Chapter VI: Part II: Humorous Hits (2)

Next door to Reubens lives a man who made five distinct attempts in a fortnight to secure a dinner of green peas by the first of July, but has been retarded by Reubens' hens. The next morning after Reubens made his resolution, this man found his fifth attempt had been destroyed. Then he called on Reubens. He said:

"What in thunder do you mean by letting your hens tear up my garden?"

Reubens was prompted to call him various names, but he remembered his resolution, put down his rage, and meekly said:

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight----"

The mad neighbor, who had been eyeing this answer with suspicion, broke in again:

"Why don't you answer my question, you rascal?"

But still Reubens maintained his equanimity, and went on with the test.

"Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen----"

The mad neighbor stared harder than ever.

"Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one----"

"You're a mean thief!" said the mad neighbor, backing toward the fence.

Reubens' face flushed at this charge, but he only said:

"Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six----"

At this figure the neighbor got up on the fence in some haste, but suddenly thinking of his peas, he said:

"You mean, contemptible, old rascal! I could knock your head against my barn and I'll----"

"Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three----"

Here the neighbor ran for the house, and entering it, violently slammed the door behind him. Reubens did not let up on the enumeration, but stood out there alone in his own yard, and kept on counting, while his burning cheeks and flashing eyes eloquently affirmed his judgment. When he got up into the eighties his wife came out to him in some alarm.

"Why, Reubens, man, what is the matter with you? Do come into the house."

But he didn't stop.

"Eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two----"

Then she came to him, and clung tremblingly to him, but he only turned, looked into her eyes, and said:

"Ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred! Go into the house, old woman, or I'll bust you!"

THEY NEVER QUARRELED

ANONYMOUS

They had been married about three weeks, and had just gone to housekeeping. He was starting down town one morning, and she followed him to the door. They had their arms wrapt around each other, and she was saying:

"O Clarence, do you think it possible that the day can ever come when we will part in anger?"

"Why, no, little girl, of course not. What put that foolish idea into my little birdie's head, eh?"

"Oh, nothing, dearest. I was only thinking how perfectly dreadful it would be if one of us should speak harshly to the other."

"Well, don't think of such wicked, utterly impossible things any more. We can never, never, never quarrel."

"I know it, darling. Good-by, you dear old precious, good-by, and--oh, wait a second, Clarence; I've written a note to mamma; can't you run around to the house and leave it for her some time to-day?"

"Why, yes, dearie; if I have time."

"If you have time? O Clarence!"

"What is it, little girlie?"

"Oh, to say 'if you have time' to do almost the very first errand your little wife asks you to do."

"Well, well, I expect to be very busy to-day."

"Too busy to please me? O Clarence, you hurt my feelings so."

"Why, child, I----"

"I'm not a child, I'm a married woman, and I----"

"There, there, my pet. I----"

"No, no, Clarence, if I were your p--p--pet you'd----"

"But, Mabel, do be reasonable."

"O Clarence! don't speak to me so."

"Mable, be sensible, and----"

"Go on, Clarence, go on; break my heart."

"Stuff and nonsense."

"Oh! o--o--o--o--oh!"

"What have I said or done?"

"As if you need ask! But go--hate me if you will, Clarence, I----"

"This is rank nonsense!"

"I'll go back to mamma if you want me to. She loves me, if you don't."

"You must have a brain-storm!"

"Oh! yes, sneer at me, ridicule me, break my poor heart. Perhaps you had better strike me!"

He bangs the door, goes down the steps on the jump, and races off, muttering something about women being the "queerest creatures."

Of course, they'll make it up when he comes home, and they'll have many a little tiff in the years to come, and when they grow old they'll say:

"We've lived together forty-five years, and in all that time have never spoken a cross word to each other!"

SONG OF THE "L"

BY GRENVILLE KLEISER

NOTE--_The New York elevated cars were so overcrowded at the rush hours of the day that passengers were obliged to ride on engines._

Jam them in, ram them in,
People still a-coming,
Slam them in, cram them in,
Keep the thing a-humming!
Millionaires and carpenters,
Office boys, stenographers,
Workingmen and fakirs,
Doctors, undertakers,
Brokers and musicians,
Writers, politicians,
Clergymen and plumbers,
Entry clerks and drummers,
Pack them in, whack them in,
People still a-coming!

Mash them in, crash them in,
Still there's more to follow,
Shoot them in, boot them in,
Don't take time to swallow!
Pretty maid and tailor-made,
Stylish maid and home-made,
Jersey maid and ready-made
House maid and old maid!
Billionaire and haughty air,
Bald head and golden hair,
Always there, never there,
Ah there and get there!
Squeeze them in, tease them in,
Still there's more to follow.
Bump them in, thump them in,
Why do people worry?
Throw them in, blow them in,
Everyone must hurry.
Take a place behind the gate,
Get your clothes prest while you wait.
Grab a seat, don't give a rap
For the lady at the strap.
If your life is spared till night
You can tell your wife all right:

How the gateman shoved them in,
Slammed them in, jammed them in,
Crammed them in, damned them in,
Blew them in, cuffed them in,
Fired them in, kicked them in,
Bumped them in, thumped them in,
Beat them in, knocked them in,
Rapped them in, squashed them in,
Rammed them in, whipped them in,
Pushed them in, banged them in,
Crusht them in, rushed them in,
Dashed them in, slashed them in,
Flung them in, jerked them in,
Tossed them in, shied them in,
Hauled them in, forced them in,
Whacked them in, crowded them in,
Prodded them in, pulled them in,
Dumped them in, drove them in,
Hammered them in, battered them in,
Pitched them in, urged them in,
Hustled them in, bustled them in,
Hurried them in, worried them in,
As if their heads were hollow!

THE VILLAGE ORACLE

BY J. L. HARBOUR

"Why, Mis' Farley, is it really you? It's been so long sence I saw you that I hardly knowed you. Come in an' set down. I was jest a-wishin' some one would come in. I've felt so kind of downsy all mornin'. I reckon like enough it is my stummick. I thought some of goin' to see old Doctor Ball about it, but, la, I know jest what he'd say. He'd look at my tongue an' say, 'Coffee,' an' look cross. He lays half the mis'ry o' the world to coffee. Says it is a rank pizen to most folks, an' that lots o' the folks now wearin' glasses wouldn't need 'em if they'd let coffee alone. Says it works on the ocular nerves an' all that, but I reckon folks here in Granby will go on drinkin' coffee jest the same.

"You won't mind if I keep right on with my work, will you, seein' that it ain't nothin' but sewin' carpet-rags? I've got to send my rags to the weaver this week, or she can't weave my carpet until after she comes home from a visit she 'lows on makin' to her sister over in Zoar. It's just a hit-er-miss strip o' carpet I'm makin' for my small south chamber. I set out to make somethin' kind o' fancy with a twisted strip an' the chain in five colors, but I found I hadn't the right kind of rags to carry it through as I wanted to; so I jest decided on a plain hit-er-miss. I don't use the south chamber no great nohow. It's the room my first husband and his first wife and sev'ral of his kin all died in; so the 'sociations ain't none too cheerin', an' I--I--s'pose you know about Lyddy Baxter losin' her husband last week? No? Well, he's went the way o' the airth, an' Lyddy wore my mournin'-veil an' gloves to the funeral. They're as good as they were the day I follered my two husbands to the grave in 'em. When a body pays two dollars an' sixty-eight cents for a mournin'-veil, it behooves 'em to take keer of it, an' not switch it out wearin' it common as Sally Dodd did hern. If a body happens to marry a second time, as I did, a mournin'-veil may come in handy, jest as mine did.

"Yes, Lyddy's husband did go off real sudden. It was this new-fashioned trouble, the appendysheetus, that tuk him off. They was jest gittin' ready to op'rate on him when he went off jest as easy as a glove. There's three thousand life-insurance; so Lyddy ain't as bereft as some would be. Now, if she'll only have good jedgement when she gits the money, an' not fool it away as Mis' Mack did her husband's life-insurance. He had only a thousand dollars, an' she put half of it on her back before three months, an' put three hundred into a pianny she couldn't play. She said a pianny give a house sech an air. I up an' told her that money would soon be all 'air' if she didn't stop foolin' it away.

"I wouldn't want it told as comin' from me, but I've heerd that it was her that put that advertisement in the paper about a widder with some means wishin' to correspond with a gentleman similarly situated with a view to matrimony. I reckon she had about fifty dollars left at that time. I tried to worm something about it out of the postmaster; for of course he'd know about her mail, but he was as close as a clam-shell. I reckon one has to be kind of discreet if one is postmaster, but he might of known that anything he told me wouldn't go no farther if he didn't want it to. I know when to speak an' when to hold my tongue if anybody in this town does.

"Did you know that Myra Dart was goin' to marry that Rylan chap? It's so. I got it from the best authority. An' she's nine years an' three months an' five days older than him. I looked it up in the town hist'ry. It's a good deal of a reesk for a man to marry a woman that's much older than he is.

"But, my land, it's a good deal of a reesk to git married at all nowadays. You never know what you're gittin' ontil it's too late to undo the matter. Seems to me there must be a screw loose somewhere, or matrimony wouldn't be the fizzle it is in so many instances. An' it's about six o' one an' half a dozen o' the other when it comes to dividin' the blame. You know my first husband was jestice o' the peace five years, an' he had considdable marryin' to do, an' I saw a good deal o' what loose idees some people had about matrimony.

"I recollect of one couple comin' in to git married one evenin'. They was both in middle life, an' them kind usually acts the silliest with the exception of a real old pair. They are the beaterees for silly actin'. Well, my husband never married any couple without makin' sure that there was no onlawful hindrances in the way o' past husbands and wives, an' so he says to the woman, 'Have you ever been married before?' An' she says jest as flippant, 'Yes, but he didn't live but three weeks; so it ain't wuth speakin' of.' Now wa'n't that scand'lous? It jest showed how lightly some folks look on the solemn ord'nance o' matrimony.

"I reckon you know that the Porters have a boy at their house? No? Well, they have. He was born at twenty minutes to one las' night, or this mornin' ruther, an' old Susan Puffer is to do the nussin'. I heard a wagon drive by here lickety-split at most midnight las' night an' I sez to myself, sez I, 'I'll bet that's Hi Porter tearin' off for old Susan Puffer', an' I got up, an' wrapped a blanket around me, an' waited for the wagon to come back; an' when it did, I called out, 'That you, Hi an' Susan?' It gives 'em a good deal of a start, but Susan called out that it was her, an' I went back to bed. Some folks would of been curious-minded enough to of went right over to the Porters', but I ain't that pryin' an' I didn't go over till after breakfast this mornin'.

"It's a real nice baby, an' it's goin' to be the livin' spit o' Hi exceptin' for its nose, which is its mother's all over; an' its mouth is the livin' counterpart o' its grandfather Porter's an' it's got the Davis ears. You know its mother was a Davis. I hope it won't have to be a bottle-riz baby. I don't care how good these infant foods may be; I don't think that a bottle-riz baby is ever the equal of one that ain't bottle-riz. The Lord must of intended mothers to nuss their babies, or He wouldn't of made 'em so they could. So I--must you be goin'? What's your hurry? I'd love to have you set all afternoon. It's so long sense you have been here, an' I do so enjoy havin' the neighbors drop in an' tell me all that's goin' on. I never go no place to hear the news. I wish you'd come in real often an' talk to me.

"Looks some like rain. I hope it'll be fair to-morrow, for I 'low on goin' over to Lucindy Baxter's to spend the day. Me an' her went over to Ware Monday, an' had a real nice all-day visit with Lucindy's married daughter. She's real nicely fixt, an' she had three kinds of cake besides cookies for tea. Seems to me one kind an' the cookies would o' been plenty. Mebbe she wanted to let us see that her husband was a good pervider.

"I went over to Zion Tuesday, an' Wednesday me an' Nancy Dodd went over to Becky Means's, and helped her quilt her album quilt; an' she had a chicken-pie for dinner that went a little ahead of anything I ever et in the way of chicken-pie. Nancy's a good cook anyhow. She gives a kind of a taste to things that only a born cook can give. I'm goin' over to the fair in Greenfield Friday; so I--do come over again soon. I git real lonesome stayin' to home close as I do, an' it's nice to have some one come in an' talk to me as you have. Good-by.

"Yes, I'll come over soon. But don't you wait for me. Come when you kin. I'm allus to home. Good-by. See my little chicks? I put a hen on thirteen eggs, an' she hatched out every blessed one of 'em. Wa'n't she smart? An she laid all the eggs herself, too. I got another hen comin' off on the tenth. Didn't the minister preach beautifully Sunday? I dunno as I ever heard a more upliftin' sermon. I see that his wife has her black silk made up that the Ladies' Society gave her on her birthday. Didn't seem to me it fit real well under the arms. Well, good-by, good-by."

By permission of the author and the _Christian Endeavor World_.

IF I CAN BE BY HER

BY BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING

I d-d-don't c-c-c-are how the r-r-r-obin sings,
Er how the r-r-r-ooster f-f-flaps his wings,
Er whether't sh-sh-shines, er whether't pours,
Er how high up the eagle s-s-soars,
If I can b-b-b-be by her.

I don't care if the p-p-p-people s-say
'At I'm weak-minded every w-way,
An' n-n-never had no cuh-common sense,
I'd c-c-c-cuh-climb the highest p-picket fence.
If I could b-b-b-be by her.

If I can be by h-h-her, I'll s-s-swim
The r-r-r-est of life thro' th-th-thick an' thin;
I'll throw my overcoat away,
An' s-s-s-stand out on the c-c-c-oldest day,
If I can b-b-b-be by her.

You s-s-see sh-sh-she weighs an awful pile,
B-b-b-but I d-d-d-don't care--sh-she's just my style,
An' any f-f-fool could p-p-p-lainly see
She'd look well b-b-b-by the side of me,
If I could b-b-b-be by her.

I b-b-b-braced right up, and had the s-s-s-and
To ask 'er f-f-f-father f-f-fer 'er hand;
He said: "Wh-wh-what p-p-prospects have you got?"
I said: "I gu-gu-guess I've got a lot,
If I can b-b-b-be by her."

It's all arranged f-f-fer Christmas Day,
Fer then we're goin' to r-r-r-run away,
An' then s-s-some th-th-thing that cu-cu-couldn't be
At all b-b-efore will then, you s-s-see,
B-b-b-because I'll b-b-b-be by her.

From "Ben King's Verse," by permission of Forbes & Co., Chicago.

McCARTHY AND McMANUS

ANONYMOUS

An Irishman named Patrick McCarthy, having received an invitation to visit some friends who were stopping at one of the prominent hotels, suddenly realized that his best suit needed pressing. He sent the suit to his friend Michael McManus, the tailor, with instructions to put it in proper shape and to return it with all haste.

After waiting an hour or more, he became very impatient, and asked his wife to go for the clothes, telling her to be sure to bring them back with her. When she returned he was surprized to find she had not brought back his suit, and he said:

"Well, where are my clothes?"

"Don't ask me, don't ask me. I'm thot mad I'm almost afther killin' thot McManus!"

"Pfhot's thot? Pfhot's McManus done with thim?"

"He's done nothin' with thim, and he barely took notice of me."

"Shure woman, dear, pfhot's that you be tellin' me? Did Mac insult you,--for the love of hivins tell me quick?"

"Well, I will tell you. Whin I wint into the shop, there was McManus; instid of sittin' on the table as usual, he was sittin' forninst it, with a long shate of paper spread out, and he was a-writin' and a-writin' and a-writin'. Says I, 'Mr. McManus.' No answer. Again I says, 'Mr. McManus.' Still no answer. Says I, 'Look here, Mr. McManus, pfhot do you mean by kapin' my husband waitin' for his clothes?--have you got thim done?' Without raisin' his head he says, 'No, I haven't,' and wint on writin' and writin'. Says I, 'He's waitin' for thim.' Says he, 'Let him wait.' Says I, 'He won't.' Says he, 'He'll have to.' Says I, 'Pfhot do you mean by writin' thot long document, knowin' well thot my husband is waitin' for his clothes?' Says he, 'Well, if you must know, it's important business. Do you see thot list?' pointin' to a long list of names. 'Well,' says he, 'thot's a list of all the min _thot I can lick_ in this neighborhood.' Says I, 'Is thot so?' Says he, 'Yes, thot is so.' Says I, 'Mr. McManus, have you got my husband's name on thot list?' Says he, takin' up the list and holdin' it near my face, 'Look at thot,--the _very first_ name on the list!' and I was thot mad I couldn't talk."

"Do you mean to tell me thot he had _my name_ on thot list?"

"I do, and the _very first one_,--on the _very top_."

"Well, wait till I go over and see McManus."

A few minutes later Mr. McCarthy entered the shop of Mr. McManus, and said,

"Is McManus here?"

McManus replied, "He is and he's _very busy_."

"Is thot so?"

"Yes, thot is so."

"Look here, McManus, pfhot makes you so busy?"

"Oh, I'm just doin' a little writin'."

"Well, what is it you're writin'?"

"Well, I'll tell you. I'm makin' out a list of all the min thot I can lick in this neighborhood, and a moighty big list it is. Just look at thot."

"Say Mac, is _my name_ on thot list?"

"Is Pat McCarthy's name on this list? Well, you can just bet your life it is, and it's the _very first one_!"

"Is thot so, McManus?"

"Yes, thot's so."

McCarthy, taking off his coat and rolling up his sleeves, said:

"Look here, McManus, _I can lick you_."

"Did you say you _thought_ you could lick me?"

"I said I _can_ lick you."

"You say you _can_ lick me?"

"Yes, thot's what I said."

"All right. _Off goes your name from the list._"

AND SHE CRIED

BY MINNA IRVING

Miss Muriel Million was sitting alone,
With a very disconsolate air;
Her fluffy blue tea-gown was fastened awry,
And frowsy and rumpled her hair.
"Oh, what is the matter?" I said in alarm,
"I beg you in me to confide."
But she buried her face in her 'kerchief of lace,
And she cried, and she cried, and she cried.

"Come out for a spin in the automobile,
The motor-boat waits at the pier;
Or let's take a drive in the sunshiny park,
Or a canter on horseback, my dear."
T'was thus that I coaxed her in lover-like tones,
As I tenderly knelt at her side,
But refusing all comfort she pushed me aside,
While she cried, and she cried, and she cried.

"Pray whisper, my darling, this terrible wo,
You know I would love you the same,
If the millions of papa vanish in smoke
And you hadn't a cent to your name,
If you came to the church in a garment of rags
I would wed you with rapturous pride."
She nestled her cheek to my shoulder at this,
Tho she cried, and she cried, and she cried.

"You know," she exclaimed in a piteous wail,
"That love of a hat that I wore?--
The one with pink roses and chiffon behind,
And a fluffy pink feather before?--
I paid Madame Modeste a hundred for that,
And our parlor-maid, Flora McBride,
Has got one just like it for three twenty-five!"
And she cried, and she cried, and she cried.

By permission of the author and of the _New York Herald_.

DOT LEEDLE BOY

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

Ot's a leedle Gristmas story
Dot I told der leedle folks--
Und I vant you stop dot laughin'
Und grackin' funny jokes!--
So help me Peter-Moses!
Ot's no time for monkeyshine,
Ober I vas told you somedings
Of dot leedle boy of mine!

Ot vas von cold vinter vedder,
Ven the snow was all about--
Dot you have to chop der hatchet
Eef you got der sauerkraut!
Und der cheekens on der hind leg
Vas standin' in der shine,
Der sun shmile out dot morning
On dot leedle boy of mine.

He vas yoost a leedle baby,
Not bigger as a doll
Dot time I got acquaintet--
Ach! you ought to heard 'im squall!--
I grackys! dot's der moosie
Ot make me feel so fine
Ven first I vas been marriet--
Oh, dot leedle boy of mine!

He look' yoost like his fader!--
So, ven der vimmen said,
"Vot a purty leedle baby!"
Katrina shake her head--
I dink she must 'a' notice
Dot der baby vas a-gryin',
Und she cover up der blankets
Of dot leedle boy of mine.

Vell, ven he vas got bigger,
Dot he grawl und bump his nose,
Und make der table over,
Und molasses on his glothes--
Dot make 'im all der sweeter,--
So I say to my Katrina:
"Better you vas quit a-sphankin'
Dot leedle boy of mine!"

I vish you could 'a' seen id--
Ven he glimb up on der chair
Und scmash der lookin'-glasses
Ven he try to comb his hair
Mit a hammer!--Und Katrina
Say, "Dot's an ugly sign!"
But I laugh und vink my fingers
At dot leedle boy of mine.

But vonce, dot vinter morning,
He shlip out in der snow
Mitout no stockin's on 'im--
He say he "vant to go
Und fly some mit der birdies!"
Und ve give 'im medi-cine
Ven he catch der "parrygoric"--
Dot leedle boy of mine!

Und so I set und nurse 'im,
Vile der Gristmas vas come roun',
Und I told 'im 'bout "Kriss Kringle,"
How he come der chimbly down;
Und I ask 'im if he love 'im
Eef he bring 'im someding fine?
"_Nicht besser as mein fader_,"
Say dot leedle boy of mine.

Und he put his arms aroun' me
Und hug so close und tight,
I hear der glock a-tickin'
All der balance of der night!--
Someding make me feel so funny
Ven I say to my Katrina,
"Let us go und fill der stockin's,
Of dot leedle boy of mine."

Vell--ve buyed a leedle horses
Dot you pull 'im mit a shtring,
Und a little fancy jay-bird--
Eef you vant to hear 'im sing
You took 'im by der topknot
Und yoost blow in behine--
Und dot make much _spectahkle_
For dot leedle boy of mine.

Und gandies, nuts und raisins--
Und I buy a leedle drum
Dot I vant to hear 'im rattle
Ven der Gristmas morning come!
Und a leedle shmall tin rooster
Dot vould crow so loud und fine
Ven he squeeze 'im in der morning,
Dot leedle boy of mine.

Und--vile ve vas a-fixin'--
Dot leedle boy vake out!
I t'ought he been a-dreamin'
"Kriss Kringle" vas about,--
For he say--"_Dot's him!--I see 'im
Mit der shtars dot make der shine!_"
Und he yoost keep on a-cryin'--
Dot leedle boy of mine,--

Und gettin' vorse und vorser--
Und tumble on der bed!
So--ven der doctor seen id,
He kindo shake his head,
Und veel his pulse--und visper:
"Der boy is a-dyin'."
You dink I could _believe_ id?
_Dot leedle boy of mine?_

I told you, friends--dot's someding,
Der last time dot he spheak
Und say, "_Goot-by, Kriss Kringle!_"
--Dot make me feel so veak
I yoost kneel down und drimble,
Und bur-sed out a-cryin',
"_Mein Gott, Mein Gott in Himmel!--
Dot leedle boy of mine!_"

Der sun don't shine _dot_ Gristmas!
... Eef dot leedle boy vould liff'd--
No deefer-en'! for _heaven_ vas
His leedle Gristmas gift!...
Und der _rooster_, und der _gandy_,
Und me--und my Katrina--
Und der jay-bird--is a-vatin'
For dot leedle boy of mine.

From "Green Fields and Running Brooks," copyright 1892. Used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company.

MR. DOOLEY ON THE GRIP

BY FINLAY PETER DUNNE

Mr. Dooley was discovered making a seasonable beverage, consisting of one part syrup, two parts quinine, and fifteen parts strong waters.

"What's the matter?" asked Mr. McKenna.

"I have th' lah gr-rip," said Mr. Dooley, blowing his nose and wiping his eyes. "Bad cess to it! Oh, me poor back! I feels as if a dhray had run over it. Did ye iver have it? Ye did not? Well, ye're lucky. Ye're a lucky man.

"I wint to MCGuire's wake las' week. They gave him a dacint sind-off. No porther. An' himself looked natural, as fine a corpse as iver Gavin layed out. Gavin tould me so himsilf. He was as proud iv McGuire as if he owned him. Fetched half th' town in to look at him, an' give ivry wan iv thim cards. He near frightened ol' man Dugan into a faint. 'Misther Dugan, how old a-are ye?' 'Sivinity-five, thanks be,' says Dugan. 'Thin,' says Gavin, 'take wan iv me cards,' he says. 'I hope ye'll not forget me,' he says.

"'Twas there I got th' lah grip. Lastewise, it is me own opinion iv it, tho th' docthor said I swallowed a bug. It don't seem right, Jawn, f'r th' MCGuires is a clane fam'ly; but th' docthor said a bug got into me system. 'What sort if bug?' says I. 'A lah grip bug,' he says. 'Ye have Mickrobes in ye're lungs,' he says. 'What's thim?' says I. 'Thim's th' lah grip bugs,' says he. 'Ye took wan in, an' warmed it,' he says, 'an' it has growed an' multiplied till ye're system does be full if thim,' he says, 'millions iv thim,' he says, 'marchin' an' counter-marchin' through ye.' 'Glory be to the saints!' says I. 'Had I better swallow some insect powdher?' I says. 'Some iv thim in me head has a fallin' out, an' is throwin' bricks.' 'Foolish man,' says he. 'Go to bed,' he says, 'an' lave thim alone,' he says; 'whin they find who they're in,' he says, 'they'll quit ye.'

"So I wint to bed, an' waited while th' Mickrobes had fun with me. Mondah all iv thim was quiet but thim in me stummick. They stayed up late dhrinkin' an' carousin' an' dancin' jigs till wurruds come up between th' Kerry Mickrobes an' thim fr'm Wexford; an' th' whole party wint over to me left lung, where they cud get th' air, an' had it out. Th' nex' day th' little Mickrobes made a tobaggan slide iv me spine; an' manetime some Mickrobes that was wurkin' f' th' tilliphone comp'ny got it in their heads that me legs was poles, an' put on their spikes an' climbed all night long.

"They was tired out th' nex' day till about five o'clock, whin thim that was in me head begin flushin' out th' rooms; an' I knew there was goin' to be doin's in th' top flat. What did thim Mickrobes do but invite all th' other Mickrobes in f'r th' ev'nin'. They all come. Oh, by gar, they was not wan iv thim stayed away. At six o'clock they begin to move fr'm me shins to me throat. They come in platoons an' squads an' dhroves. Some iv thim brought along brass bands, an' more thin wan hundred thousand iv thim dhruv through me pipes on dhrays. A trolley line was started up me back, an iv'ry car run into a wagon-load if scrap iron at th' base if me skull.

"Th' Mickrobes in me head must 've done thimselves proud. They tipped over th' chairs an' tables; an' in less time thin it takes to tell, th' whole party was at it. They'd been a hurlin' game in th' back iv me skull, an' th' young folks was dancin' breakdowns an' havin' leppin matches in me forehead; but they all stopt, to mix in. Oh, 'twas a grand shindig--tin millions iv men, women, an childher rowlin' on th' flure, hands an' feet goin', ice-picks an' hurlin' sticks, clubs, brick-bats, flyin' in th' air! How many iv thim was kilt I niver knew; f'r I wint as daft as a hen, an' dhreamt iv organizin' a Mickrobe Campaign Club that'd sweep th' prim'ries, an' maybe go acrost an' free Ireland. Whin I woke up, me legs was as weak as a day-old baby's, an' me poor head impty as a cobbler's purse. I want no more iv thim. Give me anny bug fr'm a cockroach to an aygle, save an' excipt thim West if Ireland Fenians, th' Mickrobes."

By permission of Small, Maynard & Company.

A RAINY DAY EPISODE

ANONYMOUS

One morning recently as I was about to start from my home, I noticed that it was raining very hard outside, and as I turned to the rack to get an umbrella I was surprized to find that out of five umbrellas there was not one in the lot I could use. On the impulse of the moment I decided to take the whole five down town to the umbrella hospital and have them all repaired at once.

Just as I started from the door my wife asked me to be sure and bring her umbrella back as she wanted to use it that evening. This imprest the subject of umbrellas very vividly on my mind, so I did not fail to leave the five umbrellas to be repaired, stating I would call for them on my way home in the evening.

When I went to lunch at noon it was still raining very hard, but as I had no umbrella this simply imprest the subject on my mind. I went to a nearby restaurant, sat down at a table, and had been there only a few minutes when a young lady came in and sat down at the same table with me. I was first to finish, however, and getting up I absent-mindedly picked up her umbrella and started for the door. She called out to me and reminded me that I had her umbrella, whereupon I returned it to her with much embarrassment and many apologies.

This incident served to impress the subject more deeply on my mind, so on my way home in the evening I called for my umbrellas, bought a newspaper, and boarded a street-car. I was deeply engrossed in my newspaper, having placed the five umbrellas alongside of me in the car, but all at once I had a peculiar feeling of someone staring at me. Suddenly I looked up from my paper, and was surprized to see sitting directly opposite me the same young woman I had met in the restaurant! She had a broad smile on her face, and looking straight into my eyes she said knowingly: "You've had a successful day, to-day, haven't you?"

I KNEW HE WOULD COME IF I WAITED

BY HORACE G. WILLIAMSON

I knew he would come if I waited,
Tho waiting, it caused me despair;
And I sat by the window and listened
To hear his first step on the stair:
For I knew he would come if I waited,
But anxiously I paced 'round the floor;
Oh, to see his own form on the threshold
As I hastened to open the door.
Would he come? But how dare I question
His faithfulness to his own word;
Would he dare not come at my calling?
Or was that his dear step that I heard?
Oh, I rush to the door for to meet him,
For to welcome him here after all,
For I knew he would come if I waited,
He would come to answer my call.
Yes, yes, it is he on the pavement,
He's coming, he's ringing the bell,
And my heart beats wild with rapture
Of a joy which I never can tell,
For I knew he would come if I waited,
Yes, he'd come at my call; joy, O joy,
What happiness it is to welcome
Just to welcome: "the messenger boy."

LOVE'S MOODS AND SENSES

ANONYMOUS

Sally Salter, she was a young lady who taught,
And her friend Charley Church was a preacher who praught!
Tho his enemies called him a screecher who scraught.

His heart when he saw her kept sinking, and sunk,
And his eye, meeting hers, began winking, and wunk;
While she in her turn fell to thinking, and thunk.

He hastened to woo her, and sweetly he wooed,
For his love grew until to a mountain it grewed,
And what he was longing to do then he doed.

In secret he wanted to speak, and he spoke,
To seek with his lips what his heart long had soke;
So he managed to let the truth leak, and it loke.

He asked her to ride to the church, and they rode,
They so sweetly did glide, that they both thought they glode,
And they came to the place to be tied, and were tode.

Then, "homeward," he said, "let us drive," and they drove,
And soon as they wished to arrive, they arrove;
For whatever he couldn't contrive she controve.

The kiss he was dying to steal, then he stole:
At the feet where he wanted to kneel, then he knole,
And said, "I feel better than ever I fole."

So they to each other kept clinging and clung;
While time his swift circuit was winging, and wung;
And this was the thing he was bringing, and brung:

The man Sally wanted to catch, and had caught--
That she wanted from others to snatch, and had snaught--
Was the one that she now liked to scratch, and she scraught.

And Charley's warm love began freezing, and froze,
While he took to teasing, and cruelly toze
The girl he had wished to be squeezing, and squoze.

"Wretch!" he cried, when she threatened to leave him, and left,
"How could you deceive me, as you have deceft?"
And she answered, "I promised to cleave, and I've cleft!"

A NOCTURNAL SKETCH

BY THOMAS HOOD

Even is come; and from the dark park, hark,
The signal of the setting sun--one gun!
And six is sounding from the chime, prime time
To go and see the Drury-Lane Dane slain,--
Or hear Othello's jealous doubt spout out,--
Or Macbeth raving at that shade-made blade,
Denying to his frantic clutch much touch;
Or else to see Ducrow with wide stride ride
Four horses as no other man can span;
Or in the small Olympic Pit, sit split
Laughing at Liston, while you quiz his phiz.
Anon Night comes, and with her wings brings things
Such as, with his poetic tongue, Young sung;
The gas up-blazes with its bright, white light,
And paralytic watchmen prowl, howl, growl,
About the streets and take up Pall-Mall Sal,
Who, hasting to her nightly jobs, robs fobs.

Now thieves to enter for your cash, smash, crash,
Past drowsy Charley, in a deep sleep, creep,
But frightened by Policeman B 3, flee,
And while they're going, whisper low, "No go!"
Now puss, while folks are in their beds, treads leads.
And sleepers waking, grumble: "Drat that cat!"
Who in the gutter caterwauls, squalls, mauls
Some feline foe, and screams in shrill ill will.

Now Bulls of Bashan, of a prize size, rise
In childish dreams, and with a roar gore poor
Georgy, or Charley, or Billy, willy-nilly;--
But Nursemaid, in a nightmare rest, chest-prest,
Dreameth of one of her old flames, James Games,
And that she hears--what faith is man's!--Ann's banns
And his, from Rev. Mr. Rice, twice, thrice:
White ribbons flourish, and a stout shout out,
That upward goes, shows Rose knows those bows' woes!

KATIE'S ANSWER

ANONYMOUS

Och, Katie's a rogue, it is thrue,
But her eyes, like the sky, are so blue,
An' her dimples so swate,
An' her ankles so nate,
She dazed, an' she bothered me, too--

Till one mornin' we wint for a ride,
Whin, demure as a bride, by my side,
The darlint, she sat,
With the wickedest hat,
'Neath a purty girl's chin iver tied.

An' my heart, arrah, thin how it bate
For my Kate looked so temptin' an' swate,
Wid cheeks like the roses,
An' all the red posies,
That grow in her garden so nate.

But I sat just as mute as the dead,
Till she said, wid a toss of the head,
"If I'd known that to-day
You'd have nothing to say,
I'd have gone wid my cousin instead."

Thin I felt myself grow very bowld,
For I knew she'd not scold if I towld
Uv the love in my heart,
That would never depart,
Tho I lived to be wrinkled an' owld.

An' I said, "If I dared to do so,
I'd lit go uv the baste, an' I'd throw
Both arms 'round yer waist,
An' be stalin' a taste
Uv them lips that are coaxin' me so."

Then she blushed a more illegent red,
As she said, widout raisin' her head,
An' her eyes lookin' down
'Neath her lashes so brown,
"Would ye like me to drive, Misther Ted?"

"'SPÄCIALLY JIM"

ANONYMOUS

I wus mighty good-lookin' when I was young,
Peert an' black-eyed an' slim,
With fellers a-courtin' me Sunday nights,
'Späcially Jim!

The likeliest one of 'em all was he,
Chipper an' han'som' an' trim,
But I tossed up my head an' made fun o' the crowd,
'Späcially Jim!

I said I hadn't no 'pinion o' men,
An' I wouldn't take stock in him!
But they kep' up a-comin' in spite o' my talk,
'Späcially Jim!

I got so tired o' havin' 'em roun'
'Späcially Jim!
I made up my mind I'd settle down
An' take up with him.

So we was married one Sunday in church,
'Twas crowded full to the brim;
'Twas the only way to get rid of 'em all,
'Späcially Jim.

AGNES, I LOVE THEE!

ANONYMOUS

I stood upon the ocean's briny shore;
And, with a fragile reed, I wrote
Upon the sand--"Agnes, I love thee!"
The mad waves rolled by, and blotted out
The fair impression.
Frail reed! cruel wave! treacherous sand!
I'll trust ye no more;
But, with giant hand, I'll pluck
From Norway's frozen shore
Her tallest pine, and dip its top
Into the crater of Vesuvius,
And upon the high and burnished heavens
I'll write,--"Agnes, I love thee!"--
And I would like to see any
Dog-goned wave wash that out!

THE GORILLA

ANONYMOUS

"O mighty ape!
Half beast, half man,
Thy uncouth shape
Betrays a plan
The gulf of Being at a bound to span.
Thou art the link between ourselves and brutes,
Lifting the lower to a higher plane;
Thy human face all cavilers refutes,
Who sneer at Darwin as a dreamer vain.
How camest thou beneath this canvas tent?
Within this cage? behind these iron bars?
Thou, whose young days in tropic lands were spent,
With strange companions, under foreign stars?
Art thou not lonely? What is life to thee
Thus mewed in prison, innocent of crime,
Become a spectacle for crowds to see,
And reckless boys to jeer at all the time?
Hast thou no feelings such as we possess?
Art thou devoid of any sense of shame?
Rise up, O brother, and thy wrongs redress;
Rise in thy might, and be no longer tame!"

I paused in my apostrophe. The animal arose;
He seized the bars that penned him in: my blood in terror froze.
He shook the cage from side to side; the frightened people fled;
Then, in a tone of savage wrath, the horrid monster said:
"I'm hired by the wake to wear the dhirty craythur's shkin;
I came from Tipperary, and me name is Micky Flynn!"

BANGING A SENSATIONAL NOVELIST

ANONYMOUS

The other day a stout woman, armed with an umbrella, and leading a small urchin, called at the office of a New York boys' story paper.

"Is this the place where they fight Indians?" she inquired of the young man in charge. "Is this the locality where the brave boy charges up the canyon and speeds a bullet to the heart of the dusky redskin?" and she jerked the urchin around by the ear and brought her umbrella down on the desk.

"We publish stories for boys, and----"

"I want to know if these are the premises on which the daring lad springs upon his fiery mustang, and, darting through the circle of thunderstruck savages, cuts the captive's cords and bears him away before the wondering Indians have recovered from their astonishment? That's the information I'm after. I want to know if that sort of thing is perpetrated here!" and she swung the umbrella around her head.

"I don't remember those specific facts, but----"

"I want to know if this is the precinct where the adventurous boy jumps on the back of a buffalo and with unerring aim picks off one by one the bloodthirsty pursuers who bite the dust at every crack of the faithful rifle! I'm looking for the place where that sort of thing happens!" and this time she brought the unlucky man a tremendous whack across the back.

"I think----"

"I'm in search of the shop in which the boy road-agent holds the quivering stage-driver powerless with his glittering eye, while he robs the male passengers with an adroitness born of long and tried experience, and kisses the hands of the lady passengers with a gallantry of bearing that bespeaks noble birth and a chivalrous nature! I'm looking for the apartment in which that business is transacted!"

"Upon my word, madam, I----"

"I want to be introduced to the jars in which you keep the boy scouts of the Sierras! Show me the bins full of the boy detectives of the prairie! Point out to me the barrels full of boy pirates of the Spanish main!" and with each demand she brought her umbrella down on the young man's head until he jumped over the desk and sought safety in a neighboring canyon.

"I'll teach 'em!" she panted, grasping the urchin by the ear and leading him off. "I'll teach 'em to make it good or dance. Want to go fight Indians any more (_twisting the boy's ear_)? Want to stand proudly upon the pinnacle of the mountain and scatter the plain beneath with the bleeding bodies of uncounted slain? Propose to spring upon the taffrail and with a ringing word of command send a broadside into the richly-laden galley, and then mercifully spare the beautiful maiden in the cabin, that she may become your bride? Eh? Going to do it any more?"

The boy exprest his permanent abandonment of all the glories enumerated.

"Then come along," said she, taking him by the collar. "Let me catch you around with any more ramrods and carving knives, and you'll think the leaping, curling, resistless prairie fire has swept with a ferocious roar of triumph across the trembling plains and lodged under your jacket to stay!"

HOPKINS' LAST MOMENTS

ANONYMOUS

Nurses in hospitals are inclined to lay too much stress on the advantages received by the patients and their duty of thankfulness, but it is the poor soldier who suffers most from always having his cause to be grateful flung in his teeth. The following true story took place between the chaplain and the hospital orderly:

_Chaplain_--"So poor Hopkins is dead. I should like to have spoken to him once more and soothed his last moments. Why didn't you call me?"

_Hospital Orderly_--"I didn't think you ought to be disturbed for 'Opkins, sir; so I just soothed him as best I could myself."

_Chaplain_--"Why, what did you say to him?"

_Orderly_--"I sez, ''Opkins, you're mortal bad.'"

"'I am,' sez 'e."

"''Opkins,' sez I, 'I don't think you'll get better.'"

"'No,' sez 'e."

"''Opkins,' sez I, 'you're going fast.'"

"'Yes,' sez 'e."

"''Opkins,' sez I, 'I don't think you can 'ope to go to 'eaven.'"

"'I don't think I can,' sez 'e."

"'Well, then, 'Opkins,' sez I, 'you'll go to 'ell.'"

"'I suppose so,' sez 'e,"

"''Opkins,' sez I, 'you ought to be wery grateful as there's a place perwided for you, and that you've got somewhere to go.' And I think 'e 'eard, sir, for 'e just gave a little groan, turned over, and then 'e died."

THE FAIRIES' TEA

ANONYMOUS

Five little fairies went out to take tea,
Under the shade of a juniper tree.
Each had a cup from an acorn cut,
And a plate from the rind of a hickory nut.

The table was spread with a cloth all of lace,
Woven by spiders the banquet to grace.
Oh, what good things they all had to eat!--
Slices of strawberry,--my what a treat!

Honey the sweetest the wild bee could hive,
And a humming-bird's egg for each of the five.
Then they drank their host's health in their favorite drink,
Which was,--now what was it? Can anyone think?

Why the dew-drop that comes from the heart of the rose
Is the drink of the fairies, as everyone knows.

COUNTING EGGS

ANONYMOUS

Old Moses, who sells eggs and chickens on the streets of Austin for a living, is as honest an old negro as ever lived; but he has the habit of chatting familiarly with his customers, hence he frequently makes mistakes in counting out the eggs they buy. He carries his wares around in a small cart drawn by a diminutive donkey. He stopt in front of the residence of Mrs. Samuel Burton. The old lady herself came out to the gate to make the purchase.

"Have you any eggs this morning, Uncle Moses?" she asked.

"Yes, indeed I has. Jess got in ten dozen from de kentry."

"Are they fresh?"

"Fresh? Yes, indeed! I guantees 'em, an'--an'--de hen guantees 'em."

"I'll take nine dozen. You can just count them into this basket."

"All right, mum; (_he counts_) one, two, free, foah, five, six, seben, eight, nine, ten. You can rely on dem bein' fresh. How's your son comin' on de school? He must be mos' grown."

"Yes, Uncle Moses; he is a clerk in a bank in Galveston."

"Why, how ole am de boy?"

"He is eighteen."

"You don't tole me so! Eighteen, and getting a salary already! Eighteen (_counting_), nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-free, twenty-foah, twenty-five. And how's your gal comin' on? She was most growed up de last time I seed her."

"She is married and living in Dallas."

"Wall, I declar'; how time scoots away! And you say she has childruns? Why, how ole am de gal? She must be just about----"

"Thirty-three."

"Am dat so? (_Counting._) Firty-free, firty-foah, firty-five, firty-six, firty-seben, firty-eight, firty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-free. Hit am singular dat you has sich ole childruns. You don't look more den forty years old yerseff."

"Nonsense, old man; I see you want to flatter me. When a person gets to be fifty-three years old----"

"Fifty-free! I jess dun gwinter bleeve hit; fifty-free, fifty-foah, fifty-five, fifty-six--I want you to pay 'tenshun when I count de eggs, so dar'll be no mistake--fifty-nine, sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-free, sixty-foah. Whew! Dis am a warm day. Dis am de time ob year when I feels I'se gettin' ole myself; I ain't long fur dis world. You comes from an ole family. When your fadder died he was sebenty years ole."

"Seventy-two."

"Dat's old, suah. Sebenty-two, sebenty-free, sebenty-foah, sebenty-five, sebenty-six, sebenty-seben, sebenty-eight, sebenty-nine. And your mudder? She was one ob de noblest-lookin' ladies I eber see. You remind me ob her so much! She libed to mos' a hundred. I bleeves she was done past a centurion when she died."

"No, Uncle Moses; she was only ninety-six when she died."

"Den she wan't no chicken when she died, I know dat. Ninety-six, ninety-seben, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred, one, two, free, foah, five, six, seben, eight--dar, one hundred and eight nice fresh eggs--jess nine dozen; and here am one moah egg in case I have discounted myself."

Old Mose went on his way rejoicing. A few days afterward Mrs. Burton said to her husband:

"I am afraid that we will have to discharge Matilda. I am satisfied that she steals the milk and eggs. I am positive about the eggs, for I bought them day before yesterday, and now about half of them are gone. I stood right there, and heard Moses count them myself, and there were nine dozen."

THE OATMOBILE

ANONYMOUS

Ay yust bane oop by Minnesote
To sa my Onkle Yohn.
Ay stop me by St. Paul awhile
Yust for a little fun;
An' dere Ay saw one oatmobile--
Dat bane de name you call;
Und yo could tak a ride on heem
Mit out some horse at all.

Dat bane a purty nice machine
Wit rubber tires an tings;
Yust sit heem lik a vagon on
An' he run yust lik mit vings.
Ay ask dot man vot make heem go?
He say, "My hade got vheels."
He say, "He feed heem plenty oat
An' call heem Oat-mo-bile."

Ay say, "Ay know Ay bane grane Sweede
Yust come from Nord Dakote,
But Ay dou belave he make heem go
By feedin' vagin oat."
Ay say to heem, "Look here! Ay bane
Some time in Missoure,
Ay know Ay'm grane, but yust de same
You bet me life, 'show me!'"

Dat feller lafe an' shake his head
An' say, "Ay bane good show myself,"
Ay say, "Ay tink Ay punch your head
An' lay you on de shelf."
Ay pick me oop a little stick
Bane layin' on de seat
An bet me life, dot Oat-mo-bile
Yust started oop de street.

Ay holler, "Wo-o-o!" but he don' stop
An' den you bet my life
Ay wish Ay bane by Nord Dakote,
At home mit Ann, my vife,
Dat Oat-mo-bile yust boomped me
Oop de side valk on an' stopt;
An' bucked me thro' de window
Of one dem butcher-shop.

He split me nose bay my face oop
He smash me almost dead;
He punch de inside of me mouth
All outside of me hade.
He hurt me eye so bad in one
Ay'm blin' yust like a beetle.
In oder one, Ay can see some
But only just a little.

De las Ay see of dat machine
He bane a buckin' still.
Ay tink he feed too many oat
Tod at old Oat-mo-bile.
Ay tell my wife, if I get vell
You bet I vill not monkey
Some anoder time with
Any Oat-mo-bile.

ALMOST BEYOND ENDURANCE

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

I ain't a-goin' to cry no more, no more!
I'm got earache, an' ma can't make it quit a-tall;
An' Carlo bite my rubber-ball
An' puncture it; an' Sis she take
An' poke my knife down through the stable-floor
An' loozed it,--blame it all!
But I ain't a-goin' to cry no more, no more!

An' Aunt Mame _wrote_ she's comin' an' she _can't_,
Folks is come _there_!--An' I don't care if she _is_ my aunt!
An' my eyes stings; an' I'm
Ist coughin' all the time,
An' hurts me so, an' where my side's so sore,
Grampa felt where, an' he
Says, "Maybe it's _pleurasy_!"
But I ain't a-goin' to cry no more, no more!