PN 4251 .W5 Copy 1 I ■ - 1 .«**•« 1 1 ■ ■ No. 18. THE "MAGNET" HAND BOOKS. HAWTHORNE'S 60Mie F^E6ITEF(. FILLED WITH THE LIVELIEST, JOLLIEST, LAUGHTER- PROVOKING STORIES, LECTURES, AND OTHER HUMOROUS PIECES. FITTED TO KEEP AUDIENCB IN A ROAR, AND TO DRIVE AWAY DULL CARE* SUITABLE FOR RECITATION IN PUBLIC HALLS AND PRIVA TE PARTIES. \k \-\t.\i NEW YORK: el' solemn and pay attention to what the minister was saying, we would take him home and whip him within an inch of his life. We do not wish to be understood as wishing to clothe re- ligion in the gloom and superstition of the dark ages, but it does seem as if the stained glass windows in our churches added unusual and uncalled for terrors to the trembling sin- ner in a back pew. Why should we cause our houses*of worship to look like the front windows of a drug store at night ? And what is the imperative need — we do not ask this in a complaining spirit, but simply for information — what is the imperative need of giving a magic-lantern exhibition in the middle of the day? Is it not out of place? Is it in har- mony with the advanced spirit of the age in which we live? Is it not a reflection upon bald-headed men, and does it not have a tendeucy to drive them to the haunts of vice instead of leading them gently through green fields and by the side of still waters, up to a nobler existence and the contribution- box ? If there was any utility about these stained glass win- dows we could make allowances. If they contained adver- tisements, something that was of benefit to somebody, so a person could sit in his pew and read on a bald head, "Buy your postage stamps of Henry Payne and save forty per cent." —if, in short, there was one redeeming feature in the whole THE BALLAD OP A BUTCHER. 39 rainbow, we would not say a word. But we have given the matter serious thought, and there does not appear to be any possible defense of this diluted sunshine. Give us straight sunshine ; give us the clear quill, the pure article with out any bitters in it. If we have to have it mixed, we can mix it afterwards. LOVE AND FIREARMS. She was a virgin fair to view, Her name, I think, was black-eyed Sue ; Her eyes they were of the brightest hue, And her breath as sweet as the morning dew And on the wings of love I flew To tell her I'd for ever be true, For Cupid's flame none can subdue. At last a sheepish eye she threw • And said, oh, dear, I must have you ; To church we went with such a crew, The parson came, gave us the cue, And tied us together as fast as glue. But weeks had scarcely passed a few, When this false jade she proved untrue ; What I felt none ever knew, At last in such a rage I grew, Two revolvers from my pockets I drew; And the first chance I swear to you, — I'll pawn them for a dollar or two. THE BALLAD OP A BUTCHER. It was a gruesome butcher, With countenance saturnine ; He stood at the door of his little shop, It was the hour of nine. The children going by the school Looked in at the open door ; 40 HARD LIVES. They loved to see the sausage machine And hear its awful roar. The butcher he looked out and in, Then horribly he swore ; Next yawned, then, smiling, he licked his chops ; Quoth he : " Life's an awful bore !" " Now here's all these dear little children, Some on 'em might live to be sixty ; Why shouldn't I save them the trouble to wunst, An' chop 'em up slipperty licksty ?" So he winked to the children and beckoned 'em " Oh, don't ye's want some candy ? But ye see ye'll have to come into the shop, For out here it isn't handy V* He 'ticed them into the little shop, The machine went round and round, And when these poor babes came out again They fetched ten cents a pound. HARD LIVES. A. BRUTE. How happy is the single life Of all the priests and monks ! Not one of them has got a wife To bother him with trunks And bandboxes, a load too great For man or horse to bear, Which railways charge for over- weight, And cabs ask double fare. Fell care, as when your bride you post, Distracts your anxious mind, Lest this portmanteau should be lost. Or that be left behind : DER BABY. 41 Her baggage as you travel down Life's hill weighs more and more, And still, as balder grows your crown, Becomes a greater bore. Outstretched by fashion vile and vain, Hoops, petticoats and vests, Now Yankee females to contain Require no end of chests ; To which bags, baskets, bundles add, Too numerous to name, Enough to drive a poor man mad, A Job with rage inflame. The cab keeps swaying o'er your head With baggage piled above, Of overturn you ride in dread, With her whom you should love ; Then you, the station when you gain, Must see the lumber stowed, And fears about it in the train Your heart and soul corrode. Thus does your wife each journey spoil Of yours which she partakes, Thus keeps you on the fret and broil, Your peace and comfort breaks. With all these boxes, all her things (How many) to inclose, The fair incumbrance on you brings A wagon-load of woes. DER BABY. So help me gracious ,efery day I laugh me wild to see der vay My schmall young baby dries to play- Dot funny leetle baby. 42 the clown's description, etc. Vhen I look on dhem leetle toes, Und saw dot funny leetle nose, Und heard der vay dot rooster crows, I sclimile like I was grazy. Und vhen I heard der real nice vay Dhem beoples to my wife dhey say, " More like his fater every day," I vas so proud like "blazes. Sometimes dhere comes a leetle schquall, Dot's vhen der vindy vind will crawl Righd in its leetle schtomach schmall, — Dot's too bad for der baby. Dot makes him sing at night so schveet, Und garrydorric he must eat, Und I must chumb shpry on my feet, To help dot leetle baby. He bulls my nose and kicks my hair, Und grawls me ofer everywhere, Und schlobbers me — but vat I care, Dot vas my schmall young baby. Around my head dot leetle arm Vas schqueezin me so nice and varm — Oh ! may dhere never coom some harm To dot schmall leetle baby. THE CLOWN'S DESCRIPTION OF HIMSELF AND PARENTAGE. My father -was an independent gentle >an, for he kept a public house, or, properly speaking, one k^pt him. I have heard them say he died in an el- one 'round to bodder dem, no neighbors for to thieve, And ebery day was Christmas, and dey got deir rations free, And ebery ting belonged to them except an apple tree. SPEAKING FOR THE SHERIFF. 47 You all know 'bout de story — how de snake come snoopin' roun' — A stump tail rusty moccasin, crawlin on the gronn' — How Eve and Adam ate de fruit, and went and hid deir face, Till de angel oberseer he come and drove 'em off de place. Now, s'pose dat man and 'ooman hadn't 'tempted for to shirk, But had gone about deir gardening and 'tended to deir work, Dey wouldn't hab been loafin' whar dey had no business to, And de debbil nebber'd got a chance to tell 'em what to do. No half way doin's, bredren ! It'll neber do, I say ! Go at your task and finish it, and den's de time to play — For even if de crap is good de rain'll spoil de bolls, Unless you keep a pickiu' in de garden ob your souls. Keep a ploughin' and a hoein', and a scrapin' ob de rows, And when de ginnin's ober you can pay up what you owes ; But if you quits a workin' ebery time de sun is hot, De sheriff's gwine to lebby upon ebery ting you's got. Whateber 'tis your dribin' at, be shore and dribe it through, And don't let nuffin' stop you, but do Avhat you's gwine to do; For when 'you sees a nigger foolin', den, as shore's you're born, You's gwine to see him comin' out de small end ob he horn. I thanks for de 'tention you has gib dis afternoon ; Sister Williams will oblige us by a raisin ob a tune. I see dat Brudder Johnson's 'bout to pass aroun' de hat. And don't let's hab no half way doin's when it comes to dat ! SPEAKING FOR THE SHERIFF. S. STCBBS. Ladies and Gentlemen : — I am a candidate for the office of Sheriff, and I appear before you to prefer my claims to that responsible office. I am a modest man — which is saying much, in these days of innmdence and ro , have you heard she kept his ring ? " Listen ! the clock is striking six. Thank goodness ! then it's time for tea, 50 HOW MOTHER DID IT. Now ain't that too much ? Abbey Mix Has folded up her work ! Just see ! " Why can't she wait until she's told? Yes, thank you, deacon, here we come. (I hope the biscuits won't be cold. No coffee ? Wish I was to hum !) '* Do tell, Mis' Ellis ! Did you make This cheese ? the best I ever saw. Such jumbles, too (no jelly cake); I'm quite ashamed to take one more 1 " Good-bye ; we've had a first-rate time, And first-rate tea, I must declare. Mis' Ellis' things are always prime. (Well, next week's meetin' won't be there. ") HOW MOTHER DID IT. ANONYMOUS. If we were to suggest one thing which, above all other things combined, would niost contribute to the happi- ness of the young housekeeper, it would be to learn how to cook as a husband's mother cooked. Mother used to make coffee so and so ! Mother used to have such waffles ! and mother knew just how thick or how thin to make a squash- pie ! And, 0, if I could only taste of mother's biscuit ! Such are the comments of the husband, and of too many meal -tables. It would be only a little more cruel for the husband to throw his fork across the table, or to dash the contents of his teacup in his wife's face. The experience of a contrite husband is good reading for those men whose daily sauce is " How mother did it." He says : "1 found fault, some time ago, with Maria Ann's custard- pie, and tried to tell her how my mother made custard-pie. Maria made the pie after my recipe. It lasted longer than any other pie we ever had. Maria set it on the tabb every HOW MOTHER DID IT. 51 day for dinner ; and you see I could not eat it, because I for- got to tell her to put in any eggs or shortening. It was eco- nomical : but in a fit of generosity I stole it from the pantry and gave it to a poor little boy in the neighborhood. The boy's funeral was largely attended by his former playmates. I did not go myself. "Then there were the buckwheat cakes. I told Maria Ann any fool could beat her making those cakes ; and she said I had better try it. So I did. I emptied the batter all out of the pitcher one evening and set the cakes myself. I got the flour and the salt and water ; and, warned by the past, put in a liberal quantity of eggs and shortening. I shortened with tallow from roast-beef, because I could not find any lard. The batter did not look right, and I lit my pipe and pon- dered. Yeast, yeast to be sure. I had forgotten the yeast. I went and woke up the baker, and got six cents' worth of yeast. I set the pitcher behind the sitting room stove 'and went to bed. " In the morning I got up early and prepared to enjoy my triumph ; but I didn't. That yeast was strong enough to raise the dead, and the batter was running all over the car- pet. I scraped it up and put it into another dish. Then I got a fire in the kitchen and put on the griddle. The first lot of cakes stuck to the griddle. The second dittoed, only more. Maria came down and asked me what was burning. She advised me to grease the griddle. I did it. One end of the griddle got too hot, and I dropped the thing on my ten- derest corn while trying to turn it around. " Finally the cakes were ready for breakfast, and Maria got the other things ready. We sat down. My cakes did not have exactly the right flavor. I took one mouthful, and it satisfied me. I lost my appetite at once. Maria would not let me put one on her plate. I think those cakes may be reckoned a dead loss. The cat would not eat them. The dog ran off and stayed away three days after one was offered to him. The hens wouldn'* go within ten feet of them. I threw them into the bac' yard, and there has not been a pig on the premises since. I eat what is put before me now, and do not allude to my mother's system of cooking." 52 APPLES AND THEIR APPLICATION. APPLES AND THEIR APPLICATION. FAT CONTRIBUTOR. If this isn't an Agricultural Show it is a proper occasion to discourse of the fruit that Eve played off on Adam and thus kept us all out of Paradise. It 's a great satisfaction to know that Eve didn't know what she was about, for it proves that women doivt know everything, no matter what they pretend; and it's a great satisfaction, too, to know, that Adam was fool enough to take a bite, since Eve had done so before him, for, what a miserable fix this world would have been in if Adam had been gruff and growly, and so ungallant as to refuse an apple from Eve's beautiful hands ! The idea of we men going it alone, in any Para- dise, is too monstrous. A great Paradise it would be with- out women ! So, we are free to confess that apples are a celestial fruit even if Satan did deal in it, and never refuse to talk or eat when apples is up for consideration. There were twenty-two varieties of apples known to the Romans, at the time that Pliny wrote, and there are over two hundred varieties known to us at this writing. Besides the list of apples found in horticulural works, there are several other kinds not enumerated there. There are the Dead Sea apples, that are said to look fresh and in- viting without, but turn to dust as you attempt to quarter and core them. They are a species of dried apples not quo- ted in the market reports. There is the apple in the throat, sometimes called " Adam's apple," the apple of the eye, the npple-j)foa#, etc. Then we have the " golden apples of Hesperides," to secure which was one of the " twelve labors of Hercules " enjoined upon that classic athlete through the hostility of " cruel Juno." Hercules, remember, was the son of Jupiter, that mighty son of thunder, but his mother, being a daughter of Earth, Juno (Mrs. Hercules) was forninst .him from birth. The golden apples were a present to Juno at her wedding, from the goddess of the Earth, whose situation, by the way, lias since been filled with distinguished ability by the " God- APPLES AND THEIR APPLICATION. 53 dess of Liberty," a central figure at all patriotic demonstra- tions. These apples Juno had intrusted to the keeping of the daugh- ters of Hesperis, ably assisted by a horrid dragon. The poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appearance of the western sky at sunset, viewed the West as a region of brightness and glory, hence it was there they placed tlie " Isle of the Hes- perides." Their home was on the setting sun ! But Hercules didn't know this, not being a reader of the poets. He sought out Atlas, the father of the Hesperides, condemned by the gods to support the weight of the heavens upon his shoulders, and offered to assume the burden him- self. Atlas would seek the apples and deliver them to him. At- las, being naturally well posted in geography, from which he is rarely separated, soon found the Hesperian Isle — "struck ile" as you might say — made his girls give up the apples, under a pretense of exhibiting them at the Horticultural Fair at the "Rink," and delivered them to Hercules. While an apple produced the first domestic difficulty on record, it was also the cause of the Trojan war, without which Homer and Virgil would have had no theme adequate for their quills. Thus it occurred . Eriz, the Goddess of Discord, enraged because she was not invited to a certain wedding attended by all the other members' of the celestial family, threw a golden apple among the guests, inscribed '•' For the fairest." Juno, Venus and Minerva claimed it ; which, on the part of Min- erva, was stated by the papers of the day to be the most foolish act of her life, for, like most wise virgins, although she had oil in her lamp, she wasn't "pooty." The decision being left to Paris, a shepherd on Mount Ida, though son of the king of Troy, he decided in favor of Venus, she having promised him the most beautiful woman in the world for a wife — and we may add that a handsome woman has had the inside track in the race ever since. Paris went to Greece, where he was hospitably received by Menelaus, King of Sparta, returning his hospitality, as is often the case, by running away with his wife, the fair Helen. 54 SALLY HAYES. Menelaus, after advertising her in tlie Sparta Gazette as hav- iug left his bed and board, and warning people uot to trust her on his account, got up an expedition and sailed for Troy, where ihe guilty party had fled, for the purpose of recover- ing his wife, together with damages. The ten years' war that followed, ending in the downfall of Troy, is well known. SALLY HAYES. ANONYMOUS. A gossiping spinster was old Sally Hayes, Who ne'er saw in any one aught she could praise From early in life to the end of her days. No matter how good or how great was a man, Whether reared in America, France, or Japan, To censure, not praise him, was ever her plan. Where Sally resided she made it her trade To know if the bills of her neighbors were paid, And who all the rules of the Bible obeyed. Joy never illumined her sharp ugly face Except when some one who stood high in the place Had by a false step fallen into disgrace. The star of a scion to quickly decline, The fall of some maiden while heated by wine, Would cause her such rapture no pen could define. Detaining each person who passed by her door, By numberless questions an hour or more, Of the news of the town she kept a full store. For none who pass by were sufficiently bold To step e'en their feet over the slimy threshold Of this wretched odd jade of whom I have told. So Sally had made it an e very-day rule To quiz e'en the children who pass by the school, Not even forgetting one poor little fool. " Ah, what is the news ?" she beseechingly asked Of Joe Look, a wag, who her domicile passed On the dav that is known as an Annual Fast. NOBODY. 55 " Did you know," replied Joe, " that Mr. Defife Hurled a knife at the face of Anna, his wife, Which cut a deep gash and endangered her life T '* Why, no," she exclaimed, seemingly greatly amazed, And as to the blue sky her gray eyes she raised, Her heart seemed to say, For this heaven be praised; For joy ne'er illumined her sharp, ugly face Except when some one who stood bright in the place, Had by a misstep fallen into disgrace. The star of a scion to quickly decline, The fall of some maiden while heated by wine Would cause her such rapture no pen could define. " Will it sear her fair face V Sally asked with a smile, " And think you that she a petition will file To be rid of Defife, so brutally vile ?" Joe said, as he felt a slight pang of remorse, " I hardly believe she will seek a divorce From a man who is kind e'en unto his horse." "Why did you not tell me that Mr. Defife Hurled a knife at the face of Anna, his wife, " Which cut a deep gash and endangered her life?" " I did, but it happened, so I have been told, When they were mere children — scarce seven years old, Ha ! ha ! Sally Hayes, ha ! ha ! you are sold." NOBODY. If nobody's noticed you, you must be small ; If nobody's slighted you, you must be tall ; If nobody's bowed to you, you must be low ; If nobody's kissed you, you're ugly we know ; If nobody's envied you, you're a poor elf; If nobody's flattered you, flatter yourself ; If nobody's cheated you, you are a knave ; If nobody's hated you, you are a slave ; If nobody's called you a " fool" to your face, Somebody's wished for your back in its place 56 " WHY IS HE AN ACTOR ? " If nobody's called you a "tyrant" or "scold," Somebody thinks you of spiritless mould ; If nobody knows of your faults but " a friend. Nobody '11 miss them at the world's end ; If nobody clings to your purse like a fawn, Nobody'll run like a hound when it's gone ; If nobody's eaten his bread from your store, Nobody'll call you a "miserly bore ;" If nobody's slandered you — here is our pen — Sign yourself Nobody, quick as you can. "WHY IS HE AN ACTOR?" He is an actor simply because it is beyond his power to be otherwise. He would not make a merchant, nor a physician, nor farmer — would make absolutely nothing but what he is — good or bad, an actor. His sensibilities, his mind, his na- ture, drive him to that profession. It is not the love of gain, the desire for fame ; the ambition for honor — it is simply his ■want of power to resist the influences that urge him to the ex- citing, precarious life of the stage. An actor is a man gov- erned not by one directing influence, but by many. He is too reckless to listen to the whispers of prudence ; he is too care- less and indiffereut to methodically seek the road to wealth. He is sympathetic, for he has felt its necessity. He is the creature of the present, realizing his mimicry on the stage. He is a pauper to-day, a very lord to-morrow. To-day he la- bors assiduously, industriously, recklessly — as recklessly as he does all other things. To-morrow he forgets that he ever knew labor or privation. Too generous to hoard, too extrav- agant to think, he lavishes his means as freely and easily as he acquires it. He is never despondent, never doubtful. The future always hold out to him its bright assurances. Antic- ipation beckons him smilingly on — the same fate that cruelly thrusts him back to-day, will benignly elevate him to-mor- row. His spirits are ever elastic, his hopes ever buoyant. Prodigal and wasteful, he is as imprudent and improvident as WHAT IS A BACHELOR LIKE ? 57 ar child ; yet labors earnestly and well when occasion requires it. He has no thought beyond the present — his directing judgment is an impulse only. He would not make a minis- ter ; he is not serious enough, his mind could not bend it- self to listen calmly to the pleadings of a conscience-stricken soul. He would not make a physician ; his sympathy is too highly wrought to resist the deleterious appeals, the yielding to which would produce only injury. He would not make a merchant ; he is too reckless, too indifferent to study wealth, and behind the banker's desk would chafe with restraint like a confined lion. He is too unstable in his labor to till the .soil. He is fit for nothing but what he is — an actor : a pro- fession that gives scope to his various and varying excita- tions ; a profession that feeds aud fosters his volatile sensi- bilities, that satiates and subdues his restless, fickle passion. He is not an actor by choice — he is but a passive creature yielding to the power of his transient impressions. He has not chosen his profession — nature has chosen that, and the* has chosen him. WHAT IS A BACHELOR LIKE What is a bachelor like ? A man without a home and wife. Why, a pump without a handle, A mouldy tallow candle ! A goose that's lost his fellows, A useless pair of bellows, A horse without a saddle, A boat without a paddle ; A mule — a fool I A two-legged stool ! A pest — a jest ! Dreary — weary — Contrary — unchary — A fish without a tail, A ship without a sail, A legless pair of tongs, 58 WHAT IS A BACHELOR LIKE ? A fork without its prongs, A clock without a face — A pig that's out of place ! A bootless leg — an addled egg ! A stupid flat — a crownless hat ; A pair of breeches wanting stitches ; A chattering ape — coat minus cape ! A quacking duck — wanting pluck ; A gabbling goose — mad dog let loose ! A boot without a sole, Or a cracked and leaky bowl, Or a fiddle without a string, Or a bee without its sting, Or a bat— or a sprat, Or a cat — or a hen, Or a rat — or a wren, Or a gnat — or a pig in a pen ! Or a thrush that will not sing, Or a bell that will not ring ! Or a penny that *' won't go !" Or a herring without salt ! Or a monkey— or a donkey ! Or a surly dog tied to a log ! Or a frog in a bog ! Or a fly in a mug ! Or a bug in a rug ! Or a bee — or a flea — Or a last year's pea — Or a figure 3 ! Like a bell without a tongue, Like a barrel without a bung, Like a whale — like a snail — Like an owl — like a fowl — Like a priest without his cowl ! Like a midnight ghoul ! Like a gnome in his cell — Like a clapperless bell — Like a man down a well ! He's a poor forsaken gander, * THE WANTS OP THE AGES. 59 Choosing lonely thus to wander ! He's like a walking stick, or satchel, or — But to be plain, And end my strain, He's like naught but — a bachelor I THE WANTS OP THE AGES. It is a man's destiny still to be longing for something, and the gratification of one set of wishes but prepares the un- satisfied soul for the conception of another. The child of a year old wants little but food and sleep ; and no sooner is he supplied with sufficient allowance of either of those very ex- cellent things, than he begins whimpering or yelling it. may be for the other. At three, the young urchin becomes en- amoured of sugarplums, apple pies, and confectionery. At six, his imagination runs on kites, marbles, and tops, and an abundance of playtime. At ten, the boy wants to leave school, and have nothing to do but go birdnesting and black berry hunting. At fifteen he wants a beard and a watch, and a pair of boots. At twenty he wishes to cut a figure and ride horses ; sometimes his thirst for display breaks out in dandy- ism, and sometimes in poetry ; he wants sadly to be in love, and takes it for granted that all the ladies are dying for him. The young man of twenty-five wants a wife ; and at thirty he longs to be single again. From thirty to forty he wants to be rich, and thinks more of making money than spending it. About this time, also, he dabbles in politics and wants office. At fifty, he wants excellent dinners and capital wine, and considers a nap in the afternoon indispensable. The respect- able old gentleman of sixty wants to retire from business with a snug independence of three or four hundred thousands, to marry his daughters, set up his sons, and live in the coun- try ; and then for the rest of his life he wants to be young again. 60 DERMOT O'DOWD. LOVER. When Dermot O'Dowd coorted Molly McCann, They were as sweet as the honey and as soft as the down, But when they were wed they began to find out That Dermot could storm, and that Molly could frown ; They would neither give in — so the neighbors gave out — Both were hot, till a coldness came over the two, And Molly would flusther, and Dermot would blusther — Stamp holes in the fiure, and cry out " Weirasthru/ Oh, murther ! I'm married ! I wish I had tarried ; I'm sleepless and speechless — no word can I say *, My bed is no use — I'll give back to the goose The feathers I pluck'd on last Michaelmas Day." "Ah," says Molly, "you once used to call me a bird." " Faix, you're ready enough still to fly out," says he. " You said then my eyes were as bright as the skies, And my lips like the rose — now no longer like me." Says Dermot, " Your eyes are as bright as the morn, But your frown is as black as a big thunder cloud ; If your lip is a rose, faith your tongue is a thorn That sticks in the heart of poor Dermot O'Dowd." Says Molly, ' ' You once said my voice was a thrush, But now it's a rusty old hinge with a creak." Says Dermot, " You called me a duck when I coorted, But now I'm a goose every day in the week ; But all husbands are geese, though our pride it may shock, From the first 'twas ordained so by Nature, I fear ; Ould Adam himself was the first of the flock, And Eve, with her apple sauce, cook'd him, my dear. " A HARD-SHELL SERMON. 61 A HARD-SHELL SERMON. A. GREENY. " And he passed cm to Shunkm." The words of my text, my hearers, you will find in IL Kings, iv. chapter, and — verse: "And he passed on to Shun' em." Take to heart the lesson your text teaches, and when temptations try you, and evils lie in wait to insnare you, " pass on to shun'em." When you see men of wrath fighting and breaking heads and sticks, and hear them cursing and swearing, mind the words of the text, and " pass on to Shun'em." And oh, my hearers, if you should come into our little town and behold a row of nice little offices with tin signs on the doors of each, and hear men talking of attachments with- out affection, and sequestrations without quiet-ah— and seize yours and never theirs-ah — it will be to your profit to mind the words of the prophet, and " pass on to Shun'em." And if you go round where the merchants are-ah — and they rush out to shake hands with you, and are especially anxious to learn the condition of your wife's health and the children's, and the worms and the crops, and offer to sell you a little bill of goods a good deal lower than their cost, on account of their love for you and for each-ah — '■ pass on to Shun'em." And if you should happen to go round the corner and see men drinking beer, that will bring them to a bier, and gin^ sling-down the strongest, and smashes that will smash 4 man's fortune faster than commission merchants who advance supplies on the last crop-ali — oh, "pass on to Shun'em." But oh ! my hearers ! if you should go down to New York , — that modern Sodom and Gomorrah-ah — and when the gas- lights are flashing and glimmering, and the cabs are dashing along the street, and obliging drivers are offering to carry you where only steamboat captains and the first gentlemen go-ah — and Broadway is on a rip and a roar-ah — and the brass bands are crashing music from the balconies, and men in little holes are ready to sell you tickets to go in and see 62 HOW UB VAS DOT FOR HIGH ? the Black Crook dance with nothing to wear — and make spectacles of themselves-ah — oh, my friends, ' ' pass on to Shun'ein." And oh ! if later in the evening, with a very particular friend, you go up stairs into most splendidly-furnished rooms-ah — and see the supper-table spread with delicacies from every country — and tea, ducks and snipe, and yaller- legged pheasants, and all that fish, flesh and fowls can afford — and champagne and brandy and Burgundy and Chateau Lafitte older than Waterloo — and nothing to pay and all free — and a nice gentleman with rings on his fingers, and a diamond breast-pin, playing with little spotted pasteboards, and another turning a machine and dropping in a little ball that rolls round and round and stops sometimes on the eagle- bird and oftener don't — and where the players generally put down more than they take up — and men sometimes win but mostly dont-ah — oh, " pass on to Shun'em." And in conclusion, my friends, when the world, the flesh and the devil-ah — lie in wait for you, " pass on to Shun'em.'' HOW UB VAS DOT FOR HIGH ? OOFTY GOOFT. Dere vas von dime a leedle olt Gwaker Dot leefed in a blace by der name of Jeemaker, Und he made up his mind he vood wrode for der baper, So he did, und dot's bully of him. He vent in der house und he sid down von nighd For to made ub his mind und dought vat to wride, Ven der vind dot plowed in und dot pud oud der lighd, Und dot made gwide grankey, I bed you. Der Gwaker he owed such a nine dollar node To a German from Brussia, von Beder Gabode, Und he vent by der door as der lighd oud vas plowed, Und der Gwaker clinked Bede was der plowisd. HOW UB VAS DOT FOR HIGH ? 03 Bede didn't vas vorking dot fine afdernoon He vas Maying "seven oud " in a lager saloon, Ven lie vent by der Gvvaker's he vissled der dune Of " Dot Gal as lifs der way ofer." Dot Gwaker vas mat und lie sliweared like der doose, Und he called dot poor Bedey a blame "Gosling's Goose ;" Und said : — He vood bead him glean oud of his shoes Of he didn'd valk off on his ear vonce 1" Bud Bede didn'd vent — he shdood shdill like a log, Und der Gwaker shwelled ub mit moat like a frog He vas jusd boud der same like a leedle Shblitz dog Ven he gots such a vild hyderfoby. He jumbed und he sliweared, und he made such a din, Vas going to bull Bedey glean out of his shkin, Und oh ! vat a biggie der Gwaker vas in — Dey dinked sure dot he vill vent grazy. A boleesesman habbened to come righd along, Und he shbied der olt Gwaker a going id shdrong, So he made oud his mind dot boor Bedey vas wrong Und he vent und he snadched him paid-headed. He marched Misder Bedey, I dink boud a mile, In frond of der Judge, who, mit many a shmile, Gifed Bedey dwelf days on dot bewdiffel isle Dot is noading oud in der Easd Rifer. Der Gwaker vent home und he finished his wride, Mitoud gidding in drouple some more mit his lighd, Und ven dot corned oud in der baper next nighd Mosd efryvon said, " Aind dot shblendid T* He took for his supjeck a ding dot's quide new, Und von dot der vorld dot aind seldom sliduck to ; Id vas : — " Do by your naybor like he dowes mit you," Ven he dowes vat ye call " on der lefel." 64 pat's letter. Dere's a moral in dis leedle shdory, I'fe said ; Dot's of you kin got jusd vonce drough your head — Of you don't kin, vy, vaid dill dot Oofty vas dead, Und den may be he'll come und oxblain it- PAT'S LETTER. Well, Mary, me darlint, I'm landed at last, And troth, though they tell me the st'amer was fast, It sames as if years upon years had gone by Since Paddy looked intill yer beautiful eye ! For Amerikay, darlint — ye'll think it is quare — Is twinty times f urder than Cork from Kildare ; And the say is that broad, and the waves are that high, Ye're tossed like a f ut-ball 'twixt wather and shky ; And ye fale like a pratie just burstin' the shkin, That all ye can do is to howld yersilf in. Ochone ! but, me jewel, the say may be grand : But, when ye come over, dear, travel by land! It's a wondherful country, this — so I am towld — They'll not look at guineas, so chape is the gowld : And the three that poor mother sewed into my coat I sowld for a thrifle, on l'aving the boat. And the quarest of fashions ye iver have seen ! They pay ye with picters all painted in green. And the crowds that are rushing here, morning and night, Would make the lord-lieutenant shake with the fright. The strates are that full that there's no one can pass, And the only law is, " Do not thread on the grass." Their grass is the quarest of shows — by me vow — For it wouldn't be munched by a Candlemas cow. Tell father I wint, as he bid me, to see His friend, Tim O'Shannon, from Killycaughnee. It's rowling in riches O'Shannon is now, With a wife and tin babies, six pigs and a cow, THE " DEAD BEAT " IN POLITICS. 65 In a nate little house, standing down from the strate, With two beautiful rooms, and a pig-sty complate. I thought of ye, darlint, and drained such a drame 1 That mebbe, some day, we'd be living the same ; Though, troth, Tim O'Shannon's wife niver could dare (Poor yaller-skinned crayther) with you to compare ; While, as for the pigs, shure 'twas aisy to see The bastes were not mint for this land of the free. I think of ye, darlint, from morning till night ; And when I 'm not thinking ye 're still in me sight ! I see your blue eyes, with the sun in their glance — Your smile in the meadow, your fut in the dance. I '11 love ye, and thrust ye, both living and dead 1 (Let Phil Blake look out for his carroty head !) I 'm working, acushla, for you — only you 1 And I'll make ye a lady yit, if ye '11 be true ; Though, troth, ye can't climb Fortune's laddher so quick, Whin both of your shouldhers are loaded with brick ; But I'll do it — I declare it, by — this and by that — Which manes what I daren't say — from Your own Pat. THE "DEAD BEAT" IN POLITICS. U. B. GREEN. I stand before you, fellow-citizens, a candidate for your suffrages, for the high office of a seat or a bench in our leg- islative halls. The united voice of six men, to my certain knowledge, has proclaimed me the people's choice ; and who can resist such a call ? Not I! If the men who have suffered for their country's sake are to be trusted and honored, then I have sevej-al and various claims on your hearts and hands. Did I not fly to arms, and become a quartermaster, when rebellion stalked through the land ? You know I did ! I left this neighborhood for the tented field, a poor man ; I rode in a wagon, and dealt out supplies to hungry men through the Vicksburg campaign, and re- 66 THE "dead beat" in politics. turned home shaking with the ague, and was only just able to buy a farm that I had wanted for many a year. (Voice in audience : " Where did you get the money ?") It is astonishing what mean men there is in this world. Whose business is it where I got the money ? Didn't I feed the troops with fresh-beef and corn-coffee when others were serving out " old horse," as it was called, and burnt beans? You know I did, you mean sneak I (Another voice : " How about old mule ?" I '11 lick that chap, as sure as my name isn't Red-top Smith. ' Old mule, hey? Who says I gathered in the dead mules, and sarved 'em out as fresh -beef, is a liar, and I can prove it, for I lived on that meat myself, for six days — (Another voice : "And very sick days they were, old fel- low /") Well, whose business was that ? It cost you nothing for physic, and if I did have mule hides to sell, it was no sign that I skinned all the mules Grant would allow to drop out of his trains. No, sir ! I lived and suffered for my country, and merit the reward that ought to be conferred upon every man as does his duty in a time of public peril. A legislator ought to be a man of experience, one who has not only seen much of the world, but who has — (A voice: " Run away with another man's wife /") May the eternal elements blast your picture, you flat-nosed vagabond ! No woman would run away with you, any more 'n she 'd eat a shunk's liver. Hun away with another man's wife? No, sir ! I never did that ! Oh, that one wbo had passed all through the perils of the Vicksburg campaign should return to the bosom of his constituents to be so ma- ligned ! Oh, that— ( Voice : ' ' Dry up /") No, I won't dry up ! I '11 have my rights, if I die for 'em, and I '11 stand here until I gets them, too ; so you had better dry up, yourself. Friends and fellow-citizens, I now call upon you to con- sider the great questions before the country involved in my election. I see before my mind's eye — THIN MAN FROM DAYTON. G7 All the voices: "Money!" "Old mule!" "Another man's wife!" "Dry up!") (SigJis) It's no use tulkin' any more! There'll be four funerals in the town to-morrow, and after that comes the election. (Stalks off the stage, beating the air with hisjists.) THIN MAN FROM DAYTON. One morning, soon after the eating stands on the Central Market had been thrown open to the maw of the hungry pub- lic, and while Mrs. Magruder was telling a small boy that she could hold up her hand and swear that she never used beans in her coffee, a stranger came along and asked if he could get a bit to eat. Mrs. Magruder has been on the market for many years, and she thinks she knows a thing or two. She has flattered herself that she could tell to a bite just how much a customer could eat, and she has for years, had an un- disguised contempt for thin-bodied, spare-faced men, who try to chew their coffee and mince their toast. This stranger was a little better than a six-foot shadow. His fore-ground consisted of a shirt-collar and a mouth as big as a mince-pie, and the perspective revealed nothing but two hollow eyes set below a thin line of sandy-eyebrows. He remarked that he had just arrived from Dayton, and was somewhat hungry, but wanted first to inquire how much his breakfast would cost him, as he was rather short of funds. "Oh ! I suppose you may be able to worry down six or seven cents! worth of provisions and a cup of coffee," she replied. " Suppose you say twenty-five cents for all I want to eat?" he said, as the corners of his eyes began to twitch. Mrs. Magruder looked him over and mentally calculated that she would make just thirteen cents by the bargain, and she replied : "I must have my money in advance, you know." " Oh, certainly — here it is. Now, then, I'm to eat my fill for the quarter ? " 68 THIN MAN FROM DAYTON. She said that was the understanding, and winked at the woman in the next stall. The thin man from Dayton doub- led up on a stool, opened his mouth, and a fried sausage went out of sight so quickly that the last end seemed to smoke. A fried cake followed, then a second sausage, and after a gulp or two the man handed out his cup with the words : " That tastes like real coffee — gimme some more." While she was filling the cup he got away with t%vo hot biscuits and a slice of beef, and the coffee came just in time to wash down a hunk of mince pie. He could use both arms and his mouth at once, and he attended strictly to business. When Mrs. Magruder had filled the third cup her smile had quite vanished. She saw that she wouldn't come out even . without resorting to strategy, and she began asking ques- tious. The man answered none of them except by a mourn- ful shake of the head. Crash ! crash ! went his jaws, and he reached out from the shoulder like clock work. Mrs. Ma- gruder called his attention to a dog fight across the way, but he ate faster than ever. The bell struck 9, and she remark- ed that a big conflagration was raging at the Union depot, but the man did not raise his eyes. When Mrs. Magruder discovered that she was at least six shillings behind, she said that she was a " poor widow with five children to support." " How I do pity you ! " replied the man as he passed his cup with one hand and raked in a biscuit with the other. Then Mrs. Magruder told a story about a man dropping dead on the market the day before on account of overeating, but the man got away with two fried cakes and replied : "Curious how some folks will make hogs of themselves." At length Mrs. Magruder wanted to know how much long- er he could stand "it, and the thin man from Dayton gave her a reproachful glance and anssvered : "Have I thus early fallen in with swindlers and fals- ifiers ? " She. let him go on for three or four minutes more, and then she hinted that a detective was prowling around there evidently "spotting" some one. THAT HIRED GIRL. 69 "If he'll only give me twenty-five minutes to finish my breakfast, he can take me and be hanged ! " answered the man, and his arms worked faster than ever. Mrs. Magruder was cornered. She laid his money down, and asked him for the sake of her poor orphans to move on and leave her at least one fried cake as a "business foundation. He paused with his cup held out for the seventh time, and perhaps something in her tearful look reminded him of his poor dead mother, for he said : " Well, I'm only human, and I admit that my heart is ten- der. I don't like to break off in the middle of my breakfast, but I'll take the money and move on for your children's sake. " He got up looking just as much like a lath as when he sat down, and when he was out of sight Mrs. Magruder turned to the desolate ruins and groaned out : " I'll take my solemn oath if four dollars will make me good for this, and I must tell my husband that I fitted out a schooner on trust ! " THAT HIRED GIRL. THE MINISTER'S RECEPTION ON HIS FIRST CALL IN HIS NEW PARISH. When she came to work for the family on Congress street, the lady in the house sat down and told her that agents, book- peddlers, hat- rack men, picture sellers, ash-buyers, ragmen, and all that class of people, must be met at the front door and coldly repulsed, and Sarah said she'd repulse them if she had to break every broomstick in Detroit. And she did. She threw the door open wide, bluffed right up at 'em, and when she got through talking, the cheekiest agent was only too glad to leave. It got so after awhile that peddlers marked that house, and the door-bell never rang ex- cept for company. The other day, as the girl of the house was wiping off the spoons, the bell rang. She hastened to the door, expecting to see a lady, but her eyes encountered a slim man, dressed in 70 THAT HIRED GIRL. black, and wearing a white necktie. He was the new minis- ter, and was going around to get acquainted with, the mem- bers of his flock, but Sarah wasn't expected to know this. " Ah — uni — is — Mrs. — ah !" "Git !" exclaimed Sarah, pointing to the gate. "Beg pardon, but I would like to see — see — " "Meander !" she shouted, looking around for a weapon ; " we don't want any flour-sifters here !" " You're mistaken," he replied, smiling blandly. I called to—" " Don't want anything to keep moths away — fly !" she ex- claimed, getting red in the face. " Is the lady in?" he inquired, trying to look over Sarah's head. "Yes, the lady is in, and I'm in, and you are out !' she snapped ; "and now I don't want to stand here talking to a fly-trap agent any longer ! Come, lift your boots !" " I'm not an agent/' he said, trying to smile. "I'm the new — " "Yes, I know you — you are the new man with the patent flat-iron, but we don't want any, and you'd better go before I call the dog !" "Will you give the lady my card, and say that I called ?" "No I won't ; we are bored to death with cards and hand- bills and circulars. Come, I can't stand here all day." " Didn't you know that I was a minister?" he asked as he backed off. " No, nor I don't know it now ; you look like the man who sold the woman next door a dollar chromo for eighteen shil- lings." " But here is my card." " I don't care for cards, I tell you ! If you leave that gate open I will have to fling a flower pot at you !" " I will call again," he said, as he went through the gate. " It won't do any good !" she shouted after him ; "we don't want no prepared food for infants — no piano music — no stuffed birds ! I know the policeman on this beat, and if you come around here again, he'll soon find out whether you are a confidence man or a vagrant !" And she took unusual care to lock the door. LOVE AND MURDER. 71 LOVE AND MURDER. In Manchester a maiden dwelt, Her name was Phoebe Brown ; Her cheeks were red, her hair was black, And she was considered by good judges to be by all odds the best-looking girl in town. Her age was nearly seventeen, Her eyes were sparkling bright ; A very lovely girl she was, And for about a year and a half there had been a young man paying his attention to her, by the name of Reuben Wright. Now Reuben was a nice young man As any in the town, And Phcebe loved him very dear, But on account of his being obliged to work for a living, he never could make himself agreeable to old Mr. and Mrs. Brown. Her parents were resolved Another she should wed, — A rich old miser in the place, — And old Brown frequently declared, that rather than have his daughter marry Reuben Wright, he 'd sooner knock him in the head. But Phoebe's heart was brave and strong, She feared not her parents' frowns ; And as for Reuben Wright, so bold, I've heard him say more than fifty times that (with the exception of Phcebe) he didn't care a cent for the whole race of Browns. So Phoebe Brown and Reuben Wright Determined they would marry ; Three weeks ago last Tuesday night, They started for old Parson Webster's, deter- mined to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony, though it was tremendous dark, and rained like the old Harry. 72 FEMALE TENDERNESS. But Captain Brown was wide awake, He loaded up his gun, And then pursued the loving pair ; He overtook 'em when they 'dgot about half way to the parson's, and then Reuben and Phoebe started off upon the run. Old Brown then took a deadly aim Toward young Reuben's head, But, oh ! it was a bleeding shame, He make a mistake, and shot his only daughter, and had the unspeakable anguish of seeing her drop right down stone dead. Then anguish filled young Reuben's heart And vengeance crazed his brain, He drew an awful jack-knife out, And plunged it into old Brown, about fifty or sixty times, so that it's very doubtful about his ever coming too. The briny drops from Reuben's eyes In torrents poured down, — And in this melancholy and heart rending manner terminates the history of Reuben and Phoebe, and likewise old Captain Brown. FEMALE TENDERNESS. DOUGLAS JEKROLD. I was one of a party of five in the inside of a stagecoach : among whom were a jolly butcher, and an elderly maiden lady in green spectacles. At a stopping place the coachman was regaling himself with some foaming ale, when he was accosted by an official looking personage ; and some whispers passed, from which I learned that a convict was about to be forwarded to the next seaport. The coachman, however, to do him justice, FEMALE TENDERNESS. i3 softened tlie matter to the passengers with all possible skill. " If you please, ma'am and gemmen, I wants to make room here for an individual." " Is he a gentleman, coachman? and has he any pipe?" asked the lady in green spectacles. " Quite a gentleman, ma'am, and not a morsel of backey about him ; and what's more, hasn't a ha'penny to buy a bit." " Why, who is he? he has not much the cut of a gentle- man ! where's he bound for ?" " Why, he's going out of the country on the service of government." *' On the service of government ! — a scientific man, doubt- less ? What does he know ? chemistry or geology ? or is he acquainted with botany t" ' • Why, not yet, ma am — though that's what he's going for. The fact is, ma'am — " " Now no nonsense, coachman, " says the butcher, "is he not a convict ?" " Why that's what the unfeeling calls 'em, but we as have pity says, unfortunate." " Pho ! pho ! why, he has the gallows in his face !" " Yes, sir ; and now he's worn irons, lie's got a newgate in his legs. " " Oh, I can't admit a felon ; I shall leave the coach !" " Lord bless you, ma'am ! he isn't a felon, — he's only found guilty of burglarly !" " Burglary! O— What ! Ride with a burglar? I wouldn't for the world. I will leave the coach !" " Don't do that, ma'am — there's no occasion ; the poor fel- low says, to make him himself agreeable, he'll wear hand- cuffs for the rest of the journey." " But burglarly I he has committed burglarly, Mr. Coach- man ! I wouldn't ride with him for the world !" "'Burglarly ! who said burglarly? I s&i&bigamy, — bigamy ma'am, — he's transported for marrying seven wives I" 1 ' Seven wives I Poor fellow ! let him come in,'" 74 THE MENAGERIE. THE MENAGERIE HONEYWELL. Did you ever ? No, I never ! Mercy on us, what a smell ! Don't be frightened, Johnny dear ! Gracious ! how the jackalls yell. Mother, tell me what's the man Doing with that pole of his ? Bless your little precious heart. He's stirring up the beastesses ! Children, don't you go so near ! Hevings ! there's the Afric cowses ! What's the matter with the child ? Why, the monkey's tore his trowsers ! Here's the monstrous elephant — I'm all a-tremble at the sight ; See his monstrous toothpick, boys — Wonder if he's fastened tight? There's the lion ! see his tail ! How he drags it on the floor ! 'Sakes alive ! I'm awful scared To hear the horrid creatures roar ! Here's the monkeys in their cage, Wide awake you are to see 'em ; Funny, ain't it ? How would you Like to have a tail and be 'em ? Johnny, darling, that's the bear That tore the naughty boys to pieces. Horned cattle ! only hear How the dreadful camel wheezes ! That's the tall giraffe, my boy Who stoops to hear the morning lark ; 'Twas him who waded Noah's flood, And scorned the refuge of the ark. 75 Here's the crane — the awkward bird ! Strong his neck is as a whaler's, And his bill is full as long As ever met one from from the tailor' Look ! just see the zebra there ! Standing safe behind the bars : Goodness me ! how like a flag, All except the corner stars ! There's the bell ! the birds and beasts Now are going to be fed ; So, my little darlings, come, It's time for you to be a-bed. "Mother, 'tisn't nine o'clock ! You said we needn't go before ; Let us stay a little while — Want to see the monkeys more ! " Cries the showman, " Turn 'em out ! Dim the lights ! there, that will do ; Come again to-morrow, boys ; Bring your little sisters, too." Exit mother, half distraught, Exit father, muttering " Bore ! " Exit children, blubbering still, " Want to see the monkeys more ! " BOYS' RIGHTS. * BY ONE OF 'EM. Talk about the women and darkeys and the — the — all the rest of 'em ; none of 'em all are half so badly used as the boys are. I know a lot and can give you all their names. Ask 'em all. They'll tell you to be a boy is to be somebody without a right in the world. You're to take all the sass that's given to you and give none back, 'cause you're a boy. You are to pay full fare in 76 the cars and omnibusses/cause you're a boy, and not a child, and never have a seat, because you're a boy and not a man. Fat lady gets in after it's all full, and looks about her ; everybody looks at you. Old gentleman says : " My son," reprovingly. Conductor says: "Come now, you boy!" You've paid your sixpence. No matter, that's nothing. You have been on your legs, with a bundle, all day. Who cares ? you're a boy ! Now a horse has a load given to him as he can carry ; and a man won't take any more than he can walk under. Ask boys what grown folks think they can carry. There is no limit to it. Who don't know a boy who does a man's work, and does it well, for a tenth of what a man would get for it ? Who hasn't seen an advertisement for a boy who writes a good hand, understands accounts, is willing to make himself useful, boards with his parents, is trustworthy, no objection to sitting up all night, no impudence about him, the best recommendations required, and $2.00 a week wages. Ask boys whether old folks don't make as much fuss about such places as if they were doing you a favor that would set you up for life. Who w r ants a boy anywhere? Your sister don't in the parlor. Your father don't ; always asks if you are wanted to do something somewhere. You make your mother's head ache every time you come near her. Old ladies snap at you. Young ladies hate boys. Young men tease you, and give it to you if you tease back. Other fellows, it's because they're aggravated so, I know, always want to fight if they don't know you ; and when you get a black eye, or a torn jacket, you hear of it at home. You look back and wonder if you ever were that pretty little chap in petticoats that everybody stuffed with candy, and you wonder whether you'll ever be a man, to be liked by the girls, and treated politely by the other fellows, paid for your work and allowed to do as you choose. And you make up your mind every day not to be a boy any longer than you can help it ; and when your grandfather, or somobody, complains that there are " no boys now," you wonder if he A TALE OF LOVE. 77 remembers the life he led, that he don't consider it as a subject of rejoicing. There is only one comfort in it all ; boys will grow up, and when they do, they generally forget all they went through in their youth, and make the boys of their day suffer just as they did. A TALE OF LOVE. A. L. HARVEY. Two lovers were strolling, hand in hand, Hand in hand, they were wand'ring on, Wand'ring on o'er the shimmering sand. Her name was Ellen ; his name was John. Their hearts beat fast as they slowly strolled, Slowly strolled, while the moon looked on, Moon looked on, while his love he told, Told his love to Ellen, did John. Ellen she blushed and she whispered low, Whispered low that she loved him, too, Loved him, too, and for weal or woe, Weal or woe, she would e'er be true. He pressed a kiss on her ruby lips, Ruby lips, with a "yum-yum-yum," But the cup of bliss quite frequently slips, Frequently slips, when you long for some. A spasm of terrible anguish seemed, Anguish seemed to torture the maid, Torture the maid, and she yipped and screamed, Like the average noctural serenade. " Ellen !" cried John, in horrified tones, Horrified tones, " Hath the angel of Death, Angel of Death, provoked those groans, 'Voked those groans so awful V he saith. 78 THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR. ' Nay," she said, with a shutter and sigh, Shutter and sigh, " not death," said she, " Death," said she, "but I hope to die If I don't flatten that pesky flea l" THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR. ANONYMOUS. There came a gentle knock — I heard it with surprise — At half -past eight o'clock, The time I always rise. I listened and I thought What that low tap could mean — The water had been brought, The butcher's boy had been. The post had come and gone, The letters lay around — From Boston and Whitestone, Peru and Hudson sound. Perhaps it was a note ; A telegram to say My aunt had caught the boat, And would be here to-day. Perhaps it was a bill — The messenger to wait ; Perhaps my brother Phil To take me out to skate. Conjectures such as these Passed swiftly thro' my brain ; I hardly felt at ease, When lo ! that knock asrain. STUMP SPEECH. 79 And then there came a v«ice — Our nursemaid's voice, forsooth — Which made my heart rejoice With — ' ' Baby's got a tooth !" stum;p speech. My hily culud brudrin an sistrin : Sach de scripters from Levi T. Kuss to Pocriphy, and from Danyel to Nebbycasneezar, and you can't find a tex of haff de walu and signif umcunce ob de one dat i hab extrakted for dis day's preachment from de chronicals ob Washington. Open youm mouffs, eyes an ears, an lissen to de stunnin wuds : '■* Woe be unto you, publicans an sinners, ye repre bates of boff houses, dat hab robbed de trezury ob a million an a haff, and divied it among yoursefs." My brudrin, dis stealin by holesale out ob de public crib, widout eben hidin de sin from de eyes ob de people, am gettin to be too serous a biznis to be tollyated or indoord. Not sassyfied wid five tousan dollars a yeer — ten times as much as youm belubbed pasture gits for his effotes in sabin you all from de red hot claws ob de debble — dese repre bates ob de people in Kongriss, in whom we hab intrusted our pol- lyticul libes, our gold and greenbacks, and de berry eggist- unce ob de nashun, hab cum de grab game ober Unkil Sams trezury to de tune ob a millyon an a haff, an divied it among darsefs. Woe be unto dem, dead beets all ! for dem dat didn't wote for de steal, wur glad enuff to tuk dar divy ob de spiles, an as it am recordid in de chronicals ob de Suns of Malty, dat de receiber am bad as de tief, darfo dey am all in de same cat- tygorry, wid one or two honable ceptions ob men who posi- tibly refused to be pals ob chief Butler's ban ditty. I hab alus tole you, my brudrin, dat wite man am berry onsartin, and now you nose it. De moss honist ob dem wil fall from grace sumtimes, eben gemmen ob de clurgycul per- f eshun. Look at poo' Ilarlum an Pattysun. Dey cud no mo 80 STUMP SPEECH. stand de temptations atniusfear ob Washington dan a hungry jackass can keep his nose out ob a tub ob otes ; an it am so wid pooty much all ob dem. De moss morul, de moss tem- prate, de moss pieus, de moss relijus ob de wite race wen dey Lab been roun heah bout a yeer, a yeer an a haff or two veers, dey becum so mammonized, an dey am so greedy aterde filfy lucor dat dey am willin de debble shal hab dar soles, if dey can ony fill dar coffers to de brim. Dat ain't de case wid culor, tank heaben. Dar am nuffin from de ilean to de norf side, and from de capital to de wite house, in de shaip ob temptashun dat any wel bred, spectreble nigger cudn't resiss weder his sole was in jepardy or not. Dat shoze de difference and de speariority atwix culor an no culor — a speariority dat some wite men can see, but don't hab de morul curage to stand up manfully and acnolidge it. Wo unto you publicuns and sinners ! De day ob wraff wil cum as shuly as de Forf ob July. De eyes ob all mankine, an woman kine too, am ponyou, and wen you am seakin to be lected to sum ofis nex Octem dar will be no mo' chance for you to run in, den dey am to cheet ole Belzybub out ob wot railley am his own, wen you am boff boddy an soles as ded kokes in de pit, as you have ben ded beets in kongriss. De bess ting dat you can do, for yousefs an de community, am for you all to ernmygrait to Lasky, or some desart ilean, an dar skin each oder until dar amt enuff leb ob you to feed a sick crow. My brudrin, now lef me warn you not to folio de cuseid eg- sample ob dose fishful pilergers ob de public xeiieker. Leabe it to de wite trash to do dat, for de suner dey am fur- rowly and teetotaly demorulized de ezier will it for honess culor to assoom de ranes ob gubment ; and wen any ob you condesend to go to kongriss, recomember dat you am not sent dar to make yousef a tief, and steel for yousefs or for any ob de rings, but to make lors for dekentry dat will make de people honiss, and will not set an egsample to make us a nashun ob liars an robbers. May de lor' forgib all de sins ob culud men, and speshally for habin aded to elec deColfax-harlun-pattysun-morrul-but- ler tribe to seets in kongris ; an not only dem dat woted for PAT CONTRIVES TO SAVE HIS BACON. 81 de big grab, but also dem dat divyed wid dem, for as i sed afo de receiber am fooly as bad as de tief, ony dey hadn't de curage to wote for de steel. And now, my brudrin, in oder to perwent youm pasture from gwine into bankrapsy, and bringin discredit pon de sinnergog, i wil cal pon Perfessur Cissero Cato Cool to put de hat in moshun, while de Africun Meddlesum Club enliben us wid sum ob dar selec slams and hymes. PAT CONTRIVES TO SAVE HIS BACON. 1 ANONYMOUS. Terence O'Fleary, was working away in his little potatc- patch, when his close friend, Mike Casey, all rigged in his Sunday dress came up. " Arrali, Terry, my man, what 'ould you be a doing wid the praties, an' at the time that Phelim O'Loughlin's berrin', is agoin' on. Ma bochel, the praties won't run away sure." " No, no," says Terry, " I must dig out this ridge for the childer's breakfast, an' thin I'm goin' to confession to Father O'Higgins, who is holdin' a stachin at his own house there, jist beyont." "The stachin be bothered," sis Mike, says he, "sure the stachin 'ud wait till the mornin'." Mick went off to the berrin', and Terence, having finished 'wid the praties, went over to Father O'Higgins, and was shown into the kitchen, to await his turn for confession. He had not been long standing there, before the kitchen fire, when his attention was attracted by a nice piece of bacon, hanging snugly in the chimney corner. Again and still again, Terry looked at it, and wished the " childer" had it at home to give the praties a relish. " Oh, murther alive, will I take it? Sure, the priest can well spare it, an' it would be a rale trate for Judy, an' the little gossoons at home, to say nothin' iv myself, who hasn't tasted the likes this many a day." Again Terry looked at it most wistfully, saying, " I won't take it. Why should I, seein' it's not mine at all, at all, but the praties ? an' I'd 82 PAT CONTRIVES TO SAVE HIS BACON. have the sin ov it, sure ! I won't take it," replied he, " an* it's nothin' but the Ould Boy himself that's temptin' me ! But sure it's no harm to feel it, any away," said he, taking it into his hands and looking hard at it. " Och, it's a beauty; an' why wouldn't I carry it home to Judy an' the childer? An' sure it won't be a- sin afther I confesses it." So into his great coat pocket he thrust it ; and hardly had he done so, when the maid came in and told him that it was his turn for confession. " Murther, alive, I'm kilt an' ruin'd, horse an' foot, now, boy, V Terry ; what'll I do in this quandary, at all, at all ? By gan. nies ! I must thry an' make the best ov it, any how," and in he went. Kneeling to the priest he told his sins, and was about to receive absolution, when all at once he seemed to re- collect himself and cried out : " Oh, stop — stop, Father O'Higgins, dear ; for goodness' sake stop ! I have one great big sin to tell yit ; only, sir, I'm frightened to tell id, in the regard of never havin' done the like afore, sure niver ! " " Come," said Father O'Higgins, "you must tell it to me." "Why, thin, your reverince, I will tell id ; but, sir, I'm ashamed like." " Oh, never mind, tell it," said the priest. " Why, thin, your reverince, I went out one day to a gen- tleman's house upon a little bit of bisness, an' he beiii' in- gaged, I was showed into the kitchen to wait. Well, sir, there I saw a beautiful bit iv bacon hangin' in the chimbley corner. I looked at it, your reverince, an my teeth began to wather. I don't know how it was, sur, but I suppose the Divil timpted me, for I put it into my pocket ; but, if you plaize, sir, I'll give it to you," and he put his hand into his pocket. "Give it to me!" said the Father. " No — no — certainly not. Give it back to the owner." " Why, thin, your riverince, sur, I offered it to him, an' he wouldn't take id." "Oh, he wouldn't — wouldn't he?" said the priest, " then take it home, an' eat yourself with your family." HARD TIMES. 83 "Thank your riverince kindly !" says Terence, " an' I'll do that same immadiately, plaize hiven, but first an' foremost, I'll have the absolution, if you plaize, sir." Terence got his absolution, and went on his way, rejoicing that he had been able to save both his soul and his bacon. THE DISAPPOINTMENT. G. P. MORRIS. Old Birch, who taught the village school, Wedded a maid of homespun habit ; He was as stubborn as a mule, While she was playful as a rabbit. Poor Kate 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 Katy 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 !" Kate sighed and said, " Oh, dear, I didn't know 'twas you/" HARD TIMES. Bear Grumblers : — In 'cordance wid my promise, I will spoke to jou dis ebenin' on de perwailin' epidemic ob de day. You will find my tex' on de tongs ob eberybody in de community from de millionmare down to de licensed vender man. It am written in unmistakable characters and deep lines on de phiz's ob de poor, and in the anxious faces ob de rich. It am none as Hard Times. 84 HARD TIMES. "It's hard times," tinks de merchant's lady, as she alights from her carriage, decked in a two thousand dollar set ob diamonds, thousand dollar set ob furs, hundred dollar dress, and delicate opera cloak. It 's hard times — husband couldn't afford no greater display, times am so berry hard. "It's hard times.'' says the buckish clerk in the shanghie coat, as he orders oysters and champagne — " Two dozen oysters cooked in warious ways, and only one half-pint bot- tle ob hidesick ; — times is hard, and I can't afford luxuries." "It's hard times," says de feller as he pours down Old Hennessy at 25 cents de nip. " De Lord only knows what we am coming to." -'It's hard times" says de fop to de tailor, " and you must wait." " Hadn't you better wer out your ole close t* says de tailor, " till your finances improbe a little, and de times git softer?" "Can't afford it," says the fop, "must hab de shanghie. I can't afford to lose my position, and look as doe I worked for a libin'. " " Ifs hard times," saysde capitalist, as he buttons up his coat. " I guess I Tl lock up what gold and silver I hab in a wait, and luff no man hab it, kase all de noosepapers says it's hard times and wus a comin'. I Tl lock up my money, kase dere am no noein who to trust." " It's hard times," says de bank fellers, who hab bin libin' too fast, "and I must eder retrench, or Skiltfr. I can't re- trench and go in good society afterwards, but I can default, and in two seasons all am forgotten. I'll Skiler, kase it pays best." " We must take advantage ob de times," says de business man, "and cut down de wages ob de workman — now is de time, when noosepapers, preachermen, lawyers, and every- body am crying hard times." So down goes de wages, and down comes de tears ob de workman's children for bread at de same time — so you see the poor man and his family do all de sufferin' and de rich all de jawin'. Dere am no mistake, de times am so hard you can bite it. WHAT BECAME OF A LIE. 85 WHAT BECAME OF A LIE. MRS. M. A. KIDDER. First, somebody told it, Then the room wouldn't hold it, So the busy tongue rolled it Till they got it outside ; When the crowd came across it, It never once lost it, But tossed it, and tossed it, Till it grew long and wide. From a very small lie, sir, It grew deep and high, sir, Till it reached to the sky, sir, And frightened the moon ; For she hid her sweet face, sir, In a veil of cloud-lace, sir, At the dreadful disgrace, sir, That happened at noon. This lie brought forth others, Dark sisters and brothers, And fathers and mothers — A terrible crew ; And while headlong they hurried, The people they flurried, And troubled, and worried, As lies always do. And so, evil-boded, This monstrous lie goaded, Till at last it exploded, In smoke and in shame ; While from mud and from mire, The pieces flew higher, And hit the sad liar, And killed his good name ! 86 LODGE NIGHT. "JUST HIS LUCK." " I'M hungry and ragged and half -sick and dead-broke," muttered a tramp yesterday, as he sat down for a sun-bath on the wharf at the foot of Griswold street; "but it's just my lack. Last fall I got in to Detroit just two hours too late to sell my vote. Nobody to blame. Found a big wallet on the street in December., and four police came up before I could hide it. Luck again. Got knocked down by a street- car, but there was no opening for a suit for damages, because I was drunk. Just the way. Last fall nails were way down. I knew there'd be a rise, but I didn't buy and hold for the advance. Lost ten thousand dollars out and out. Alius that way with me. Glass went up twenty-five per cent., but I hadn't a pane on hand, excepting the pain in my back. Never knew it to [ail. Now lumber's gone up, and I don't even own a fence- picket to realize on. Just me again. Fell into the river t'other day, but instead of pulling me out and giving me a hot whiskey they pulled me out and told me to leave town or I'd get the bounce. That's me again. Now I've got settled down here for a bit of a rest and a snooze, but I'll be routed out in less than fifteen minutes, and I know it. It'll be just, my behanged luck !" He settled down, slid his hat over his face, and was just beginning to feel sleepy when a hundred pounds of coal rattled down on him. ' ' I knew it — I knew it ?" shouted the tramp as he sprang up and rubbed the dust off his head — ' ' I said so all the time, and I just wish the durned old hogshead had come down along with the coal and jammed me through the wharf." LODGE NIGHT. ANONYMOUS. Hearing a confused noise in front of my house the other night, writes a correspondent, I threw up the window to as- certain the cause. I observed a dark object clinging to the lamp-post that stands sentinel in front of my door ; and lis- tening attentively, I overheard the following soliloquy : LODGE NIGHT. 87 " Mariar's waitin' up for me ! I see the light in her win'er. What the deu-deuce does she act so fool-(hic) foolish for on lodge-lodge-nights? 'S'well enough to stay up on o'rrer nights — but's all blame nonsense, ye know, to wait for a fell'r on lodge (hie) nights. She knows 's'well as I do, basin' 'sgot to be 'tended to — committee's got to report, an' var'us o'rrer lit- tle matters — she ought'er 'ave more sense. I-I'll catch f-f- fits, tho', I know I shall. Said she had the head(-hic) head- ache when I left 'er — told me not to stay out loger'n I could 'elp. Well, I didn't! how could I help it? Besides, I'll have the headache worse'n she will'n the mor-nin'. So b-blamed stupid in her to. get the headache when she knew I'd biz-bizness to 'tend to. Ah ! these women, these women, they'll never (hie) learn anythin', never : " So let the world .wag as wide as it will, I'll be gay and (hie) happy still." " Ha, ha, ha ! (hie). Wonder what's become of Bulgar ! Left 'im settin' on a curbstone. Rain'n' like blazes, and the war'rer up to his middle. He thought he was at Niag-(hic) Niagara Falls. Says'e, says'e ' Spicer' my boy, ain't this glor'us ? Don't you hear the ra-rapids f I was strik'n out for home as ra- (hie) rapidly as I could. 'Tis pity for Bulger, 'cause I don't think he can swim ; and he hates — ha, ha, ha 1 (hie) — hates war'rer like p-poison. Wish I wa's 'ome and in bed. B-r-r-u-a-h ! I'm all of a shiver 1 Clo's all wet outside, and I'm dry as thund'r inside. Think I'll tell Mariar I ju- jumped overboard to save a feller-screecher from (hie) drown- ing. Then she — she'd want to know what I did with the fell- (hic) feller-screecher. So that won't do. She's got a pretty good swallow, but — egad ! she — can't swallow — ha, ha, ha ! (hie) — no drowned man, you know. Tha-that's a leetle too much ! She's taken some awful heavy doses of lie from me, but I'm afraid the drown'd chap would choke her." At this juncture a guardian of the public peace approached and asked the votary of Bacchus what he was doing there at that time of night, and why he did not go home. " What'm I doin' here ? Why, I'm hold'ui' on like grim death — that's what I'm doin'. Ilowsever, ole fell'r, I'm gl- 88 CHICKENS. (hie) a-ad to see ye. Fact is, I've been out'n the rain, and I've got a leetle so-soaked, d'ye see ? Rain war'rer allers did make consirable 'p-pression on me. Say, yon ! caa ye t-tell me why I'm like a pick -(hie) picket-guard ? But I know you can't ; Vno use askin' you p'iice fell'rs anything. But's good n-notwithstan'n — he, he, he 3 (hie) — for me. I — I'll tell ye why I'm like a blackguar' — I mean a p-picket-guard. Because I c-can't leave my p-post until I'm re-(hic) relieved! P'iice fell'r, d'ye see that shutter over the way, the one wi' the green Venetian houses in front, three doors to go up to the step? That's my (hie) house, and therein dwells my sa-sainted Mariar. Did you ever belong to a spout-shop? But I s'pose not. As the charming P-Portia says : «« ' That light we see is burning in my hall ; How far that little beam throws his c-candles ! So shines a good (hie) deed in a naughty world.* " Th-then pity the sorrows of a poor young man, whose tangled legs have b-b-brought him to this spot. Oh, relieve and take him home at once, and heaven will ble- bless your store — when you get (hie) one." The policeman kindly assisted him to his house and rang the bell. The door partially opened. I got a transient glimpse of a night-capped head, as our hero was hurriedly drawn in by unseen hands ; and a shrill voice, that pierced the midnight air, was heard to say ; '* So ! you're tight again, you brute !" The door was rudely slammed in the un- offending policeman's face, while I crept shivering to bed, wondering at the probable fate of " Bulger." CHICKENS. ROSE TERRY COOKE. " I DIDN'T !" says Chip. " You did !" says Peep. " How do you know ? you were fast asleep." " I was under mammy's wing, Scratching my legs like anything, When all of a sudden I turned around, CHICKENS. 89 For close behind me I heard a sound — *' A little tip and a little tap." " Fiddle-de-dee I You 'd had a nap, And when you were only half awake Heard an icicle somewhere break." " What 's an icicle ! I don't know ; Rooster tells about ice and snow — Something that isn't as good as meal, That drops down on you and makes you squeal." " Well! swallow rooster's tales, I beg, And think you didn't come out of an egg ! I tell you I heard the old shell break, And the first small noise you ever could make ; And mammy croodled and puffed her breast, And pushed us further out of the nest, Just to make room enough for you ; And there 's your shell — I say it 's true 1" Chip looked over his shoulder then, And there it lay by the old gray hen — Half an egg-shell, chipped and brown, And he was a ball of yellow down, Clean and chipper, and smart and spry, With the pertest bill and the blackest eye, " H'm !" said he, with a little perk, " That is a wonderful piece of work ! Peep, you silly, don't you see That shell isn't nearly as big as me t Whatever you say, miss, I declare I never, never could get in there !" " You did 1" says Peep. " I didn't!" says Chip; With that he gave her. a horrid nip, And Peep began to dance and peck, And Chip stuck out his wings and neck. They pranced and struck and capered about, Their toes turned in and their wings spread out, As angry as two small chicks could be, Till Mother Dorking turned to see. She cackled and clucked, and called in vain — At it they went with might and main — 90 OLD SI PILOTS A 'POSSUM HUNT. Till at, last the old hen used her beak, And Peep and Chip with many a squeak Staggered off on either side With a very funny skip and stride. " What dreadful nonsense !" said Mother Hen, When she heard the story told again ; "You 're bad as the two-legs that don't have wings, Nor feathers nor combs — the wretched things ! That 's the way they fight and talk For what isn't worth a mullein stalk. What does it matter, I 'd like to know, Where you came from, or where you go? Keep your temper and earn your food ; I can't scratch worms for a fighting brood. I won't have quarrels — I will have peace ; I hatched out chickens, so don't be geese ! Chip scratched his ear with his yellow claw, The meekest chicken that ever you saw ; And Peep in her feathers curled one leg, And said to herself : " But he was an egg !" OLD SI PILOTS A 'POSSUM HUNT. " Golly ! hit wus cold 'nuff last night ter freeze up a bias* furniss ! " said Amos one morning. " Yes, but I like ter 'laff myself inter a ragin' feber, for de bo'n trufe ! " said old Si. "How was dat?" "Well, some ob dese town gen'lmen, dey come arter me to go wid dem ter hunt 'possum an' I went." ' ; Dey moughter 'skused me ! " put in Amos. "Nebber mine, nigger, mebbe you kin be satisfied wid er or'nary cirkus, but ef yer want ter see de gran' hipper- drumedary an' moril caravangerie, you'se got ter go 'possum huntin' wid dat quad dat I wus in las' night ! " "What did dey do?" " Dey went out in de woods an' prowled 'round dar whar OLD SI PILOTS A 'POSSUM HUNT. 91 de 'possums gin'rully getliers and dey bunted ! Dey 'skiver- ed mo' 'possum tracks and seed mo' 'possum ha'r on de bark ob trees dan's bin in Georgy sence Stone Mountain was planted to mark de norf vves' corner ob de big survay ! " " Did dey ketch any, tho' ? " " Hoi' on ! De fust one dat dey treed wuz one dat dey fouu' creepin' 'long de side ob de fence. When dey sicked de dog on and hit cl'ared de fence at de fust bound, dey lit out arter hit an' purty soon dey had hit up a tree. When de 'possum got up ter de fork hit turn'd 'round an' say : ' Sphit? me-ow-ow ! ' Good Master, I jess tho't that I would bus' right dar, fer dem boys had done gone an' treed de bigges old cat dat ebber you see in yo' bo'n days ! " " Dey moughter kno'd dat warn't no 'possum when hit riz ober dat fence, ez your prescribe ! " said Amos. "But shot'ly dey struck anudder trail an' when de dog — one ob dese heah patent breed fices — bark'd, one ob de boys say: 'By jings, fellers, we's got de reprehensible trail wretch in de foalidge, at las' ! an' dey all helt a wah dance onder de tree, but when dey flash'd de bull's eye onter de right limb, a stray rooster shuck hissef an' say : ' Tuck- awk-awk-awk.' Den yer cood a heerd dem boys cussin' ober in de nex' county." " Didn't dey ketch no 'possum at all, Ce whole night ? " " When I gets ter de 'possums I'll speak 'bout dem, but I wuz gwine on ter say dat dey fizzled out on de fals' 'larms ob dat patent pup tell dey run agin a pole-cat — den dey all hol- lered 'possum, an' hit wuz wuss dan holdin' a team of young mules ober a ho'net's nes' to keep dem boys fum bouncin' onter dot ole time centennill critter. But de dog went in — an' come out — but he war'nt shook hands wid for his bravery, you bet. After dat skirmish dem boys opened de throttils of dere canteens wide an' faum'd de reserves inter a returnin' board, respired wid de sperit of seventy-six ! " " An' no 'possum at las' ! " " Nary flicker ob a tail, but dar wuz laffin' 'nuff on my side to mek a man fatter dan fo'ty 'possums briled ! " 92 AGRICULTURAL ADRESS. AGRICULTURAL ADDRESS. WASHINGTON WHITEHORN. LADIES and gentlemen, I congratulate you upon your good judgment in selecting ine to deliver the address before this honorable society. No one has taken agriculture more to heart or made it so much of a study as I have. I have spent my whole life in reading agricultural reports, and have driven out into the country two or three times. When I look round me and see the evidences of a farmer's life I say God bless him ! I tell you I would rather borrow a hundred dollars of a good old honest farmer than any other men. I would rather eat at a farmer's table than eat at my own. What better sign of agricultural thrift can be found than beautiful quilts present, each one made of several thousand pieces ? I tell you they are the very finest products that can be cultivated on a farm. When a good old farmer wraps one of those around him and lies down to pleasant dreams, the mortgages on his farm and the taxes vanish into thin air. I am overjoyed to look around and see so many good-look- ing girls. The crop is splendid. It shows they were raised on good farms, and I think they deserve the premium. If I wasn't a married man I would be agricultural enough to try and cultivate a liking for some of them. I am pleased to see that every year farming becomes more advanced as a profession. Those wax flowers and crotcheted ferns show to the whole world just how it is improving, and those sewing-machines are so finely adjusted that they will sow anything from a calico dress to a field of oats. When I was a boyish child we did our sowing by hand, and I may add that some boys were raised by hand with a switch in it. Perhaps there is nothing that shows the progress of the agricultural interests better than the horse-races. When I looked at those feats of speed I wanted to be a farmer, and became so enthusiastic over it that I invested ten dollars on AGRICULTURAL ADDRESS. 93 the white horse for a purely agricultural purpose, but I had forgotten to state I had bet on the horse that came in hist, and the fellow went away with my money and his finger pulling down his left eye. Nevertheless, agriculture as ex- hibited in a horse-race is a good thing. The occupation of a farmer in my mind is one of the most pleasant of recreations. What is more delightful than to see the patient ox hitched up to the sickle going through a field reaping potatoes from the potato-stalks V What is more cheerful than to lie in bed and know that your corn is com- ing up whether you are there or not, or to sit back and drink cider and be aware that every stalk of wheat is growing with- out your being compelled to be out there and put a head on it, while the corn puts its ears out and listens for the break- fast-bell ? In the occupation of an honest farmer I can imagine noth- ing more exhilaratiug and ennobling than eating ham and egg breakfasts. If I were a farmer how delightful would it be to roll up my sleeves and go forth while the sun is warm and effulgent and eat apples, or hitch up my team early to a spanker and go down the road like a breeze with another breeze after it. Farmers are independent ; indeed, they are the most inde- pendent set of people I know of. And when fair time comes around with what pride does the farmer gather together the produce of his farm for ex- hibition to the astonished world ! He brings in his premium thistles, which show how much pains have been taken to cultivate them ; and his champion mince-pies, which only^ grow to perfection on a good farm: and his three-legged | chickens ; and his horned miiley cows ; and his persimmons ; and crab-cider ; and his paw-paws ; and ginseng ; and ripe, luscious cucumbers ; and his cane fishpoles with corn blades stuck on them ; and smear-case ; and crooked gourds ; and his girls and boys and the old folks ! Ah, there is nothing half like it. If I was the premier of this society you would all go home with the first premium. I thank you all for your kind atten- 94 THE KISS IN SCHOOL. tion. And if there is any good old farmer present who is just going to lunch and will give me a pressing invitation to join in I will show him how much I like agricultural vic- tuals. THE KISS IN SCHOOL. PALMER. A District School not far away, 'Mid Berkshire hills, one winter's day, Was humming with its wonted noise Of three-score mingled girls and boys ; Some few upon their tasks intent, But more on future 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 saw him kith Thuthannah Peathe ! " With frown to make a statue thrill, The Master thundered, "Hither, Will 1" Like wretch o'er taken in his track, With stolen chattels on his back, Will hung his head in fear and shame, And to that awful presence came ; A great, green, bashful simpleton, The butt of all good-natured fun. With smile suppressed, and birch upraised, The threatener 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 ? " JOSH BILLINGS ON GONGS. 95 " 'Twas she, herself, sir," sobbed the lad, " I didn't 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 to." JOSH BILLINGS ON GONGS. Josh Billings relateth his first experience with the gong thusly : I never can erradicate holi from mi memory the sound ov the first gong I ever herd. I was settin' on the front steps ov a tavern in the sitty of Buffalo, pensively smokin. The sun was goin' to bed, and the hevins for an hour was blushin' at the performance. The Ery knal, with its golden waters, was on its way to Albany, and I was perusin' the live botes a floatin by, and thinkin' of Italy (where I used to live), and her gondolers and gall us wimmen. My entire sole wuz, as it were, in a swet. I wanted to klime, I felt grate, I actu- ally grew. There are things in this life tu big tu be trifled with ; there are times when a man breaks luse f rom hisself , when he sees sperrets, when he can almost tuch the mune, and feel as tho' he kud fill both hands with the stars uv hevin, and almost sware he was a bank president. That's what ailed me. But the korse ov true luv never did run smooth. (This is Shakespeare's opinion, too). Just as I was duin my best — dummer, dummer, pat bang, beller, crash, roar, ram, dum- mer, dummer, whang, rip, rare, rally, dummer, dummer, dum — with a tremenjus jump I struck the center ov the side- walk, with another I cleared the gutter, and with another I 96 HIGHER. stood in the middle ov the street, snortin* like an Indian pony at a band of music. I gazed in wild despair at the tavern stand, mi hart swell- ing up as big as a outdoor oven, my teeth was as luce as a string ov bedes, I thot all the crockery in the tavern had fell down, I thot of fenomenons, I thot of Gabrel and his horn ; I was jest on the pint of thinkin ov something else when the land- lord kum out on the f runt stupe ov the tavern, holdin' by a string the bottom ov a old brass kettle. He kauled me gently with his hand. I went slola and slola up to him he kammed my fears, he said it was a gong; I saw the kussed thing ; he said supper was ready, and axed me if I wud have black or green tee, and I sed I wud. HIGHER. The shadows of night were a comin' down swift, And the dazzlin' snow lay drift on drift, As through a village a youth did go, A carryin' a nag with this motto, — "Higher!" O'er a forehead high curled copious hair, His nose a Roman, complexion fair, O'er an eagle eye an auburn lash ; And he never stopped shoutin' through his mustache " Higher !" He saw through the windows, as he kept gettin' upper A number of families settin' at supper ; But he eyed the slippery rocks very keen, And fled as he cried, and cried while a fleein', — "Higher!" " Take care, you there !" said an old woman ; " stop ! It 's bio win' gales up there on top; You'll tumble off on t'other side." But the hurryin' stranger loud replied. — " Higher !" THE QUIET MR. SMITH. 97 ** O, don't go up such a shocking night ! Come sleep on my lap," said a maidt n bright. On his Roman nose a tear-drop come ; But still he remarked, as he upward clomb, — " Higher !" " Look out for the branch of that sycamore tree, Dodge rollin' stones, if any you see." Sayin' which, the farmer went home to bed, And the singular voice replied overhead, — " Higher l" About a quarter past six the next afternoon, A man accidentally goin' up soon Heard spoken above him, as often as twice, The very same word in a very weak voice, — •' Higher \" And not far, I believe, from a quarter of seven (He was slow gettin* up, the road bein' uneven), Found the stranger dead in the drifted snow, Still clutchin' the Sag with this motto, — " Higher P Yes ! lifeless, defunct, without any doubt, The lamp of his being decidedly out, On the dreary hill-side the youth was a layin', And there was no more use for him to be sayin', — " Higher r THE QUIET MR. SMITH. FANNY FERN. " What a quiet man your husband is, Mrs. Smith f ' ' Quiet ! a snail is an ' express train ' to him ! If the top of this house should blow off, he 'd just sit still and spread his umbrella ! He 's a regular pussy-cat, Comes into the front 98 TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE. door as though the entry was paved with eggs, and sits down in his chair as if there was a nest of kittens under the cushion. He'll be the death of me yet. I read him all the horrid accidents, dreadful collisions, murders, and explo- sions, and he takes it just as easy as if I was saying the ten commandments. "He is never astonished, or startled, or delighted. If a cannon-ball should come through that window, he wouldn't move an eyelash. If I should make the voyage of the world, and return some fine day, he 'd take off his spectacles, put them in the case, fold up the newspaper, and settle his dickey, before he 'd be ready to say, ' Good morning, Mrs. Smith.' If he 'd been born of a poppy, he couldn't be more sopo- rific. "I wonder if all the Smiths are like him. When Adam got tired of naming his numerous descendants, he said, ' Let all the rest be called Smith !' Well, I don't care for that, but he ought to have known better than to call my hus- band Abel Smith. Do you suppose, if I were a man, I would let a woman support me ? Where do you think Abel's coats and «ravats and canes and cigars come from ? Out of my brains! Quiet ! — It 's perfectly refreshing to me to hear of a comet, or see a locomotive, or look at a streak of chain lightning ! I tell you he is the expressed essence of chloroform. TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE. A MISERABLE WRETCH. Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! Through pathless realms of space Roll on ! What though I'm in a sorry case ? What though I cannot meet my bills ? What though I suffer tooth-ache's ills? What though I swallow countless pills ? Never you mind ! Roll on ! EXCLAMATORY. 99 Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! Through seas of inky air Roll on ! It's true I've got no shirts to wear ; It's true my butcher's bill is due ; It's true my prospects all look blue, — But don't let that unsettle you ! Never you mind ! Roll on ! [It rolls on. EXCLAMATORY. At church I sat within her pew, — OPew ! But there I heard No pious word, — I saw alone her eyes of blue ! I saw her bow her head so gracious, — O Gracious ! The choir sang, The organ rang, — And seemed to fill the building spacious. I could not hear the gospel law, — O Law ! My future bride Was by my side, — I found all else a mighty bore f And so when pealed the organ's thunder,— O Thunder ! I fixed my eyes, In mute surprise, On her whose beauty was a wonder. To me that maiden was most dear, — O Dear ! 100 PRAISE OF LITTLE WOMEN. And she was mine. — Joy too divine For human words to picture here. Her love seemed like a prayer to bless me, O Bless me ! Before she came My life was tame, — My rarest joys could but oppress me. The service done, we sought the shore, — O shore ! And there we walked, And sadly talked, — More sadly than e'er before. I thought she was the type of goodness, — O Goodness ! But on that day I heard her say Plain words whose very tone was rudeness, We strolled beyond the tide-mill's dam,- O Dam ! She jilted me And now I see That woman's love is all a sham J PRAISE OP LITTLE WOMEN. JTJAN KUIZ DE HTTA. To praise the little women Love besought me in my musing, To tell their noble qualities, is quite beyond refusing ; So I'll praise the little women, and you'll find the thing amusing, They are, I know, as cold as snow, whilst flames around dif- fusing. PRAISE OP LITTLE WOMEN. 101 In a little precious stone what splendor meets the eyes ! In a little lump of sugar how much of sweetness lies ! So in a little woman love grows and multiplies : You recollect the proverb says, — " A word unto the wise." A peppercorn is very small, but seasons every dinner, More than all other condiments, although 'tis sprinkled thinner. Just so a little woman is, if Love will let you win her, — There's not a joy in all the world you will not find within her. And as within the little rose you find the richest dyes, And in a little grain of gold much price and value lies ; As from a little balsam much odor doth arise, So in a little woman there's a taste of Paradise. Even as the little ruby its secret worth betrays, Color, and price, and virtue, in the clearness of its rays, — Just so a little woman much excellence displays, Beauty, and grace, and love, and fidelity always. The skylark and the nightingale, though small and light of wing, Yet warble sweeter in the grove than all the birds that sing; And so a little woman, though a very little thing, Is sweeter far than sugar, and flowers that bloom in Spring. There's naught can be compared to her throughout the wide creation. She is a Paradise on earth, — our greatest consolation ; So cheerful, gay, and happy, so free from all vexation, In fine, she's better in the proof than in anticipation. If as her size increases are woman's charms decreased, Then surely it is good to be from all the great released. Now, of two evils, choose the less, said a wise man of the East: By consequence, of womankind be sure to choose the least. 102 SPEECH-MACING. SPEECH-MAKING. How truly fortunate the age and country in which we live, when and where every event is set forth and duly celebra- ted in a magnificent speech ! These ready speech-makers seem determined to effect what Milton implored of his muse : — " What is low, raise and support." We are told by the newspapers, that at a " Mowing-match," lately got up in New Hampshire, the " Hon. Mr. Such — a — ;one delivered an elegant and appropriate address." Now, this is nothing to the style in which we do things in the Old Bay State. We could relate a score of instances, if we pleased, where as fine speeches as ever were blown were made on far less occasions than the one above mentioned. I will content myself with a single instance. In a village on one side or other of the Connecticut River there is a pound, for the imprisonment of such unruly four- footed animals as render themselves obnoxious to the civil authority. This same pound, having lost off one of the hinges of the gate, it became a matter of prudence to replace it by a new one. The making and putting on of a single hinge on a gate of no great magnitude, is not a thing necessarily requiring a great deal of noise saving and excepting what is made by the ham- mer and anvil. But this only shows more fully the vast per- fection to which the sublime art of speech- making is already brought in this happy land. On this occasion, the Hon. Spouter Puffer was unanimously chosen to deliver the address. And the able and perfect manner in which he did the thing shows, clearer than noon- day, the wisdom of the choice. The carpenter had taken the hinge in his hand, and was about nailing it fast to the gate, when the honorable gentleman arose, and after alluding to the importance of the occasion, his utter inability to do anything like justice to it, and craving the indulgence of the audience, he thus proceeded : "When I look about me, and behold this vast empire, extend- ing from sea to sea, and from ocean to ocean ; when I con- SEVEN STAGES OF DRUNKENNESS. 103 template the growing condition of this State ; when I reflect on the magnitude of this country ; when I consider the inef- fable importance of this 'ere town, with its dense and en- lightened population ; and, especially, when I turn my eyes to the wide circumference of the Pound before us, I am lost in admiration of the magnitude of our destinies. "Europe is no more to us than a filbert-shell to a meet- ing house. If any one doubts that we have arrived at the pinnacle of arts, let him come forward to-day, and view the perfection of this hinge, pounded as it has been, on the anvil of Independence, and beaten into shape by the hammer of Wisdom. "On this hinge turns the fate of empires ; on this hinge depends the starvation of horses, and bringing into subjec- tion the flesh of unruly beef. Here they may chew the bitter cud of nonentity ; here they may learn to prize the inestima- ble privilege of being impounded in a land of liberty ; here—" But we will not pursue the subject any further, as it is utterly impossible to do anything like justice to the eloquence of the honorable gentleman, without quoting the whole speech, which, as it would occupy nine closely -printed col- umns, and we understand it is to be laid before the public in a pamphlet form, we dismiss for the present, just observing, that the honorable gentleman surpassed all his former exam- ples of eloquence ; and such was the attention and stillness of the audience, composed of at least twenty persons, that the walls of the pound might have fallen down, "Slam bang !" without once being heard. SEVEN STAGES OP DRUNKENNESS. All the world's a Bar, And all the men and women merely drinkers : They have their hiccups and their staggerings ; And one man in a day drinks many glasses, His acts being seven stages. At first the gentleman, 104 THE GOAT. Steady and steadfast in Lis good resolves ; And then the wine and bitters, appetizer, And pining, yearning look, leaving like a snail The comfortable bar. And then the arguments, Trying like Hercules with a wrathful frontage To refuse once more gin cocktail. Then the mystified, Full of strange thoughts, unheeding good advice, Careless of honor, sodden, thick and gutt'ral, Seeking the troubled repetition Even in the bottle's mouth ; and then quite jovial, In fair good humor while the world swims round, With eyeballs misty, while his friends him cut, Full of nice oaths and awful bickerings : And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into stupid, slipping drunken man With " blossoms" on his nose and bleary-eyed, His shrunken face unshaved, from side to side He rolls along ; and his unmanly voice Huskier than ever, fails and flies, And leaves him — staggering round. Last scene of all, That ends this true and painful history, Is stupid childishness, and then oblivion — Sans watch, sans chain, sans coin, sans everything. THE GOAT. The goat is a native of the vacant lots about the city, and there are lots of them. The goat is omnivorous. He will goat anything that he sees, and will seize anything that he may goat. His principal food, however, is play bill. He is very fond of letters. Let us honor him for his love of bill letters. The gentleman goat is called Billy, but he is a Billy that no policeman can handle. The lady goats are called Nanny. This is their ewe-Nanny- mous name. NOT SO EASY. 105 The young goat is called a kid. Kids are on hand the year round. The goat is generous to a fault. He presents a couple of horns to everybody he sees. In the matter of mere cash, the Cashmere goat is the most famous. Goats are fond of the outskirts of large cities ; also hoop skirts. The goat wears a beard. It is called a goatee, though not confined to the he goat. The goat is noted for his bunting, but he never flags. The goat is one of the signs of the zodiac, signifying that he has a propensity to knock things sky-high. He never gets high himself. That is to say, he never gets over the ba-a-a. Shakspeare understood the spontaneity of the goat when he said, " Stand not upon the order of your going, but goat once." The goat is a wide-awake animal. He is never caught napping, notwithstanding the many cases of kid-napping you may have read about. For many years the goat was the only butter known. Goats love to get on a high rock and sun themselves. Give them a chance and they will always seek a sunny climb. The god Pan was a sort of half -goat. All goats do not pan out as well as he did. Baa a ! NOT SO EASY. ANON. Now you may think it very nice, And very easy too, For a little boy to stand up here, With little else to do, But make his bow, and say a piece — To speak up loud and plain, 106 CORNS. Then make another bow to close, And take his seat again. But I can tell you, one and all, Whichever way you view it, To face this crowd of gentle folks, It takes some Pluck to do it. The saying is as TRUE as OLD, " Who gets a name must buy it," If you don't credit what I say, Just walk up here and try it. CORNS. AXON. Corns are of two kinds— vegetable and animal. Vegetable corn grows in rows ; animal corn grows on toeses. There is the unicorn, Capricorn, corn dodger, field corn, and the corn that you feel the most. It is said, we believe, that gophers like corn ; but persons having corns do not like to " go fur '' if they can help it. Corns have kernels, and some colonels have corns. Vegetable corn grows on ears, but animal corns grow on the feet. Folks that have corns sometimes send for a doctor, and if the doctor is corned, it would be better if they had not sent for him. The doctor says corns are pro- duced by tight boots and shoes, which is probably the reason why when a man is tight they say he is corned. If a farmer manages well, he gets a good deal of corn on a acre, but we know of a farmer that has one corn that makes the biggest acher on his farm. Another kind of - corn is the dodger. The way it is made is very simple, and it is as follows — that is if you want to know : You go along the street and meet a man that you know has a corn, and rough character, then you step on the toe that has the corn on it, and see if you don't have occasion to dodge. In that way you find out what a corn dodger is. THE CLOSE-HARD MAN. 107 A TRAIN OF CIRCUMSTANCES. PITZ GREEN. By the side of a murmuring stream, An elderly gentleman sat ; On the top of his head was his wig, And a-top of his wig was his hat. As this elderly gentleman sat ; And it tore from his head in a trice, And plunged in the river his hat. The old gentleman then took his cane, Which lay by his side as he sat ; And he dropped in the river his wig, In attempting to get out his hat. His breast it grew cold with despair, And in his eye madness full sat ; So he flung in the river his cane, To swim with his wig and his hat. His head being thicker than common, Overbalanced the rest of his fat; So in fell this son of a woman, To follow his wig\ cane and hat ! THE CLOSE HARD MAN. ANON. A hard, close man was Solomon Ray, Nothing of value he gave away ; He hoarded and saved ; he pinched and shaved, And the more he had the more he craved. 108 paddy's version op The hard-earned dollars he toiled to gain Brought him little but care and pain ; For little he spent, and all he lent He made it bring him twenty per cent. Such was the life of Solomon Ray ; The years went by and his hair grew gray ; His cheeks grew thin, and his soul within Grew hard as the dollars he worked to win. But he died one day, as all men must, For life is fleeting, and man but dust ; The heirs were gay that laid him away And that was the end of Solomon Ray. They quarreled now, who had little cared For Solomon Ray while his life was spared, His lands were sold, and his hard-earned gold All went to the lawyers, I am told. Yet men will cheat, and pinch and save, Nor carry their treasures beyond the grave ; All there gold some day will melt away, Like the selfish savings of Solomon Ray. PADDY'S VERSION OP " EXCELSIOR. ANON. Twas growing dark so terrible fasht, Whin through a town up the mountain there pashed A broth of a boy, to his neck in the shnow, As he walked, his shillelah he swung to and fro, Saying, it's up to the top I'm bound for to go, Be jabers ! He looked mortial sad, and his eyes were as bright As a fire of turf on a cowld winther night, paddy's version on "excelsior." 109 And divil a word that he said could ye tell As he opened his mouth and let out a yell, It's up till the top of the mountain I'll go, Onless covered up with this bothersome slinovv, Be jabers ! Through the windows he saw, as he traveled along, The light of the candles and tires so warm ; But a big chunk of ice hung over his head, Wid a shnivel and groan, by St. Patrick, he said, It's up to the very tip top I will rush, And then if it falls it's not meself it'll crush, Be jabers ! Whist a bit ! said an owld man, whose head was as white As the shnow that fell down on that miserable night ; Shu re ye'll fall in the wather, me bit of a lad, For the night is so dark and the walkin' is bad Bedad ! he'd not lisht to a word that was said, But he'd go till the top if he went on his head, Be jabers ! A bright buxom young girl, such as like to be kissed, Axed him wadn't he shtop, how could he resist ? So, snapping his fingers and winking his eye, While shmiling upon her, he made this reply — Faith I meant to kape on till I got to the top, But as yer shwate self has axed me I may as well shtop, Be jabers ! He shtopped all night, and he shtopped all day, And ye mus'nt be axing whin he did go away ; But wouldn't he be a bastely gossoon To be lavin' his darlint in the swate honeymoon ? Whin the owld man has paraties enough and to spare, Shure he moight as well shtay if he's comfortable there, Be jabers ! 110 LOVES. LINES ON POOLS. In the garb of a clown I've been long on the town, And I find, the longer I'm in it, That fools will be fools, in spite of all rules, And I'll prove it to you in a minute. There's the merchant or tradesmen, whichever he be, Gets deep into debt with another ; No money he saves, at least so he raves, If he's not a fool — he's more t'other. But the greatest fools yet that I ever met, Was two girls at words, in high fever, Tearing each other's eyes, about a man twice their size, That don't care a button about either ; For he says that his wife must comfort his life, Be a good natured, good tempered, kind one ; She never must scold, but do as she's told, He's a very great fool if he thinks he can find one. I'll own it at once, I'm a bit qf a dunce, For the rod came as oft as the book to me ; And tho' only a clown I'll bet you a crown, I'm not such a fool as I look to be. LOVES. When a boy at home I lov'd to play, And from my school I lov'd to stay. I lov'd my marbles and my tops. I lov'd to see the sweetmeat shops. I lov'd the time when I got sense. I lov'd all those who gave me pence. I lov'd the time when I grew older. I lov'd the sailor and the soldier, I lov'd my father and my mother. I lov'd my sister and my brother. I lov'd old port and Newport, too. I lov'd my country through and through. MACBETIl's SOLILOQUY ALTERED. Ill I lov'd all the pretty little babies. But my greatest love is for the ladies. Bless their hearts I love them all alike, young or old, short or tall, lame or lazy, blind or crazy ; in fact, I am one of those kind of fellows I'd pay a proper respect to a lamp post if it only had a bonnet on. And, oh ! that woman had but one mouth, That I may kiss them all from North to South. THE POET. Yes, I'm a poet. Perhaps you don't know it, but I'll very soon show it. So here goes it with Lines upon a Tater. Oh sweet ground fruit how well you suit The cause of human nature, I do declare none can compare With thee oh, floury tater. Kidney or round, I do be bound, Ofttimes have stood the rackets Sometimes in ash, sometimes in smash, And sometimes in your jackets. Oft have I seen young maids so green, Your flowry jackets peeling ; With pointed knives digging out your eyes, They've got no fellow-feeling. MACBETH'S SOLILOQUY ALTERED. Is this a leg of mutton I see before me, the shank toward my hand. Come, let me clutch thee ; I have thee not and yet I see thee still. Art thou, leg of mutton, sensible of the in- ward craving I feel, or art thou placed upon that spit to mock my hunger ? I see thee yet smoking hot and pleasing to my sight, in form as palatable as any leg of mutton placed in a cookshop window, and from its substance delicious drops of beautiful gravy falls. I'll steal this leg ; there is no one 112 THE DECK HAND AND THE MULE. near but the cook, and dreams or fat and dripping- haunt her curlined sleep ; thou, greasy hearthstone, hear not my step lest the cat, who curls its tail in front of the fire, should mollrow of my whereabouts. I'll bone the leg and then the mutton will be done. Hist ! soft, I have it ! I got it. Ah, a bell ; that is the dinner bell. Hear it not for 'tis a knell, that shall the want of a leg of mutton tell. THE DECK HAND AND THE MULE. The mule stood on the steamboat deck, The land he would not tread : They pulled the halter round his neck And whacked him o'er the head. But obstinate and braced he stood, As born the scene to rule — A creature of the hold back brood, A stubborn, steadfast mule. They cursed and swore : he would not go Until he felt inclined ; And, though they thundered blow on blow, He altered not his mind. The deck hand to the shore complained, " The varmint's bound to stay !" And still upon the critter's hide A sounding lash made play. His master, from the shore, replied, "The boat's about to sail ; As other means in vain you've tried, Suppose you twist his tail, It's likely that will make him land !" The deck hand, brave, though pale, The nearer drew, with outstretched hand, To make the twist avail. JACK SPRAT. 113 Then came a kick of thunder sound ; The deck hand — where was he ? Ask of the waves, that far around Beheld him in the sea. A moment, not a voice was heard, But winked the mule his eye As though to ask to him occurred — " Now, how was that for high ?" " Just cut his throat ! " the captain roared, " And end the awful brute." But the noblest soul who perished there Was he who tried to do't. JACK SPRAT. W. W. DAVIS. Jack Sprat could eat no fat, His wife could eat no lean ; So 'twlxt them both they cleared the plate, And licked the platter clean.— Mother Goose. This poem has always been much admired. It is not so long as the Fairy Queen ; it does not deal with such lofty events as Paradise Lost, but delights us with a familiar scene from lowly. The style is simple, the language understood by a child, and there is an entire absence of that foolish imagery which spoils so many excellent productions. In regard to John Sprat's boyhood the poet says not a word. Was he a sweet infant? At what age did he cease to crawl? As a lad did he tear his trowsers? Did his conduct ever re- quire his mother to apply her shoe to his frame? All these and similar inquiries must remain forever unanswered. One point, however, is certain : John was tenderly raised, for he could eat no fat. Poor, ragged children, playing all day around the gutters, have an appetite like an ostrich. 114 JACK SPRAT. They swallow any tiling. But little John must \&ve had a dainty palate ; the very sight of fat, perhaps, was grievous to him, and so his indulgent mother cut it off, and let her darling go it on his muscle. John Sprat was not blind to the charms of the girls. He was married. Mrs. Sprat may have had golden ringlets, ruby lips, pearly teeth, and an alabaster brow, but it is all con- jecture as to the beauty. There is no allusion to her temper, but we have good grounds for believing that she never threw the teapot at John's head. Whatever softness may have rendered Mrs. Sprat attractive as a maiden, in middle life she doubtless became very coarse. She could eat no lean. Fat seems to have been her delight. The good woman ought to have lived with the Esquimaux, and fed on blubber. Everything she put into her mouth, we may suppose, had to be well greased ; and we will not be far wrong in naming fried cakes, goose gravy, salad swimming in oil, and toast floating in butter, as her favorite diet. The third and fourth lines of the poem present us a cheer- ful scene of domestic life. Dinner is ready. The delicate John takes his seat at one end of the table, the overgrown Mrs. Sprat at the other. No children are mentioned. The boys .may be in the White Pine silver mines, the girls may be learning millinery with their aunt. Between the vener- able couple smokes a huge dish of bacon. In imagination we can see John take the carving-knife, skillfully dissect the savory mass, politely pass the fat to his aged consort, and keep the meat for himself. Happy pair ! How lovingly they must have dwelt together in their declining years I In the warmth of their affection, even the poor cat is cheated of her dues, for holding the dish between them, every trace of gravy is swept away. THE ASS AND THE VIOLINIST. 115 A WORD WITH YOU. ANON. Young man, don't get too foxy. If you happen to get in possession of a few dollars, act just as you did before you got them. Don't swell up and burst ! If you have a good share of brains you won't do this ; you will remember that neither money, clothes nor good looks make the man, and that worth is as often garbed in a ragged coat as in broadcloth. Don't stand on hotel steps, dangling your watch chain, and talking ** hoss." Those who load themselves ■with airs are the smallest kind of potatoes, and the fewest in the hill. A fat job often spoils young men of weak minds. They immedi- ately commence to dress fine, and take great pride in culti- vating an aldermanac corporosity and a sporting air. Sen- sible people are always disgusted with such actions when they deign to notice them, which is very seldom. THE ASS AND THE VIOLINIST— A FABLE. John G. Saxe. Within the fields, one summer day, A strong-lunged ass began to bray ; The uplands echoed back his voice- To hear it made his heart rejoice. '* Ah, what a pity ! " cried the ass, " That I should longer feed on grass ; My lungs are strong, my voice is loud, At concerts I might draw a crowd ; List to my music, how it fills The valleys sleeping 'mong the hills ; 'Tis sweet, I know, for, look ! see what Great ears for music I have got." A great musician heard the din While passing with his violin ; 116 THE ASS AND THE VIOLINIST. He stopped awhile upon his way And bade the old ass cease to bray. " My long-eared friend," the fiddler said, "This neighborhood must wish you dead ; For worse than any sounding brass Is your coarse braying, Mr. Ass ; If you wish music, cease your din, And listen to my violin." He rubbed the rosin on his bow ; He tried the notes both high and low ; Making a stone do for a chair, He played a grand, soul-stirring air. Ere he had ceased his tune to play, The ass began again to bray ; Nor violin, nor song of bird Could for a moment then be heard. At last the old ass dropped his head, And to the old musician said : " Music is sound, my friend, you see — Therefore all sounds must music be ; Of mine the world will be the proudest, Because, my friend, it is the loudest." What more could the musician say ? What further do than let him bray ? He wandered off through twilight dim — Ass wisdom was too much for him. CONCLUSION. How many men we daily pass Who reason like this braying ass ! They grow to men from braggart boys, And think that brains must make a noise ; They gain high seats in synagogues, No mystery their vision fogs ; ROMEO AND JULIET. 117 Whene'er they lack for argument They give their store of gas a vent ; And wise men whisper, as they pass, " There goes a self -conceited ass," BOMEO AND JULIET. It was in ancient Italy a deadly hatred grew Between old Caleb Capulet and Moses Montague ; Now Moses had an only son, a little dapper beau, The pet of all the pretty girls, by name young Romeo. And Caleb ownad a female girl, just home from boarding school, Miss Juliet was her Christian name — for short they called her Jule. To bring the lady out he gave a ball at his plantation, And thither went young Romeo, without an invitation. One Tybalt, kinsman to the host, began to growl and pout, And watched an opportunity to put the fellow out ; But Caleb saw the game and said, " Now, cousin, don't be cross ; Behave yourself or leave the room ; are you or I the boss ? " When Juliet saw Romeo his beauty did enchant her ; And Romeo he fell in love with Juliet instanter. Now, lest their dads should spoil the fun, but little time was tarried, Away to 'Squire Lawrence sped, and secretly were married, ©h, cruel fatel that day the groom met Tybalt in the square, And Tybalt being very drunk, at Romeo did swear. Then Romeo his weapon drew (a knife of seven blades), And made a gap in Tibby's ribs, that sent him to the shades. The watchman came ; he took to flight, down alley, street and square ; The Charlies ran, o'ertook their man, and took him 'fore the Mayor. Then spoke the worthy magistrate (and savagely did frown), '• Young man, you have to lose your head, or else vamose the town ! " 118 ROMEO AND JULIET. He cliose tlie last, and left his bride in solitude to pine ; " Ah me ! " said he, " our honeymoon is nothing but moon- shine ;" And then, to make the matter worse, her father did embarrass By saying she must give her hand to noble County Paris. " This suitor is a goodly youth ; to-day he comes to woo ; If you refuse the gentleman I'll soundly wollop you." She went to 'Squire Lawrence's cell to know what must be done ; The 'Squire bade her to go to bed and take some laudanum. " 'Twill make you sleep and seem as dead ; thus can'st thou dodge this blow ; A humbugged man your pa will be — a blest one Romeo." She drank, she slept, grew wan and cold ; they buried her next day. That she'd piped out her lord got word, far off in Mantua ; Quoth he, "Of live I've had enough; I'll hire Bluffkin's mule, Lay in a pint of baldface rum and go to-night to Jule ! " Then rode him to the sepulchre, 'mong dead folks, bats and creepers, And swallowed down the burning dose, when Juliet ope'd her peepers. "Are you alive, or is't your ghost? Speak quick, before I go." " Alive ! " she cried, *' and kicking too ; art thou my Romeo f* " It is your Romeo, my faded little blossom ; Oh Juliet ! is it possible that you were acting possum?" "I was, indeed; now let's go home; pa's spite will have abated ; What ails you, love, you stagger so ; are you intoxicated?" " No, no, my duck ; I took some stuff that caused a little fit;" He struggled hard to tell her all, but couldn't, so he quit. In shorter time than't takes a lamb to wag his tail or jump, Poor Romeo was stiff and pale as any whitewashed pump. Then Juliet seized that awful knife, and in her bosom stuck it, Let out a most terrific yell, fell down, and kicked the bucket J A ROMANCE IN A THIMBLE. 119 THE STATE OF THE MARKET. Dealers in hardware say they never found things as hard as now ; that tin plates are Hat, lead heavy, iron dull, spades not trumps, and more rakes in the market than are inquired after ; brass is, however, in demand for politicians ; brads are also in request, but holders cannot be got to fork them out ; nails wont go by pushing and have to be driven. The dry goods merchants say their cases are hard, and complain that people prefer the bank rags to theirs ; in paints every- thing looks black, though many try to varnish the thing over. Shippers of ashes have had to add sackcloth to them, as pros- pects are by no means pearly, and prices are going to pot. The timber trade is pining, and holders have to rest ury\>i their oars to stave off the pressure. There is no spirit in the rum trade, and holders of vinegar look sour ; champagne, however, is brisk. Rhubarb and senna are quite drugs, but there is a consumption of brimstone for matches, many hav- ing been made. Holders of indigo look blue, but those deep red are not green enough to think that a symptom of the trade dying. Starch is stiffening, and paper is stationery. In the meal market things are floury, but the millers say that the high prices of wheat go against their grain ; at which the bakers are also crusty. The grocers have got along quite spicy, and have had no cause to get peppery, because they have given the public lots of gammon, and so saved their ba- con. There is no life in dead hogs, but some animation in old cheese. A ROMANCE IN A THIMBLE. It was near midnight towards the close of the afternoon, on a suttry morning in December, one thousand eight hundred and fast asleep, when the burning moon was setting in the eastern sky, casting a brilliant shadow upon the gorgeous clouds which entirely obscured the firmament, and the un- clouded sun sending down its noonday beams, with an inten- sity of heat like the shrieking of heavy thunder through the 120 A ROMANCE IN A THIMBLE. deep mountain gorges of the western prairies. In the ensuing autumn, about two years previous to the above merry catas- trophe, two pedestrians might have been seen riding on horse- back in a three-wheeled carriage up to the brow of a preci- pice, under the side of a forest which had been cut down be- fore the trees had begun to take root ; they were engaged in eating their evening dinner by the roadside in the arms of Morpheus. The eldest of the three gentlemen was a young lady of about fifty-three, and about two years younger than the other man, which latter gentleman was, from the manner in which she addressed him, her only and youngest daughter. The remainder of her dress consisted of two pair of panta- loons neatly buttoned round the tops of her ears, and attached by a golden strap of unwoven silk to the axletree of the mid- dle-aged gentleman's horse. The third individual last men- tioned was an old gentleman of about twenty-two, whose venerable features disclosed the livid hue of the Siberian ne- gro ; his bald head was profusely covered with long silver locks of jet, and which he had evidently lost during a severe attack of sea sickness caught from his next door neighbor, who resided several miles further up the country. He was richly clothed in a worn-out frock-coat which was secured by straps under his boots ; his feet was bare, and, save his gloves, he had no other garments to shield him from the balmy atmosphere; he had lost his arms just above the col- lar bone, and was constrained to wear crutches ; this, added to total blindness, rendered him an object of general admira- tion, and as he flew along the subterranean passage, towards the iron door of the dungeon, a giant voice exclaimed, "To* be continued in our next." THE END. COMMON Being a Complete Treatise on the Art of Cooking Every Variety of Food in Com- mon Use, in a palatable and Digestible Manner, at Reasonable Cost. To which is added a Chapter on the Art qf Cooking, and Two Hundred of the most Valuable and Popular Recipes known for Domestic purposes. The whole forming a History of Domestic Knowledge and Useful Economy. Almost every Cook Book published belongs to one of two classes: Either they are fully descriptive of Breakfasts, Dishes and Suppers such as few but Kings could afford to give— or else they are devoted to platters of such mean and meagre fare that would only be partaken of by shiftless gabarbenzie (beggars). Now this book is not made for either of said classes, but for the great mass of Housekeepers- people in moderate circumstances who wish to live respectably and well — who de- sire to have good food, dressed in the most healthful and appetising manner— and served with inexpensive elegance. Glance at our outline of the BILL OF FARE spread out before the readers of "Common Sense in the Kitchen." SOUP ^flL3XT33 BROTH. Vermicelli, Plum Porridge, JTodge-Podge, Oalf'sHead, Gravy, A la Seine, Portable, Maigre, Giblets, Ox Cheek, Transparent, Tomato, And ovr : 40 more different kinds. In all of which every possible description is given to enable even a novice to easily and cheaply make the very best of Soups and Broths; and the very best cooks will here *earn many things that they never knew before. There are several hundred ways given for Cooking the following • Boiling- Heat, Fish and Poultry. Baking: Butcher's Meat and Fisho Roasting- Butcher's Meat, Game, Poultry and Fish. Broiling: Meat and Fish. Frying- Fish and Meat. Stewing- Butcher's Meat, Poultry and Fish. Hashing- Meat, Poultry & Fish. Fricasseeing- Meat, Fish & Poultry. Ragout of Meat, Poultry and Vegetables. Gravies, Callisees, and every kind of Sauce. Made Dishes of Poul- try in more than 40 ways. Made Dishes of Meat in more than 50 ways. Vegetables and Roots, every possible way. Boiled Puddings, 24 kinds. Meat, Poultry, Fish and Fruit Pies, Pancakes, Fritters, Tarts, Puffs, Cheesecakes and Custards. Cakes and Biscuits— every kind and quality, whether of simple 'home- made,' or such as is usually made by the most artistic pastry-cook. The Art of Confectionery, Explaining all about making Sugar Candies, Creams and Jams, Jellies and Sylla- bubs, Preserving Fruits, Ornamenting Confectionery, Pickling in all its branches. Potting and Canning Meats, making Possets and Gruels, making Wines and Cordials. Also, The Complete Art of Carving, with illustrative engravings, to ■which is added a very extensive and Valuable Lot of Recipes. One look at the above sketch of contents of this work will convince any one that it is the most comprehensive Cook Book ever published. Every dish described may be relied on as having been tested in many families of excellent taste. Large 12 mo. Very handsomely bound in black and gold. Price One Dollar. Sent by mail to any address on receipt of i>m«. HUEST & CO.. 122 Nassau St., N T. The Perfect Shakespeare. THE WORKS OIF SIK^KZEsipiE^IRIE] ,' Carefully prepared from the earliest and more modern edition*, selected whe*r« commentators have differed as to the Sense of obscure or doubtful passages, from those readings which the ablest critics believe to be the most Shakesperean and best suited to a popular edition, Illustrated with Thirty Large Engravings^ designed by Mr. John Coxen, the celebrated artist and engraver, and a steel portrait of Shakespeare. We have used the term '"''Perfect'''' as applicable to this edition, and any one that will examine it will see that it well merits the title; and, indeed, is the only edition that fully deserves the title of "Perfect.'" There are numerous editions of this wonderful writer's works,-got up in all styles, and at every price. But, unfortunately they are all more or less faulty. From some editions many of the strongest passages are omitted in deference to squeamish namby-pambyism. In other editions some fanciful critic has tried to improve the language of the mighty master — as if a rushlight could add lustre to the blazing beams of the noonday sun. In other editions, again, many scenes are transposed, till the plays are made, like Joseph's coat, a thing "of shreds and patches." But in this Edition, the "Perfect" Shakespeare, All the Poems — all the Plays — all the Characters — all the Language — are given un- abridged, clear and "perfect" as they originally sprang from the august brow of this Jove of Poets — the sublime Shakespeare. It is not necessary at this late day to say aught in praise of Shakespeare's works; for they are universally admitted to be the grandest efforts of any human mind. Works that have been eulogized by Ben Johnson, by Dryden, by Addison, by Mil- ton (Princ* ^f Poets) who has beautifully written of him as "Sweetest Shakespeare — Nature's child — Warbling his native wood-notes-wild." needs no eulogy from meaner men. IF YOU HAVE BUT ONE BOOK LET THAT BOOK BE "SHAKESPEARE." It is an epitome of all human Passions, Motives, Actions and expressions. None are too low; none too high to miss being instructed as well as delighted by the Plays and Poetry of Shakespeare. Even if a person is not easily moved by "concord of sweet" words it is a mat- ter of ILT©cessa<3r3r 3?oli/b© ZEcL-Lxoatiorri. to be well informed about the worV#'of "the sweet Swan of Avon." For one can hardly take up a book, listen to a conversation, or even hear a sermon, but that he will see or hear characters alluded to, or lives quoted from the peerless author of whom Dr. Johnson has truly said: "That the stream of time which washed away the perishable fabrics of poets, passed harmlessly by the adamantine fame of Shakespeare." You can Learn the English Language from Shakespeare Alone. The great Hungarian Patriot, Kossuth, who spoke English with the eloquence of a Clay or a Webster, says that, while in prison, he learned all that he knew of English with no other book than a "perfect Shakespeare." Tlae " Perfect " Slia]s.espeare Is in every respect the best edition. Every word of the original is in it. It is printed from new, clear, eaisily read type. It is a fine, large, handsome book — an ornament to a parlor table. It is embellished with many striking illustrations. IT IS SOLD FOR THE EXCEEDINGLY SMALL SUM OF $1.50. 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