Chapter IX: Part II: Humorous Hits (5)

"At once a cook and a captain bold,
And the mate of the _Nancy_ brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig."

Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which
Is a trick all seamen larn,
And having got rid of a thumpin' quid,
He spun this painful yarn:

"'Twas in the good ship _Nancy Bell_
That we sailed to the Indian sea,
And there on a reef we come to grief,
Which has often occurred to me.

"And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned,
(There was seventy-seven o' soul),
And only ten of the _Nancy's_ men
Said 'Here!' to the muster roll.

"There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold,
And the mate of the _Nancy_ brig,
And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig.

"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,
Till a-hungry we did feel,
So we drawed a lot, and accordin' shot
The captain for our meal.

"The next lot fell to the _Nancy's_ mate,
And a delicate dish he made;
Then our appetite with the midshipmite
We seven survivors stayed.

"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,
And he much resembled pig;
Then we wittled free, did the cook and me,
On the crew of the captain's gig.

"Then only the cook and me was left,
And the delicate question, 'Which
Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,
And we argued it out as sich.

"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,
And the cook he worshiped me;
But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed
In the other chap's hold, you see.

"'I'll be eat if you dines of me,' says Tom
'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be.'
'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I;
And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.

"Says he, 'Dear James, to murder me
Were a foolish thing to do,
For don't you see that you can't cook _me_,
While I can--and will--cook _you_?'

"So he boils the water, and takes the salt,
And the pepper in portions true
(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot
And some sage and parsley, too.

"'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride,
Which his smiling features tell,
''Twill soothing be if I let you see
How extremely nice you'll smell.'

"And he stirred it round and round and round,
And he sniffed at the foaming froth--
When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals
In the scum of the boiling broth.

"And I eat that cook in a week or less,
And--as I eating be
The last of his chops, why, I almost drops,
For a wessel in sight I see.

* * * * *

"And I never grieve, and I never smile,
And I never larf nor play,
But I sit and croak, and a single joke
I have--which is to say:

"Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold,
And the mate of the _Nancy_ brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig!"

I TOL' YER SO

BY JOHN L. HEATON

John Jones he was the beatenus cuss.
Allus a-pickin' 'n' sayin' to us:
"I tol' yer so, I tol' yer so!"
No matter what happened, he'd up an' say:
"Yer sorry ye done it, haint ye, hey?
Well, well, I tol' yer so!"

When Kerin-Happuck wuz tuk down sick
From the pizen ivy she'd gin a lick,
He'd tol' us so, he'd tol' us so.
'N' Shadrack's fuss with his mother-in-law,
Before the weddin' John Jones foresaw;
Well, well, he tol' us so.

If a fellow wuz hit by a fallin' tree,
Or kicked by a horse, says Jones, says he:
"I tol' yer so, I tol' yer so!"
If a barn tuck fire, or a well-sweep broke,
We might a-knowed it before Jones spoke,
The time he tol' us so.

It got so tejus, says Bill one day:
"Ye're a dern ol' idjit, 'ith nothin' ter say
But 'tol' yer so,' 'n 'tol' yer so,'--
A mean, contemptible, sneakin' cuss!"
'N' jes from habit, Jones sez to us:
"Well, well, I tol' yer so!"

"YOU GIT UP!"

BY JOE KERR

There's lots of folks that has good times,
There's lots that never does;
But the ones that don't like morning naps
Is the meanest ever wuz.
It's very nice to eat a meal
With pie for its wind-up;
'Taint half so sweet's th' nap pa spoils
When he yells, "You git up!"

I'd rather lay in bed and snooze,
Jest one small minit more
In the morning, when the sunshine
Comes a-creeping o'er the floor,
Then to go to Barnum's circus or
To own a bulldog pup.
The meanest thing pa ever said
Wuz, "Come now--you git up!"

I like to go in swimming,
And I like to play baseball;
I like to fight and fly a kite,
'N' I sometimes like to bawl;
But them thare forty winks of sleep
Pa tries to interrup',
Is better 'n' all. It breaks my heart
When pa yells, "You git up!"

I'd stand the hurt and ache and pain
And all the smart and itch
Of having him turn the bedclothes down
To wake me with a switch,
Ef he 'ud on'y jest go 'way
And let me finish up
The nap I started jest before
He yelled out, "You git up!"

You bet, when I git growed up big,
Es rich 'n' old as pa,
'N' never haf to go to school,
Nor work nor stand no jaw--
I'll sleep all day and all night, too,
And only jest git up
When I git 'nough sleep to suit me
Ef all the world yells, "You git up!"

By permission of G. W. Dillingham Company.

PRESENTATION OF THE TRUMPET

ANONYMOUS

In the days of the old volunteer fire department there existed in this city a certain hose company noted for the bravery of its foreman, whose reckless daring in time of danger, coupled with his pugilistic attainments, had made him a local celebrity.

The members of his company decided to present him with a handsome silver trumpet, as an expression of their regard and appreciation of his pluck, courage and fighting qualities. One of the members was chosen to prepare a fitting speech for the occasion, and after some weeks of labor announced himself as being thoroughly prepared for the task.

In the meantime, the foreman, who was supposed to be in blissful ignorance of all the preparations being made to surprize him, was let into the "secret" through the kindness of one of the boys. He recognized this as his supreme opportunity to display his literary qualifications in the shape of a speech of acceptance. He secured the services of a literary friend to write a glowing oration, replete with metaphors, similes, and sweet-sounding poetry, expressing his "unworthiness of the honor," the "deep gratitude which words failed him to adequately express," etc.

The night in question at last arrived. The building was filled to overflowing. The band played "See the Conquering Hero Comes," and the boys gave three hearty cheers and a "tiger" for the proud foreman.

The chairman advanced to the front, holding the massive trumpet in one hand, while his other hand grasped convulsively at the collar of his shirt.

After staring around the room and giving a few preparatory coughs, he said:

"Mr. Foreman, and Members of Hose Company Number 10: I--a--a--I--a--I----(_Looks hard at the floor. Begins again with great determination._) Mr. Foreman, and Members of Hose Company Number 10: I--a--a--I--a--feel--I feel a----(_Puts one hand in his pocket and looks very foolish. Begins again, shouting, and looking very angry._) Mr. Foreman, and Members of Hose Company Number 10: I--I--I--I feel a--much a pleas----(_Word sticks in his throat. Very angrily, and striding toward the foreman._) Ah! take your trumpet!"

A look of consternation spread over the faces of the boys at the failure of their spokesman, and there were many whisperings of "I told you so!"

It was now the foreman's turn. He drew his hand across his mouth and began as follows:

"Mr. Chairman, and Members of Hose Company Number 10: It is--it is--it is--it is with a--with a----(_Looks at ceiling, and shifts his position uneasily. Begins over again, with a very confident air._) Mr. Chairman, and Members of Hose Company Number 10: It is with--with a--with a--with a--a--a--a--a heart----(_Stops, stares wildly at the ceiling, floor and company. Begins over again, very angrily, and with his body in fighting attitude._) Mr. Chairman, and Members of Hose Company Number 10: I--I--I--it is--it is with a heart--with a heart full---full----(_Stops. Very loud and violently._) Ah! give us yer trumpet!"

DON'T USE BIG WORDS

ANONYMOUS

In promulgating your esoteric cogitations, or articulating your superficial sentimentalities and amicable, philosophical or psychological observations, beware of platitudinous ponderosity. Let your conversational communications possess a clarified conciseness, a compact comprehensibleness, coalescent consistency, and a concatenated cogency. Eschew all conglomerations of flatulent garrulity, jejune babblement and asinine affectations. Let your extemporaneous descantings and unpremeditated expatiations have intelligibility and veracious vivacity, without rhodomontade or thrasonical bombast. Sedulously avoid all polysyllabic profundity, pompous prolixity, psittaceous vacuity, ventriloquial verbosity, and vaniloquent vapidity. Shun double-entendres, prurient jocosity, and pestiferous profanity, obscurant or apparent.

In other words, talk plainly, briefly, naturally, sensibly, truthfully, purely. Keep from "slang"; don't put on airs; say what you mean; mean what you say. And don't use big words!

DER MULE SHTOOD ON DER STEAMBOAD DECK

ANONYMOUS

Der mule shtood on der steamboad deck,
For der land he wouldn't dread,
Dhey tied a halder rount his neck,
Und vacked him over der headt.

But obstinate und braced he shtood,
As born der scene to rule,
A creature of der holt-back brood--
A shtubborn, shtedfast mule.

Dhey curst und shwore, but he vould not go
Undill he felt inclined,
Und dhough dhey dundered blow on blow,
He aldered nod his mind.

Der boats-boy to der shore complained,
"Der varmint's bound do shtay,"
Shtill ubon dot olt mule's hide
Der sounding lash made blay.

His masder from der shore reblied,
"Der boats aboud do sail;
As oder means in vain you've dried.
Subbose you dwist his dail.

"I dhink dot dat will magke him land,"
Der boats-boy brave, dhough bale,
Den near drew mit oudstretched hand,
Do magke der dwist avail.

Dhen game a kick of thunder sound!
Dot boy--oh, vhere vas he?
Ask of der vaves dot far around
Beheld him in der sea.

For a moment nod a voice vas heard,
Bud dot mule he vinked his eye,
As dhough to ask, to him occurred,
"How vas dot for high?"

THE NEW SCHOOL READER

ANONYMOUS

I will now give you a selection from my New School Reader. It is built upon the lines of the school-books in use in the years preceding our early childhood. It is one of the selections that unfortunate boys would render in an heroic attitude, and in stilted, unnatural tones:

"The October sun was shining down upon an avenue of trees, and gilding with its golden splendor the chromatic nose of a solitary horseman, who reigned up his steed at the sight of a small boy with a school-book on his shoulder. 'Where do you live, my fine fellow?' said the stranger, in low, pleasing tones. 'In yonder cottage, near the glen; my widowed mother and her thirteen children dwell with me,' replied the boy, in a rich, mellow voice. 'And is your father dead?' asked the stranger with a rising inflection. 'Extremely so,' murmured the lad, 'and that is why my mother is a widow.' 'And how does your mother gain a livelihood?' asked the horseman, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. 'I support the family,' proudly replied George. 'You support the family? Why, what can such a little fellow as you do?' 'I dig wells during the day, and help my mother at night. I have a good education and am able to dig wells almost as well as a man.' 'But you must have to work very hard,' said the stranger, wiping a tear from his eyebrow. 'Indeed I do, sir, and since my little sister Ann got married, and brought her husband home to live with us, I have to work with more assiduity than ever. I am enabled to barely maintain our family in a precarious manner; but, oh, sir, should my other sisters marry, I fear that some of my brothers-in-law would have to suffer.' 'My boy,' asked the solitary horseman, looking at the youth proudly, 'what would you say if I told you your father was not dead?' 'Sir,' replied the boy respectfully, 'I am too polite to tell you what I would say,--besides you are much larger than I am.' 'But, my brave lad,' said the man in low, musical tones, 'do you not recognize your parent on your father's side?--do you not know me, Georgie? O George!' 'I must say,' replied George, 'that you have the advantage of me. While I may have met you before, I can not at this moment place you, sir!' At this the stranger opened his valise and took therefrom a large-sized strawberry mark, which he placed on his right arm. Immediately the boy recognized him as his long-lost parent, and he, drawing the lad to his bosom, ejaculated, 'O my son, my son!' 'But how did you escape, father?' said the boy through his tears, in a voice broken by emotion. 'We were far away at sea,' said the heartbroken man. 'The winds howled and the waves threatened to engulf our frail bark. When everybody was lost, the rest of the crew turned and sprang into the foaming billows and swam several miles. At last I felt my feet touch something _hard_,--it was Jersey City!'"

THE POOR WAS MAD

A FAIRY SHTORY FOR LITTLE CHILDHER

BY CHARLES BATTELL LOOMIS

Wance upon a toime the poor was virry poor indade, an' so they wint to a rich leddy that was that rich she had goold finger-nails, an' was that beautiful that it'u'd mek you dopey to luke at her. An' the poor asht her would she give thim the parin's of her goold finger-nails fer to sell. An' she said she would that, an' that ivery Chuesdeh she did be afther a-parin' her nails. So of a Chuesdeh the poor kem an' they tuke the gold parin's to a jewel-ery man, an' he gev thim good money fer thim. Wasn't she the koind leddy, childher? Well, wan day she forgot to pare her nails, an' so they had nothin' to sell. An' the poor was mad, an' they wint an' kilt the leddy intoirely. An' when she was kilt, sorra bit would the nails grow upon her, an' they saw they was silly to kill her. So they wint out to sairch fer a leddy wid silver finger-nails. An' they found her, an' she was that beautiful that her face was all the colors of the rainbow an' two more besides. An' the poor asht her would she give thim the parin's of her finger-nails fer to sell. An' she said that she would that, an' that every Chuesdeh she did be afther a-parin' her nails. So of a Chuesdeh the poor kem an' they tuk the silver parin's to the jewel-ery man, an' he giv thim pretty good money fer thim, but not nair as good as fer the goold. But he was the cute jewel-ery man, wasn't he, childher? Well, wan day she forgot to pare her nails an' so they had nothin' to sell. An' the poor was mad, an' they wint an' kilt the leddy intoirely. An' when she was kilt, sorra bit would the nails grow upon her, an' they saw they was silly to kill her. So they wint out to sairch for a leddy with tin finger-nails. An' they found her, and she was that beautiful that she would mek you ristless. An' the poor asht her would she give thim the parin's of her tin finger-nails fer to sell. An' she said she would that, an' that ivery Chuesdeh she did be afther a-parin' her nails. So of a Chuesdeh the poor kem. An' did they get the tin nails, childher? Sure, that's where y are out. They did not, fer the leddy had lost a finger in a mowin'-machine, an' she didn't have tin finger-nails at arl, at arl--only noine.

LIDES TO BARY JADE

ANONYMOUS

The bood is beabig brighdly love,
The sdars are shidig, too;
While I ab gazing dreabily
Add thigkig, love, of you;
You caddot, oh, you caddot kdow,
By darlig, how I biss you,--
(Oh, whadt a fearful cold I've got--
Ck-_tish_-u! Ck-ck-_tish_-u!)

I'b sittig id the arbor, love
Where you sat by by side,
Whed od that calb, Autubdal dight
You said you'd be by bride.
Oh, for wud bobedt to caress
Add tederly to kiss you;
Budt do! we're beddy biles apart--
(Ho-_rash_-o! Ck-ck-_tish_-u!)

This charbig evedig brigs to bide
The tibe whed first we bet;
It seebs budt odly yesterday,
I thigk I see you yet.
Oh, tell be, ab I sdill your owd?
By hopes, oh, do dot dash theb!
(Codfoud by cold, 'tis gettig worse--
Ck-_tish_-u! ck-ck-_thrash_-eb!)

Good-by, by darlig Bary Jade
The bid-dight hour is dear,
Add it is hardly wise by love
For be to ligger here!
The heavy dews are fallig fast;
A fod good-dight I wish you;
(Ho-_rash_-o!--there it is agaid--
Ck-_tish_-u! Ck-ck-_thrash_-eb!)

"CHARLIE MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT"

Parody on "Curfew Must not Ring To-night"

ANONYMOUS

Slowly England's sun was setting o'er a mansion old and grey;
Filling all the land with glory, in the usual kind of way.
And its bright rays tinged the foreheads of a man and maiden fair:
He with powdered head and whiskers, she with locks of--someone's
hair.
She was clutching at it wildly, as, with lips all cold and white,
She was saying, "Listen, Thomas,--Charlie must not ring to-night!"

"Thomas," Bessie's white lips murmur'd, as she feverishly laid hold
Of the buttons of his liv'ry--lobster-red with spots of gold--
"Freddie Smith will call this evening; he'll be ringing by and by;
Charlie does not know about him; if they met here I should die!
Tell him I am out, dear Thomas; gone to call on Mrs. Blight;
Tell him any lie you like but--Charlie must not ring to-night."

"Bessie," calmly said the flunkey-ev'ry word was like a dart
Barbed with poison, entering in that damsel's heart--
"For the last three weeks that pusson--w'ich 'is name are Charlie
Power--
Hev'ry hevenink's called to see you, jest about the dinner-hour.
'E' as never failed to tip me--w'ich is only just and right--
So I still must do my duty, should that pusson ring to-night!"

She with quick steps bounded upward, till she reached the chamber-
door,
Seized her purse, and quick returning, threw it wildly on the floor.
"Take it, Thomas," cried the maiden, with her eyes and cheeks aglow,
"Take it all and welcome--what there is I do not know--
But 'tis yours, ay, ev'ry farthing; gold and precious silver bright,
Only, take good care, dear Thomas, Charlie must not ring to-night!"

She had fled to dress for Freddie; Thomas seeks the front door-bell.
He will muffle up the clapper, in a way he knows full well.
See! The bell is being shaken; 'tis the fateful moment now!
Thomas hastes to "do his dooty," with a firm, determined brow.
Shall he let it ring? No, never; he has touched the guerdon bright,
So he grasps the clapper, whisp'ring, "Charlie _shall_ not ring
to-night!"

It was o'er; the youth ceased pulling, and the maiden breathed once
more.
But, alas! that fickle maiden wept as maid ne'er wept before
When she learn'd that he who'd called there, promptly at the
dinner-hour,
Was the long-expected Freddie, _not_ the hated Charlie Power.
While the tried and trusted Thomas, knowing not her evil plight,
Open'd wide the door for Charlie when that "pusson" called that
night!

A SHORT ENCORE

Man wants but little here below,
He's not so hard to please;
But woman (bless her little heart)
Wants everything she sees!

MY DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME

BY EDWARD EVERETT HALE

I am, or rather, was a minister, and was settled in an active, wide-awake town with a bright parish and a charming young wife. At first it was all delightful, but as my duties increased I found myself leading a double life--one for my parish, whom I loved, and the other for a vague public, for whom I did not care two straws. It was then that on my wife's suggestion I looked for a double--some one who would pass for me and fill the many engagements I wanted to shirk. I found him. When he was discovered his name was Dennis Shea, and he was not shaved, had no spectacles, and his style of dress was not at all like mine; but these difficulties were soon surmounted, for, by application to the Judge of Probate, his name was soon changed to Frederick Ingham--my name. As for appearance, he was so much like me that by the united efforts of Polly and myself and a tailor he was made to look the exact image of me. Then in four successive afternoons I taught him four speeches, which were to be his stock in trade:

No. 1--"Very well, thank you; and you?" (This for an answer to casual salutations.)

No. 2--"I am very glad you liked it." (This in response to a compliment on a sermon.)

No. 3--"There has been so much said, and on the whole so well said, that I will not occupy the time." (This for public meetings when called to speak.)

No. 4--"I agree in general with my friend on the other side of the room." (This when asked for an opinion of his own.)

Thus equipped, my double attended a number of conventions and meetings which I was too busy to notice and was very successful. He gained a good reputation for me, and people began to say I was less exclusive than I used to be, and that I was more punctual, less talkative, etc. His success was so great that one evening I risked him at a reception. I could ill afford the time to go, and so I sent him with Polly, who kept her eye on him, and afterward told me about it. He had to take a very talkative lady--Mrs. Jeffries--down to supper, and at sight of the eatables he became a little excited, and attempted one of his speeches to the lady. He tried the shortest one in his most gallant manner: "Very well, thank you; and you?" Polly, who stood near his chair, was much frightened, as this speech had no connection with anything that had been said, but Mrs. Jeffries was so much engrossed with her own talking that she noticed nothing. She rattled on so busily that Dennis was not obliged to say anything more until the eating was over, when he said, to fill up a pause: "There has been so much said, and on the whole so well said, that I will not occupy the time." This again frightened Polly, but she managed to get him away before he had done anything serious.

After this my double relieved me in so many ways that I grew quite light-hearted. That happy year I began to know my wife by sight. We saw each other sometimes, and how delightful it was! But all this could not last; and at length poor Dennis, my double, undid me!

There was some ridiculous new movement on foot to organize some kind of a society, and there was to be a public meeting. Of course I was asked to attend and to speak. After much urging I consented to go and sit on the platform, upon condition that I would not be called upon to make a speech. This was agreed upon, and I went--that is, Dennis went, having been told to say nothing on any subject. He sat resplendent on the platform, and kept his peace during the preliminary exercises, which were rather dry. Governor Blake called the meeting to order, but as he really did not know what the object of the gathering was, he said that there were other gentlemen present who could entertain them better than he. Then there followed an awkward scene, for nobody wanted to speak, and every one that was called upon was either absent or unprepared; and finally a wretched boy in the gallery called out, "Ingham! Ingham!" The governor thought I would respond, and as nothing had been said so far, he ventured to ask me, saying: "Our friend, Mr. Ingham, is always prepared, and tho we had not relied upon him, he will say a word perhaps." Applause followed, which turned Dennis' head. He rose and tried speech No. 3: "There has been so much said, and on the whole so well said, that I will not longer occupy the time!"

Then he sat down, looking for his hat--for things seemed squally. But the people cried, "Go on! Go on!" and some applauded. Dennis still confused, but flattered by the applause, rose again, and this time tried No. 2: "I am very glad you like it." Which, alas! should only be said when complimented on a sermon. My best friends stared, and people who didn't know me yelled with delight. A boy in the gallery cried out: "It's all a humbug!" just as Dennis, waving his hand, commanded silence, and tried No. 4: "I agree in general with my friend on the other side of the room." The poor governor, doubting his senses, crossed to stop him, but too late. The same gallery boy shouted: "How's your mother?" And Dennis, completely lost, tried as his last shot No. 1: "Very well, thank you; and you?" The audience rose in a whirl of excitement. Some other impertinence from the gallery was aimed at Dennis; he broke all restraint and to finish undoing me, he called out: "Any wan o' ye blatherin' rascals that wants to fight, can come down an' I'll take any five o' yez, single-handed; ye're all dogs and cowards! Sure an' I've said all his riverance an' the mistress bade me say!"

That was all; my double had undone me.

Reprinted by permission of Little, Brown & Co., Boston, Mass.

ROMANCE OF A HAMMOCK

ANONYMOUS

Shady tree--babbling brook,
Girl in hammock--reading book.

Golden curls--tiny feet,
Girl in hammock--looks so sweet.

Man rides past--big mustache,
Girl in hammock--makes a "mash."

"Mash" is mutual--day is set,
Man and maiden--married get.

Married now a year and a day,
Keeping house in Avenue A.

Red-hot stove--beefsteak frying,
Girl got married--cooking trying.

Cheeks all burning--eyes look red,
Girl got married--almost dead.

Biscuit burnt up--beefsteak charry,
Girl got married--awful sorry.

Man comes home--tears mustache,
Mad as blazes--got no cash.

Thinks of hammock--in the lane;
Wishes maiden--back again.

Maiden also--thinks of swing,
And wants to go back, too, poor thing!

Hour of midnight--baby squawking;
Man in bare feet--bravely walking;

The baby yells--now the other
Twin, he strikes up--like his brother.

Paregoric--by the bottle
Poured into--the baby's throttle.

Naughty tack--points in air,
Waiting some one's--foot to tear.

Man in bare feet--see him there!
O my gracious!--hear him swear!

Raving crazy--gets his gun
Blows his head off--dead and gone.

Pretty widow--with a book
In the hammock--by the brook.

Man rides past--big mustache;
Keeps on riding--nary "mash."

FINNIGIN TO FLANNIGAN

BY S. W. GILLINAN

Superintindent wuz Flannigan;
Boss av the siction wuz Finnigin;
Whiniver the kyars got offen the thrack,
An' muddled up things t' th' divil an' back,
Finnigin writ it to Flannigan,
Afther the wrick wuz all on ag'in;
That is, this Finnigin
Repoorted to Flannigan.

Whin Finnigin furst writ to Flannigan,
He writed tin pages--did Finnigin,
An' he tould jist how the smash occurred;
Full minny a tajus, blunderin' wurrd
Did Finnigin write to Flannigan
Afther the cars had gone on ag'in.
That wuz how Finnigin
Repoorted to Flannigan.

Now Flannigan knowed more than Finnigin--
He'd more idjucation, had Flannigan;
An' it wore'm clane an' complately out
To tell what Finnigin writ about
In his writin' to Muster Flannigan.
So he writed back to Finnigin:
"Don't do sich a sin ag'in;
Make 'em brief, Finnigin!"

Whin Finnigin got this from Flannigan,
He blushed rosy rid, did Finnigin;
An' he said: "I'll gamble, a whole month's pa-ay
That it will be minny an' minny a da-ay
Befoore Sup'rintindint--that's Flannigan--
Gits a whack at this very same sin ag'in.
From Finnigin to Flannigan
Repoorts won't be long ag'in."

* * * * *

Wan da-ay, on the siction av Finnigin,
On the road sup'rintinded by Flannigan,
A rail gave way on a bit av a curve,
An' some kyars went off as they made the swerve.
"There's nobody hurted," sez Finnigin,
"But repoorts must be made to Flannigan."
An' he winked at McCorrigan,
As married a Finnigin.

He wuz shantyin' thin, wuz Finnigin,
As minny a railroader's been ag'in,
An' the shmoky ol' lamp wuz burnin' bright
In Finnigin's shanty all that night--
Bilin' down his repoort, was Finnigin!
An' he writed this here: "Muster Flannigan:
Off ag'in, on ag'in,
Gone ag'in--Finnigin."

From _Life_, by courtesy of the publishers.

AN INTRODUCTION

BY MARK TWAIN

"Ladies--and--gentlemen:--By--the request of the--Chairman of the--Com-mit-tee--I beg leave to--introduce--to you--the reader of the evening--a gentleman whose great learning--whose historical ac-curacy--whose devotion--to science--and--and--whose veneration for the truth--are only equaled by his high moral character--and--his--majestic presence. I allude--in these vague general terms--to my-self. I--am a little opposed to the custom of ceremoniously introducing a reader to the audience, because it seems--unnecessary--where the man has been properly advertised! But as--it is--the custom--I prefer to make it myself--in my own case--and then I can rely on getting in--all the facts! I never had but one introduction--that seemed to me just the thing--and the gentleman was not acquainted with me, and there was no nonsense. Ladies and gentlemen, I shall waste no time in this introduction. I know of only two facts about this man: first, he--has never been in the state prison; and second, I can't--imagine why."

THE HARP OF A THOUSAND STRINGS

A Hard-shell Baptist Sermon

BY JOSHUA S. MORRIS

(This characteristic effusion first appeared in a New Orleans paper. The sermon is supposed to have been preached at a village on the bank of the Mississippi River, whither the volunteer parson had brought his flatboat for the purpose of trade.)

I may say to you, my brethring, that I am not an edicated man, an' I am not one of them as beleeves that edication is necessary for a Gospel minister, for I beleeve the Lord edicates his preachers jest as He wants 'em to be edicated; an' altho I say it that oughtn't to say it, yet in the State of Indianny, whar I live, thar's no man as gits bigger congregations nor what I gits.

Thar may be some here to-day, my brethring, as don't know what persuasion I am uv. Well, I must say to yu, my brethring, that I'm a Hard-shell Baptist. Thar's some folks as don't like the Hard-shell Baptists, but I'd rather have a hard shell as no shell at all. You see me here to-day, my brethring, drest up in fine clothes; you mout think I was proud, but I am not proud, my brethring; and altho I've been a preacher of the Gospel for twenty years, an' altho I'm capting of the flatboat that lies at your landing, I'm not proud, my brethring.

I am not gwine to tell edzactly whar my tex may be found; suffice to say, it's in the leds of the Bible, and you'll find it somewhar between the fust chapter of the book of Generations and the last chapter of the book of Revolutions; and ef you'll go and sarch the Scriptures, you'll not only find my tex thar, but a great many other texes as will do you good to read; and my tex, when you shall find it, you shall find it to read thus: "And he played on a harp uv a thousand strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

My tex, my brethring, leads me to speak of sperits. Now, thar's a great many kinds of sperits in the world. In the fust place, thar's the sperits as some folks call ghosts; and thar's the sperits of turpentine; and thar's the sperits as some folks call liquor, an' I've got as good an artikel of them kind of sperits on my flatboat as ever was fotch down the Mississippi River. But thar's a great many other kinds of sperits, for the tex says, "He played on a harp uv a t-h-o-u-s-and strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

But I tell you the kind uv sperits as is meant in the tex is FIRE. That's the kind uv sperits as is meant in the tex, my brethring. Now, thar's a great many kinds uv fire in the world. In the fust place, there's the common sort of fire you light your cigars or pipe with; and then thar's foxfire and camphire, fire before you're ready, and fire and fall back, and many other kinds of fire--for the tex say, "He played on a harp uv a _thous_and strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

But I'll tell you the kind of fire as is meant in the tex, my brethring: its HELL-FIRE! An' that's the kind uv fire as a great many uv you'll come to, ef you don't do better nor what you have been doin'--for "He played on a harp uv a _thous_and strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

Now, the different sorts of fire in the world may be likened onto the different persuasions of Christians in the world. In the fust place, we have the Piscapalions, an' they are a high-sailin' and highfalutin' set; and they may be likened unto a turkey buzzard that flies up in the air, and he goes up, and up, and up, till he looks no bigger than your finger-nail, and the fust thing you know, he cums down, and down, and down, and is a-fillin' himself on the carkiss of a dead hoss by the side of the road--and "He played on a harp uv a _thous_and strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

And then thar's the Methodis, and they may be likened unto the squirril runnin' up into a tree, for the Methodis beleeves in gwine on from one degree of grace to another, and finally on to perfection; and the squirril goes up and up, and up and up, and he jumps from limb to limb, and branch to branch, and the fust thing you know he falls, and down he cums kerflumix; and that's like the Methodis, for they is allers fallin' from grace, ah!--and "He played on a harp uv a _thous_and strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

And then, my brethring, thar's the Baptists, ah! and they have been likened unto a 'possum on a 'simmon tree, and thunders may roll and the earth may quake, but that 'possum clings thar still, sh! and you may shake one foot loose, and the other's thar, and you make shake all feet loose, and he laps his tail around the limb, and clings, and he clings furever--for "He played on a harp uv a _thous_and strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

Reprinted from the "Four-masted Catboat," by permission of the author and The Century Company. Copyright, 1899.

THE DIFFICULTY OF RIMING

ANONYMOUS

We parted by the gate in June,
That soft and balmy month,
Beneath the sweetly beaming moon,
And (wonth-hunth-sunth-bunth--I can't
find a rime to month).

Years were to pass ere we should meet.
A wide and yawning gulf
Divides me from my love so sweet,
While (ulf-sulf-dulf-mulf--stuck again;
I can't get any rime to gulf. I'm in a gulf myself).

Oh, how I dreaded in my soul
To part from my sweet nymph,
While years should their long seasons roll
Before (hymph-dymph-symph--I guess I'll
have to let it go at that).

Beneath my fortune's stern decree
My lonely spirits sunk,
For I a weary soul should be,
And a (hunk-dunk-runk-sk--that will
never do in the world).

She buried her dear lovely face
Within her azure scarf,
She knew I'd take the wretchedness,
As well as (parf-darf-harf-and-harf--
that won't answer either).

Oh, I had loved her many years.
I loved her for herself;
I loved her for her tender tears,
And also for her (welf-nelf-self-pelf--no,
no; not for her pelf).

I took between my hands her head,
How sweet her lips did pouch!
I kissed her lovingly and said--
(Bouch-mouch-louch-ouch--not a bit of it
did I say _ouch!_).

I sorrowfully wrung her hand,
My tears they did escape,
My sorrow I could not command,
And I was but a (sape-dape-fape-ape;
well, perhaps I did feel like an ape).

I gave to her a fond adieu,
Sweet pupil of love's school,
I told her I would e'er be true,
And always be a (dool-sool-mool-fool; since
I come to think of it, I was a fool, for she fell in love
with another fellow before I was gone a month).

SO WAS I

BY JOSEPH BERT SMILEY

My name is Tommy an' I hates
That feller of my sister Kate's.
He's bigger'n I am an' you see
He's sorter lookin' down on me,
An' I resents it with a vim;
I think I'm just as good as him.
He's older, an' he's mighty fly
But he's a kid,--an' so am I.

One time he came,--down by the gate,
I guess it must been awful late,--
An' Katie, she was there, an' they
Was feelin' very nice and gay,
An' he was talkin' all the while,
About her sweet an' lovin' smile,
An' everythin' was nice as pie,
An' they was there,--an' so was I.

They didn't see me, 'cause I slid
Down underneath a bush, an' hid,
An' he was sayin' that his love
Was greater'n all the stars above
Up in the glorious heavens placed;
An' then his arm got round her waist,
An' clouds were floatin' in the sky,
An' they was there,--an' so was I.

I didn't hear just all they said,
But by an' by my sister's head
Was droopin' on his shoulder, an'
I seen him holdin' Katie's hand,
An' then he hugged her closer, some,
An' then I heered a kiss--_yum, yum!_
An' Katie blushed an' drew a sigh,
An' sorter coughed,--an' so did I.

An' then that feller looked around
An' seed me there, down on the ground,
An'--_was_ he mad?--well, betcher boots
I gets right outer there an' _scoots_.
An' he just left my sister Kate
A-standin' right there by the gate;
An' I seen blood was in his eye,
An' he runned fast,--an' so did I.

I runned the very best I could
But he cotched up,--I's 'fraid he would,
An' then he said he'd teach me how
To know my manners, he'd allow;
An' than he shaked me _awful_. Gee!
He jest--he frashed the ground with me.
An' then he stopt it by and by,
'Cause he was tired,--an' so was I.

An' then he went back to the gate
An' couldn't find my sister Kate,
'Cause she went to bed, while he
Was runnin' round an' thumpin' me.
I got round in a shadder dim,
An' made a face, an' guffed at him;
An' then the moon larfed, in the sky,
'Cause he was there,--an' so was I.

THE ENCHANTED SHIRT

BY JOHN HAY

The king was sick. His cheek was red,
And his eye was clear and bright;
He ate and drank with a kingly zest,
And peacefully snored at night.

But he said he was sick--and a king should know;
And doctors came by the score;
They did not cure him. He cut off their heads,
And sent to the schools for more.

At last two famous doctors came,
And one was as poor as a rat;
He had passed his life in studious toil
And never found time to grow fat.

The other had never looked in a book;
His patients gave him no trouble;
If they recovered, they paid him well,
If they died, their heirs paid double.

Together they looked at the royal tongue,
As the king on his couch reclined;
In succession they thumped his august chest,
But no trace of disease could find.

The old sage said, "You're as sound as a nut."
"Hang him up!" roared the king, in a gale,--
In a ten-knot gale of royal rage;
The other leach grew a shade pale;

But he pensively rubbed his sagacious nose,
And thus his prescription ran:
"The king will be well if he sleeps one night
In the shirt of a happy man."

Wide o'er the realm the couriers rode,
And fast their horses ran,
And many they saw, and to many they spake,
But they found no happy man.

They saw two men by the roadside sit,
And both bemoaned their lot;
For one had buried his wife, he said.
And the other one had not.

At last they came to a village gate;
A beggar lay whistling there;
He whistled and sang and laughed, and rolled
On the grass in the soft June air.

The weary couriers paused and looked
At the scamp so blithe and gay,
And one of them said, "Heaven save you, friend,
You seem to be happy to-day?"

"Oh, yes, fair sirs," the rascal laughed,
And his voice rang free and glad;
"An idle man has so much to do
That he never has time to be sad."

"This is our man." the courier said,
"Our luck has led us aright.
I will give you a hundred ducats, friend,
For the loan of your shirt to-night."

The merry rascal lay back on the grass
And laughed till his face was black;
"I would do it," said he, and roared with the fun,
"But I haven't a shirt to my back!"

Each day to the king the reports came in
Of the unsuccessful spies;
And the sad panorama of human woes,
Passed daily under his eyes.

And he grew ashamed of his useless life,
And his maladies hatched in gloom;
He opened his windows and let the free air
Of the heavens into his room.

And out he went into the world and toiled
In his own appointed way,
And the people blest him, the land was glad,
And the king was well and gay.

DER OAK UND DER VINE

BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS

I don'd vas preaching voman's righdts,
Or anyding like dot,
Und I likes to see all beoples
Shust gontended mit dheir lot;
But I vants to gontradict dot shap
Dot made dis leedle shoke:
"A voman vas der glinging vine,
Und man, der shturdy oak."

Berhaps, somedimes, dot may be drue;
Budt, den dimes oudt off nine,
I find me oudt dot man himself
Vas peen der glinging vine;
Und ven hees friendts dhey all vas gone
Und he vas shust "tead proke,"
Dot's vhen der voman shteps righdt in,
Und peen der shturdy oak.

Shust go oup to der paseball groundts
Und see dhose "shturdy oaks"
All planted roundt ubon der seats--
Shust hear dheir laughs und shokes!
Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs,
Mit glothes oudt on der lines:
Vhich vas der shturdy oaks, mine frendts,
Und vhich der glinging vines?

Ven sickness in der householdt comes,
Und veeks und veeks he shtays,
Who vas id fighdts him mitout resdt,
Dhose veary nighdts und days?
Who beace und gomfort alvays prings,
Und cools dot fefered prow?
More like id vas der tender vine
Dot oak he glings to, now.

"Man vants budt leedle here pelow,"
Der boet von time said;
Dhere's leedle dot man he _don'd_ vant,
I dink id means, inshted;
Und vhen der years keep rolling on,
Dheir cares und droubles pringing,
He vants to pe der shturdy oak,
Und, also, do der glinging.

Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more,
Und don'd so shturdy peen,
Der glinging vines dhey haf some shance
To helb run life's masheen.
In belt und sickness, shoy und pain,
In calm or shtormy veddher,
'Tvas beddher dot dhose oaks und vines
Should alvays gling togedder.

From "Dialect Ballads," copyright, 1897, by Harper & Brothers.

THE SHIP OF FAITH

ANONYMOUS

A certain colored brother had been holding forth to his little flock upon the ever-fruitful topic of _Faith_, and he closed his exhortation about as follows:

"My bruddren, ef yous gwine to git saved, you got to git on board de Ship ob Faith. I tell you, my bruddren, dere ain't no odder way. Dere ain't no gitten up de back stairs, nor goin' 'cross lots; you can't do dat away, my bruddren, you got to git on board de Ship ob Faith. Once 'pon a time dere was a lot ob colored people, an' dey was all gwine to de promised land. Well, dey knowed dere w'an't no odder way for 'em to do but to git on board de Ship ob Faith. So dey all went down an' got on board, de ole granfaders, an' de ole granmudders, an' de pickaninnies, an' all de res' of 'em. Dey all got on board 'ceptin' one mons'us big feller, he said he's gwine to swim, he was. 'W'y!' dey said, 'you can't swim so fur like dat. It am a powerful long way to de promised land!' He said: 'I kin swim anywhur, I kin. I git board no boat, no, 'deed!' Well, my bruddren, all dey could say to dat poor disluded man dey couldn't git him on board de Ship of Faith, so dey started off. De day was fair, de win' right; de sun shinin' and ev'ryt'ing b'utiful, an' dis big feller he pull off his close and plunge in de water. Well, he war a powerful swimmer, dat man, 'deed he war; he war dat powerful he kep' right 'long side de boat all de time; he kep' a hollerin' out to de people on de boat, sayin': 'What you doin' dere, you folks, brilin' away in de sun; you better come down heah in de water, nice an' cool down here.' But dey said: 'Man alive, you better come up here in dis boat while you got a chance.' But he said: 'No, indeedy! I git aboard no boat; I'm havin' plenty fun in de water.' Well, bimeby, my bruddren, what you tink dat pore man seen? A _horrible, awful shark_, my bruddren; mouf wide opne, teef more'n a foot long, ready to chaw dat pore man all up de minute he catch him. Well, when he seen dat shark he begun to git awful scared, an' he holler out to de folks on board de ship: 'Take me on board, take me on board, quick!' But dey said: 'No, indeed; you wouldn't come up here before, you swim now!'

"He look over his shoulder an' he seen dat shark a-comin' an' he let hisself out. Fust it was de man an' den it was de shark, an' den it was de man again, dat away, my bruddren, _plum to de promised land_. Dat am de blessed troof I'm a-tellin' you dis minute. But what do you t'ink was a-waitin' for him on de odder shore when he got dere? A _horrible, awful lion_, my bruddren, was a-stan'in' dere on de shore, a-lashin' his sides wid his tail, an' a-roarin' away fit to devour dat poor nigger de minit he git on de shore.

"Well, he _war_ powerful scared den, he don't know what he gwine to do. If he stay in de water de shark eat him up; if he go on shore de lion eat him up; he dunno what to do. But he put his trust in de Lord, an' went for de shore. Dat lion he give a fearful roar an' bound for him; but, my bruddren, as sure as you live an' breeve, dat horrible, awful lion he jump clean ober dat pore feller's head into de water; an' _de shark eat de lion_. But, my bruddren, don't you put your trust in no such circumstance; dat pore man he done git saved, but I tell you _de Lord ain't a-gwine to furnish a lion fo' every nigger_!"

HE WANTED TO KNOW

ANONYMOUS

Early one moonlight morning, in the city of London, a man was vainly trying to find his home, but being unable to locate it he called upon the services of a passer-by.

"Hey! M-m-mister (hic), will you take me to twenty-two?"

"Number twenty--Why you are standing right in front of it!"

"Oh, no you d-d-don't,--that's two-two, two-two!"

"Why, no, it's twenty-two."

"Say, you can't fool me. 'Nuther fellow tried to d-d-do that. He-he-he told me the other side of the street was (hic) on this side,--an' 'tisn't,--s-sit's over there. Please t-t-take me (hic) to twenty-two, will you?"

The man walked him around the block and back again.

"Now, then, get out your key. I must be going."

"Say, it was m-m-mighty (hic) jolly of you to bring me all this l-l-long way ho-ho-home, old chap!"

"That's all right. Now get your key,--hurry up."

"I'm ever so much obliged to you for bringing me all this long way ho-ho-home."

"That's all right. I must go now. Good-night."

The man had walked but a little distance when he heard his friend trying to whistle to him.

"Hey! (_Tries to whistle_). C-co-come here, I want ter speak to you. Now d-d-don't get mad (hic), old chap, it's important."

"Well, what do you want?"

"I just want to (hic) tell you how much obliged I'm to you for bringing me all this long way home."

"You had better go to bed now, so good-night."

"Hold up, old chap, you're a-a-a--would you mind telling me what your name is?"

Here the clock in St. Paul's struck two.

"My name--is St. Paul."

"Good enough, Miss Saint 'All. Much obliged to you for bring--me----"

"Never mind, good-night."

"Hey! Hi! (_Tries to whistle_). Mister Saint 'All--Miss Saint P-all, co-co-come here, I want to ask (hic) you something."

"What!"

"Old f-f-friend, I d-d-d-d-didn't mean that, Misser Saint Faull,--I just want to ask you a persh-pershonal question, Mis-Mis----"

"Well, what is it?"

"Misser Saint Paul, would you mind telling me whether you ever got answers to those letters you wrote to the Ephesians?"

AN OPPORTUNITY

ANONYMOUS

I dropt into the post-office this morning for my mail, and just inside the door I found a little boy crying very bitterly. Naturally I asked him the cause of his trouble, and lifting his tear-stained face to mine he said:

"I had two quarters, and a feller come along just now and took one away from me."

"What!" said I, "right here in the post-office?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, why didn't you tell some one?"

"I did; I hollered, 'Help! help!'" (_Said very weakly._)

"Well," I said, "is that as loud as you can holler?"

"Yes, sir."

So _I_ took the other quarter.

GAPE-SEED

ANONYMOUS

A farmer, walking the streets of one of our big cities, looked through a window at a lot of men writing very rapidly on typewriters; and as he stood at the door with his mouth open, one of the men called out to him, "Do you wish to buy some gape-seed?" Passing on a short distance, he asked a man what the business was of the men he had just seen in the office he had passed. He was told that they wrote letters dictated by others, and transcribed all sorts of documents. The farmer returned to the office, and inquired if one of the men would write a letter for him, and was answered in the affirmative. He asked the price, and was told one dollar. After considerable talk, the bargain was made; one of the conditions being that the scribe should write just what the farmer told him to, or he should receive no pay. The man said he was ready, and the farmer dictated as follows:

"Dear wife," and then asked, "Have you got that down?"

"Yes; _go on_."

"I went for a ride the other day--have you got that down?"

"Yes; _go on, go on_."

"And I harnessed up the old mare into the wagon--have you got that down?"

"Yes, yes, long ago; _go on_."

"Why, how fast you write!--And I got into the wagon, and sat down, and drew up the reins, and took the whip in my right hand--have you got that down?"

"Yes, long ago; _go on_."

"Dear me, how fast you write! I never saw your equal.--And I said to the old mare, '_Go 'long_,' and I jerked the reins pretty hard--have you got that down?"

"Yes; and I am impatiently waiting for more. I wish you wouldn't bother me with so many foolish questions. Go on with your letter."

"Well, the old mare wouldn't stir out of her tracks, and I hollered, '_Go 'long, you old jade! go 'long_'--have you got that down?"

"Yes, indeed, _you pestiferous fellow; go on_."

"And I licked her, and licked her, and licked her----" (_continuing to repeat these words as rapidly as possible_).

"Hold on there! I have written two pages of 'licked her,' and I want the rest of the letter."

"Well, and she kicked, and she kicked, and she kicked----" (_continuing to repeat these words with great rapidity_).

"Do go on with your letter; I have several pages of 'she kicked.'"

(_The farmer clucks as in urging horses to move, and continues the clucking noise with rapid repetition for some time._)