS." Now Ham, de only nigger whut wuz runnin' on de packet, Got lonesome in de barber-shop an' c'u'dn't stand de racket ; An' so, fur to amuse hisse'f, he steamed some wood an' bent it. An' soon he had a banjo made — de fust that was invented. He wet de ledder, stretched it on ; made bridge an' screws an' aprin, An' fitted in a proper neck — 'twuz berry long an' tap'rin'. He tuk some tin, an' twisted him a thimble fur to ring it ; An' den de mighty question riz : how wuz he gwine to string it ? De 'possum had as fine a tail as dis dat I's a-singin' ; De ha'rs so long an' thick an' strong — des fit fur banjo-stringin' ; Dat nigger shaved 'em o£E as short as washday-dinner graces ; An' sorted ob 'em by de size, f'om little E's to bases. 125 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. He strung her, tuned her, struck a jig — 'twuz « Neb- ber min' de wedder " — She soun' like forty-lebben bands a-playin' all to- gedder. Some went to pattin' ; some to dancin' ; Noah called de figgers, An' Ham he sot an' knocked de tune, de happiest ob niggers ! Now, sence dat time — it's mighty strange — dere's not de slightes' showin' Ob any ha'r at all upon de 'possum's tail a-growin' ; An' curl's, too, dat nigger's ways : his people nebber los' 'em — Fur whar you finds de nigger — dar's de banjo an' de 'possum. Irwin Russell. 126 FIVE LIVES. ■p I VE mites of monads dwelt in a round drop That twinkled on a leaf by a pool in the sua To the naked eye they lived invisible ; Specks, for a world of whom the empty shell Of a mustard-seed had been a hollow sky. One was a meditative monad, called a sage ; And, shrinking all his mind within, he thought : " Tradition, handed down for hours and hours. Tells that our globe, this quivering crystal world. Is slowly dying. What if, seconds hence When I am very old, yon shimmering doom Comes drawing down and down, till all things end?" Then with a wizen smirk he proudly felt No other mote of God had ever gained Such giant grasp of universal truth. One was a transcendental monad ; thin And long and slim of mind ; and thus he mused : " Oh, vast, unfathomable monad-souls ! 127 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Made in the image" — a lioarse frog croaks from the pool, " Hark ! 'twas some god, voicing his glorious thought In thunder music ! Yea, we hear their voice, And we may guess their minds from ours, their work. Some taste they have like ours, some tendency To wriggle about, and munch a trace of scum." He floated up on a pin-point bubble of gas That burst, pricked by the air, and he was gone. One was a barren-minded monad, called A positivist ; and he knew positively ; " There was no world beyond this certain drop. Prove me another ! Let the dreamers dream Of their faint gleams, and noises from without, And higher and lower ; life is life enough." Then swaggering half a hair's breadth hungrily He seized upon an atom of bug, and fed. One was a tattered monad, called a poet ; And with a shrill voice ecstatic thus he sang : " Oh, little female monad's lips ! Oh, little female monad's eyes ! Ah, the little, little, female, female monad ! " 128 FIVE LIVES. The last was a strong-minded monadess, Who dashed amid the infusoria, Danced high and low, and wildly spun and dove. Till the dizzy others held their breath to see. But while they led their wondrous little lives yEonian moments had gone wheeling by, The burning drop had shrunk with fearful speed ; A glistening film — 'twas gone ; the leaf was dry. The little ghost of an inaudible squeak Was lost to the frog that goggled from his stone ; Who, at the huge, slow tread of a thoughtful ox Coming to drink, stirred sideways fatly, plunged. Launched backward twice, and all the pool was stiU. Edward Rowland Sill, 129 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ^ftrt? "Sixes QXp" t^me. (~\ii, yes, we've be'n fixin' up some sence we sold that piece o' groun' Fer a place to put a golf-lynx to them crazy dudes from town. (Anyway, they laughed like crazy when I had it specified, Ef they put a golf-lynx on it, thet they'd haf to keep him tied.) But they paid the price all reg'lar, an' then Sary says to me, " Now we're goin' to fix the parlor up, an' settin'- room," says she. Fer she 'lowed she'd been a-scrimpin' an' a-scrapin' all her life. An' she meant fer once to have things good as Cousin Ed'ard's wife. Well, we went down to the city, an' she bought the blamedest mess ; An' them clerks there must 'a' took her fer a' Astor- oid, I guess ; Fer they showed her fancy bureaus which they said was shiffoneers, 130 SARY "FIXES UP" THINGS. An' some more they said was dressers, an' some cur- tains called porteers. An' she looked at that there furnicher, an' felt them curtains' heft; Then she sailed in like a cyclone an' she bought 'em right an' left ; An' she picked a Bress'ls carpet thet was flowered like Cousin Ed's, But she drawed the line com-pletely when we got to foldin'-beds. Course, she said,' 't 'u'd make the parlor lots more roomier, she s'posed ; But she 'lowed she'd have a bedstid thet was shore to stay un-closed ; An' she stopped right there an' told us sev'ral tales of folks she'd read Bein' overtook in slumber by the " fatal foldin'- bed." " Not ef it wuz set in di'mon's ! Nary foldin'-bed f er me ! I ain't goin' to start fer glory in a rabbit-trap ! " says she. "When the time comes I'll be ready an' a-waitin'; but ez yet, I sha'n't go to sleep a-thinkin' that I've got the trig- gers set." 131 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Well, sir, shore as yo' 're a-livin', after all thet Sary said, 'Fore we started home that evenin' she hed bought a foldin'-bed ; An' she's put it in the parlor, where it adds a heap o' style ; An' we're sleepin' in the settin'-room at present fer a while. Sary still maintains it's han'some ; " an' them city folks '11 see That we're posted on the fashions when they visit us," says she; But it plagues her some to teU her, ef it ain't no other use. We can set it fer the golf-lynx ef he ever sh'u'd get loose. Albert Bigelow Paine. 132 THE COURTIN'. t^e Coutffin'. /^OD makes sech nights, all white an' ^-^ still Fur'z you can look or listen, Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill. All silence an' all glisten. Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Ith no one nigh to hender. A fireplace filled the room's one side With half a cord o' wood in — There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'. The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser. Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung. An' in amongst 'em rusted 133 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young Fetched back from Concord busted. The very room, coz she was in, Seemed warm from floor to ceilin', An' she looked full ez rosy agin Ez the apples she was peelin'. 'Twas kin' o' kingdom-come to look On sech a blessed cretur, A dogrose blushin' to a brook Ain't modester nor sweeter. He was six foot o' man, A i, Clear grit an' human natur' ; None couldn't quicker pitch a ton Nor dror a furrer straighter. He'd sparked it with full twenty gals, Hed squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em, Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells — All is, he couldn't love 'em. But long o' her his veins 'ould run All crinkly like curled maple, The side she breshed felt full o' sun Ez a south slope in Ap'il. 134 THE COURTIN'. She thought no v'ice hed sech a swing Ez hisn in the choir ; My ! when he made Ole Hunderd ring, She knowed the Lord was nigher. An' she'd blush scarlit, right in prayer, When her new meetin'-bunnet Felt somehow thru' its crown a pair O' blue eyes sot upon it. Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some ! She seemed to've gut a new soul. For she felt sartin-sure he'd come, Down to her very shoe-sole. She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu, A-raspin' on the scraper, — All ways to once her feelin's flew Like sharks in burnt-up paper. He kin' o' I'itered on the mat, Some doubtfle o' the sekle, His heart kep' goin' pity-pat, But hem went pity Zekle. An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk Ez though she wished him furder, I3S AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. An' on her apples kep' to work, Parin' away like murder. " You want to see my Pa, I s'pose ? " " Wal ... no ... I come dasignin' " " To see my Ma ? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morrer's i'nin'." To say why gals acts so or so. Or don't, 'ould be presumin' ; Mebby to mea.iyj/es an' say no Comes nateral to women. He stood a spell on one foot fust. Then stood a spell on t'other, An' on which one he felt the wust He couldn't ha' told ye nuther. Says he, " I'd better call agin ; " Says she, " Think likely. Mister : " Thet last word pricked him like a pin. An' . . . Wal, he up an' kist her. When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, Huldy sot pale ez ashes, AH kin' o' smily roun' the lips An' teary roun' the lashes. 136 THE COURTIN'. For she was jes' the quiet kind Whose naturs never vary, Like streams that keep a summer mind Snowhid in Jenooary. The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued Too tight for all expressin', Tell mother see how metters stood, An' gin' 'em both her blessin'. Then her red come back like the tide Down to the Bay o' Fundy, An all I know is they was cried In meetin' come nex' Sunday. James Russell Lowell. 137 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ^ftfafirfts <0ifftnito0ag.' AFTER T- T LAY i' the bosom of the sun, Under the roses dappled and dun. I thought of the Sultan Gingerbeer, In his palace beside the Bendemeer, With his AffgHan guards and his eunuchs blind, And the harem that stretched for a league behind. The tulips bent i' the summer breeze, Under the broad chrysanthemum-trees, And the minstrel, playing his culverin. Made for mine ears a merry din. If I were the Sultan, and he were I, Here 1' the grass he should loafing lie. And I should bestride my zebra steed. And ride to the hunt of the centipede : While the pet of the harem, Dandeline, Should fill me a crystal bucket of wine. And the kislar aga, Up-to-Snu£E, Should wipe my mouth when I sighed, " Enough ! " And the gay court-poet, Fearfulbore, '"The Echo Club." 138 PALABRAS GRANDIOSAS. Should sit in the hall when the hunt was o'er, And chant me songs of silvery tone, Not from Hafiz, but — mine own! Ah, wee sweet love, beside me here, I am not the Sultan Gingerbeer, Nor you the odalisque Dandeline, Yet I am yourn, and you are mine ! Bayard Taylor. 139 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ^igne of f^e ZitMB. " Dear Jones " (I will not do as he Requests, and I am fervent In saying so) — " and I remain Your most obedient servant." « Dear Brown " (He's not the company A wise man would select) — " And pray believe me, sir, I am Yours with profound respect." "Dear Tom, Your favour is at hand " — (But I decline to lend The small amount he mentions) — "and As ever, I'm your friend." " Dear Smith'" (I like him not at all ; I tolerate him merely ; He bores me when he makes a call) — " And I am yours sincerely." 140 SIGNS OF THE TIMES. ''Dear iVill" (It certainly would please Me if, for lack of breath, He'd go where he would never freeze) — " With love I'm yours till death." ''Dear Ned" (I hope he'll not again Ask favours from me) — " and I have the honour to remain Yours humbly to command." Dear Friends — When we're obliged to sign Our names to letters duly, Both much and nothing we combine By saying just — " Yours truly." H. C. Dodge. 141 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ($. feeftcr ftom (^r. (Ejefttef Q^igfoy*.' npHRASH away, you'll ^i?7/ to rattle On them kittle-drums o' yourn, 'Tain't a knowin' kind o' cattle That is ketched with mouldy corn ; Put in stiff, you fifer feller, Let folks see how spry you be, — Guess you'll toot till you are yeUer 'Fore you git ahold o' me ! Thet air flag's a leetle rotten, Hope it ain't your Sunday's best ; — Fact ! it takes a sight o' cotton To stuff out a soger's chest: Sence we farmers hev to pay fer 't, Ef you must wear humps like these Sposin' you should try salt hay fer 't, It would du ez slick ez grease. 'Twouldn't suit them Southun fellers, They're a dreflSe graspin' set, ' "The Eiglow Papers." 142 A LETTER FROM MR. EZEKIEL BIGLOW. We must oilers blow the bellers Wen they want their irons het ; May be it's all right ez preachin', But my narves it kind o' grates, Wen I see the overreachin' O' them nigger-drivin' States. Them thet rule us, them slave-traders, Hain't they cut a thunderin' swarth (Helped by Yankee renegaders), Thru the vartu o' the North ! We begin to think it's nater To take sarse an' not be riled ; — Who'd expect to see a tater All on eend at bein' biled ? Ez fer war, I call it murder, — There you hev it plain an' flat ; I don't want to go no furder Than my Testyment fer that ; God hez sed so plump an' fairly, It's ez long ez it is broad, An' you've gut to git up airly Ef you want to take in God. 'Tain't your eppyletts an' feathers Make the thing a grain more right ; 143 •AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. 'Tain't a-foUerin' your bell-wethers Will excuse ye in His sight; Ef you take a sword an' dror it, An' go stick a feller thru, Guv'ment ain't to answer for it, God'll send the bill to you. Wut's the use o' meetin'-goin' Every Sabbath, wet or dry, Ef it's right to go amowin' Feller-men like oats an' rye ? I dunno but wut it's pooty Trainin' round in bobtail coats, — But it's curus Christian dooty This 'ere cuttin' folks's throats. They may talk o' Freedom's airy Tell they're pupple in the face, — It's a grand gret cemetary Fer the barthrights of our race ; They jest want this Californy So's to lug new slave-states in To abuse ye, an' to scorn ye, An' to plunder ye like sin. Ain't it cute to see a Yankee Take sech everlastin' pains, 144 A LETTER FROM MR. EZEKIEL BIGLOW. All to git the Devil's thankee Helpin' on 'em weld their chains ? Wy, it's jest ez clear ez figgers, Clear ez one an' one make two, Chaps thet make black slaves o' niggers Want to make wite slaves o' you. Tell ye jest the eend I've come to Arter cipherin' plaguy smart, An' it makes a handy sum, tu. Any gump could larn by heart ; Laborin' man an' laborin' woman Hev one glory an' one shame. Ev'y thin' thet's done inhuman Injers all on 'em the same. 'Tain't by turnin' out to hack folks You're agoin' to git your right, Nor by lookin' down on black folks Coz you're put upon by wite ; Slavery ain't o' nary color, 'Tain't the hide thet makes it wus, All it keers fer in a feller 'S jest to make him fill its pus. Want to tackle me in, du ye ? I expect you'll hev to wait ; 145 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Wen cold lead puts daylight thru ye You'll begin to kal'late ; S'pose the crows wun't fall to pickin' All the carkiss from your bones, Coz you helped to give a lickin' To them poor half-Spanish drones ? Jest go home an' ask our Nancy Wether I'd be sech a goose Ez to jine ye, — guess you'd fancy The etarnal bung wuz loose ! She wants me fer home consumption, Let alone the hay's to mow, — Ef you're arter folks o' gumption. You've a darned long row to hoe. Take them editors thet's crowin' Like a cockerel three months old, — Don't ketch any on 'em goin', Though they be so blasted bold ; Ain't they a prime lot o' fellers? 'Fore they think on't they will sprout (Like a peach thet's got the yellers), With the meanness bustin' out. Wal, go 'long to help *em stealin' Bigger pens to cram with slaves, 146 A LETTER FROM MR. EZEKIEL BIGLOW. Help the men that's oilers dealin' Insults on your fathers' graves ; Help the strong to grind the feeble, Help the many agin the few, Help the men that call your people Witewashed slaves an' peddlin' crew ? Massachusetts, God forgive her, She's akneelin' with the rest. She, thet ough' to ha' clung ferever In her grand old eagle-nest ; She thet ough' to stand so fearless Wile the wracks are round her hurled, Holdin' up a beacon peerless To the oppressed of all the world ! Hain't they sold your colored seamen ? Hain't they made your env'ys wiz ? Wufll make ye act like freemen ? Wufll git your dander riz ? Come, I'll tell ye wut I'm thinkin' Is our dooty in this fix, They'd ha' done 't ez quick ez winkin' In the days o' seventy-six. Clang the bells in every steeple, Call all true men to disown 147 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. The tradoocers of our people, The enslavers o' their own ; Let our dear old Bay State proudly Put the trumpet to her mouth, Let her ring this messidge loudly In the ears of all the South : — " I'll return ye good fer evil Much ez we frail mortils can, But I wun't go help the Devil Makin' man the cuss o' man ; Call me coward, call me traiter, Jest ez suits your mean idees, — Here I stand a tyrant-hater, An' the friend o' God an' Peace ! " Ef I'd my way I hed ruther We should go to work an' part, — They take one way, we take t'other, — Guess it wouldn't break my heart ; Man hed ough' to put asunder Them thet God has noways jined ; An' I shouldn't gretly wonder Ef there's thousands o' my mind. James Russell Lowell. 148 ODE ON A JAR OF PICKLES. 4)be on a 3o. A MAIDEN once, of certain age, To catch a husband did engage ; But, having passed the prime of life In striving to become a wife Without success, she thought it time To mend the follies of her prime. Departing from the usual course Of paint and such like for resource. With all her might this ancient maid Beneath an oak-tree knelt and prayed ; Unconscious that a grave old owl Was perched above — the mousing fowl ! " Oh, give ! a husband give ! " she cried, " While yet I may become a bride ; Soon will my day of grace be o'er. And then, like many maids before, I'll die without an early love, And none to meet me there above ! 177 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. " Oh, 'tis a fate too hard to bear ! Then answer this my humble prayer, And oh, a husband give to me ! " Just then the owl from out the tree. In deep base tones cried, " Who — who — who ! " " Who, Lord ? And dost Thou ask me who ? Why, any one, good Lord, will do." Anonymous. 178 A CURIOUS WANT. (^ Cutiom 13)mt. " Wanted — A man who understands the five-cent restaurant business." — New York Herald Advertise- ment. AX r HAT aggregated wisdom must That fellow be possessed of, Who's fit to seize on such a trust And stand the seasoning test of. No title which the savant flaunts, Nor yet degrees from college, Can probe the five-cent restaurant's Unpenetrated knowledge. Think of the things a man must know To hold this rare position ! How far the average shank should go Before it fills its mission ; How many plates a pound of beef Will yield in five-cent slices ; How much of cabbage, to a leaf, Leaves profit at these prices ; 179 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. How pie-crust gains economy If baked when dry or moister ; How many quarts of soup can be Produced from one fair oyster. And he must be, whate'er betides, More lamblike than his mutton ; Appease the man whose fish-ball hides A too obtrusive button. Explain to those of doubting minds About the butter's color, And reconcile the chap who finds A hairpin in his cruller. Pray, what to him are life's small sums On whom the truth thus flashes — This sage who sees whence sausage comes, Who really knows what hash is ? In short, the Herald's curious want A mighty truth condenses : To run a five-cent restaurant Takes all of man's five senses ! Marc Cook (" Vandyke Brown "). i8o ACCEPTED AND WILL APPEAR. /^NE evening while reclining In my easy-chair, repining O'er the lack of true religion, and the dearth of com- mon sense, A solemn visaged lady. Who was surely on the shady Side of thirty, entered proudly, and to crush me did commence : " I sent a poem here, sir," Said the lady, growing fiercer, " And the subject which I'd chosen, you remember, sir, was ' Spring ; ' But, although I've scanned your paper. Sir, by sunlight, gas, and taper, I've discovered of that poem not a solitary thing." She was muscular and wiry. And her temper sure was fiery. And I knew to pacify her I would have to — fib like fun. i8i AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. So I told her ere her verses, Which were great, had come to — bless us, We'd received just sixty-one on " Spring," of which we'd printed one. And I added, " We've decided That they'd better be divided Among the years that follow — one to each succeed- ing Spring. So your work, I'm pleased to mention. Will receive our best attention In the year of nineteen-forty, when the birds begin to sing." Parmenas Mix. 182 KNITTIN' AT TH' STOCKIN'. ($niUin' at f^' §tocftin\ r^ OSH ! But Phoebe did look sweet! Scrumptious ? I should say so. Hed her ha'r all fixed in kinks That I wished 'ud stay so. Thumpin' on th' floor my hoofs Went, ez I sot rockin' ; She jis' made the yam-ball hum — Knittin' at th' stockin'. Tork was never my bes' holt, Ain't thet kind o' chicken. 'D ruther set 'n' lis' to Pheeb's Needles clickin', clickin' ; Watch her fingers an' her face, Ez I went on rockin', An' she never once looked up — Knittin' at th' stockin'. " Pheeb," at las' I sez, sez I, With my heart a-thumpin'. " Well, what is it, Ab ? " sez she. " Mayn't I tell you sumpin' ? " 183 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. " Lawsey ! What you got to say ? Better go on rockin' ; Reckon I don't keer," she said, Knittin' at th' stockin'. " Waal, I know a feller, Pheeb, What 'ud like to marry, 'N' he'd like to marry you, Sartain ez Ole Harry." Then my breath jis' los' its grip. Worse I went to rockin', " Is he han'sum — rich ? " sez she, Knittin' at th' stockin'. Gee ! But wasn't I sot back ! Rich ? Good lookin' ! Sunday I jis' put on style in clo'es Thet I worked in Monday ! " Guess he's neether, Pheeb," sez I, Ruther narvous rockin' ; '' Dassent tell his name," sez she, Knittin' at th' stockin'. " No — I dassent — 'tain't no use. Things looks blue 'n' yeller ; Ther's no hope for me — I mean. Fur that uther feller." 184 KNITTIN' AT TH' STOCKIN'. " Ab, I knowed that you menntj^ou, Sure ez you'se a rockin'. Ain't you fibbin' now ? " sez she, Knittin' at th' stockin'. '-' Pheeb, you hit th' post first shot." " Why," sez she, " thet's funny." " Funny ? Pheeb, now won't you be Mine in matrimunny ? " " Yes," sed she, *n' then I jumped, Left th' cha'r a-rockin', 'N' I kissed her on th' lips, Ez she toed that stockin'. Americus Wellington Bellaw. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ©of (f ftfig off (Sfltne. IWriNE cracious! Mine cracious! shust look here und see A Deutscher so habby as habby can pe. Der beoples all dink dat no prains I haf got, Vas grazy mit trinking, or someding like dot ; Id vasn't pecause I trinks lager und vine, Id vas all on aggount of dot baby off mine. Dot schmall leedle vellow I dells you vas qveer; Not mooch pigger round as a goot glass off beer, Mit a bare-footed hed, and nose but a schpeck, A mout dot goes most to der pack of his neck, Und his leedle pink toes mid der rest all combine To gife sooch a charm to dot baby off mine. I dells you dot baby vas von off der poys, Und beats little Yawcob for making a noise ; He shust had pegun to shbeak goot English, too, Says, " Mamma," und " Bapa," und somedimes, " ah- goo ! " You don't find a baby den dimes oudt off nine Dot vas qvite so schmart as dot baby off mine. 1 86 DOT BABY OFF MINE. He grawls der vloor over, und drows dings aboudt, Und puts ef ryding he can find in his mout ; He dumbles der shtairs down, und falls vrom his chair, Und gifes mine Katrina von derrible shcare. Mine hair stands like shquills on a mat borcupine Ven I dinks of dose pranks off dot baby off mine. Der vas someding, you pet, I don't likes pooty veil ; To hear in der nighdt-dimes dot young Deutscher yeU, Und dravel der ped-room midout many clo'es, Vhile der chills down der shpine off mine pack quickly goes. Dose leedle shimnasdic dricks vasn't so fine Dot I cuts oop at nighdt mit dot baby off mine. Veil, dese leedle schafers vos goin' to pe men, Und all off dese droubles vill peen ofer den ; Dey vill vear a vhite shirt-vront inshted of a bib, Und vouldn't got tucked oop at nighdt in deir crib. Veil ! veil ! ven I'm feeple und in life's decline. May mine oldt age pe cheered by dot baby off mine. Charles Follen Adams. 187 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. TV /TY love has long brown curls, And blue forget-me-not eyes; She's the beauty of all the girls — But I wish I was twice my size ; Then I could kiss her cheek, Or venture her lips to taste ; But now I only reach to the ribbon She ties around her waist. Chocolate-drop of my heart ! I dare not breathe thy name ; Like a peppermint stick I stand apart In a sweet, but secret flame : When you look down on me, And the tassel atop of my cap, I feel as if something had got in my throat, And was choking against the strap. I passed your garden and there, On the clothes-line, hung a few Pantalettes, and one tall pair Reminded me, love, of you ; ' " The Sparrowgrass Papers." i8S TO MY BIG SWEETHEART. And I thought, as I swung on the gate In the cold, by myself alone, How soon the sweetness of hoarhound dies, But the bitter keeps on and on. Frederick Swartout Cozzens. 189 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Coniusaf Conju^dtione. ■r\EAR maid, let me speak What I never yet spoke : You have made my heart squeak As it never yet squoke, And for sight of you both my eyes ache as they ne'er before oak. With your voice my ears ring, And a sweeter ne'er rung. Like a bird's on the wing When at morn it has wung. And gladness to me it doth bring, such as never voice brung. My feelings I'd write. But they cannot be wrote, And who can indite What was never indote ? And my love I hasten to plight — the first that I plote. Yes, you I would choose, Whom I long ago chose, 190 CONJUGAL CONJUGATIONS. And my fond spirit sues As it never yet sose, And ever on you do I muse, as never man mose. The house where you bide Is a blessed abode ; Sure, my hopes I can't hide. For they will not be hode. And no person living has sighed, as, darling, I've sode. Your glances they shine As no others have shone, And all else I'd resign That a man could resone. And surely no other could pine as I lately have pone. And don't you forget You will ne'er be forgot. You never should fret As at times you have frot, I would chase all the cares that beset, if they ever besot. For you I would weave Songs that never were wove, 191 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And deeds I'd achieve Which no man achove, And for me you never should grieve, as for you I have grove. I'm as worthy a catch As ever was caught. O, your answer I watch As a man never waught, And we'd make the most elegant match as ever was maught. Let my longings not sink ; I would die if they sunk. O, I ask you to think As you never have thunk, And our fortunes and lives let us link, as no lives could be lunk. Americus Wellington Bellaw. 192 THE BALLAD OF THE GREEN OLD MAN. t^e QSftffftb of f^e (Breen dfb (gian. T T was a balmeous day in May, when spring was springing high And all amid the buttercups the bees did butter- fly; While the butterflies were being enraptured in the flowers, And winsome frogs were singing soft morals to the showers. Green were the emerald grasses which grew upon the plain, And green too were the verdant boughs which rippled in the rain. Far green likewise the apple hue which clad the dis- tant hill, But at the station sat a 'man who looked far greener still. An ancient man, a boy-like man, a person mild and meek, A being who had little tongue, and nary bit of cheek. 193 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And while upon him pleasant-like I saw the ladies look, He sat a-counting money in a brownsome pocket- book. Then to him a policeman spoke : " Unless you feel too proud, You'd better stow away that cash while you're in this here crowd ; There's many a chap about this spot who'd clean you out like ten." " And can it be," exclaimed the man, " there are such wicked men ? " Then I will put my greenbacks up all in my pocket- book, And keep it buttoned very tight, and at the button look." He said it with a simple tone, and gave a simple smile — You never saw a half-grown shad one-half so void of guile. And the bumble-bees kept bumbling away among the flowers, While distant frogs were frogging amid the summer showers, 194 THE BALLAD OF THE GREEN OLD MAN. And the tree-toads were tree-toadying in accents sharp or flat — All nature seemed a-naturing as there the old man sat. Then up and down the platform promiscuous he strayed, Amid the waiting passengers he took his lemonade, A-making little kind remarks unto them all at sight. Until he met two travellers who looked cosmopolite. Now even as the old was green, this pair were darkly-brown ; They seemed to be of that degree which sports about the town. Amid terrestrial mice, I ween, their destiny was Cat; If ever men were gonoffs,' I should say these two were that. And they had watched that old man well with inter- ested look. And gazed him counting greenbacks in that brown- some pocket-book ; ' Gonoffs, a Scriptural term JEor a Member of the Legislature, or suchlike. '95 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And the elder softly warbled with benevolential phiz, " Green peas has come to market, and the veg'tables is riz." Yet still across the heavenly sky the clouds went clouding on, The rush upon the gliding brook kept rushing all alone, While the ducks upon the water were a-ducking just the same, And every mortal human man kept on his little game. And the old man to the strangers very affable let slip How that zealousy policeman had given him the tip, And how his cash was buttoned in his pocket dark and dim. And how he guessed no man alive on earth could gammon him. In ardent conversation ere long the three were steeped, And in that good man's confidence the younger party deeped. 196 THE BALLAD OF THE GREEN OLD MAN. The p'liceman, as he shadowed them, exclaimed in blooming rage, "They're stuffin' of that duck, I guess, and leavin' out the sage." He saw the game distinctly, and inspected how it took, And watched the reappearance of that brownsome pocket-book. And how that futile ancient, ere he buttoned up his coat. Had interchanged, obliging-like, a greensome col- oured note. And how they parted tenderly, and how the happy twain Went out into the Infinite by taking of the train ; Then up the blue policeman came, and said, " My ancient son. Now you have gone and did it ; say what have you been and done ? " And unto him the good old man replied with child- ish glee, " They were as nice a two young men as I did ever see; 197 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. But they were in such misery their story made me cry; So I lent 'em twenty dollars — which they'll pay me by and bye. " But as I had no twenty, we also did arrange, They got from me a fifty bill, and gimme thirty change ; But they will send that fifty back, and by to-morrow's train — " " That note," out cried the constable, " you'll never see again." " And that," exclaimed the sweet old man, " I hope I never may, Because I do not care a cuss how far it keeps away; For if I'm a judge of money, and I reether think I am. The one I shoved was never worth a continental dam. "They hev wandered with their sorrers into the sunny South, They hev got uncommon swallows and an extra lot of mouth. 198 THE BALLAD OF THE GREEN OLD MAN. In the next train to the North'ard I expect to widely roam, And if any come inquirin', jist say I ain't at home." The p'liceman lifted up his glance unto the sunny skies, I s'pose the light was fervent, for a tear were in his eyes. And said, " If in your travels a hat store you should see. Just buy yourself a beaver tile and charge that tile to me." While the robins were a-robbing acrost the meadow gay, And the pigeons still a-pigeoning among the gleam of May, All out of doors kept out of doors as suchlike only can, A-singing of an endless hymn about that good old man. Charles Godfrey Leland. 199 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. "\1 rHEN deeply in love with Miss Emily Pryne, I vowed, if the maiden would only be mine, I would always endeavor to please her. She blushed her consent, though the stuttering lass Said never a word except " You 're an ass — An ass — an ass-iduous teaser ! " But when we were married, I found to my ruth, The stammering lady had spoken the truth ; For often, in obvious dudgeon. She'd say if I ventured to give her a jog In the way of reproof — " You're a dog — you're a dog — A dog — a dog-matic curmudgeon ! " And once when I said, " We can hardly afford This extravagant style, with our moderate hoard," And hinted we ought to be wiser, She looked, I assure you, exceedingly blue, And fretfully cried, " You're a Jew — you're a Jew — A very ju-dicious adviser ! " THE STUTTERING LASS. Again, when it happened that, wishing to shirk Some rather unpleasant and arduous work, I begged her to go to a neighbor, She wanted to know why I made such a fuss, And saucily said, " You're a cus — cus — cus — You were always ac-cus-tomed to labor ! " Out of temper at last with the insolent dame. And feeling that madame was greatly to blame To scold me instead of caressing, I mimicked her speech — like a churl that I am — And angrily said, "You're a dam — dam — dam — A dam-age instead of a blessing ! " John Godfrey Saxe. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ^00 (Breftf ft ^actrifice. 'T'HE maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty thousand dollars made so dear. To test Lothario's passion, simply said : " Forego the weed before we go to wed. For smoke take flame; I'll be that flame's bright fanner : To have your Anna, give up your Havana." But he, when thus she brought him to the scratch, Lit his cigar, and threw away his match. Anonymous. THE BALLAD OF HIRAM HOVER. t^e (gafta^ of ^ivam gotoet.' AFTER J G W . AITHERE the Moosatockmaguntic Pours its waters in the Skuntic, Met, along the forest-side, Hiram Hover, Huldah Hyde. She, a maiden fair and dapper. He, a red-haired, stalwart trapper. Hunting beaver, mink, and skunk. In the woodlands of Squeedunk. She, Pentucket's pensive daughter, Walked beside the Skuntic water, Gathering, in her apron wet, Snakeroot, mint, and bouncing-bet. " Why," he murmured, loath to leave her, " Gather yarbs for chills and fever, When a lovyer, bold and true. Only waits to gather you ? " '"The Echo Club." 203 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. " Go," she answered, " I'm not hasty; I prefer a man more tasty : Leastways, one to please me well Should not have a beasty smell." " Haughty Huldah ! " Hiram answered ; " Mind and heart alike are cancered : Jest look here ! these peltries give Cash, wherefrom a pair may live. " I, you think, am but a vagrant, Trapping beasts by no means fragrant ; Yet — I'm sure it's worth a thank — I've a handsome sum in bank." Turned and vanished Hiram Hover ; And before the year was over, Huldah, with the yarbs she sold, Bought a cape, against the cold. Black and thick the furry cape was ; Of a stylish cut the shape was ; And the girls in all the town. Envied Huldah up and down. Then, at last, one winter morning, Hiram came, without a warning: 204 THE BALLAD OF HIRAM HOVER. " Either," said he, " you are blind, Huldah, or you've changed your mind. " Me you snub for trapping varmints. Yet you take the skins for garments : Since you wear the skunk and mink, There's no harm in me, I think." " Well," said she, " we will not quarrel Hiram : I accept the moral. Now the fashion's so, I guess, I can't hardly do no less." Thus the trouble all was over Of the love of Hiram Hover ; Thus he made sweet Huldah Hyde Huldah Hover, as his bride. Love employs, with equal favor, Things of good and evil savor ; That, which first appeared to part. Warmed, at last, the maiden's heart. Under one impartial banner, Life, the hunter. Love, the tanner, Draw, from every beast they snare. Comfort for a wedded pair ! Bayard Taylor. 205 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. (Published 1796.) CANTO I. ■y/'E Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise To cramp the day and hide me from the skies ; Ye Gallic flags, that o'er their heights unfurl'd, Bear death to kings and freedom to the world, I sing not you. A softer theme I choose, A virgin theme, unconscious of the muse. But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire The purest frenzy of poetic fire. Despise it not, ye bards to terror steel'd. Who hurl your thunders round the epic field ; Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing Joys that the vineyard and the stillhouse bring ; Or on some distant fair your notes employ. And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy. I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel, My morning incense, and my evening meal. The sweets of Hasty Pudding. Come, dear bowl, ^ Somewhat abridged. 206 THE HASTY PUDDING. Glide o'er my palate and inspire ray soul. The milk beside thee, smoking from the kine, Its substance mingled, married in with thine. Shall cool and temper thy superior heat, And save the pains of blowing while I eat. Oh ! could the smooth, the emblematic song, Flow like thy genial juices o'er my tongue, Could those mild morsels in my numbers chime, And, as they roll in substance, roll in rhyme, No more thy awkward, unpoetic name Should shun the muse, or prejudice thy fame; But, rising grateful to the accustom'd ear, All bards should catch it, and all realms revere. Assist me first with pious toil to trace, Through wrecks of time, thy lineage and thy race ; Declare what lovely squaw, in days of yore, (Ere great Columbus sought thy native shore,) First gave thee to the world ; her works of fame Have lived indeed, but lived without a name. Some tawny Ceres, goddess of her days. First leam'd with stones to crack the well-dried maize. Through the rough sieve to shake the golden shower. In boiling water stir the yellow flour ; The yellow flour, bestrew'd and stirr'd with haste, Swells in the flood, and thickens to a paste. Then puffs and wallops, rises to the brim, 207 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Drinks the dry knobs that on the surface swim ; The knobs at last the busy ladle breaks, And the whole mass its true consistence takes. CANTO II. To mix the food by vicious rules of art, To kill the stomach and to sink the heart, To make mankind to social virtue sour. Cram o'er each dish, and be what they devour ; For this the kitchen muse first framed her book. Commanding sweat to stream from every cook ; Children no more their antic gambols tried, And friends to physic wonder'd why they died. Not so the Yankee ; his abundant feast With simples furnish'd, and with plainness dress'd, A numerous offspring gathers round the board. And cheers alike the servant and the lord. Whose well-bought hunger prompts the joyous taste. And health attends them from the short repast. While the full pail rewards the milkmaid's toil, The mother sees the morning caldron boil : To stir the pudding next demands their care, To spread the table, and the bowls prepare ; To feed the children as their portions cool. And comb their heads and send them off to school. 208 THE HASTY PUDDING. Some with molasses line the luscious, treat, And mix, like bards, the useful with the sweet. A wholesome dish and well deserving praise, A great resource in those bleak, wintry days When the chill'd earth lies buried deep in snow, And raging Boreas drives the shivering cow. Bless'd cow ! thy praise shall still my notes em- ploy. Great source of health, the only source of joy ; How oft thy teats these precious hands have press'd ! How oft thy bounties proved my only feast ! How oft I've fed thee with my favorite grain ! And roar'd, like thee, to find thy children slain ! Ye swains, who know her various worth to prize, Ah ! house her well from winter's angry skies. Potatoes, pumpkins, should her sadness cheer, Corn from your crib, and mashes from your beer ; When spring returns she'll well acquit the loan. And nurse at once your infants and her own. Milk then with pudding I would always choose ; To this in future I confine my muse, Till she in haste some further hints unfold, Well for the young, nor useless to the old. First in your bowl the milk abundant take, Then drop with care along the silver lake Your flakes of pudding ; these at first will hide 209 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Their little bulk beneath the swelling tide ; But when their growing mass no more can sink, When the soft island looms above the brink, Then check your hand; you've got the portion due; So taught our sires, and what they taught is true. Joel Barlow. THE AMERICAN TRAVELLER. $$e (American ^tatoeffer. 'T'O Lake Aghmoogenegamook All in the State of Maine, A man from Wittequergaugaum came One evening in the rain. " I am a traveller," said he, " Just started on a tour, And go to Nomjamskillicook To-morrow morn at four." He took a tavern-bed that night, And, with the morrow's sun. By way of Sekledobskus went, With carpet-bag and gun. A week passed on, and next we find Our native tourist come To that sequestered village called Genasagarnagum. From thence he went to Absequoit, And there — quite tired of Maine — AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. He sought the mountains of Vermont, Upon a railroad train. Dog Hollow, in the Green Mount State, Was his first stopping-place ; And then Skunk's Misery displayed Its sweetness and its grace. By easy stages then he went To visit Devil's Den ; And Scrabble Hollow, by the way, Did come within his ken. Then via Nine Holes and Goose Green He travelled through the State ; And to Virginia, finally. Was guided by his fate. Within the Old Dominion's bounds. He wandered up and down ; To-day, at Buzzard Roost ensconced. To-morrow, at Hell Town. At Pole Cat, too, he spent a week. Till friends from Bull Ring came. And made him spend a day with them In hunting forest-game. THE AMERICAN TRAVELLER. Then, with his carpet-bag in hand, To Dog Town next he went ; Though stopping at Free Negro Town, Where half a day he spent. From thence, into Negationburg His route of travel lay ; Which having gained, he left the State, And took a southward way. North Carolina's friendly soil He trod at fall of night. And, on a bed of softest down, He slept at Hell's Delight. Morn found him on the road again, To Lousy Level bound ; At Bull's Tail, and Lick Lizard, too, Good provender he found. The country all about Pinch Gut So beautiful did seem That the beholder thought it like A picture in a dream. But the plantations near Burnt Coat Were even finer still, 213 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And made the wondering tourist feel A soft, delicious thrill. At Tear Shirt, too, the scenery Most charming did appear. With Snatch It in the distance far, And Purgatory near. But, spite of all these pleasant scenes, The tourist stoutly swore That home is brightest, after all, And travel is a bore. So back he went to Maine, straightway ; A litfle wife he took ; And now is making Nutmegs at Moosehicmagunticook. Robert Henry Newell. 214 THE MASHER. TT was in the Indian summer-time, when life is tender brown, And people in the country talk of going into town, When the nights are crisp and cooling, though the sun is warm by day. In the home-like town of Glasgow, in the State of Iowa; It was in the railroad deep6 of that greatly favored zone. That a young man met a stranger, who was still not all unknown, For they had run-countered casual in riding in the car, And the latter to the previous had offered a cigar. Now as the primal gentleman was nominated Gale, It follows that the secondary man was Mr. Dale; This is called poetic justice when arrangements fit in time. And Fate allows the titles to accommodate in rhyme. 215 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And a lovely sense of autumn seemed to warble in the air ; Boys with baskets selling peaches were vibratin' everywhere, While in the mellow distance folks were gettin' in their corn, And the biggest yellow punkins ever seen since you were born. Now a gradual sensation emotioned this our Gale, That he'd seldom seen so fine a man for cheek as Mr. Dale : Yet simultaneous he felt that he was all the while The biggest dude and cock-a-hoop within a hundred mile. For the usual expression of his quite enormous eyes Was that of two ripe gooseberries who've been decreed a prize ; Like a goose apart from berries, too — though not removed from sauce — He conversed on lovely Woman as if he were all her boss. Till, in fact, he stated plainly that, between his face and cash. There was not a lady living whom he was not sure to mash ; 216 THE MASHER. The wealthiest, the loveliest, of families sublime, At just a single look from him must all give in in time. Now when our Dale had got along so far upon the strain. They saw a Dream of Loveliness descending from the train, A proud and queenly beauty of a transcendental face, With gloves unto her shoulders, and the most expen- sive lace. All Baltimore and New Orleans seemed centred into one. As if their stars of beauty had been fused into a sun ; But, oh ! her frosty dignity expressed a kind of glow Like sunshine when thermometers show thirty grades below. But it flashed a gleam of shrewdness into the head of Gale, And with aggravatin' humor he exclaimed to Mr. Dale, " Since every girl's a cricket-ball and you're the only bat, If you want to show you're champion, go in and mash on that. 217 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. " I will bet a thousand dollars, and plank them on the rub, That if you try it thither, you will catch a lofty snub. I don't mean but what a lady may reply to what you say. But I bet you cannot win her into wedding in a day." A singular emotion enveloped Mr. Dale ; One would say he seemed confuseled, for his counte- nance was pale : At first there came an angry look, and when that look did get. He larft a wild and hollow larf, and said, -' I take the bet. " The brave deserve the lovely — every woman may be won ; What men have fixed before us may by other men be done. You will lose your thousand dollars. For the first time in my life I have gazed upon a woman whom I wish to make my wife.'' Like a terrier at a rabbit, with his hat upon his eyes Mr. Dale, the awful masher, went head-longing at the prize, 2l8 THE MASHER. Looking rather like a party simply bent to break the peace. Mr. Gale, with smiles, expected just a yell for the police. Oh ! what are women made of ? Oh ! what can women be ? From Eves to Jersey Lilies what bewildering sights we see ! One listened on the instant to all the Serpent said ; The other paid attention right away to Floral Ned. With a blow as with a hammer the intruder broke the ice, And the proud and queenly beauty seemed to think it awful nice. Mr. Gale, as he beheld it, with a trembling heart began To realize he really was a most astonished man. Shall I tell you how he wooed her ? Shall I tell you how he won ? How they had a hasty wedding ere the evening was done? For when all things were considered, the fond couple thought it best — Such things are not uncommon in the wild and rapid West. 219 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Dale obtained the thousand dollars, and then van- ished with the dream. Gale stayed in town with sorrow, like a spoon behind the cream ; Till one morning in the paper he read, though not in rhymes. How a certain blooming couple had been married fifty times ! How they wandered o'er the country ; how the bride- groom used to bet He would wed the girl that evening, — how he always pulled the debt ; How his eyes were large and greensome ; how, in fact, to end the tale. Their very latest victim was a fine young man named Gale. Charles Godfrey Leland. CONSTANCY. Constancy. " VT'OU gave me the key of your heart, my love; Then why do you make me knock? " " Oh, that was yesterday. Saints above ! And last night — I changed the lock ! " John Boyle O'Reilly. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. t^6 (gdoti. /^LD NICK, who taught the village school, ^^^ Wedded a maid of homespun habit ; He was as stubborn as a mule, She was as playful as a rabbit. Poor Jane had scarce become a wife. Before her husband sought to make her The pink of country-polished life. And prim and formal as a Quaker. One day the tutor went abroad, And simple Jenny sadly missed him ; When he returned, behind her lord She slyly stole, and fondly kissed him ! The husband's anger rose ! — and red And white his face alternate grew ! " Less freedom, ma'am ! " Jane sighed and said, " OA, dear! I didn't know ''twas you .' " George Pope Morris. EPIGRAM. TO A YOUNG LADY WHO ASKED FOR HIS NAME IN HER ALBUM. "Y7"0U ask for my name! ah, dear madam, you palter With the hopes I have felt, as you well understand. If you wish for my name, it is yours at the altar: I'll give you my name when you give me your hand. Charles Graham Halpine. » From ".Lyrics by the Letter H," 1854. 223 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Century Magazine. "Vf OPE, I reckon 'tain't no problem why our Sammy went away : Farrain' ain't no great inducement fer a' active boy to stay ; There's a pack o' pesky troubles scattered all along the road, And a feller gets roun'-shouldered sorter pickin' up the load. Poets sing the " independence of a farmer's life," of course ; But the bulk o' them there poets never drove a balky horse, Never tried to cure his habit with some new-dis- covered rule, Ner to break the brute from kickin', ner to trade him fer a mule. I'd jest like to see a poet come a-strayin' up this road Some day when ol' Bill is balkin' an' we're pitchin' off the load ; 224 WHY SAMMY LEFT THE FARM. He might make me up some meters thet 'u'd start the cuss ; an' then He c'u'd try his hand at stanzies thet 'u'd break a settin' hen, — Somethin' better than a banner of red flannel to her tail, — Er an ode to stop her scratchin' when ol' stockin'-feet 'u'd fail. He might borry inspiration fer a' epic, an' indite Somethin' better than a hoss-trough to break up a rooster fight. He c'u'd write a master sonnet that 'u'd keep the tramps away ; He might cure the cow of jumpin' with some never- failin' lay, Er her tarnal tail from switchin' when it comes to milkin'-time ; Er discourage hawks and varmints with some new an' fatal rhyme. I would set him to composin' in the " pearly dews of morn " Somethin' better than a scarecrow to pertect the early corn, 225 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Er a goose-yoke fer the medders, er than rings fer rootin' hogs, Somethin' hotter than red pepper ez a cure fer suck- aig dogs. Mebbe he c'u'd stop a freshet with his stanzies, an' again, In the scorchin' drouth of August he might fetch a soakin' rain ; An' we'd welcome that there poet with a most re- joicin' shout If he'd make us up some po'try that 'u'd knock the chinch-bugs out. Nope, it ain't no special problem why our Sammy went away : Boys thet's seen the things I've spoke of ain't a-hankerin' to stay ; An' we're not a-blamin' Sammy, after all is said an' done, Fer he got chock-full o' po'try 'fore he got to twenty- one. Ner fer takin' it to market to dispose of it, you see; An' he's printin' it in papers, which he's sendin' home to me; 226 WHY SAMMY LEFT THE FARM. An' when mother sets and reads 'em out, I tell her, with a laugh, That 1 wish he'd write a poem thet 'u'd break our suckin' calf. Albert Bigelow Paine. 227 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. A REMINISCENCE OF " THE LATE ONPLEASANT- NESS." A S vonce I valked by a dismal swamp, There sot an Old Cove in the darlc and damp, And at everybody as passed that road A stick or a stone this Old Cove throwed ; And venever he flung his stick or his stone, He'd set up a song of " Let me alone." " Let me alone, for I loves to shy These bits of things at the passers-by ; Let me alone, for I've got your tin. And lots of other traps snugly in ; Let me alone, — I am rigging a boat To grab votever you've got afloat ; In a veek or so I expects to come And turn you out of your 'ouse and 'ome ; I'm a quiet Old Cove,'' says he, with a groan; " All I axes is. Let me alone." Just then came along, on the self-same vay, Another Old Cove, and began for to say, — 228 LET US ALONE. " Let you alone ! That's comin' it strong ! You've ben let alone - — a darned site too long ! Of all the sarce that ever I heerd ! Put down that stick ! (You may well look skeered.) Let go that stone ! If you once show fight, I'll knock you higher than any kite. You must have a lesson to stop your tricks, And cure you of shying them stones and sticks ; And I'll have my hardware back, and my cash, And knock your scow into tarnal smash ; And if ever I catches you round my ranch, I'll string you up to the nearest branch. The best you can do is to go to bed. And keep a decent tongue in your head ; For I reckon, before you and I are done, You'll wish you had let honest folks alone.'' The Old Cove stopped, and t'other Old Cove, He sot quite still in his cypress grove. And he looked at his stick, revolvin' slow, Vether 'twere safe to shy it, or no ; And he grumbled on, in an injured tone, " All that I axed vos. Let me alone." Henry Howard Brownell. 229 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. T»»oJ» Q^e^oft fo (Eftieif ^nifffea.' /^ REVEREND sir, I do declare ^■'^ It drives me most to frenzy, To think of you a-lying there Down sick with influenzy. ' A body 'd thought it was enough To mourn your wife's departer, Without sich trouble as this ere To come a-foUerin' arter. But sickness and affliction Are sent by a wise creation, And always ought to be underwent By patience and resignation. O, I could to your bedside fly, And wipe your weeping eyes, And do my best to cure you up, If 'twouldn't create surprise. It's a world of trouble we tarry in. But, Elder, don't despair ; ■ From "The Widow Bedott Papers." 230 WIDOW BEDOTT TO ELDER SNIFFLES. That you may soon be movin' again Is constantly my prayer. Both sick and well, you may depend You'll never be forgot By your faithful and affectionate friend, Priscilla Pool Bedott, Frances Miriam Whitcher. 231 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. «0e m A RHYME FOR CHILDREN. "D ABY Bye, Here's a fly : Let us watch him, you and I. How he crawls Up the walls — Yet he never falls ! I believe, with those six legs. You and I could walk on eggs ! There he goes, On his toes, Tickling Baby's nose ! Spots of red Dot his head : Rainbows on his wings are spread ! That small speck Is his neck ; See him nod and beck ! I can show you, if you choose. Where to look to find his shoes: 232 THE FLY. Three small pairs Made of hairs — These he always wears. Black and brown Is his gown ; He can wear it upside down I It is laced Round his waist; I admire his taste. Pretty as his clothes are made, He will spoil them, I'm afraid. If to-night He gets sight Of the candle-light ! In the sun Webs are spun : What if he gets into one ! When it rains He complains On the window-panes. Tongues to talk have you and I ; God has given the little Fly No such things ; So he sings With his buzzing wings. 233 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. He can eat Bread and meat ; See his mouth between his feet ! On his back Hangs a sack, Like a peddler's pack. Does the Baby understand ? Then the Fly shall kiss her hand ! Put a crumb On her thumb : Maybe he will come ! Round and round, On the ground, On the ceiling he is found. Catch him? No: Let him go : Never hurt him so ! Now you see his wings of silk Drabbled in the Baby's milk ! Fie, oh, fie ! Foolish Fly ! How will he get dry ? All wet flies Twist their thighs, So they wipe their heads and eyes. 234 THE FLY. Cats, you know, Wash just so : Then their whiskers grow. Flies have hair too short to comb ! Flies go barehead out from home ! But the Gnat Wears a hat : Do you laugh at that ? Flies can see More than we — So how bright their eyes must be ! Little Fly, Mind your eye — Spiders are near by! Now a secret let me tell : Spiders will not treat you well ! So I say Heed your way ! Little Fly, good day ! Theodore Tilton. 23s AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. 3[tttte 21rf. Century Magazine. C AID he: " Did you recollect, my dear, That this is the longest day in the year. And so happy a one, that I'll never regret it?" " I did know," said she, " but you made me forget it ! " George Birdseye. 236 REFLECTIONS ON CLEOPATHERA'S NEEDLE. (geffecftottg on Cfeopaf^erft's (lleeWe. CO that's Cleopathera's Needle, bedad, An' a quare lookin' needle it is, I'll be bound ; What a powerful muscle the queen must have had That could grasp such a weapon an' wind it around ! Imagine her sittin' there stitchin' like mad Wld a needle like that in her hand ! I declare It's as big as the Round Tower of Slane, an', bedad, It would pass for a round tower, only it's square ! The taste of her, ordherin' a needle of granite ! Begorra, the sight of it sthrikes me quite dumb ! An' look at the quare sort of figures upon it; I wondher can these be the thracks of her thumb ! I once was astonished to hear of the faste Cleopathera made upon pearls ; but now I declare, I would not be surprised in the laste If ye told me the woman had swallowed a cow ! 237 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. It's aisy to see why bould Cjesar should quail In her presence an' meekly submit to her rule ; Wid a weapon like that in her fist I'll go bail She could frighten the sowl out of big Finn Mac Cool ! But, Lord, what poor pigmies the women are now. Compared with the monsthers they must have been then! Whin the darlin's in those days would kick up a row. Holy smoke, but it must have been hot for the Just think how a chap that goes courtin' would start If his girl was to prod him wid that in the shins ! I have often seen needles, but bouldly assart That the needle in front of me there takes the O, sweet Cleopathera! I'm sorry you're dead; An' whin lavin' this wondherful needle behind Had ye thought of bequathin' a spool of your thread An' yer thimble an' scissors, it would have been kind. 238 REFLECTIONS ON CLEOPATHERA'S NEEDLE. But pace to your ashes, ye plague of great men, Yer strenth is departed, yer glory is past ; Ye'll never wield sceptre or needle again, An' a poor little asp did yer bizzness at last ! CORMAC O'Leary, 239 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. /^NE morning when Spring was in her teens - ^""^ A morn to a poet's wishing, All tinted in delicate pinks and greens — Miss Bessie and I went fishing. I in my rough and easy clothes, With my face at the sun-tan's mercy; She with her hat tipped down to her nose, And her nose tipped — vice versa. I with my rod, my reel, and my hooks. And a hamper for lunching recesses ; She with the bait of her comely looks. And the seine of her golden tresses. So we sat us down on the sunny dike. Where the white pond-lilies teeter. And I went to fishing like quaint old Ike, And she like Simon Peter. All the noon I lay in the light of her eyes. And dreamily watched and waited, 240 TWO FISHERS. But the fish were cunning and would not rise, And the baiter alone was baited. And when the time of departure came, My bag hung flat as a flounder ; But Bessie had neatly hooked her game — A hundred-and-fifty-pounder. Anonymous. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. (^g Sfttnififttf. A GAIN I hear that creaking step — He's rapping at the door ! — Too well I know the boding sound That ushers in a bore. I do not tremble when I meet The stoutest of my foes, But Heaven defend me from the friend Who comes — but never goes ! He drops into my easy chair, And asks about the news ; He peers into my manuscript, And gives his candid views ; He tells me where he likes the line, And where he's forced to grieve ; He takes the strangest liberties, — But never takes his leave ! He reads my daily paper through Before I've seen a word; He scans the lyric (that I wrote) And thinks it quite absurd ; 242 My familiar. He calmly smokes my last cigar, And coolly asks for more ; He opens everything he sees — Except the entry door ! He talks about his fragile health, And tells me of his pains ; He suffers from a score of ills Of which he ne'er complains ; And how he struggled once with death To keep the fiend at bay ; On themes like those away he goes — But never goes away ! He tells me of the carping words Some shallow critic wrote ; And every precious paragraph Familiarly can quote ; He thinks the writer did me wrong ; He'd like to run him through ! He says a thousand pleasant things — But never says " Adieu ! " Whene'er he comes — that dreadful man - Disguise it as I may, I know that, like an Autumn rain. He'll last throughout the day. 243 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. In vain I speak of urgent tasks ; In vain I scowl and pout ; A frown is no extinguisher, — It does not put him out ! I mean to take the knocker off, Put crape upon the door, Or hint to John that I am gone To stay a month or more. I do not tremble when I meet The stoutest of my foes. But Heaven defend me from the friend Who never, never goes ! John Godfrey Saxe. 244 SIMILAR CASES. ^imifftr Cases. 'T'HERE was once a little animal, No bigger than a fox, And on five toes he scampered Over Tertiary rocks. They called him Eohippus, And they called him very small, And they thought him of no value — When they thought of him at all ; For the lumpish old Dinoceras And Coryphodon so slow Were the heavy aristocracy In days of long ago. Said the little Eohippus, " I am going to be a horse ! And on my middle finger-nails To run my earthly course ! I'm going to have a flowing tail ! I'm going to have a mane ! I'm going to stand fourteen hands high On the psychozoic plain ! " 245 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. The Coryphodon was horrified, The Dinoceras was shocked ; And they chased young Eohippus, But he skipped away and mocked. Then they laughed enormous laughter, And they groaned enormous groans. And they bade young Eohippus Go view his father's bones. Said they, " You always were as small And mean as now we see, And that's conclusive evidence That you're always going to be. What ! Be a great, tall, handsome beast. With hoofs to gallop on ? Why ! You'd have to change your nature ! " Said the Loxolophodon. They considered him disposed of. And retired with gait serene ; That was the way they argued In " the early Eocene." There was once an Anthropoidal Ape, Far smarter than the rest, And everything that they could do He always did the best ; So they naturally disliked him. And they gave him shoulders cool, 246 SIMILAR CASES. And when they had to mention him They said he was a fool. Cried this pretentious Ape one day, " I'm going to be a Man ! And stand upright, and hunt, and fight, And conquer all I can ! I'm going to cut down forest trees, To make my houses higher ! I'm going to kill the Mastodon! I'm going to make a fire ! " Loud screamed the Anthropoidal Apes With laughter wild and gay ; They tried to catch that boastful one, But he always got away. So they yelled at him in chorus, Which he minded not a whit; And they pelted him with cocoanuts, Which didn't seem to hit. And then they gave him reasons Which they thought of much avail. To prove how his preposterous Attempt was sure to fail. Said the sages, " In the first place. The thing cannot be done ! And, second, if it could be, 247 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. It would not be any fun ! And, third, and most conclusive. And admitting no reply, You would have to change your nature ! We should like to see you try ! " They chuckled then triumphantly. These lean and hairy shapes, For these things passed as arguments With the Anthropoidal Apes. There was once a Neolithic Man, An enterprising wight. Who made his chopping implements Unusually bright. Unusually clever he. Unusually brave. And he drew delightful Mammoths On the borders of his cave. To his Neolithic neighbors. Who were startled and surprised. Said he, " My friends, in course of time, We shall be civilized ! We are going to live in cities ! We are going to fight in wars ! We are going to eat three times a day Without the natural cause ! We are going to turn life upside down 248 SIMILAR CASES. About a thing called gold ! We are going to want the earth, and take As much as we can hold ! We are going to wear great piles of stuff Outside our proper skins ! We are going to have Diseases ! And Accomplishments ! ! And Sins ! ! ! Then they all rose up in fury Against their boastful friend, For prehistoric patience Cometh quickly to an end. Said one, " This is chimerical ! Utopian ! Absurd ! " Said another, " What a stupid life ! Too dull, upon my word ! " Cried all, '' Before such things can come, You idiotic child, You must alter Human Nature ! " And they all sat back and smiled. Thought they, " An answer to that last It will be hard to find ! " It was a clinching argument To the Neolithic Mind ! Charlotte Perkins Stetson. 249 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. to f^e (;j)fiocene ^ftuff. A GEOLOGICAL ADDRESS. " CPEAK, O man, less recent! Fragmentary '-^ fossil ! Primal pioneer of pliocene formation, Hid in lowest drifts below the earliest stratum Of volcanic tufa ! " Older than the beasts, the oldest Palaeotherium ; Older than the trees, the oldest Cryptogami ; Older than the hUls, those infantile eruptions Of earth's epidermis ! " Eo — Mio — Plio — whatsoe'er the 'cene' was That those vacant sockets filled with awe and wonder, — Whether shores Devonian or Silurian beaches, — Tell us thy strange story ! " Or has the professor slightly antedated By some thousand years thy advent on this planet. Giving thee an air that's somewhat better fitted For cold-blooded creatures ? 250 TO THE PLIOCENE SKULL. «' Wert thou true spectator of that mighty forest When above thy head the stately Sigillaria Reared its columned trunks in that remote and distant Carboniferous epoch ? " Tell us of that scene, — the dim and watery wood- land Songless, silent, hushed, with never bird or insect Veiled with spreading fronds and screened with tall club-mosses, Lycopodiacea, — " When beside thee walked the solemn Plesiosaurus, And around thee crept the festive Ichthyosaurus, While from time to time above thee flew and circled Cheerful Pterodactyls. " Tell us of thy food, — these half-marine reflections, Crinoids on the shell and Brachipods au naturel, — Cuttle-fish to which the pieuvre of Victor Hugo Seems a periwinkle. « Speak, thou awful vestige of the Earth's creation, — Solitary fragment of remains organic ! Tell the wondrous secret of thy past existence, — Speak ! thou oldest primate ! " 251 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Even as I gazed, a thrill of the maxilla, And a lateral movement of the condyloid process, With post-pliocene sounds of healthy mastication. Ground the teeth together. And, from that imperfect dental exhibition, Stained with expressed juices of the weed Nicotian, Came these hollow accents, blent with softer mur- murs Of expectoration : "Which my name is Bowers, and my crust was busted Falling down a shaft in Calaveras County, But I'd take it kindly if you'd send the pieces Home to old Missouri ! " Bret Harte. 252 WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS. T370ftf (^r. QJoBingon t^intta. f~^ UVENER B. is a sensible man ; He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks ; He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can, An' into nobody's tater-patch pokes ; But John P. Robinson he Sez he wun't vote fer Guvener B. My ! ain't it terrible ? Wut shall we du ? We can't never choose him o' course, — that's flat ; Guess we shall hev to come round (don't you ? ) An' go in fer thunder an' guns, an' all that ; Fer John P. Robinson he Sez he wun't vote fer Guvener B. Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man : He's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf ; But consistency still wuz a part of his plan, — He's ben true to one party, — an' thet is him- self ; — 253 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. So John P. Robinson he Sez he shall vote far Gineral C. Gineral C. he goes in fer the war ; He don't vally principle more'n an old cud; Wut did God make us raytional creeturs fer, But glory an' gunpowder, plunder an' blood ? So John P. Robinson he Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. We were gittin' on nicely up here to our village, With good old idees o' wut's right an' wut ain't. We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage, An' thet eppyletts worn't the best mark of a saint ; But John P. Robinson he Sez this kind o' thing's an exploded idee. The side of our country must oUers be took. An' President Polk, you know, he is our country. An' the angel thet writes all our sins in a book Puts the debit to him, an' to us the/^r contry ; An' John P. Robinson he Sez this is his view o' the thing to a T. 254 WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS. Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies ; Sez they're nothin' on airth but ]e,st fee, fawj/um : An' thet all this big talk of our destinies Is half on it ign'ance, an' t'other half rum ; But John P. Robinson he Sez it ain't no sech thing ; an', of course, so must we. Parson Wilbur sez Ae never heerd in his life Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats,- An' marched round in front of a drum an' a fife, To git some on 'em office, and some on 'em votes ; But John P. Robinson he Sez they didn't know everythin' down in Judee. Wal, it's a marcy we've gut folks to tell us The rights an' the wrongs o' these matters, I vow, — God sends country lawyers, an' other wise fellers. To start the world's team wen it gits in a slough ; Fer John P. Robinson he Sez the world'll go right, ef he hollers out Gee ! James Russell Lowell. 255 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. C HE sits in a fashionable parlor, And rocks in her easy chair ; She is clad in silks and satins, And jewels are in her hair ; She winks and giggles and simpers, And simpers and giggles and winks ; And though she talks but little, 'Tis a good deal more than she thinks. She lies abed in the morning Till nearly the hour of noon, Then comes down snapping and snarling Because she was called so soon ; Her hair is stiU in papers. Her cheeks still fresh with paint, — Remains of her last night's blushes. Before she intended to faint. She dotes upon men unshaven. And men with " flowing hair ; " She's eloquent over mustaches. They give such a foreign air. 256 TKE MODERN BELLE. She talks of Italian music, And falls in love with the moon ; And, if a mouse were to meet her. She would sink away in a swoon. Her feet are so very little. Her hands are so very white, Her jewels so very heavy, And her head so very light ; Her color is made of cosmetics (Though this she will never own). Her body is made mostly of cotton. Her heart is made wholly of stone. She falls in love with a fellow Who swells with a foreign air ; He marries her for her money. She marries him for his hair ! One of the very best matches, — Both are well mated in life ; She's got a fool for a husband. He's got a fool for a wife ! Anonymous. 257 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. TV /r Y worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott, From business snug withdrawn, Was much contented with a lot That would contain a Tudor cot 'Twixt twelve feet square of garden-plot, And twelve feet more of lawn. He had laid business on the shelf To give his taste expansion. And, since no man, retired with pelf. The building mania can shun, Knott, being middle-aged himself. Resolved to build (unhappy elf ! ) A mediaeval mansion. He called an architect in counsel ; " I want," said he, "a — you know what, (You are a builder, I am Knott,) A thing complete from chimney-pot Down to the very grounsel ; Here's a half-acre of good land ; » From " The Unhappy Lot of Mr. Knott." 258 THE NEW HOUSE. Just have it nicely mapped and planned And make your workmen drive on ; Meadow there is, and upland too, And I should like a water-view, D'you think you could contrive one ? (Perhaps the pump and trough would do, If painted a judicious blue ? ) The woodland I've attended to ; " (He meant three pines stuck up askew, Two dead ones and a live one.) " A pocket-full of rocks 'twould take To build a house of freestone. But then it is not hard to make What nowadays is the stone ; The cunning painter in a trice Your house's outside petrifies. And people think it very gneiss Without inquiring deeper ; My money never shall be thrown Away on such a deal of stone When stone of deal is cheaper." And so the greenest of antiques Was reared for Knott to dwell in : The architect worked hard for weeks In venting all his private peaks Upon the roof, whose crop of leaks 259 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Had satisfied Fluellen ; Whatever anybody had Out of the common, good or bad, Knott had it all worked well in ; A donjon-keep, where clothes might dry, A porter's lodge that was a sty, A campanile slim and high. Too small to hang a bell in ; All up and down and here and there, With Lord-knows-whats of round and square Stuck on at random everywhere, — It was a house to make one stare. All corners and all gables ; Like dogs let loose upon a bear. Ten emulous styles staboyed with care, The whole among them seemed to tear, And all the oddities to spare Were set upon the stables. Knott was delighted with a pile Approved by fashion's leaders : (Only he made the builder smile, By asking every little while. Why that was called the Twodoor style. Which certainly had three doors ? ) Yet better for this luckless man If he had put a downright ban 260 THE NEW HOUSE. Upon the thing in limini ; For, though to quit affairs his plan, Ere many days, poor Knott began Perforce accepting draughts, that ran All ways — except up chimney ; The house, though painted stone to mock. With nice white lines round every block, Some trepidation stood in, When tempests (with petrific shock, So to speak) made it really rock, Though not a whit less wooden ; And painted stone, howe'er well done, Will not take in the prodigal sun Whose beams are never quite at one With our terrestrial lumber ; So the wood shrank around the knots, And gaped in disconcerting spots, And there were lots of dots and rots And crannies without number. Wherethrough, as you may well presume. The wind, like water through a flume, Came rushing in ecstatic. Leaving, in all three floors, no room That was not a rheumatic. James Russell Lowell. 261 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. {^0 Wonder. " M ^ wonder me darlin' is cross-eyed," Said love-sick young Pat to his mother, « For both of her eyes are so pretty That each wants to look at the other." Frank Tourtellot Easton. 262 A RHYME FOR PRISCILLA. (S- (B^eme fot (Jptfisciffa. T^EAR Priscilla, quaint, and very Like a modern Puritan, Is a modest, literary. Merry young American : Horace she has read, and Bion Is her favorite in Greek ; Shakespeare is a mighty lion In whose den she dares but peek ; Him she leaves to some sage Daniel, Since of lions she's afraid, — She prefers a playful spaniel, Such as Herrick or as Praed ; And it's not a bit satiric To confess her fancy goes From the epic to a lyric On a rose. Wise Priscilla, dilettante. With a sentimental mind. Doesn't deign to dip in Dante, And to Milton isn't kind ; L' Allegro, II Penseroso 263 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Have some merits she will grant, All the rest is only so-so, — Enter Paradise she can't ! She might make a charming angel (And she will if she is good. But it's doubtful if the change'U Make the Epic understood): Honey-suckling, like a bee she Goes and pillages his sweets. And it's plain enough to see she Worships Keats. Gay Priscilla, — just the person For the Locker whom she loves ; What a captivating verse on Her neat-fitting gowns or gloves He could write in catching measure, Setting all the heart astir ! And to Aldrich what a pleasure It would be to sing of her, — He, whose perfect songs have won her Lips to quote them day by day. She repeats the rh)Tnes of Bunner In a fascinating way, And you'll often find her lost in — She has reveries at times — 264 A RHYME FOR PRISCILLA. Some delightful one of Austin Dobson's rhymes. Priscilla, sweet Priscilla, Writing of you makes me think, As I burn my brown Manila And immortalize my ink, How well satisfied these poets Ought to be with what they do When, especially, they know it's Read by such a girl as you : 1 who sing of you would marry Just the kind of girl you are, — One who doesn't care to carry Her poetic taste too far, — One whose fancy is a bright one, Who is fond of poems fine, And appreciates a light one Such as mine. Frank Dempster Sherman. 265 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. T T E sermonized industriously in his didactic way, And moralized momentously with Ephraim every day, And taught by tale and proverb and by every good device The virtuousness of virtue and the viciousness of vice. His hortatory homilies, intended to impress The rightfulness of righteousness, the sin of sinful- ness. Were ever hurled at Ephraim throughout the whole year long. That he might rightly comprehend the wrongfulness of wrong. " A youth can grow up virtuous, if we but pay the price; If we but saturate his soul with showers of advice ; If we instill," said Abraham, "perpetual truth in him — " And so in truth perpetually he soaked young Ephraim. 266 ABRAHAM AND EPHRAIM. The youth absorbed a sermon every morning ere he ate, On the awful reprobation of the awful reprobate ; And he swallowed moral theses that were meant to edify, And he masticated maxims with his gingerbread and pie. And 'twixt breakfast time and dinner the iniquity of sin Was taught to him industriously and patiently rubbed in; The turpidness of turpitude was duly analyzed And the evil of depravity was loudly advertised. And then right after dinner the enormity of crime And the wrong of immortality was preached till supper time. Then Abraham would sermonize through all the evening hours, And drench young Ephraim's consciousness in moral- istic showers. Thus through cumulative precept did old Abraham desire Accumulative virtue should young Ephraim acquire ; 267 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. He taught him virtue endlessly, and waited long to see How superlatively virtuous young Ephraim would be. Thus maxim-goaded Ephraim found righteousness a bore. For salve is but an irritant when jammed into a sore; Even bread is innutritions if you resolutely cram An indiscriminate bakery down the bursting dia- phragm. Thus by hortatory homilies did Abraham impress The wrongfulness of righteousness, the good of sin- fulness ; And taught by tale and proverb and by every good device, The viciousness of virtue and the virtuousness of vice. Hence, Ephraim lived a reckless life and died a felon's death. But gave this vindication with his latest d3dng breath : " I have been sermonized to death ; I die, to speak precise. An unprotected victim of perpetual advice." Sam Walter Foss. 268 A WABAN RIPPLE. (^ TJ7a6an (gijppi^.' T^HE Wellesley girls say, As at vespers they pray : " Help us good maids to be ; Give us patience to wait Till some subsequent date : World without men, — ah me ! " Anonymous. «" Cap and Gown." 269 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. 'HP HE Weverwend Awthur Murway Gween, They say is verwy clevah ; And sister Wuth could heah him pweach, Fohevah and fohevah. And I went down to heah him pweach, With Wuth and my Annette, Upon the bwave, hewoic deaths The ancient mawtahs met ; And as he wepwesented them, In all their acts and feachaws, The ancient mawtahs, dontcherknow ? Were doocid clevah cweachaws. But, aw deah me ! They don't compah In twue hewoic bwavewy. To a bwave hewo fwiend of mine. Young Montmowenci Averwy. He earned foah dollahs everwy week. And not anothah coppah ; But this bwave soul wesolved to dwess Pwe-eminently pwoppah. 270 A MODERN MARTYRDOM. So this was all the food each day, The bwave young cweachaw had — One glaws of milk, a cigawette, Foah cwackers, and some bwead. He lived on foahteen cents a day, And cherwished one great passion : The pwecious pwoject of his soul, Of being dwessed in fashion. But when he'd earned a suit entiah. To his supweme chagwin, Just then did shawt-tailed coats go out. And long-tailed coats come in; But naught could bweak his wigid will. And now, I pway you, note, That he gave up his glaws of milk And bought a long-tailed coat. But then the fashion changed once moah, And bwought a gwievous plight ; It changed from twousers that are loose To twousers that are tight. Then his foah cwackers he gave up, He just wenounced their use ; And changed to twousers that are tight Fwom twousers that are loose. 271 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And then the narwow-toed style shoes To bwoad-toed changed instead ; Then he pwocured a bwoad-toed paih, And gave up eating bwead, Just then the bwoad-bwimmed style of hat To narwow bwims gave way ; And so his twibulations gwew, Incweasing everwy day. But he pwocured a narwow bwim, Of verwy stylish set ; But bwave, bwave soul ! he had to dwop His pwecious cigawette. But now when his whole suit confohmed To fashion's wegulation, For lack of cwackers, milk, and bwead, He perwished of stahvation. Thus in his owah of victowy. He passed on to his west — I weally nevah saw a cawpse So fashionably dwessed. My teahs above his well-dwessed clay Fell like the spwingtime wains ; My eyes had nevah wested on Such pwoppah dwessed wemains. 272 A MODERN MARTYRDOM. The ancient mawtahs — they were gwand And glowious in their day ; But this bwave Montmowenci was As gweat and gwand as they. Sam Walter Foss. 273 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Safife. T^HE mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter " Little Prig ; " Bun replied, " You are doubtless very big ; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together. To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you. You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track ; Talents differ ; all is well and wisely put ; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut." Ralph Waldo Emerson. 274 OLD GRIMES. dfb <0rimeg. /^ LD Grimes is dead ; that good old man We never shall see more : He used to wear a long, black coat, All button'd down before. His heart was open as the day. His feelings all were true ; His hair was some inclined to gray — He wore it in a queue. Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, His breast with pity burn'd ; The large, round head upon his cane From ivory was turn'd. Kind words he ever had for all; He knew no base design : His eyes were dark and rather small, His nose was aquiline. He lived at peace with all mankind, In friendship he was true : 275 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. His coat had pocket-holes behind, His pantaloons were blue. Unharm'd, the sin which earth pollutes He pass'd securely o'er, And never wore a pair of boots For thirty years or more. But good old Grimes is now at rest, Nor fears misfortune's frown : He wore a double-breasted vest — The stripes ran up and down. He modest merit sought to find, And pay it its desert : He had no malice in his mind. No ruffles on his shirt. His neighbors he did not abuse — Was sociable and gay : He wore large buckles on his shoes. And changed them every day. His knowledge, hid from public gaze, He did not bring to view. Nor made a noise, town-meeting days, As many people do. 276 OLD GRIMES. His worldly goods he never threw In trust to fortune's chances, But lived (as all his brothers do) In easy circumstances. Thus undisturb'd by anxious cares, His peaceful moments ran ; And everybody said he was A fine old gentleman. Albert Gorton Greene. 277 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. (go6in0on Cifugoe. 'y HE night was thick and hazy When the Piccadilly Daisy Carried down the crew and Captain in the sea ; And I think the water drowned 'em, For they never, never found 'em. And I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, 'twas very sad and lonely When I found myself the only Population on this cultivated shore ; But I've made a little tavern In a rocky little cavern. And I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking For a girl to do my cooking. As I'm quite a clever hand at making stews ; But I had that fellow Friday Just to keep the tavern tidy. And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. 278 ROBINSON CRUSOE. I have a little garden That I'm cultivating lard in, As the things I eat are rather tough and dry ; For I live on toasted lizards, Prickly pears, and parrot gizzards. And I'm really very fond of beetle-pie. The clothes I had were furry, And it made me fret and worry When I found the moths were eating off the hair ; And I had to scrape and sand 'em, And I boiled 'em and I tanned 'em, Till I got the fine morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion In a family excursion With the few domestic animals you see ; And we take along a carrot As refreshments for the parrot, And a little cup of jungleberry tea. Then we gather as we travel Bits of moss and dirty gravel. And we chip off little specimens of stone, And we carry home as prizes Funny bugs of handy sizes. Just to give the day a scientific tone. 279 AMERICAN WIT ANB HUMOR. If the roads are wet and muddy, We remain at home and study, For the Goat is very clever at a sum — And the Dog, instead of fighting, Studies ornamental writing, While the Cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven. And we rise again at seven ; And I wish to call attention, as I close. To the fact that all the scholars Are correct about their collars. And particular in turning out their toes. Charles Edward Carryl. 280 CANDOR. OCTOBER — A WOOD. " T KNOW what you're going to say," she said, And she stood up looking uncommonly tall ; "You are going to speak of the hectic Fall, And say you're sorry the summer's dead. And no other summer was like it, you know, And can I imagine what made it so ? Now aren't you, honestly ? " " Yes," I said. " I know what you're going to say," she said ; " You are going to ask if I forget That day in June when the woods were wet, And you carried me " — here she dropped her head — " Over the creek ; you are going to say. Do I remember that horrid day. Now aren't you, honestly ? " " Yes," I said. " I know what you're going to say," she said ; " You are going to say that since that time > From " The Poems of H, C. Bunner," copyright 1884, 1893, 1896, by Charles Scribner's Sons. 281 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. You have rather tended to run to rhyme, And" — her clear glance fell and her cheek grew red — "And I have noticed your tone was queer? — Why, everybody has seen it here ! — Now, aren't you, honestly? " "Yes," I said. " I know what you're going to say," I said ; " You're going to say you've been much an- noyed. And I'm short of tact — you will say devoid — And I'm clumsy and awkward, and call me Ted, And I bear abuse like a dear old lamb, And you'll have me anyway, just as I am. Now aren't you, honestly ? " " Ye-es," she said. H. C. BUNNER. 282 TOO MUCH OF IT. ^0 (^uc0 of 3f. Judge. T T IS engagement is ended at last, And the fact seems to ease him ; There was something to do with her past That did not at all please him. That's no reason why we should infer There was anything wrong, But merely the truth as to her — That her past was too long. George Birdseye. 283 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. l^e Cftme to (ipftg. (After " The Aged Stranger," by Bret Harte.) 'T'HE editor sat with his head in his hands And his elbows at rest on his knees ; He was tired of the ever-increasing demands On his time, and he panted for ease. The clamor for copy was scorned with a sneer, And he sighed in the lowest of tones : " Won't somebody come with a dollar to cheer The heart of Emanuel Jones ? " Just then on the stairway a footstep was heard And a rap-a-tap loud at the door. And the flickering hope that had been long de- ferred Blazed up like a beacon once more ; And there entered a man with a cynical smile That was fringed with a stubble of red. Who remarked, as he tilted a sorry old tile To the back of an average head : " I have come here to pay " — Here the editor cried : " You're as welcome as flowers in spring ! 284 HE CAME TO PAY. Sit down in this easy armchair by my side, And excuse me awhile till I bring A lemonade dashed with a little old wine And a dozen cigars of the best. . . . Ah ! Here we are ! This, I assure you, is fine ; Help yourself, most desirable guest." The visitor drank with a relish, and smoked Till his face wore a satisfied glow, And the editor, beaming with merriment, joked In a joyous, spontaneous flow ; And then, when the stock of refreshments was gone. His guest took occasion to say. In accents distorted somewhat by a yawn, " My errand up here is to pay — " But the generous scribe, with a wave of his hand, Put a stop to the speech of his guest. And brought in a melon, the finest the land Ever bore on its generous breast ; And the visitor, wearing a singular grin. Seized the heaviest half of the fruit, And the juice, as it ran in a stream from his chin. Washed the mud of the pike from his boot. Then, mopping his face on a favorite sheet Which the scribe had laid carefully by, 285 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. The visitor lazily rose to his feet With the dreariest kind of a sigh, And he said, as the editor sought his address In his books to discover his due : " I came here to pay — my respects to the press, And to borrow a dollar of you ! " Parmenas Mix. 286 AFEARED OF A GAL. ®f eftteb of ft e in a Coffa^e. qpHEY may talk of love in a cottage, And bowers of trellised vine — Of nature bewitchingly simple, And milkmaids half divine ; They may talk of the pleasure of sleeping In the shade of a spreading tree. And a walk in the fields at morning. By the side of a footstep free ! But give me a sly flirtation By the light of a chandelier — With music to play in the pauses, And nobody very near ; Or a seat on a silken sofa. With a glass of pure old wine. And mamma too blind to discover The small white hand in mine. Your love in a cottage is hungry. Your vine is a nest for flies — Your milkmaid shocks the Graces, And simplicity talks of pies ! 296 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. You lie down to your shady slumber And wake with a bug in your ear, And your damsel that walks in the morning Is shod like a mountaineer. True love is at home on a carpet, And mightily likes his ease — And true love has an eye for a dinner. And starves beneath shady trees. His wing is the fan of a lady, His foot's an invisible thing, And his arrow is tipp'd with a jewel And shot from a silver string. Nathaniel Parker Willis. 297 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ^-ACK BUMSTEAD uster flosserfize About the ocean and the skies : An' gab an' gas f um morn till noon About the other side the moon ; An' 'bout the natur of the place Ten miles be — end the end of space. An' if his wife she'd ask the crank Ef he wouldn't kinder try to yank Hisself out doors an' git some wood To make her kitchen fire good, So she c'd bake her beans an' pies, He'd say, " I've gotter flosserfize." An' then he'd set an' flosserfize About the natur an' the size Of angels' wings, an' think, and gawp. An' wonder how they made 'em flop. He'd calkerlate how long a skid 'Twould take to move the sun, he did, An' if the skid was strong an' prime, It couldn't be moved to supper-time. 298 A PHILOSOPHER. An' w'en his wife 'ud ask the lout Ef he wouldn't kinder waltz about An' take a rag an' shoo the flies, He'd say, " I've getter flosserfize." An' then he'd set an' flosserfize 'Bout schemes for fencing in the skies, Then lettin' out the lots to rent So's he could make an honest cent. An' ef he'd find it pooty tough To borry cash fer fencin' stuff? An' if 'twere best to take his wealth An' go to Europe for his health, Or save his cash till he'd enough To buy some more of fencin' stuff — Then, ef his wife she'd ask the gump Ef he wouldn't kinder try to hump Hisself to tother side the door So she c'd come an' sweep the floor. He'd look at her with mournful eyes, An' say, " I've gotter flosserfize." An' so he'd set an' flosserfize 'Bout what it wuz held up the skies, 299 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. An' how God made this earthly ball Jest simply out er nawthin' tall, An' 'bout the natur, shape an' form Of nawthin' that he made it from. Then, ef his wife sh'd ask the freak Ef he wouldn't kinder try to sneak Out to the barn an' find some aigs. He'd never move nor lift his laigs. He'd never stir nor try to rise But say, " I've gotter flosserfize." An' so he'd set an' flosserfize About the earth an' sea an' skies, An' scratch his head an' ask the cause Of w'at there waz before time waz. An' w'at the universe 'ud do Bimeby w'en time hed all got through ; An' jest how fur we'd have to climb Ef we sh'd travel out er time. An' ef we'd need w'en we got there To keep our watches in repair. Then, ef his wife she'd ask the gawk Ef he wouldn't kinder try to walk To where she had the table spread An' kinder git his stomach fed. He'd leap for that ar kitchen door An' say, " W'y didn't you speak afore ? " 300 A PHILOSOPHER. An' when he'd got his supper et, He'd set, an' set, an' set, an' set, An' fold his arms an' shet his eyes. An' set, an' set, an' flosserfize. Sam Walter Foss. 301 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. " A/r^ daughter," and his voice was stern, " You must set this matter right ; What time did the Sophomore leave, Who sent in his card last night ? " " His work was pressing, father dear, And his love for it was great ; He took his leave and went away Before a quarter of eight." Then a twinkle came to her bright. blue eye, And her dimple deeper grew. " 'Tis surely no sin to tell him that, For a quarter of eight is two." Lehigh Burr. * " Cap and Gown." 302 DISCOVERED. ©tgcotoere^.' OEEN you down at chu'ch las' night — Nevah min', Miss Lucy. What I mean ? Oh, dat's all right — Nevah min', Miss Lucy. Oh, you's sma't ez sma't kin be, But you couldn't hide f om me ; Ain't I got two eyes to see ? Nevah min'. Miss Lucy. Guess you thought you's awful keen — Nevah min'. Miss Lucy ; Evaht'ing you done I ^een — Nevah min'. Miss Lucy ; Seen him tek yo' ahm jes so. When you got outside de do' — Ah, I know dat man's yo' beau, — Nevah min'. Miss Lucy. Say now, honey, wha' 'd he say ? Nevah min'. Miss Lucy ; * By pennission of Dodd, Mead & Company, publishers of " Lyrics of Lowly Life," copyrighted i8g6. 303 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Keep yo' sec'uts — dat's yo' way — Nevah min', Miss Lucy ; Won't tell me, an' I'm yo' pal ! I'm gwine to tell his othah gal — Know huh, too — huh name is Sal — Nevah min', Miss Lucy. Paul Lawrence Dunbar. 304 THE POSTER -GIRL. t^e (^jJogfcr-girf. Century Magazine. 'y HE blessed Poster-girl leaned out From a pinky-purple heaven ; One eye was red and one was green ; Her bang was cut uneven ; She had three fingers on her hand, And the hairs on her head were seven. Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, No sunflowers did adorn ; But a heavy Turkish portiere Was very neatly worn ; And the hat that lay along her back Was yellow like canned com. It was a kind of wobbly wave That she was standing on, And high aloft she flung a scarf That must have weighed a ton ; And she was rather tall — at least She reached up to the sun. 305 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. She curved and writhed, and then she said, Less green of speech than blue : " Perhaps I am absurd — perhaps I don't appeal to you ; But my artistic worth depends Upon the point of view." I saw her smile, although her eyes Were only smudgy smears ; And then she swished her swirling arms, And wagged her gorgeous ears. She sobbed a blue-and-green-checked sob, And wept some purple tears. Carolyn Wells. 306 UNCLE SAMMY. O-ncfe ^ftmrng/ C OME men were bom for great things, Some were born for small ; Some — it is not recorded Why they were born at all ; But Uncle Sammy was certain he had a legitimate call. Some were born with a talent, Some with scrip and land ; Some with a spoon of silver, And some with a difiEerent brand ; But Uncle Sammy came holding an argument in each hand. Arguments sprouted within him, And twinked in his little eye ; He lay and calmly debated When average babies cry. And seemed to be pondering gravely whether to live or to die. • From " Farm Ballads." Copyright, 1873, by Harper & Brothers. 307 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. But prejudiced on that question He grew from day to day, And finally he concluded 'Twas better for him to stay ; And so into life's discussion he reasoned and reasoned his way. Through childhood, through youth, into man- hood Argued and argued he ; And he married a simple maiden. Though scarcely in love was she ; But he reasoned the matter so clearly she hardly could help but agree. And though at first she was blooming. And the new firm started strong. And though Uncle Sammy loved her, And tried to help her along. She faded away in silence, and 'twas evident some- thing was wrong. Now Uncle Sammy was faithful, And various remedies tried ; He gave her the doctor's prescriptions. And plenty of logic beside ; But logic and medicine failed him, and so one day she died. 308 UNCLE SAMMY. He laid her away in the church-yard, So haggard and crushed and wan ; And reared her a costly tombstone With all of her virtues on ; And ought to have added, " A victim to arguments pro and con." For many a year Uncle Sammy Fired away at his logical forte : Discussion was his occupation, And altercation his sport ; He argued himself out of churches, he argued him- self into court. But alas for his peace and quiet, One day, when he went it blind, And followed his singular fancy. And slighted his logical mind, And married a ponderous widow that wasn't of the arguing kind ! Her sentiments all were settled. Her habits were planted and grown, Her heart was a starved little creature That followed a will of her own ; And she raised a high hand with Sammy, and pro- ceeded to play it alone. 309 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Then Sammy he charged down upon her With all of his strength and his wit, And many a dextrous encounter, And many a fair shoulder-hit ; But vain were his blows and his blowing : he never could budge her a bit. He laid down his premises round her, He scraped at her with his saws ; He rained great facts upon her, And read her the marriage laws, But the harder he tried to convince her, the harder and harder she was. She brought home all her preachers, As many as ever she could — With sentiments terribly settled. And appetites horribly good — Who sat with him long at his table, and explained to him where he stood. And Sammy was not long in learning To follow the swing of her gown. And came to be faithful in watching The phase of her smile and her frown ; And she, with the heel of assertion, soon tramped all his arguments down. 310 UNCLE SAMMY. And so, with his life-aspirations Thus suddenly brought to a check — And so, with the foot of his victor Unceasingly pressing his neck — He wrote on his face, "I'm a victim," and drifted — a logical wreck. And farmers, whom he had argued To corners tight and fast. Would wink at each other and chuckle, And grin at him as he passed, As to say, " My ambitious old fellow, your whiffle- tree's straightened at last." Old Uncle Sammy one morning Lay down on his comfortless bed, And Death and he had a discussion. And Death came out ahead ; And the fact that she failed to start him was only because he was dead. The neighbors laid out their old neighbor, With homely but tenderest art ; And some of the oldest ones faltered. And tearfully stood apart ; For the crusty old man had often unguardedly shown them his heart. 3" AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. But on his face an expression Of quizzical study lay, As if he were sounding the angel Who travelled with him that day, And laying the pipes down slyly for an argument on the way. And one new-fashioned old lady Felt called upon to suggest That the angel might take Uncle Sammy, And give him a good night's rest, And then introduce him to Solomon, and tell him to do his best. Will Carleton. 312 THE TRUTH ABOUT HORACE. T T is very aggravating To hear tlie solemn prating Of the fossils who are stating That old Horace was a prude ; When we know that with the ladies He was always raising Hades, And with many an escapade his Best productions are imbued. There's really not much harm in a Large number of his carmina, But these people find alarm in a Few records of his acts ; So they'd squelch the muse caloric, And to students sophomoric They'd present as metaphoric What old Horace meant for facts. We have always thought 'em lazy ; Now we adjudge 'em crazy ! ' From " A LMe Book of Western Verse." Copyright, 1889, by Eugene Field, and publislied by Charles Scribner": Sons. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Why, Horace was a daisy That was very much alive ! And the wisest of us know him As his Lydia verses show him, — Go, read that virile poem, — It is No. 25. He was a very owl, sir. And starting out to prowl, sir. You bet he made Rome howl, sir, Until he filled his date ; With a massic-laden ditty And a classic maiden pretty, He painted up the city, And Mascenas paid the freight ! Eugene Field. 314 REV. GABE TUCKER'S REMARKS. ■VrOU may notch it on de palin's as a mighty resky plan To make your judgment by de clo'es dat kivers up a man; For I hardly needs to tell you how you often come across A fifty-dollar saddle on a twenty-dollar boss ; An', wukin' in de low-groun's, you diskiver, as you go, Dat de fines' shuck may hide de meanes' nubbin in a row. I think a man has got a mighty slender chance for heben Dat holds on to his piety but one day out o' seben ; Dat talks about de sinners wid a heap o' solemn chat. And nebber draps a nickle in de missionary hat ; Dat's foremost in the meetin'-house for raisin' all de chunes, But lays aside his 'ligion wid his Sunday pantaloons. 315 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. I nebber judge o' people dat I meets along de way By de places whar day come fum an' de houses whar dey stay ; For de bantam chicken's awful fond o' roostin' pretty high, An' de turkey buzzard sails above de eagle in de sky; Dey ketches little minners in de middle of de sea, An' you finds de smalles' possum up de biggest kind o' tree ! Anonymous. .V6 'TIS EVER THUS. 'tis (B^it $0tt8. Century Magazine. A D Astra, De Profundis, Keats, Bacchus, Sophocles; Ars Longa, Euthanasia, Spring, The Eumenides. Dead Leaves, Metempsychosis, Waiting, Theocritus; Vanitas Vanitatum, My Ship, De Gustibus. Dum Vivimus Vivamus, Sleep, Palingenesis ; Salvini, Sursum Corda, At Mt. Desert, To Miss . These are part of the contents Of " Violets of Song," The first poetic volume Of Susan Mary Strong. R. K. MUNKITTRICK. 317 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. (^n €c^o from t^e l^f^- ■\Tl rHO builds de railroads and canals. But furriners ? Who helps across de street de gals, But furriners ? Who in de caucus has der say. Who does de votin' 'lection day, And who discovered U. S. A., But furriners ? Frank Tourtellot Easton. 3'8 MARRY ME, DARLINT, TO-NIGHT. (Jllftififu (gle, ©fttfinf, totniq^ Century Mag-azine. TV/r E darlint, it's axin' they are That I goes to the wars to be kilt, An' come back wid an iligant shkar, An' a sabre hung on to a hilt. They offers promotion to those Who die in definse of the right. I'll be off in the mornin' — suppose Ye marry me, darlint, to-night ? There's nothin' so raises a man In the eyes of the wurrld as to fall Ferninst the ould flag, in the van, Pierced through wid a bit of a ball. An' whin I am kilt ye can wear Some iligant crape on yir bonnet. Jist think how the women will shtare Wid invy whiniver ye don it ! 319 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Oh, fwat a proud widdy ye'll be Whin they bring me carpse home, — not to mintion The fact we can live (don't ye see?) All the rest of our lives on me pinsion ! W. W. Fink. 320 OCTOBER. '"PHIS is old gold-stoled October, In its glowing, flowing gown ; And its spirit, blithe and sober. All the woodland's gay disrober. Turns the grasses gray and brown. Not a vestige Of the prestige Now remains of Summer's crown. Through the wood the brooklet babbles In melodious unrest. While the small boy coyly dabbles In his neighbor's fruit, or scrabbles Barefoot, free of hat and vest, Like Terpsichore Up the hickory For the ashen hornet's nest. Through the valley, gloom-invaded, Plaintively the cattails sigh, « "The Acrobatic Muse." AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. While the shaded, jaded, faded Ribbon grasses, zephyr-braided, Are paraded far and nigh. And the vesper Hour sees Hesper Like a scarf pin deck the sky. On the branch the leaf is curling Like the caudal of a pug, And a lilac mist's unfurling All the touchful scene impearling, While the humble tumblebug Gaily tumbles. Bumps and stumbles Round his glossy, mossy rug. As the days are waxing duller, Ceres wanders by the weir. Ruddy as a homespun cruller — In the drifting, shifting color Sail her ringlets, gold and sere, While beguiling She is smiling — On the com — from ear to ear. Richard Kendall Munkittrick. 322 THE JIM -JAM KING OF THE JOU-JOUS. t^t 3tm?j(im O^ing of f^e ^ousfjous. AN ARABIAN LEGEND. Translated from ike A rahic. "C^AR off in the waste of desert sand, The Jim-jam rules in the Jou-jou land : He sits on a throne of red-hot rocks, And moccasin snakes are his curling locks ; And the Jou-jous have the conniption fits In the far-off land where the Jim-jam sits — If things are nowadays as things were then. Allah il Allah ! Oo-aye ! Amen ! The country's so dry in Jou-jou land You could wet it down with Sahara sand, And over its boundaries the air Is hotter than 'tis — no matter where : A camel drops down completely tanned When he crosses the line into Jou-jou land — If things are nowadays as things were then. Allah il Allah ! Oo-aye ! Amen ! A traveller once got stuck in the sand On the fiery edge of Jou-jou land ; 323 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. The Jou-jous they confiscated him, And the Jim-jam tore him limb from limb; But, dying, he said : " If eaten I am, I'll disagree with this Dam-jim-jam ! He'll think his stomach's a Hoodoo's den ! " Allah il Allah ! Oo-aye ! Amen ! Then the Jim-jam felt so bad inside, It just about humbled his royal pride. He decided to physic himself with sand, And throw up his job in the Jou-jou land. He descended his throne of red-hot rocks, And hired a barber to cut his locks : The barber died of the got-'em-again. Allah il Allah ! Oo-aye ! Amen ! And now let every good Mussulman Get all the good from this tale he can. If you wander o£E on a Jamboree, Across the stretch of the desert sea, Look out that right at the height of your booze You don't get caught by the Jou-jou-jous ! You may, for the Jim-jam's at it again. Allah il Allah ! Oo-aye ! Amen ! Alaric Bertrand Start. 324 BALLAD OF THE MERMAID. Qgftffftb of f^e (Sflemftib. ■p\ER noble Ritter Hugo Von Schwillensaufenstein, Rode out mit shpeer and helmet, Und he coom to de panks of de Rhine. Und oop dare rose a meer maid, Vot hadn't got nodings on, Und she say, " Oh, Ritter Hugo, Vhere you goes mit yourself alone ? " And he says, " I rides in de creenwood Mit helmet und mit shpeer. Till I cooms into ein Gasthaus, Und dere I trinks some beer." Und den outshpoke de maiden Vot hadn't got nodings on : " I don't dink mooch of beoplesh Dat goes mit demselfs alone. " You'd petter coom down in de wasser, Vhere deres heaps of dings to see, Und hafe a shplendid tinner Und drafel along mit me. 325 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. " Dere you sees de fisch a-schwimmin', Und you catches dem efery one : " So sang dis wasser maiden Vot hadn't got nodings on. " Dere ish drunks all full mit money In ships dat vent down of old ; Und you helpsh yourself, by dunder ! To shimmerin' crowns of gold. " Shoost look at dese shpoons und vatches ! Shoost see dese diamant rings ! Coom down und full your bockets, Und I'll giss you like avery dings. " Vot you vantsh. mit your schnapps und lager ? Coom down into der Rhine ! Der ish pottles der Kaiser Charlemagne Vonce filled mit gold-red wine ! " Dat fetched him — he shtood all shpell pound ; She pooled his coat-tails down, She drawed him oonder der wasser, De maidens mit nodings on. Charles Godfrey Leland. 326 MINE MODER - IN - LAW. T^HERE vas many qveer dings in dis land off der free I neffer could qvite understand ; Der beoples dhey all seem so deefrent to me As dhose in mine own faderland. Dhey gets blenty droubles, und indo mishaps Mitoudt der least bit of a cause ; Und vould you pelief it? dhose mean Yangee chaps, Dhey fights mit dheir moder-in-laws ? Shust dink off a vhite man so vicked as dot ! Vhy not gife der oldt lady a show ? Who vas it gets oup, ven der nighdt id vas hot, Mit mine baby, I shust like to know ? Und dhen in der vinter vhen Katrine vas sick Und der mornings vas shnowy und raw, Who made rightd avay oup dot fire so qvick ? Vhy, dot vas mine moder-in-law. Id vas von off dhose voman's righdts vellers I been Dhere vas noding dot's mean aboudt me ; 327 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Vhen der oldt lady vishes to run dot masheen, Vhy, I shust let her run id, you see. Und vhen dot shly Yawcob vas cutting some dricks (A block off der oldt chip he vas, yaw ! ) Ef she goes for dot chap like some dousand off bricks. Dot's all righdt ! She's mine moder-in-law. Veek oudt und veek in, id vas alvays der same. Dot vomen vos boss off der house ; Budt, dhen, neffer mindt ! I vos glad dot she came. She vas kind to mine young Yawcob Strauss. Und ven dhere vas vater to get vrom der spring Und firevood to shplit oup und saw She vas velcome to do it. Dhere's not anyding Dot's too good for mine moder-in-law. Charles Follen Adams. 328 DOT LONG -HANDLED DIPPER. ©of feongsi^ftnbfcb ©ijjper. ■p\ER boet may sing off " Der Oldt Oaken Bookit," Und in schveetest langvitch its virtues may tell ; Und how, vhen a poy, he mit eggsdasy dook it, Vhen dripping mit coolness it rose vrom der veil. I don'd take some schtock in dot manner off trinking ! It vas too mooch like horses und cattle, I dink. Dhere vas more sadisfactions, in my vay off dinking, Mit dot long-handled dipper, dot hangs py der sink. " How schveet vrom der green mossy brim to receive it" — Dot vould soundt pooty goot — eef it only vas true — Der vater schbills ofer, you petter pelieve it ! Und runs down your schleeve, und schlops indo your shoe. Dhen down on your nose comes dot oldt iron handle, Und makes your eyes vater so gvick as a vink. I dells you dot bookit it don'd hold a candle To dot long-handled dipper, dot hangs py der sink. How nice it musd been in der rough vinter veddher, Vhen it settles righdt down to a coldt, freezing rain, 329 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. To haf dot rope coom oup so light as a feddher, Und findt dot der bookit vas proke off der chain, Dhen down in der veil mit a pole you go fishing, Vhile indo your back cooms an oldt-f ashioned kink ; I pet you mine life all der time you vas vishing For dot long-handled dipper, dot hangs py der sink. How handy it vas schust to turn on der faucet, Vhere der vater flows down vrom der schpring on der hill! I schust vas der schap dot vill alvays indorse it Oxsbecially nighdts vhen der veddher vas chill. Vhen PfeifEer's oldt veil mit der schnow was all cofered, Und he vades droo der schnow-drifts to get him a trink, I schlips vrom der hearth, vhere der schiltren vas hofered. To dot long-handled dipper, dot hangs py der sink. Dhen gife oup der bookits und pails to der horses ; Off mikerobes und tadpoles schust gife dhem dheir fill! Gife me dot pure vater dot all der time courses Droo dhose pipes dot run down vrom der schpring on der hill. 33° DOT LONG -HANDLED DIPPER. Und eef der goot dings off dis vorld I gets rich in, Und frendts all aroundt me dheir glasses schall clink, I schtill vill rememper dot oldt coundtry kitchen, Und dot long-handled dipper, dot hangs py der sink. Charles Follen Adams. 331 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. (^ Sftir (Exchange. Judge. T T IS heart a maiden robbed him of ; So he, in sorest grief, Brought action in the Court of Love To prosecute the thief. And Angels twelve, nor less nor more, Were summoned, heavenly dears. For she was to be tried before A Jury of her peers. The case was called, and it was proved. Ere many words were said. When she the Plaintifi's heart removed She left her own instead. " Not guilty ! " thus the verdict stands, " A fair exchange he got." Judge Love, agreeing, joined their hands And wed them on the spot. George Birdseye. 332 BESSIE BROWN, M.D. Qpesgte (ftoion, (^.®. "T'WAS April when she came to town; The birds had come, the bees were swarming. Her name, she said, was Doctor Brown : I saw at once that she was charming. She took a cottage tinted green, Where dewy roses loved to mingle ; And on the door, next day, was seen ' A dainty little shingle. Her hair was like an amber wreath ; Her hat was darker, to enhance it. The violet eyes that glowed beneath Were brighter than her keenest lancet. The beauties of her glove and gown The sweetest rhyme would fail to utter. Ere she had been a day in town The town was in a flutter. The gallants viewed her feet and hands. And swore they never saw such wee things ; 333 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. The gossips met in purring bands And tore her piecemeal o'er the tea-things. The former drank the Doctor's health With clinking cups, the gay carousers ; The latter watched her door by stealth, Just like so many mousers. But Doctor Bessie went her way Unmindful of the spiteful cronies, And drove her buggy every day Behind a dashing pair of ponies. Her flower-like face so bright she bore I hoped that time might never wilt her. The way she tripped across the floor Was better than a philter. Her patients thronged the village street ; Her snowy slate was always quite full. Some said her bitters tasted sweet. And some pronounced her pills delightful. 'Twas strange — I knew not what it meant — She seemed a nymph from Eldorado ; Where'er she came, where'er she went. Grief lost its gloomy shadow. Like all the rest I, too, grew ill ; My aching heart there was no quelling. 334 BESSIE BROWN, M.D. I tremble at my doctor's bill, — And lo ! the items still are swelling. The drugs I've drunk you'd weep to hear ! They've quite enriched the fair concocter, And I'm a ruined man, I fear, Unless — I wed the Doctor ! Samuel Minturn Peck. 33S AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. ^ ^ons of ®egtree0. Century Magazine. 10. T T E. It isn't polite to call them fools, But I do wish girls wouldn't meddle with tools ! I had to lend them, she begged me so, And just see here what a state they're in. She reamed a hole with the scoop, you know. And took the reamer to cut a pin. And she's went and knocked the head ofi the hammer — (I don't care a cent if that isn't grammar !) She. Of all the troublesome creatures, boys Are the troublesomest, and fullest of noise ! I lent them my work-box to make a sail ; I had to, or else there'd have been a fuss. And I'd sooner have lent it to a — whale! Everything's tangled, and all in a muss. And now they say, if a girl wasn't " dumb," She'd wear her thimble upon her thumb ! 336 A SONG OF DEGREES. 20. He. Ah, not with those dear little hands — so white, So sweetly helpless ; it isn't right ! Give me the hammer, and let me, please ! Oh, yes ! you were doing it bravely, love. But I can't sit here in selfish ease, And see you driving a nail, my dove. If you think that I could, you do me wrong ; Your hands are so weak, and mine so strong. She. Give me your gauntlet. Sir Knight — your glove, I'd call it, if I were not in love ! You're graceful, whatever you do, you know. But what sort oifiancie should I be. If I even let you try to sew ? I will mend it neatly — you shall see. I do love sewing ; and you too, dear. Now, do not be foolish — give it here ! 30- He. It is more than a man can well endure ! If I've mentioned this button once, I'm sure I've mentioned it twenty times, and yet I couldn't induce you to sew it on. 337 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. It's no excuse to say you forget ! It hung by a thread, and now it's gone. Just reach me the button-box o& the shelf— I'll be hanged if I don't sew it on myself! She. The lock of the pantry-door is broken, And this is the fiftieth time I've spoken ! There's a handle off this bureau-drawer, And here's that chair that you said you'd mend. I will not speak of them any more ; It's always so, I find, in the end. I'll do them myself — oh, you may scoff. Bat I will, if I pound my fingers off ! Margaret Vandegrift. 338 DOLLIE. ©offte. O HE sports a witching gown, With a ruffle up and down On the skirt ; She is gentle, she is shy. But there's mischief in her eye, - She's a flirt ! She displays a tiny glove, And a dainty little love Of a shoe ; And she wears her hat a-tilt Over bangs that never wilt In the dew. 'Tis rumored chocolate creams Are the fabrics of her dreams — But enough ! I know beyond a doubt That she carries them about In her mu£E. 339 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. With her dimples and her curls She exasperates the girls Past belief : They hint that she's a cat, And delightful things like that, In their grief. It is shocking, I declare ! But what does DoUie care When the beaux Come flocking to her feet Like the bees around a sweet Little rose ! Samuel Minturn Peck. 340 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. W^en (Breeft (^eefs (Breeft. 'T'HEN his hand he placed, as ever, On his heart. And swore from her he'd never. Never part. Well he knew, that Boston drummer. How sly Cupid had, all summer. Dogged his steps, the little bummer ! With his dart. Quickly Cupid caught the notion, Wily Greek ! Deftly made his arrow's motion More oblique. Thought, " Dost shield a spot so oaken ? At thy head shall fly my token " — In a trice its point was broken On his cheek. Anonymous. 341 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. "117' HAT will we do when the good days come? When the prima donna's lips are dumb ; And the man who reads us his " little things " Has lost his voice like the girl who sings ; When stilled is the breath of the cornet man, And the shrilling chords of the quartette clan ; When our neighbor's children have lost their drums, Oh, what will we do when the good time comes ? Oh, what will we do in that good, blithe time. When the tramp will work — oh, thing sublime ! And the scornful dame who stands on your feet Will " Thank you, sir," for the proffered seat ; And the man you hire to work by the day, Will allow you to do his work your way ; And the cook who trieth your appetite Will steal no more than she thinks is right ; When the boy you hire will call you " Sir," Instead of " Say " and " Guverner ; " When the funny man is humorsome — ■ How can we stand the millennium ? Robert Jones Burdette. 342 LOT SKINNER'S ELEGY. T OT SKINNER was the meanest man That ever saved his neck ; He grudged the very breath he drew, As if it were a check. When he was in the grocer line, And turning fruit to gold. He'd bite a raisin straight in halves To make the weight he sold. Day in and out, through heat and cold. For thirty years or more, He well observed the copper-mean. And — something blessed his store. He never gave a dime away, He never lost a pin ; A ninepence saved rejoiced him more Than taking ninepence in. 343 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Of counterfeited bills he used The best of every kind, Which in the way of trade he kept, To swap ofi on the blind. The poor came round his counter's edge, And raised a feeble cry : " Don't speak so loud," the rogue exclaimed, " For I am always nigh." " 'Tis little things that make a pile,"- (This maxim he could trust.) So, when he sawed his pile of wood. He always saved the dust. He had but one book in the house. And that he never read ! 'Twas called " Economy of Life," — And did him good, he said. He welcomed in the rising moon, — 'Twas such a cheerful sight ; For then he'd blow the candle out, And use the gratis light. 344 LOT SKINNER'S ELEGY. He liked in other people's pews To settle meekly down, And steal his preaching, here and there, By sneaking round the town. Sometimes we saw a greenish smile Coil up his bony face : 'Twas when the parson chose a theme That spoke of saving grace. At last it cost so much to live, — (Per day some twenty cents,) " I won't stand this ! " he inly groaned, And died to save expense. Now, having gone where all his means Are shut up in a box. He cannot Uft that heavy lid The careful sexton locks. Adieu ! thou scrap of lifeless clay ! Thou pale-ink human blot ! This line shall be thine epitaph, — " An unproductive Lot ! " James Thomas Fields. 34S AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. A CAPTAIN went to Gettysburg And plunged into the fray, And while he led his brave command Both arms were shot away. This Captain's name was Peter Field, And he was tall and stout ; But when he found himself disarmed His courage " petered out." Now Peter, at a country fair, A fair young maid had met ; While in the hospital he sat. His heart on her was set. Poor Peter mourned his sorry loss, Which nothing could replace ; He wanted much a brace of arms. His maiden to embrace. While Peter Field was sorely maimed, And far down in the dumps, 346 A LOVER WITHOUT ARMS. She took occasion to declare She'd take him with his stumps. This manly offer made him weep, . He was almost unmanned ; He told her she could have his heart, But couldn't have his hand. His hand this maiden could not get, For he was incomplete ; And so this feat she did perform, She took his heart and feet. Some lovers say, " Come to my arms ! " And quick the maiden jumps ; But Peter changed the phrase and said, " Come, darling, to my stumps ! " Long time did Peter long to wed His true and faithful mate ; The lovers felt a weight of woe Because compelled to wait. The Captain had no stocks or bonds, No houses and no lands ; And, without arms, he could not take A wife upon his hands. 347 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. For keeping books he had a taste, Yet had to shun the pen ; But if a pension could be had, IJe would get married then. The pension came, the wedding too, His fortunes to retrieve ; " Please join your hands,'' the parson said, But Peter joined his sleeve. Now Peter's joy is quite complete. And peaceful is his life ; While marriage was a happy stroke. He never strikes his wife. Henry Davenport. 348 ELDER LAMB'S DONATION. (gfbet feftmfi's ©onafion.' /"'GOD old Elder Lamb had labored for a thousand nights and days, And had preached the blessed Bible in a multitude of ways ; Had received a message daily over Faith's celestial wire, And had kept his little chapel full of flames of heavenly fire ; He had raised a numerous family, straight and sturdy as he could. And his boys were all considered as unnaturally good ; And his " slender sal'ry " kept him till went forth the proclamation — "We will pay him up this season with a gen'rous, large donation." So they brought him hay and barley, and some corn upon the ear, — Straw enough to bed his pony for forever and a year; And they strewed him with potatoes of inconsequen- tial size, • From " City Festivals," Copyright, 1892, by Harper & Brothers. AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And some onions whose completeness drew the moisture from his eyes ; And some cider — more like water, in an inventory strict — And some apples, pears and peaches, that the autumn gales had picked ; And some strings of dried-up-apples — mummies of the fruit creation — Came to swell the doleful census of old Elder Lamb's Donation. Also radishes and turnips pressed the pumpkin's cheerful cheek, Likewise beans enough to furnish half of Boston for a week ; And some butter that was worthy to have Samson for a foe, And some eggs whose inner-nature held the legend — " Long Ago ; " And some stove-wood, green and crooked, on his flower-beds was laid. Fit to furnish fire departments with the most sub- stantial aid. All things unappreciated found this night their true vocation In the Museum of Relics, known as Elder Lamb's Donation. 33° ELDER LAMB'S DONATION. There were biscuits whose material was their own secure defence; There were sauces whose acuteness bore the sad pluperfect tense ; There were jellies undissected, there were mystery- laden pies ; There was bread that long had waited for the signal to arise. There were cookies tasting deafly of the drear and musty past; There were doughnuts that in justice 'mongst the metals might be classed ; There were chickens, geese and turkeys, that had long been on probation. Now received in full connection at old Elder Lamb's Donation. Then they gave his wife a wrapper made for some one not so tall. And they brought him twenty slippers, every pair of which was small ; And they covered him with sack-cloth, as it were, in various bits, And they clothed his helpless children in a wardrobe of misfits ; And they trimmed his house with " Welcome," and some bric-a-bracish trash, 3SI AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. And one absent-minded brother brought five dollars all in cash ! Which the good old pastor handled with a thrill of exultation, Wishing that in filthy lucre might have come his whole donation. Morning came at last, in splendor; but the Elder, wrapped in gloom. Knelt amid decaying produce and the ruins of his home ; And his piety had never till that morning been so bright : For he prayed for those who brought him to that unexpected plight. But some worldly thoughts intruded ; for he won- dered o'er and o'er If they'd buy that day at auction, what they gave the night before ; And his fervent prayer concluded with the natural exclamation : " Take me to Thyself in mercy. Lord, before my next donation ! " Will Carleton. 352 IN ^SOFS VEIN. 3n ®egoi>'6 TJetn. CAID the Grocer's Scale to the Orange-peel: -- It would pleasure me much to know, sir, What you are doing." Quoth the Peel : " I'm Ijring in wait for the Grocer." " Our weighs are alike," the Scale replies, "" For, strangely as it appears. To tell the truth (though speaking of lies), I've been doing the same for years ! " William Howard Mitchell. 3S3 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. 'TPHEY'VE got a brand-new organ, Sue, For all their fuss and search ; They've done just as they said they'd do, And fetched it into church. They're bound the critter shall be seen. And on the preacher's right They've hoisted up their new machine In everybody's sight. They've got a chorister and choir, Ag'in' my voice and vote ; For it was never my desire To praise the Lord by note. I've been a sister good an' true For five-an'-thirty year ; I've done what seemed my part to do, An' prayed my duty clear ; I've sung the hymns both slow and quick. Just as the preacher read, And twice, when Deacon Tubbs was sick, I took the fork an' led ; • From " Farm Ballads," Copyright, 1873, by Harper & Brothers. 354 THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN. And now, their bold, new-fangled ways Is comin' all about ; And I, right in my latter days. Am fairly crowded out ! To-day the preacher, good old dear. With tears all in his eyes. Read, " I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies." I al'ays liked that blessed hymn — I s'pose I al'ays will — It somehow gratifies my whim, In good old Ortonville ; But when that choir got up to sing, I couldn't catch a word ; They sung the most dog-gondest thing A body ever heard ! Some worldly chaps was standin' near ; An' when I see them grin, I bid farewell to every fear, And boldly waded in. I thought I'd chase their tune along. An' tried with all my might ; But though my voice is good an' strong, I couldn't steer it right 3SS AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. When they was high, then I was low, An' also contrawise ; An' I too fast, or they too slow, To " mansions in the skies." An' after every verse, you know, They play a little tune ; I didn't vmderstand, and so I started in too soon. I pitched it pretty middlin' high, I fetched a lusty tone. But oh, alas ! I found that I Was singin' there alone ! They laughed a little, I am told ; But I had done my best ; And not a wave of trouble rolled Across my peaceful breast. And Sister Brown — I could but look — She sits right front of me ; She never was no singin'-book. An' never went to be ; But then she al'ays tried to do The best she could, she said ; She understood the time right through. An' kep' it with her head ; 3S6 THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN. But when she tried this momin', oh, I had to laugh, or cough ! It kep' her head a-bobbin' so, It e'en a'most came off ! An' Deacon Tubbs — he all broke down. As one might well suppose ; He took one look at Sister Brown, And meekly scratched his nose. He looked his hymn-book through and through, And laid it on the seat. And then a pensive sigh he drew. And looked completely beat. And when they took another bout. He didn't even rise ; But drawed his red bandanner out. An' wiped his weepin' eyes. I've been a sister, good an' true. For five-an'-thirty year ; I've done what seemed my part to do. An' prayed my duty clear ; But Death will stop my voice, I know. For he is on my track ; And some day I to church will go. And never more come back; 357 American wit and humor. And when the folks gets up to sing — Whene'er that time shall be — I do not want no patent thing A-squealin' over me ! Will Carleton. IIS INDEX TO FIRST LINES. A captain went to Gettysburg . Ad Astra, De Profundis . A district school not far away . Again I hear that creaking step A Hindoo died — a happy thing to do All day she hurried to get through . Alone I sit at eventide A maiden once, of certain age . A man sat on a rock and sought " Are there no real good Injuns ? " . As vonce I valked by a dismal swamp A sweet, acidulous, down-reaching thrill Baby Bye Baby's brain is tired of thinking Basking in peace in the warm spring sun " Dear Jones" ..... Dear maid, let me speak . Dear Priscilla, quaint, and very Der boet may sing off " Der Oldt Oaken Dere vhas a leedle vomans once Der noble Ritter Hugo Dhere vas many queer dings in dis land off der free 359 Bookit 346 317 69 242 294 176 63 177 32 151 228 149 232 160 74 140 190 263 329 99 32s 327 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Far oft in the waste of desert sand . Feel more 'an ever like a fool .... Five mites of monads dwelt in a round drop . " God bless the man who first invented sleep ! " God makes sech nights, all white an' still . Good old Elder Lamb has labored for a thousand nights and days Gosh I But Phoebe did look sweet ! Go 'way, fiddle 1 Folks is tired, etc. Guvener B. is a sensible man .... Hans Breitmann gife a barty .... Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay He. — It isn't polite to call them fools He sermonized industriously in his didactic way He took me out to see the stars He was jes' a. plain, ever'-day, all-round kind of a jour He was the Chairman of the Guild . His engagement is ended at last His heart a maiden robbed him of . I don'd vas preaching voman's righdts I don't go much on religion .... I haf von funny leedle poy .... " I know what you're going to say," she said . I lay i' the bosom of the sun .... I nebber breaks a colt afore he's old enough to trabbel In letters large upon the frame .... It is positively false to call us frantic It is very aggravating It's all very well for preachin' .... 360 323 104 127 no 133 349 183 123 253 S3 169 336 266 24 120 "3 283 332 4 107 116 281 138 78 26 56 313 6S INDEX TO FIRST LINES. It was a balmeous day in May, when spring was springing high ig^ It was in a pleasant deepd, sequestered from the rain 13 It was in the Indian summer-time, etc. . . .215 I waited in the little sunny room .... 50 I wrote some lines once on a time .... 97 I wus mighty good-lookin' when I wus young . . 9 Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes . . . -Si Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay . 47 Lot Skinner was the meanest man .... 343 Me darUnt, it's axin' they are 310 Mine cracious I Mine cracious I shust look here und see 186 Miss Flora M'Flimsey, of Madison Square . . 37 My aunt, my dear unmarried aunt I . . . .86 " My daughter," and his voice was stem . . . 302 My love has long brown curls 188 My worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott . . .258 Nope, I reckon 'tain't no problem why our Sammy went away 224 Now, I's got a notion in my head dat when you come to die 7 " No wonder me darlin' is cross-eyed "... 262 Now the Widow McGee 89 " O come and be my mate I " etc loi Oh 1 dam it all ! — af eared of her .... 287 Oh, whar shill we go w'en de great day comes . . 1 58 Oh, yes, we've be'n fixin' up some sence we sold that piece o' groun' 130 Old Grimes is dead ; that good old man . . .275 Old Nick, who taught the village school . . . 222 361 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. One evening while reclining One morning when spring was in her teens One stormy mom I chanced to meet On me he shall ne'er put a ring O reverend sir, I do declare O'Ryan was a man of might " O thou, whatever title please thine ear " Said he : " Did you recollect, my dear " . Said the Grocer's Scale to the Orange-peel Seen you down at chu'ch las' night . She sits in a fashionable parlor She sports a witching gown Some folks the Old World find so fair Some men were bom for great things So that's Cleopathera's Needle, bedad " Speak, O man, less recent I Fragmentary fossil ! " The beauteous Ethel's father has a . The blessed Poster-girl leaned out . The conference-meeting through at last . The editor sat with his head in his hands . The maid, as by the papers doth appear . The mountain and the squirrel . Then his hand he placed, as ever The night was thick and hazy . " The proper way for a man to pray " There are three ways in which men take . There was a negro preacher, I have heard There was once a little animal . . The Wellesley girls say .... The Weverwend Awthur Murwey Gween They may talk of love in a cottage . 362 240 166 168 230 22 162 236 353 303 256 339 71 307 237 250 164 30s 60 284 202 274 341 278 118 18 95 245 269 270 296 INDEX TO FIRST LINES. They've got a brand-new organ, Sue This is old gold-stoled October .... This is the bait Thrash away, you'll hev to rattle Through the " Philadelphy " College he went in a week To Lake Aghmoogenegamook .... 'Twas a hard case, that which happened in Ljmn 'Twas April when she came to town Vas marriage a failure ? Veil, now, dot depends What aggregated wisdom must What makes you come here fer, mister . What, what, what What will we do when the good days come ? . When deeply in love with Miss Emily Pryne . When Mary Ann Dollinger got the skule daown When Washington was young, and not . Whereas, on certain boughs and sprays . Where the Moosatockmaguntic Which I wish to remark Whin you was out a lady called Who builds de railroads and canals . " Who stuffed that white owl .' " No one spoke in the shop Why is it the children don't love me Ye Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise You ask for my name I ah, dear madam, you palter " You gave me the key of your heart, my love " You may notch it on de palin's as a mighty resky plan Zack Bumstead uster flosserfize 363 354 321 I7S 142 81 211 154 333 S8 179 10 34 342 200 91 83 94 203 I 156 318 28 289 206 223 221 315 298 INDEX TO AUTHORS. Adams, Charles FoUen, 1842 — .... 4, 58, 116, 154, 186, 327, 329 Barlow, Joel, 1754 — 1812 206 Bellaw, Ameiicus Wellington, 1842 — . . 183, 190 Birdseye, George, 18 — . . . 236, 283, 294, 332 Brown, John Thomas, 1863 — 99 Brownell, Henry Howard, 1820 — 1872 . . 94, 228 Bunner, H. C, 1855 — 1896 281 Burdette, Robert Jones, 1844 — ... 74, 342 Burr, Lehigh, 18 — 302 Butler, William Allen, 1825 — 37 Carleton, Will, 1845— .... 307, 349, 354 Carryl, Charles Edward, 1841 — .... 278 Cook, Marc (" Vandyke Brown "), 1854 — 1882 . 179 Cozzens, Frederick Swartout, 1818 — 1869 . 162, 188 Davenport, Henry, 18 — . Dodge, H. C, 18— . Dole, Nathan Haskell, 1852 — . Dunbar, Paul Laurence, 1872 — Easton, Frank Tourtellot, l8 — Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 1803 — 1882 ■ 346 140, 175 • 63 s'. 303 262, 318 • 274 INDEX TO AUTHORS. Fawcett, Edgar, 1847— 56 Field, Eugene, 1850— 1896 313 Fields, James Thomas, 1816— 1881 ... 28, 343 Fink, W. W., 18— 89, 319 Foss, Sam Walter, 18— . . 113,118,266,270,298 Greene, Albert Gorton, 1802— 1868 . . . .275 Halpine, Charles Graham (" Miles O'Reilly "), 1829— 1868 22, i68, 223 Harris, Joel Chandler, 18 — 158 Harte, Bret, 1839 — i, 250 Hay, John, 1838 — 65, 107 Henderson, Mary L., 18 — 156 Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 1809— 1894 . i8, 86, 97, 169 Kimball, Mather Dean, 18 — 103 Lanigan, George Thomas, 1845 — '886 . . 34, 83 Leland, Charles Godfrey, 1824 — 13, 53, 193, 215, 325 Lowell, James Russell, 1819 — 1891 . 133, 142, 253, 258 Macon, John Alfred, 1851 — 7 Mitchell, WUham Howard, 18 — .... 353 "Mix Parmenas" (Andrew W. Kelly), 18— 81, 181, 284 Morgan, Bessie, 18 — 9 Morriss, George Pope, 1802 — 1864 .... 222 Munkittrick, Richard Kendall, 1853 — • ^6, 71, 317, 321 Newell, Robert Henry (" Orpheus C. Kerr "), 1836— 211 O'Leary, Cormac, 18 — 237 O'Reilly, John Boyle, 1844 — 1890 . . . .221 366 AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOR. Palmer, Wimam Pitt, 1805—1884 . Paine, Albert Bigelow, 18 — Peck, Samuel Minturn, 18 — Pratt, Florence E., 18— . Proudfit, David Law (" Peleg Arkwright 1897 . . . ' . . . Riley, James Whitcomb, 1852- Roche, James Jeffrey, 1847 — Russell, Irwin, 1853 — 1879 Saxe, John Godfrey, 1816 — 1887 Sherman, Frank Dempster, 18 — Sill, Edward Rowland, 1841— 1887 . Start, Alaric Bertrand, i8 — Stedman, Edmund Clarence, 1833^ — Stetson, Charlotte Perkins, 18 — Taylor, Bayard, 1825—1878 . Tiffany, Esther B., 18— . Tilton, Theodore, 1835— . Vandegrift, Margaret, 18- . . 69 130, 176, 224 166, 333, 339 . 91 '), 1842— • 32 . 10, 47, 120 . 160 • 78, 123 110, 200, 242 • 263 50, 127 • 323 . 60 loi, 245 i38> 149. 203 . 24 . 232 • 336 Webb, Charles Henry ('' John Paul "), 1834- Wells, Carolyn, 18— .... Whitcher, Frances Miriam, 1812 — 1852 . Willis, Nathaniel Parker, 1806— 1867 289 305 230 296 " Wyoming Kit," 18— 151 Anonymous, 95, 164, 177, 202, 240, 256, 269, 287, 315, 341 367 <*;'