Wit, Humor, Pathoséq/Parod Es - Forgotten Books
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Transcript of Wit, Humor, Pathoséq/Parod Es - Forgotten Books
W I T , H U MO R ,
PATHOSéQ/PAROD ES
W I LL I A M D E VE R E .
.AR R A NGE D F O R P U B L IC A ND P A R LO R R E C I T A T I O N
A ND R E A D I NG .
NEW YO RK:
E XCE LS I O R P U B L I S H I NG H O U S E,
29 a; 3 1 B E E KMA N S T R E E T .
P UMA
CO P YR IGH T ‘1 885
E XCE LS IO R P U B LIS H ING H O U S E .
CA U T I O N.
A s most of the articles in this book are O R IGINAL, and written expressly
or this work, we respectfully caution P ublishers and Compilers against their
se in any form without ourwritten permission.
EXCELS IOR PUBU SHING HOUSE.
P R E FA CE .
KIND reader : Should you have the temerity to
tackle this book, please remember that the writer is an
orphan, and whatever may be your ideas in regard to
his sanity do not ventilate them,for they may ferment
a revolution and cause the destruction of an irrespon
sible human being. My reasons for writing this bookis simply to show the community how much cheek a
person can have and still escape the vigilance com
mittee. I acknowledge my culpability and can pleadno excuse . B ut should any of my few readers dis
cover any latent spark of genius that is commendable,
or unearth any thought that may be considered sensible, please consider it an error of the head and not of
the heart and I disavow it. T o the ladies and gentlemen whose Copied articles will make and embellish thisvolume , and especially to B ill Nye for his valuablecontributions, I am truly grateful.
WM. D E VE R E .
D E D I CA T O RY.
T o my life-long and tried friend, the one who has
kindly smiled at my old chestnuts, and whose
bright genius has encrusted with gold some of my
adolescent attempts at poetasteing, Mr. John D . Gil
bert, this little volume is affectionate ly inscribed
B Y T H E A U T H O R .
CO NT E NT S .
PAGE .
A ctor’s Fund (The) 63
A ll in the D raw D e Vere 13580
An A ngel’s Visit
Auld Lang Syne
BantyT im .
Bend, B ut Never
Between the A cts
Boo Peep .
Chinaman
Crazy Quilt A rchitectureCulls Conversation (A )Flower
’s R evenge ( T he)
Growler Club (T he)H ey
“ Rube ”
H is T ranquil Passenger
H ousehold R eceipts
I H ear T hey’re Not Living T ogether
Jim B ludso
Language of the R ail
Listen to the D inner Bell
Little B reeches
LittleMeg and I
Lost H ours
Mam ie’s D ying Walter F iel der
Mania for MarkingClothes B i ll Nye
McGinty’s H orse
Wm D e Vere 7
Jol mH ay 59Wm . D e Vere 19
George C. Jenk: 72
C. T . Murphy x34
Wm . D e Vere 73B i l l Nye 76
J. PV. Kelley 130
B obby Newcomb 125Wm D e Vere 1 16
B i l l Nye 38
Walter F letcher 137
Jal mH ay 64
Wm D e Vere n o
B i ll Nye
PVm. D e Vere
Job : H ay
C. 7 1MurphyWm D e Vere
4 CoNT E NT s
Neutralia Wm D e Vere 87
Never Go Back on an O ld Friend i n Need . 129
Night Scene in a S tation H ouse (A ) B ooby Newmmb 120
No O pening— Write Again
Not in the P rogramme
O ld Valler
O nly a“ Newspaper Man
O ver the H ill from the P oor H ouse W’
zll Carle/ortP olyglot S allze A dam:
P laying Solitaire
Queen of H earts
R oger
ShakespeareModernized
Spankograph
Spartacus wi th Modern I mprovements
T hat Beautiful Snow Wm D e Vere 12
T hat Moneyless ManT hat QueenT ough Customer ( A ) l D e Vere 127
T ramp’s Letter (T he) 2 1
T rouble in the CampT rue T ale ofWilliam T ell (T he) . 4
Why SheWaited
Yanked into E ternity
You KnowYouth from Chicago (T he)
D E V E R E’
S
WIT, HUMOR, PATHOS ANDPARODIES.
AN ANGE L’S
T H E time is four o’clock, an autumn twilight
T he scene (we’ll say) a corner grocery store,
W ith°
bar~room in the rear, which’neath the gaslight,
S hows blear-eyed visages, perhaps a score ;
O ld Jabez B ell, and red-nosed C harley Warner,
I ke B iggs, Jim Craine, and E benezer Cobb,A nd old B ud Jones, the Lush,
”sat in the corner,
While Jabez ordered booze for all the mob .
”
E ach filled his glass brimful and running over,
With rum or whiskey, beer or old T om gin,When from the street in front the grocery store
A weary-looking child came sadly in.
H ushed was the jest , the ribald toast unuttered,For e
’en these men, so reckless, rough and wild,
H ad children of their own, and Jabez mutteredH ush ! Cheese it 1 H orace, wait upon the child.
Good even ing, S is ; how is your ailingmother ?”
T he boy inquired, with kindly voice and meek.
She’s better, thanks ; and tears she tried to smother
Came slowly coursing down her faded cheek ;
Give me a penny bun, a little butter,A nickel ’
s all thatmamma has to give,
B ut give me all you can,”she faintly uttered,
P oor, darlingmamma she must eat and live.
AN ANGE L'
S VI S I T .
A ll right,”the cheery grocery boy responded,
S it down and rest you ; never m ind, don’t cry ;
You’
re tired to death, you’re al l worn out with watching,
I’l l get them in the twinkling of an eye.
O h, thanks i A nd nickel pressed’twixt thumb and finger,
She leans her weary head back on the seat,
A nd while the boy wi th scanty parcel lingers,T he tired eyes close, and she is fast asleep.
While (peering from the smoky bar-room)weeping,
T he motley crowd of whiskey-drinkers stand,
W ith .eyes fixed on the face upturned and sleepingSo sound, the nickel clutched within her hand.
Yes , tears are coursing from bleared eyelids steady,
Such men are not the worst in all the land,
A nd often drunkards’hearts are ever ready
T o help the needy ones with wil ling hand .
A nd even as ye give to these came ringingD own thro’
the fumes of whiskey, gin, and wine,Ye do it also unto me,
” ’tis bringing
A mother’s teaching of the olden time.
H ush, boys,”said Jabez, while we stand here drinkin
’
,
A nd tossing all our cash behind the barLook at that l ittle angel that , I
’
m thinkin’
T hat we can use our money better thar.H ere
’s my old beaver— here
’s a dollar starter
Cuss me, I’m snivell ing like a snide old muff
H ere, I ky B iggs, Jim Craine, Bud Jones, be smarter ;
Go down into yer jeans, dig up the stuff.”
D own went each hand, and quickly drapped the ready,
O ld Jabez chuckled, H ere’s five plunkers cold.
H ist, boy ! Come here. Walk softly. H ush ! be steady
T ake in this silver, give us five in gold.
Now al l keep quiet,don
’t ye breathe or whisper,
A nd I ’ll walk easy, so the floorwon’t squeak ;
I ke B iggs, don’t sneeze, or any of ye lisp, or
Ye’ll wake the kid before I make the sneak.
AN ANGE L’
S V I S I T .
O ld Jabez tip-toed soft ly toward the sleeper,
A nd takes the n ickel with unsteady hand ,
R eplacing there the gold-piece, Nothing s licker
Could e’er be done,
” he whispered,“ in the land.
B ut hush , she turns her head and softly mutters,
Give us this day our daily bread.
”I t seems
S he’s praying in her sleep, Jim F ilkins utters,
Keep still ! What is she saying in her dreams.
T he blazing sun sank in the amber olden,A nd fell athwart the sleeper
’s lovely face,
A nd tinged the shimmering hair with ripples golden,
Form ing a picture that a world might grace ;
T he tears are stealing slowly down the faces
O f those rough men, almost ashamed to weep ;
O ld Jabez whispers, B oys, let’s drink to brace us,
A nd starts the sleeper from her troubled sleep.
She looks I behold ! the n ickel ’s left her fingers,R eplaced by gold, the like was never seen ;
O h, see ! she cries (while shade of doubt still lingers),See what the angels brought me in my dreams.
D ear mamma said that if I prayed I neverWould fail to get my wish ; and on that seat
I prayed to God for help for starvingmamma,A nd see, the angels brought it in my sleep.
F il l up a basket, fil l it overflowing,With al l the goodies you have in the store,
A nd bring it for me, please, I must be going,T o make dear mamma happy now once more.
A nd when I kneel to-night in holy prayer,A nd humbly pray the Lord my soul to keep,
’
I’ll say a word for every angel there,
Who heard my prayers whi le I was asleep.
O LD YALLE R .
OLD YA LLE R .
A T R U E ST O R Y.
T H I S happened way out in the diggi n’s,
A n’B ill run a gin m ill out thar ;
H e was a sort of an honerary customer,
With a squint, and a shock of red hair ;
H e had an old dog he called Yaller,
B ill said he was great on the fight,
B ut, lordy l we thought he was lyin’
,
O r braggin’ because he was tight.
B ut it seems that B ill (over in E ngland)Was a dog fitein
’man so they say,
A n’this ere mean lookin
’old Yaller
H ad licked every dog in his way.
H e was a meek lookin’old creeter,
H e’d make up with the gang, old or young,
B ut a regular rip tearer when started,
A s you’ll see when my story is done.
O ne day a young chap struck the diggin’s ;
H e was travel lin’on to New York
With a bull purp could lick a hyena,
T o believe all his long-winded talk.
D urn my eyes I but the dogwas a stunner,
T rim and short, bow-legged an’red-eyed,
A nd none on us doubted the critter
Could make a game fight if he tried.
Well yer see this ere chap was one mornin’
Kind a leanin’down onto B ill
’s bar,
When old Yaller cum trottin’ in meek l ike
H e allus was loafin’round thar ;
T he hull pup he started for Yaller,
B ut the New York chap collared his pup,
A n’
says, Now you Shut up that dog thar,
I f you don’t want him total chawed up.
O LD YA LLE R . I I
Yer see my dog’s trained for a fighter,
A n’ when he sees dog, black or white,
H e’ll pitch in ct I aint a lookin’
A n'chaw that same dog out ofsight.
Now, I’d hate like the devil to have him
Kill that good natured ole dorg ofyourn,
B ut keep him tied up while I’m here, B ill
O r he’s gone dorg as sure as your born.
B il l grinned, thenhe said, Why, old Yaller,
H e’s no good, all the
time in the way ;
S’
pose we have a dog fight in the bar-room
Come, stranger, nowwhat do you say ?
A nd to make the thing sort of excitin’
,
A s Yaller’s my dog, I
’ll jest bet
A hundred that he (in ten minutes)Can clean out yer prize-fitein
’
pet .”
Poor Yaller, said B ill, kinder meek like.
Yer time’s almost cum fur to die.
”
A n’Yaller looked up, tail a waggm
With a kind of sly wink in his eye.
A nd B ill hollered out, Come on in, boys,
Come and see this ere prize-fitein
’
pup ;
We must have some little excitement ,
S o he’
s goin’to chaw Yaller up.
”
Well , they came in ; each man helil his dogO le Yeller was snarlin’
like mad,
A n’
you bet the bull pup was a grinntnA n
’lookin
’ most all-fired bad.
A t a word the dogs met, in a minute
Yaller had the prize dog by the throat,
A n’ he chawed an’
he chawed, never givin’
T he bull pup a chance for a bolt.
A n’he chawed till the pup kicked the bucket,
T hen he trotted, quite meek, like away,A s if he
’d done nothin ’
uncommon
B ut chaw up bull pups every day.
T H A T B E A U T I F U L SNO W.
A n’B ill gobbled up the bet
'
money,
Smilin’l ike at the defunct bull pup,
A n’says he, Now, who else
’s got a dog here
T hat wants ter chaw ole Yaller up
T he city chap sneaked off quite quiet,A nd went to New York the next day.
O le Yaller is trottin’around yet,
Kinder innercent like in his way.
m1 ’s jolly as ever, an
’boasting
A n’braggin
’
about his old pup,A n
’he never gets tired of tel lin
’
H ow the prize dog chawed ole Yaller
TH A T B E A U T I F UL SNO IV.
A P A R O D Y.
O R the snow, that beautiful snow,
T hat flies in your face, wherever you go,T hat
’s twisted and whirled in some dizzy old street
T ill it blinds your poor eyes , and freezes your feet.I t
’s all very fine, that beautiful snow,
I f you’ve cash in your pocket, and somewhere to go.
B ut the poet was born in summer, I know,
T hat finds something pretty in beautiful snow.
B eautiful ,” is it ? H umph ! beautiful snow,
When “ it falls on a sinner, nowhere to go.
I t seems to me, now ( I’m a practical man,
I’m no love-sick damsel or innocent lamb,T herefore I cannot be expected, you know,
T o stand on my head about beautiful snowI t seems to me, now, that this dreamer should go
A nd bury himself in his“ beautiful snow.
R O GE R . 13
B eautiful” is it, eh beautiful snow,
T he thermometer just ten degrees below,
Your overcoat hocked, not a cent in your kick,
A nd “ beautiful snow till you can’t see a brick
I n the sidewalks, around in some “ last country town ,
A nd that beautiful snow is still com ing down.
Why, if I had a room with a fire al l aglow,
I could envy the crank who wrote B eautiful Snow.
B eautiful snow from the heaven above,P ure as an angel , gentle as love.
I wish they would keep it in heaven , not throw
S o much down on earth of that beautiful snow.
Gentle as love ? how can they say so ;
S ee how it sticks , it never will go .
March, A pril , and May may come and may go ,
A nd still we'
ll be blessed with darned beautiful snow.
R O GE R .
B U Y R oger l Why, stranger, yer crazy,Yer a l ittle bit off yer kerbase ;
T hat dog is a regular daisy,
H e’s got the first place in the race.
H e’s travelled the kentry all over,
F rom D odge C ity down to the sea,
A n’thar ain
’t enough dust in yer trousers
T o purchase old R oger from me.
D O ye know what he done Well , I’ll tell
What, drink ! I don’t care if I do.
S traight pizen (here’s how), but to sel l yer
My dog, that’s too cursed bran new.
When B ig E d S ilk that was my pardner,Was runnin
’a place in the mines,
A n’
grubbin’like blazes to keep up
H is end, in some cursed hard times ;
RO GE R .
We'
d bin up all night in the dance hall ,
A n’closed up the shanty all hunk,
We’d took our last ball In the mornin
’
A n’each tumbled into his bunk ;
We forgot all our joys and our sorrows,
E ach was snoozin’
as sweet as a lamb,Not a thinkin’
of trouble to-morrows,A n
’none on us carin
’a d—rn ;
When a racket wuz raised in the castle,
A s if all the devils I n hell
H ad thundered around the old Bastile,
A n’ dropped in upon us, pell mel l
B ut I was so sleepy from boozin’
,
For the licker’d got the best of my head,
T hat I couldn’t have woke from my snoozin
’
T ill R oger Sprung onto the bed.
With a yell like the scream of a human
H e tore ofi the clothes with a roar,
A n’nailin
'me right by the collar
H e tumbled me right on the floor.
I grabbed for my shooter— confound me,
I staggered. O le man, I’m no l iar,
T he roof an’the walls all around me
War blazm with seethin’
red fire.
With a howl (like a wounded hyena)H e sprang through a hole in the wal l,
A n’ I followed blindly behind him,
E ach m init expectin’
to fal l .
R ight thro’where the smoke was the thickest,
B arkin’loudly the whole of the way,
Went R oger ; I’ll never forget it,
I f I live till the great judgment day.
We’d jest cleared the front, I an
’R oger,
When in fell the roof with a crash
T hat sounded as if H ell’s half acre
H ad tumbled upon us kersmash ;
R O GE R . 15
A n’ R oger wuz prancin’around me,
With a look jest ez much as to say,
O le man, if I hadn’t hev found ye,
T he turn would have come Jack B ox to-day.
S ince then we’ve been pardners together.
S ome days we get wheat, and some chaff,
B ut whether it’s chicken or feathers,
O ld R oger’s entitled to half.
A sk B att Masterson or T om D aniels
I f R oge knows the lay of the land.
H e can find ev’ry A ppache T epee,
F rom T ombstone to the R io Grande.
A n’
if tenderfoot should abuse R ogerWhen one of the gang is in sight,
T ake my word for it , stranger, that codger
H ad better get ready to fight.
Not a place from the worst to the finest,
A hotel , shanty, or ranche,
F rom the S an Juan down to Guymas,B ut R oger hez got a Carte B lanche.
I’
ve seen many friends in my travels,
Some friends which the world will call game,B ut the friendship of my old dog R oger
Would put al l others to shame.
T hey weaken when sorrow and troubleComes on you
— they are not true blue,B ut, stranger, right thar is a pardner
Who ’ll stick through it all staunch an
’
S o put up yer“ leather thar, stranger,
A n’hoist in some l icker with me.
I’
ve prospected from B utte, Montana,
P lum down thro’to O ld Sante Fe,
A n’thar ain
’t a man in the whole kentry,
No matter how much he would give,
Could purchase my dog thar,’
old R oger,
(H ere’s to yer) as long as I live.
WH Y SH E WA I T E D .
WE Y SH E WA I TE D .
T H E night was dark and stormy, and the thunder’s awful roll
Which followed on each blinding flash struck terror to the soul.
God help the homeless ones to-night , no wonder they rebelA nd curse the chains of poverty that bind them but too well .D own comes the rain, and every drop goes searching to the skin
O f those who’re clothed in s ilk or rags, in virtue or in sin .
R ight in the teeth of al l the storm a lonelywoman stands,
T he veins upon her face are seen in l ight pale-bluish bands
H er eyes with fire unnatural from sockets seem to burst,H er l ips are parched and feverish, unquenchable her thirst.Like the statue of a goddess needing but the breath of life,
T here she stands in al l the terrors of this elemental strife
A s the passers-by behold her how they shudder at the sight,
A nd say, God help the creature who is out in such a night !
With eye that seems immovable she gazes on the doorO f a brilliantly illumined and a gorgeous liquor store.
What can be the woman ’s m ission ? and for what can she await ?
What is there in that doorway that her gaze can fascinate ?H as her brain been crazed by sorrow ? has her life been wrecked
by sin ?
I s she thinking of the comforts that’s procurable within ?
For that look in all its wildness would a heart of stone make
bleed,A nd the secret of my story is most terrible indeed.
S ix months have barely passed since she became a happy bride,I n the little village church with her young husband by her side.
’T is here she waits her husband,
’tis for him that we must grieve,
She is wai ting, calmlywaiting, with a poker up her sleeve.
j. F .Mitekell .
I 8 YANKE D T O E T E RNI T Y.
T hen it was decided to tie it to some one of the crew
and cast him loose in order to save the lives of thosewho remained. I t was a glorious opportunity. I t was
a heroic thing to do . I t was like A rnold Wanklered’
s
great sacrifice by which victory was gained by fill ingh is own system full of lances and making a toothpickholder of himself in order that his comrades might
break through the ranks of their foes.
George O’Mally, the section boss, said that he was
willing that P atsy McB ride should snatch the laurelsfrom outrageous fortune and bind them on his brow.
B ut Mr. McB ride said that he did not care much for
the encomiums of the world ; he hadn’t lost any cuco
m iums and didn’
t want to trade his liver for two dol
lars’worth O i damaged laurels. E very one declined.
A ll seemed willing to go down into history without anyten-line pay local, and wanted some one else to get the
effulgence . F inally it was decided that a man by the
name of Christian Christianson was the man to tie to .
H e had the asthma anyhow,and life wasn ’
t much of
an object to him. So they said that although he de
clined, he must take the nom ination, as he was in the
hands of his friends. So they tied the rO pe around
Christian and cast anchor.
an: a a a: a:
T he car slowed up, at last stopped still . T he plan
had succeeded. F ive happy wives greeted their hus
bands that n ight as they returned from the jaws of
destruction . Christian Christianson did not return .
T he days may come and the days may go, but Chris
tian’s wife will look up toward the summit of the snow
crowned mountains in vain . H e will never entirely
B E ND ,B U T NE VE R B R E AK. I 9
return, he has done so partially, of course , but there
are still missing fragments of him ,and it looks as
though he must have lost his life — B ill Afye.
B E ND ,B U T NE VE R B R E AK.
T H E MO T T O O F T H E T O U GH CLU B .
A FR I E ND LY invitation was extended me one night,
T o meet a social party whose fraternal hearts were light
A nd as the joke and songwent’round for old acquaintance’
sake,
I read their motto on the wall a We bend, but never break.
I wondered as I pondered o’er the motto staunch and true,
H ow hearts could be made lighter were this always kept in view.
T he cyclone and the hurricane the giant oak may shake,
T hey pass— ir rears its giant head.
’Twill bend,but never
break.
”
T hus is it with amanlywill, when troubles compass’round,
While toiling up Life’s rugged hil l, with difliculties bound.
U topia lies on the height, the journey we must make.
B e staunch and true, keep to the right, and bend, but never
break .
A nd so it is a noble heart affl iction oft will test
T he gold within the crucible, and stamp it as the best.When all we love, or hope, or fear, has proved a sad mistake,
T he heart chokes down affection’s tear—
’twill bend, but never
break.
”
A ll honor to your motto then, and may each loyal heart
Foiever keep it prominent, and each one play his part .
A nd when o’er D eath
’s dark river old each one the voyage must
take,
Write on his tomb in words of gold, We bend, but never break.
”
T H A T QU E EN.
TH A T QU E E M
T H E Judge was a Christian and played on the square,B ut he figured the cards pretty close 1
H e could call O E your hand every time to a pair,
A nd lay down a“ full when he chose.
T he Colonel could play amore difficul t game,I don
’
t mean to say he would cheat,
B ut he held the top card when the big betting came,
A nd some hands that couldn’t be beat.
Coming home from Chicago the two chanced to meet
T hey were very O ld friends— on the cars ;
A nd as neither the other at poker could beat,T hey played euchre, five points, for cigars.
T he cards ran along pretty evenly, too,
T ill the Judge turned amoment his head,
When the Colonel , in shuflling, slipped the deck through
A nd the Judge cut a cold one instead.
’Twas euchre, of course ; but the Judge was amazed
When he l ifted four kings in a lump ;
B ut the Colonel, not seem ing a particle dazed,
T urned up a red queen for a trump.
You say— do you pass, Judge ?
”the Colonel called out ;
Look here, said the limb of the law,
I’ve m ighty queer cards ; if you
’re in for a bout,
We’ll play this one hand out at draw.
T he Colonel considered, and wriggled h is neck
I , too, have a very odd hand ;
I f you’ll give m e that queen from the top of the deck,
We’ll play out the cards as they stand .
“A greed,”said the Judge, for he saw at a glance
T he Colonel had one of two things
A full , or four queens , and he hadn’t a chance
T o rakedown the pot from four kings .
T H E T R AMP’
S LE T T E R . m
T he Judge chipped with fifty ; the Colonel came back ;T he Judge answered him with a raise ;
O f the bets the two made I could never get track,
B ut they piled up, like gals in a chaise.
A t’
last says the Judge, H ere, I’m hunting no more
Four kings ; reach us over that pot .
H old on , says the Colonel , I , too, have found four,
A nd they’re four little aces I
’ve got.
”
T he Judge took the cards and looked over them well,Fetched a breath from his trousers’ waistbandIVel l , what I
’d like to know is, what in h— l
T hat queen had to do with that hand.
TH E TR AMP S LE T T E R .
[Norm— T he reply of a tramp to an editor, who had said in his local
column that a tramp came into town .)
A T R AMP came into town ? Well, yes, I guess that’s true,
’T would change a saint to a sinner, the times that I
’ve gone
through.
T his world’s chuck full of trouble, and some get more
’n their
A nd when I get to thinking, I can’t keep back a tear.
T here is no man so hardened, but somewhere in his heart
T here’s a cord that
’s m ighty tender, that wil l make a tear-drop
start .
T here is no pool so muddy, but what (a crystal drop)I f you only stir it deep enough, will send a bubble up.
Kind words will do the business , and they cost so l ittle too,T o me it
’s very singular, those that get
’em are so few.
B ut folks don’t follow scripture, their hearts al l sot on pelf,
T hey’ve got no love for a neighbor, but lots of it for themself.
22 T H E T RAMP’
S LE T T E R .
T his world’
s a billiard table, the corners mighty sharp,
A nd the poor man’s bound to hit
’em, no matter though he
’s
smart.
B ut when you’ve lots O f money you can easily get through,
You can kinder massé the balls, you know, and cushion the
angles too.
While those who’s poor and ignorant have got to bear the yoke,
You can laugh at their condition, but, old top, it ain’t no joke.
B ut this airn’t al l there is, though
— why, it’s nothing but a dream
A nd you are only a little boat that’s floating down the stream .
“
A nd when your voyage is ended, and you’ve run your craft ashore,
D on’t you know, with all your money, you must m ingle with the
poor ?
Why, certainly, you must, F riend Quad, as sure as you are
born,For that moneywon
’t avail you on that resurrection morn.
A s like as not some poor old tramp will whisper in your ear,
I n life you didn’t know me, but there
’s no distinction here.
A nd when the books are balanced, and you of cash bereft,Perhaps the tramp will take the right, while you will take the
left.
I f every tramp and millionaire wore his crimes upon his brow,
D o you suppose they’d walk these streets as bo ld as they do
now ?
A h ! no , I rather reckon not, but on the other hand,
T he style of hats would change too quick, with wide brims in
demand.
Well , good-bye, take care of yourself, I guess we
’ll meet again,
A nd when we do, you bet your life, we’ll meet as dif erent men.
T H E T R U E T A LE O F WI LLI AM T E LL 23
TH E TR U E TA LE O F WI LLI AM TE LL.
W I LLI AM T E LL ran a hay ranch near B ergelen about
580 years ago . T ell had lived in the mountains all his
life, and shot chamois and chipmunks with a cross-gun
till he was a bad man to stir up.
A t that time Switzerland was run principally by a lot
of carpet-baggers from A ustria, and T e ll got down on
them about the year I 307. I t seems that T ell wanted
the government contract to furnish hay at $45 a ton for
the year I 306, and Gessler, who was controlling the
patronage of Switzerland,let the contract to an A us
trian who had a b ig lot of condemned hay further upthe gulch.
O ne day Gessler put his plug hat up on a telegraphpole, and issued order 236, regular series, to the effectthat every snoozer who passed down the toll road
should bow to it.Gessler happened to be in behind the bush when
T ell went by, and he noticed that B ill said Shoot thehat, and didn
’
t salute it,so he told his men to gather
Mr. T ell in and put him in the refrigerator.
Gessler told him that if he would shoot a crab-applefrom the head of his only son
,at 200 Yards, with a
cross-gun ,he would give him his liberty.
T ell consented,and knocked the apple higher than
Gilroy’
s kite . O ld Gessler, however, noticed anotherarrow sticking in William
’s girdle , and he asked what
kind of a flowery break that was.
T ell told him that if he had killed the kid instead of
busting the apple,he intended to drill a hole through
24 K I T T Y s A LB U M.
the stomach ofMr. Gessler. T his made Gessler madagain, and he took T ell on a picnic up the river in irons.
T ell jumped off when he got a good chance, and cut
across a bend in thé river,and when the picnic party
came down he shot Gessler deader than a mackerel.
KI TT Y’S A LB UM.
I O P E the little book, and thro’its pages look,
S toried—so sweetly— with romance and rhyme
S ecure from every il l, yet deftly peopled still,
By fauns and druids of an olden time.
B ut here’s a spot of ground, by mortal yet unfound,
Sacred,
to nymph and sylvan deity,
Where foiled A pollo glides, and bashful D aphne hides,Safe in the shelter of her laurel tree.
I would not rudely shake the dew drop from the brake,F ringing the border of your l ittle fairy dell .
A ll the delights which are, the present and the far,
Lose half their charms by being known too well .
A nd he m istakes who tries to solve all mysteries,
Who leaves no thing unseen , no path untracked ,
Who seeks to know too much, brushes (with eager touch)
T he bloom of fancy from the briar of fact.
Keep one fair myth aloof from firm and solid proof,
P reserve some dear delusions as they seem,
S ince the reality, how bright soc’et it be,
S hines dull and cold beside our wondrous dream.
Leave this white page unscoured, this rare realm unexplored,
A nd let dear fancy roam here— if she will .
W hichever way you turn, however much you learn,
Let there be something left to dream of still .
26 YO U KNO W .
T hen tackle old faro, don’t weaken a bit,
A nd play the six four with a second-hand Split
P ick up a white sleeper, get smashed in the ear,
A nd land on your head in a tub of stale beer ;Wipe the filth from your eyes, just frescoed with a
Get called an O ld Jonah ” by all of the“gang ;
Just tell them you’re dry, and then see
,if you (an,
Who’ll set up a booze for themoneyless man.
H ear old m iners talk over carbonites and drifts ,”
T hen take in the bar-room and look at the stiffs
Who wait to cross over the river of time,
Not caring if they have a dollar or dime
O r go to NewMexico— there you may stay
T ill you get the pneumonia and your mustache turns gray,
A nd you’l l find at the end of your life
’s little Span
T here’s six feet of earth for a moneyless man.
YO U KN O W:
A SO NNE T .
H O U R S like those I passed with you,
S o brief, so fleeting, and so few,
Can never greet me more— farewell
My heart does feel , but dares not tell,T he raptures of those hours of light
R edeemed from sorrow’s darkest night.
For late we meet, too soon we part ,
Yet thou art dearer to my heart
T han those whom I have known for years,
Who smiled my sm ile, who wept my tears .
Farewell, and absent thou shalt seem,
T he vision of ethereal dream ,
T oo bright on such as me to dwell .
I t must be so— farewell , farewell.
MANI A F O R MA RKI NG CLO T H E S . 27
MAN I A F O R MA RKI NG CL O TH E S .
T H E most quie t, unobtrusive man I ever knew,
said B uck B ramel to a B oomerang man , was a youngfellow who wen t into North P ark in an early day from
the Salmon R iver. H e was also reser ved and taciturn
among the miners, and never made any suggestions if
he could avoid it. H e was also the most thoughtful‘
man about other people ’s comfort I ever knew.
I went into the cabin one day where he was lying on
the bed and told him that I had decided to go intoLaram ie for a couple of weeks to do some trading. I
put my valise down on the floor and was going out,
when he asked me if my clothes were marked. I toldhim that I never marked my clothes ; if the washerwoman wanted to m ix up my wardrobe with that O f a
female sem inary I would have to stand it I supposed.
H e thought I ought to mark my clothes before I
went away and said that he would attend to it for me.
S O he took down hi s revolver and put three shotsthrough my val ise.
A fter that a coolness sprang up between us, and the
warm friendship that had existed so longwas more or
less busted. A fter that, be marked a man’
s clothesover in Leadville in the same way, only the man had
them on at the time. H e seemed to have a mania O n
that subject, and as they had no insanity experts inLeadville in those days, they thought the most economical way to examine his brain, would be to hang him ,
and then send his brain to New York in a’
baking
powder can .
28 ST A GE B A LD — H E A D S .
S O they hung him one night to the bough of a sigh
ing mountain pine . T he autopsy was of course crude,but they sawed open his head and scooped out the
brain with a long handled spoon and sent it on to New
York. By some m istake or other it got mixed up with
some sample Specimens O f ore from the B rindle T om
Cat discovery, and was sent to the assayer in New
York instead of the insanity smelter and refiner,as was
intended. T he result of it was that the assayer wrotea very touching and grieved letter to the boys, sayingthat he was an O ld man anyway, and he wished theywould consider his gray hairs and not try to palm O ff
their O ld groceries on him . H e might have made“
errors in his assays perhaps, all men were more or lessliable to mistakes, but he flattered himself that he
could still distinguish between a piece of blossom rock
and a can of decomposed lobster salad, even if it was
in a baking powder can. H e hoped they would not
try to be facetious at his expense any more, but treathim as they would like to be treated themselves when
theygot O ld and began to totter down toward the silenttomb .
T his is why I’ve never knew to a dead moral cer
tainty whether he was O K. in the upper story or not.
S TA GE B A LD - H E A D S .
’MO ST every one who is not blind knows that the
stage bald-head is a delusion and a snare. T he onlyall-wool-yard-wide bald-head we remember on the Amer
ST A GE B A LD — H E A D S . 29
ican stage is that O f D unstan Kirke as worn by the vet
eran Couldock. E fli e E llsler wears her own hair and so
does Couldock. B ut Couldock wears his the most— it
is the most worn , anyhow.
What we started out to say, is that the stage bald
head and the average stage whiskers make us weary O f
life . T he stage bald-head is generally made of the
internal economy of a cow,dried so that it shines, and
cut to fit the head as tightly as a potato sack would
naturally fit a billiard cue. I t is generally about four
shades whiter than the red face O f the wearer, or vice
versa. We do not knowwhich is the worst violation of
eternal fitness, the red-faced man who wears a deathly
white bald-head, or the pale young actor who wears a
florid roof on his intellect. Sometimes in starring
through the country and playing ten or fifteen hundredengagements, a bald-head gets soiled. We notice that
when a show gets to Laram ie the chances are that the
bald-head O f the leading O ld man is so soiled that he
really needs a sheep-dip shampoo . A nother featureO f this accessory of the stage is its singular failure to
fit ; it is either a little short at both ends or it hangs
over the skull in large festoons, and wens and warts insuch away as to make the audience believe that the
wearer has dropsy of the brain .
You can never get a stage bald-head near enoughlike nature to fool the average house-fly. A fly knowsin two moments whether it is the genuine or only a
base imitation , and the bald-head O f the theatre fills
him with nausea and disgust. Nature,at all times
hard to im itate, preserves her bald-head as she doesher sunny skies and deep blue seas far beyond the
3O H E Y R U B E .
reach of the weak fallible human imitator. B aldnessis like fame, it cannot be purchased, it must be ac
quired. S ome men may be born bald, some may acquire baldness, and
'
others may have baldness thrustupon them but they generally acquire it.T he stage beard is also rather dizzy as a rule ; it i
looks as much like a beard that grew there as a cow’s
tail would if tied to the bronze dog on the front porch,
When you tie a heavy black heard on a young actorwhose whole soul would be churned up if he smoked a
full fledged cigar, he looks about as savage as a bowl
of mush and milk struck with a club — B illMe.
H E Y R U B E .
[Norm—H ey R ube is the war-cry with a circus which calls every man
to the scene of action .]
’TwA s just about ten years ago,T O O early yet for ice or snow,
T hro ’ bounteous T exas com ing down,A circus with a funny clown,
H ey R ube.
T he boys warn’t feeling very well,
T he reason why I cannot tell,
A nd as they made each little town
T hey whispered (when the gauks came’round)
H ey R ube.
T hey’ll eat you up in this
’ere town,
T he boys’ll tear you circus down.
T hus spoke aman with hoary head,
T he main guy winked and softly said,
H ey R ube.
H E Y R U B E . 31
T hey gathered’round , about two score,
I am not sure but there were more,
R ed-hot and eager for the fray.
T he boys all thought, but didn’t say,
H ey R ube.
I t’s but a l itt le phrase,’tis true,
I ts meaning well each fakir knew,
A nd e’
en the weakest heart was stirred
A t mention of that magic word,
H ey R ube.
T he ball was opened, like a flash.
A bove the battle’s din and dash,
A s thunderbolt hurled from the sky,
R angl ong and loud the battle-cry,H ey R ube.
”
’Twas but a moment— in theywent,
E ach man on life and death intent .
T hey perilled there both life and limb,
’Twas wonderful to hear them sing,
H ey R ube.
’Twas finished, the smoke rolled away,
A s clouds before the sun’s bright ray .
T hat T exan chivalrywere gone
T hey couldn’
t sing that circus song,
H ey R ube.
MO RA L.
Cauks ,” “
guys, and R ubes, another day,
When e’er a circus comes your way,
A nd you are spileing for a clim ,
B e sure they haven’
t learned to sing,
H ey R ube.
T H E QU E E N O F H E A R T S .
TH E QU E E N O F H E A R T S .
AN O LD GAMB LE R’
S S O LI LOQU Y O N A D I R T Y CA R D .
MU D -ST A I NE D and torn , upon the sidewalk lying,
S tripped O f the beauty of your regal parts,
Yet still the old whirl O f fortune’s wheel defying,
I find this morn— the tattered queen of hearts .
Where now ( I wonder) are your old companions,
T he fifty-one inseparable friends
I n beer saloons, or R ockyMountain canyons,
A t sea, or at the earth’s remotest ends
Like I srael’s tribe, they
’re toss
’d about and scattered,
E ven the very kings m ight prove unclean.
B ut you, old queen of hearts, tho’mud-bespattered,
E very moment prove yourself a queen .
Who knows but sometimes jewelled fingers shuffled
T he pack in which you held a solid place
W ho knows what placid tempers you have ruffled
A t whist, by trumping an obtrusive ace.
A nd when the higher honors all were hoarded,
A nd you were queen indeed of all the pack,
H ow proudly did you take the last trick boarded,H ow like a woman did you win the Jack !
A nd then, how fondly was your face regarded
By him who first beheld the crimson blush
O f you, when he had doubtingly discarded
A spade, and drawn to hearts to fill a flush.
A nd then they say that cards are E vil’s marrow,
A nd card players sometimes comm it a sin.
B ut you,
‘
O ld girl—yes, you, when turned to faro,
You sometimes caused a stack of blues to win.
34 T H E LANGU A GE O F T H E RA I L.
hands, if you please , and make the grand hailing S ign
O f distress, or I’ll have to mutilate you ! Just Show
me about where you’
d like to have the fatal wound,and be Spry about it, too, because I
’
ve got my brief
costume on,and the even ing air is chill
H e didn’
t understand me, apparently, for a gurglinglaugh welled up from below
,and the party sings back :
H ullo, Fatty, is that you ? Just lookin’
to see if
you’
d fired up yet . You know I was to come around
and flag you if second seven was out. Wel l, I’ve been
down to the O ld man’
s to see what’
s on the board.
T hree 18 two hours late, and four is reported on time .
T here ’s two sevens out and two sections of nine .
Skinney’ll take out first seven and Shorty
’ll pull her
with 1 02 . I t’s you and me for second seven ,
with
Limber Jim on front end and F renchy to hold down
the caboose . F irst five is wrong side up in a washout
this side of O gallala, and oldWhatshisname that runs
258 got his crown sheet caved in and telescoped his
head-light into the New Jerusalem .
You know the little Swede that used to run extra
for O ld H otbox on the emigrant for awhile ? Well,he
’s firing on 258, and he
’
s under three flats and a
coal-O il tank, with a break beam across his coupler,
and his system more or less relaxed . H e’
s gone to
the sweet subsequently, too. R est of the boys are
more or less demoralized and side-tracked for repairs ,
Now you don’t want to monkey around much, for if
you don’t loom up like six bits and go out on the track,
the old man will give you a time check and the O riental Grand B ounce . You hear the mellow thrill of my
bazoo ? ”
A RGO T . 35
T hen I slowly uncorked the Great B lood P urifier,and moving to the foo tlights where the silvery moon
beams could touch up my dazzling outlines I said :
P ardner, I am pleased and gratified to have met you.
I don ’
t know the first ding busted thing you have said
to me, but that’
s my misfortune . I am a plain m iner,and my home is the d igestive apparatus O f the earth ;but for professional melody O f the chin you certainlytake the cake . You also take the cake basket and
what cold pie there is on the dumb . My name isWoodtick Williams. I discovered the Feverish H orne tup on S lippery E llum . I am proud to know you.
Keep right on getting more and more fami liar with
your profession, and by and by, when nobody can nu
derstand you, you will be promoted and respected,and
you will at last he a sleeping-car conductor, and revelin the biggest mental calm and wide
, shoreless sea of
intellectual stagnation that the world ever saw. You
will
B ut he was gone .
T hen I took the pillow-sham and wiped some of thepulverized crackers off the souls O f my feet, and wentto bed in a large gob O f gloom — B illMe.
A R GO ] :
T H E pride of the circus was Mollie Lamont,A nd truly an exquisite creature,S he seemed (as she managed her elegant steed),A n angel, in figure and feature I
P LA Y I NG S O LI T A I R E .
I turned to the manager— standing close by
S aying, S ir, when you are at your leisure,
W ill you please introduce me to Mademoiselle ?H e answered me, Swipes cull, with pleasure !
T hen into the green room he led me straightway,
Where the lady (just from the arena)S tood, blushingwith pleasure, while rounds of applause
A scended from those that had seen her.
I was quickly presented and modestly bowed,
While the manager said, My dear Mollie,
I present to your notice an intimate friend.
S he sm iled, and said , H ow’s your n ibs, cully ?
I smiled, and the manager left us alone.
T hen I dropped on my knees close before her,T hose dainty white fingers I clasped in my own,
A nd I told her I loved and adored her.
I prom ised if she would consent to be m ine
T hat our home should resemble an E den,A nd nothing should part us
— O h ! rapture divine,
When she answered, Cheese, cull, n ixey weeden.
I started and murmured,“je ne comprerzdpas
La F raneaz'
r, so pray me enlighten .
S he said, T ell me, cull , does your nibs weed the slang ?”
T o my feet then I bounded like l ightning.
I said to her, Miss, do you mean to insult,
O r are you with me making merry ?”
When she drew herself up, po inted straight to the door,
A nd said, Let your royal nibs sherry.
P LA YI NG S O LI TA I R E .
A LONE , all alone, I sit in my room,
A nd shuffle, and cut, and deal ;
S ipping my wine,’till its rich maroon,
A flame on my check I feel .
PLAYI NG S O LI T A I R E . 37
O nly a face— like m ine— in. the glass,
T hat glares at mine thro’the smoke,
T hat winks at me, and bows as I pass,E njoying the silent O ld joke.
T he ashes fal l from my played-out cigar,
A s, half as leep, in my chair,
I smile, as I think what suckers .men
Who learn to play solitaire.
I’d sigh for a lip to touch the glass,
T o sip the old nectar with m ine,
T he sound of a laugh, the thrill of a kiss,
T o mingle with good old wine.
I ’d play a game of the O lden t ime,
When hearts were trumps with me ;A man and a woman, he in his prime,
B ending his knee— but she
Well, never mind what she said to him,
O r the game she played him there ;
O r why he sits in the gas-light grim,
With his wine and solitaire.
Was she dark, or fair, blue eyes,B rown hair ? We
’ll cal l her of hearts, the queen ;
I ’l l play it so, but fortune, I
’ll swear,
Will make the diamonds win.
I see her sometimes, her arm in his,
A sickly O ld sm ile on her face ;
A nd, I wonder, if ever she thrills at his kiss,
O r dreams of me in his place.
A tear rolls down my cheek in the wine,
A child calls low on the stair
I’
ll throw up the cards, the game’s played out,
I’m weary of solitaire.
38 H O U S E H O LD R E C I P E S .
H O U S E H O LD R E CI P E S .
T O R EMO VE O I LS , VA RNI S H E S , R E S INS , T A R , O YST E R
S O U P , CU R RANT JE LLY , A ND O T H E R S E LE CT I O NS from
the bill O f fare — U se benzine soap and chloroform cau
t I ouslywith a whitewash brush and a garden hose , thenhang on a woodpile to remove the repugnant efliuvia of
the benzine .
T O CLE AN C E I LI NGS that have been smoked bykerosene lamps or the fragrance from fried salt-pork.
— R e
move the ceiling, wash thoroughly with borax, turpen.
t ine and rainwater, then hang on a clothes-line to dry.
A fterwards pulverize and spread over the pie-plant
bed for spring wear.T O R EMO VE S T A R CH AND R ouGH NE ss FR OM FLA T
I R O Ns .— H old on a large grindstone for twenty min
utes or so, then wipe off carefully with a rag. T o
make this effective, the grindstone should be in motion
while the iron is applied. Should the iron still stick to
the goods when in use, spit on it.
T O S O FT E N WA T E R FO R H O U S E H O LD P U R P O S E S .
P ut an ounce O f'
quicklime in a certain quantity of
water ; if it is not sufficient, use less water or morequicklime . Should the immediate lime continue to re
main deliberate,lay the water down on a stone and
pound it with a base-ball club .
T o GI VE R E LI E F T o A B U RN,apply the white of an
egg ; the yolk may be eaten or placed on the shirt
bosom , according to the taste O f the person . I f the
burn should occur on a lady she may omit the last in
struction .
H O U S E H O LD R E C I P E S . 39
T O WA SH B LA CK S I LK S T O CKINGS .— P repat
'
e a tub of
lather composed of tepid rainwater and white soap,with a little ammonia. T hen stand in the tub t ill din
ner is ready. R oll in a cloth to dry. D O not wring
but press the water out. T his will necessitate the re
moval of the stockings .
I f your hands are badly chapped, wet them in warm
water,rub them all over with I ndian meal, then put on
a coat of glycerine and keep them in your pockets~ for
ten days. I f you have no pockets convenient insert
them in the pockets of a friend.
A N E XCE LLENT R EME D Y FO R T O O T H ACH E is made ofsassafras, oil O f organum ,
and a half ounce of tincture O fcapsicum with half pint O f alcohol . S oak n ine
'
yards O f
flannel in this mixture , wrap it around the head and
then insert the head in a haystack till death comes to
your relief.T o remove scars or scratches from the limbs of a
piano, bathe the limb in a solution of tepid water and
sweet oil. T hen apply a strip of court plaster and putthe piano out on the lawn for the children to playhorse
Woollen goods may be nicely washed if you put halfan ox gall into two gallons of tepid water. I t might bewell to put the goods in the water also . I f the m ixtureis not strong enough, put in another ox gall . Should
this fail to do the work put in the whole ox, reservingthe tail for soup. T he ox gall is comparatively uselessfor soup
,and Should not be preserved as an article of
diet — B ill Nye.
40 NO T I N T H E P R O GRAMME .
NO T I N TH E P R O GR AMME .
A ST R O LLING A CT O R’S ST O RY .
[Narm— T his story is told by the manager of a small theatrical troupe to
the printer, who brings in a proof of programme for correction .]
GO O D morning to you again. S o, you’ve brought the proof, thcn ,
eh
Macbeth, Mr. H ubert Villiers . Wel l , that’
s better, I must say.
What will you have ? H ot whiskey ? R ight I What, ho, there,P olly, my dear !
T wo fours of I rish warm for me and this other gentleman here.
Not half bad tipple, is it, my boy ?’T aint O ften I drink from
choice,
B ut I fancy a drop of old I rish warm softens and mel lows the
voice.
You l iked my C laude last night, you say. Wel l, it’s fairish they
all allow
But I’m getting a little too O ld and fat for this lover business now.
A h, wel l , I mustn’t complain , I suppose. I can stick to the heavy
line;
A nd I’ve got a few
“ balls put by, you know, in that O ld stockingof m ine ;
But m ind you, with a company, near twenty strong, or quite,I f business is slack, it
’s a tightish fit , when it comes to salary
night .
S ee some queer things ? U s travel ling folk— well , yes, that
’s
really true ;
W hy,’twas only here, an hour ago, sitting, and waiting for you,
I was thinking over a curious thing, you m ight have heard, no
doubt.Which shows how the real thing, after al l
,beats acting out and
out .
42 NO T I N T H E P R O GRAMME .
T hen the only relative she had-w an old aunt— who waswell to do,
H ad taken her in, and found for her a wealthy suitor too .
B ut she loved some other,a sailor chap, who, l ike herself, was
poor ;
A nd when they married, this haughty aunt had fired them bo thout door.
She was very happy at first,”she said, and her voice grew soft
and low,
B ut then she’d “ lost her husband too, he was drowned four
months ago ;
H is ship went down and all were lost, and now ( in her need
and care)She
’d no one left in all the world, but that l ittle
"
fellow.
there.
H ere she dropped her head, poor girl, and her voice got choked
with sighs,
(D — n that smoke,how it gets in a fellow
’s throat and eyes).
She finished her tale. She “ felt at first all stunned and dazed,
she said,
A nd even to think of aught but him,seemed treachery to the
dead .
B ut, bye and bye, for the sake of her boy, now doubly preciousand dear,
She’d nerved herself to look beyond, to the future that seemed so
drear.
S he thought of a governess’
place at first, but then they would
have to part,
A nd to give up that little fellow now would almost break herheart .
Little by little the things had gone, to meet her daily need ,
T ill the home, too, had to be given up, and all seemed lost indeed.
T hen she thought of how she loved the stage, in the happy longago,
A nd how well she played, as an amateur— at least, they told her
NO T I N T H E P R O GRAMME . 43
She stopped at all the theatres, but’twas still the same old tale
A novice had no chance at all where even veterans fai l ;
T hen some one had told her to come to me, and She’
d travelled
here to day,
T o see if I could put her on in however a humble way.
I should find her quick and wil ling,”she said, in all I wanted
done,
A nd all she asked was lodging and food for her and her little
She’d “
nothing left but her wedding ring, and one old half a
crown,
A nd then there was only the workhouse if well, here she quite
broke down.
Now, the parsons sometimes give it to us bad actors hot,
B ut what e’er our faults may be, my boy, we
’re not a hard-hearted
lot ;
A nd my old woman, sitting there with the little kid ”on her
knee,
A nd this d— d crying business always gets over me.
T he amount of it was , we put her on as a super, so to speak,
A nd found her board and lodging with us , and a dollar or two a
week
She helped the old woman in various ways, and she did it nicely,
too,
A nd we sent her on, in little parts, where she hadn’t much to do.
B ut a quicker study I never saw ; there was something better,higher
You could see she was an actress born— thewoman had passion,
fire.
S he took with the public from the first, what with that sweet
young face,
A nd passion , and power, and we gave her soon our leading lady’s
44 NO T’
I N T H E P R O GRAMME .
Now, some of our girls were jealous l ikewhen they saw her tak
ing the lead,
A nd used to sneer at her crape and ring and mutter, H umph l
m issus, indeed.
B ut she was so gentle, O bliging, meek, this soon wore off, it did,
A nd they all of them got to love her at last, and to almost wor
ship the kid.
”
S he . seemed transformed with passion and power whenever she
went on the stage,
A nd Missus Mowberry, as she was called, came to be quite therage ;
S he’d only to show herself for cheers to thunder out, and Lor i
She was always good for three encores of a night, and sometimes
more.
i f 0 I t i O f
O ne night I happened to be in front when she was extra fine,’Twas in “ E ast Lynne,
”and she
’d just come on with the boy
as Madame Vine.
She’s supposed (as the Lady I sabel) to have wronged her husband and fled,
B ut comes back— di sguised as a governess— after he thinks she’s
dead.
S he’d got to the crowning scene of all, where the morher longs to
stretch
H er arms to her boy, but has to check and school herself, poor
wretch l
A nd the house was hushed with pity and awe when I saw her
stare and start,
A nd struggle, and turn as white as death, and put her hand to
her heart.
I followed her eyes and down in front , in the parquette, pale and
Was a tall young chap— in a sailor dress— who had only just
dropped in.
H e sprang to the stage and bounded on— well, you can guess the
rest
H e was her husband, she his wife, and she fainted on his breast .
NO T I N T H E P R O GR AMME . 45
I thought for amoment the people thought’twas part of the play,
forsooth,
B ut her story, you see, had got whispered about, and they easilyguessed at the truth ;
A nd then ! don’t talk of a scene, my boy, such cheers I never
heard ;
I thought that roofwould have fallen in, I did, upon myword.
O f course the curtain had to be dropped, and I whispered to the
band,T o “
strike up something,”and hurried back at once, you under
stand
T o find her fast coming to, poor soul, with the women all cryingthere,
A nd the sailor, with her hand in his, kneeling beside the chair.
A nd the little kid cl inging to them— O h ! what a tableaux that
would have been ;’T would have made the fortune of any piece to have brought in
such a scene.
I’ve come to look at it now, you see, in a sort of professional
l ight,
B ut that night I was nearly as weak as thewomen were, or quite.
H is storywas short— his ship was lost, and
’twas thought that all
were drowned,
B ut he and some other guy clung to a spar and were picked
up safe and sound ;
T hen he took a turn in the diggings, and there good luck came
thick and fast,
A nd he’d come back rich, to find her gone, but they
’d met at last
— at last.
T hen her storywas told, how good I’d been, and all the rest, dear
heart
D o you know, she would insist on go ing again to finish that part.
S o I went to the front myself, old boy, and I told the people all,
A nd, upon my soul, I thought this time the old roofwould surely
fal l .
46 NO T IN T H E P R O GR AMME .
When she came on again, such a deafening thunder of cheers,
Men waving their hats like mad, women and kids in tears
I thought of the night they say Keene set al l E ngland’s heart
asfir ;
S ir, the pit rose at me, he said ; well, so it did at her.
She seemed inspired, so grand she was , so passionate, true and
warm ;
From the first time she opened her mouth she took the old house
by storm
T hree times we had her on at the end, and I shall never forget
H ow i n had to come to the front himself— I Can see and hear
them yet.
A bonny couple theywere, my boy, to see them together then
T hat d— d smoke has gone and got into my eyes again !
H e dropped me a hundred,'
for a“ bowl,
” for all the boys next
day,
A nd she bought me a nice little diamond ring— bang up to the
knocker, eh
T hey’ve got a nice l ittle place up town, where they
’re living in
style, you know ;
T here’
s a knife and fork there for all good ones, too, whenever
theywant to go.
I t ain’t so very long ago, Some two or three weeks or more,
S ince the old woman and I were up for aweek, and were treated“ bang up to the door.
I had their story put in a play, and it answered prettywell,
B ut, bless your heart, it wasn’t a patch on the genuine article.
Well, good day for the present, old pard,”if you won
’t have
any more.
D on’tyouforget about those bills— Good on ye. A u revoz
’
r I
S PA R T A CU B . 47
SP A R TA C U S WI TH MO D E RN [MFR 0VE
A MO D E RN VE R S I O N O F S PA R TACU S To T H E GLA D I A
T O R S .
I T had been a day of triumph in Capua. Lentulus,returning with victorious E agles, had aroused the popu
lace with the sports of the amphitheatre to an extent
hitherto unknown even in that luxurious. c ity. A large
number of people from the rural districts had been in
town to watch the conflict in the arena and to listen
with awe and veneration to the infirm and decrepid
ring jokes . T he shouts of revelry had died away. N0
sound was heard save the low sob of some retiringwave as it told its story to the smooth pebbles of the
beach, or the unrelenting bootjack as it struck the high
board fence in the back yard, just missing the R omanT om cat in its mad flight, and then all was still as the
breast when the spirit has departed. A non the R omansnore would steal in upon the deathly silence and thendie away like the sough of a summer breeze .
I n the green room of the amphitheatre a little bandof gladiators were assemb led. T he foam of confl ict
yet lingered on their lips, the scowl of battle yet hungupon their brows, and the large knots on their classic
profiles indicated that it had been a busy day withthem .
T here was an embarrassing silence of between five
minutes, when Spartacus, borrowing a chew of tobacco
of T rifaliatum A urelius, stepped forth and thus ad
dressed them
S PA R T A C U S .
Mr. Chairman, Ladies and GentlemenYe call me chief, and ye do well to cal l him chief
who for twe lve long years has met in the arena everyshape of man or beast that the broad empire of R omecould furnish, and yet has never lowered his arm . I
do not say this to brag, however, but simply to show,
that I am the star thumper of the entire outfit.I f there be one among you who can say that ever in
public fight or private brawl my actions did bel ie mywords
,let him s tand forth and say it and I will Spread
him around over the arena till the C oroner will haveto gather him up with a blotting paper. I f there bethree in all your company dare face me on the bloodysands let them come
, and I will construct upon their
physiognomy such cupolas and royal corn ices and Corin thian capitols and en tablatures, that the ir own moth
ers would pass them by in the broad light of high noon
unrecognized.
A nd yet I was not always thus, a hired butcher— the
savage chief of still more savage war.
My ancestors came from O ld Sparta, the county seat
of Marcus A urelius county, and settled among the
vine-clad hills and cotton groves of Syrasilla. My earlylife ran quiet as the clear brook by which I sported .
A side from the gen tle patter of the maternal slipper on
my overalls,everything moved along with me like the
s ilent oleaginous flow of the,ordinary goose grease .
My boyhood was one long happy summer day. We
stole the R oman muskmelon and put split sticks on
the tail of the R oman dog, and life was one continuoushallelujah.
When at noon I led the sheep beneath the shade
so SPA R TA CU S .
that I might be allowed to bear away the body andhave it packed in ice and shipped to his friends nearSyrasilla, but he couldn ’
t see it.
A y, upon my bended knees, amidst the dust andblood of the arena I begged this poor boon , and theP ra tor answered Let the carrion rot. T here are
no noble men but R omans and O hio men . Let theshow go on . B ring in the bobtail lion from A byssinia.
A nd the assembled maids and matrons and the rabbleshouted in derision, and told me to
“ brace up and“ have some style about my c lothes and to give it
to us easy, with other R oman fl ings which I do not
now call to m ind.
A nd so must you, fellow gladiators, and so must I ,die like dogs.
T o-morrow we are b illed to appear at the Coliseumat R ome , and reserved seats are be ing sold at the cor
ner of T hird and Corso stree ts for our moral and in
structive performance while I am speaking to you.
Ye stand here like giants as ye are, but to-morrowsome R oman A donis with a sealskin cap will pat yourred brawn and bet his sesterces upon your blood.
0,R ome 1 R ome l T hou hast been indeed a tender
nurse to me. T hou hast given to that gentle tim id
shepherd lad,who never knew a harsher tone than a
flute note,muscles of iron and a heart like the adaman
tine lemon pie of the railroad lunch room . T hou hasttaught him to drive his sword through plated mail and
links of rugged brass, and warm it in the palpitatinggizzard of his foe, and to gaze into the glaring eyeballsof the fierce Num idian lion , even as the smooth-checked
S PA R T A CU S . 51
R oman S enator looks into the laughing eyes of the
girls in the T reasury department.A nd he shall pay thee back till the rushing T iber is
red as frothing wine , and in its deepest ooze thy life
blood lies curdled. You doubtless hear the gentlemurmur of my bazoo .
H ark ! H ear ye the lion roaring in his den — ’T is
three days since he tasted flesh, but to-morrow he will
have gladiator on toast, and don’
t you forget it, and hewill sling your vertebrae about his cage like the star
pitcher of a champion nine .
I f ye are brutes, then stand here like fat oxen waiting for the butcher
’
s knife . I f ye are men, arise and
follow me. S trike down the warden and the turnkey,overpower the police and cut for the tall timber. We
will break through the c ity gate , capture the war-horse
of the drunken R oman, flee away to the lava beds andthere do bloody work, as did our sires at old T her
mO pyle , scalp the Western-bound emigrants, and makethe hen-roosts around Capua look sick.
O, comrades ! Warriors Gladiators !
I f we be men, let us die like men, beneath the blue
sky and by the still waters, and be buried according toGunter, instead of having our shin bones polished off
by Numidian lions amid the groans and hisses of a
snide R oman populace — B illMe.
52 T R O U BLE IN T H E CAMP .
TR 0U B LE [N TH E CAMP .
NO U SE T RY I NG T o CO U R T A WH O LE FAMI LY.
I D O N’T want to make any trouble, but there is one
man in this c ity who ought to be gibbe ted began a
blunt-spoken woman of 45as she stood before the ofli
c ials of the T wentieth-street station in D etroit, a dayor two ago.
When they inquired the particulars she handed out aletter and said
“ O bserve the envelope . T hat letter is addressed tome. You will see that the writer calls me his jessamine and he wants me to set anearly day for the wedding.
When the Captain had finished the letter she was
ready with another, adding“A nd this is addressed to my daughter Lucretia.
You will see that he calls her his rosy angel, and he
says he can’
t live if she doesn ’t marry him . I t
’
s the
same man.
S o it was, and his letter was as tender as spring
chicken . T hat finished, she handed out a third, with
the remark :T his is directed to my daughter H e len. I t
’s the
very same man, and in it he calls her his pansy, andhe says he dreams of her.
Why, he seemed to love the whole family, re
marked the Captain .
T hat’s just it. I
’m a widow with two daughters, .
and he was courting us all at once and engaged to the
O VE R T H E H I LL FR O M T H E P O O R— H O U S E . 53
three of us at the same time . O h, what wretches there
are in this world !Yes
,indeed. I t
’s luckyyou found him out.
Yes,it is. I f I hadn
’
t he m ight have married the
whole caboodle of us. I f Lucretia hadn ’
t O pened one
ofmy letters, and if I hadn’
t searched the girls’ pockets
while theywere asleep, we’
d have thought him an innocent lamb.
A nd do you want him arrested ? ”
No, I guess not, but I want this matter to go intothe papers as a warning to other women . Just think
of his S itting up with me Sunday night, Lucretia on
Wednesdayn ight, and H elen on F riday night, and call
ing each one of his climbing rose 1 O h ! sir, thewomenought to know what a deceiving animal man is 1
Yes, he’
s pretty tough.
I t has learned me a lesson, she said, as she was
ready to go. T he next man that comes sparkingaround my house has got to come right out and say
which he’s after. I f it
’s the girls I won
’
t say nothing,and if it
’s me it won’
t do’em a bit of good to slam
things around and twit me of burying two husbands !”
0VB ] ? TH E H I LL FR O H TH E P 0OR -H O U SE .
1, WH O was always counted, they say,
R ather a bad stick anyway,
Splintered all over with dodges and tricks,
Known as the worst of the D eacon ’s six
I , the truant , saucy and bold,T he one black sheep in my father
’s fold,
54 O VE R T H E H I LL FR O M T H E P O O R—H O U SE .
O nce on a time, as the stories say,
Went over the hill on awinter’s day
O ver tire I n? ! to tirepoor Izowe.
T om could save what twenty could earn ;
B ut gi m’
n’was somethin
’ he ne’er would learn.
I saac could half 0’the S criptur
’s speak
Committed a hundred verses aweek ;
Never forgot, an’never sl ipped
B ut H onor thy father and mother he skipped
So over t/ze kill to fit:poor-[mural
A s for Susan, her heart was kind
A n’
good— what therewas of it, mind ;
Nothin’too big, an
’nothin
’too nice,
Nothin’she wouldn
’t sacrifice
For one she loved ; an’that
’ere one
Was herself, when all was said an’ done ;
A n’Charleyan
’B ecca meant well, no doubt,
But any one could pull em’about ;
A n’all 0’
our folks ranked well, you see,
Save one poor fellow, and that was me ;
A n’ when, one dark an
’rainy night,
A neighbor’s horse went out o
’sight,
T hey hitched on me, as the guilty chap
T hat carried one end 0’the halter-strap.
A n’I think myself, that view of the case
Wasn’t altogether out 0
’
place.
Mymother denied it, as mothers do,B ut I am inclined to believe ’
twas true ;
T hough for me one thingmight be said
T hat I , as well as the horse, was led ;
A nd theworst ofwhiskey spurred me on,
O r else the deed would have never been done.B ut the keenest grief I ever felt
Was when my mother beside me knelt,A n
’cried, an
’
prayed, t ill I melted down,
A s I wouldn’t for half the horses in town.
O VE R T H E H I LL FR O M T H E P O O R - H O U SE . 55
I kissed her fondly, then an’there,
A nd swore henceforth to be honest and square.
I served my sentence— a bitter pill
S ome fellows should take who never will ;
A nd then I decided to go out West,
Concludin’ ’twould suit my health the best ;
Where, how I prospered, I never could tell,B ut Fortune seemed to likeme well
A n’
somehow every vein I struck
W as always bubbl ing over with luck.
A n’
, better than that, I was steady an’true,
A n’
put my good resolutions through.
B ut I wrote to a trusty old neighbor an’said,
You tell’em , o ld fellow, that I am dead,
A n’died a Christian ;
’twill please
’em more,
T han if I had lived the same as before.
B ut when this neighbor he wrote to me,Your mother
’s in the poor
-house, says he,
I had a resurrection straightway,
A n’started for her that very day.
A nd when I arrived where l was grown,
I took good care that I shouldn’t be known ;
B ut I bought the old cottage through and through,
O f some one Charley had sold it to
A nd held back neither work nor gold
T o fix it up as it was of o ld.
T he same big fire-place, wide and high,
F lung up its cinders toward the sky ;
T he old clock ticked on the corner shelf
I wound it an’set it agoin
’myself ;
A n’if everything wasn
’t just the same,
Neither I nor moneywas to blameT hen— over Me I n? ! toMepoor-flour: I
O ne blowin’
, b lusterin’winter
’s day,
W ith a team an’cutter I started away ;
My fiery nags was as black as coal
(T hey some’
at resembled the horse I stole) ;
56 O VE R T H E H I LL FR O M T H E P O O R — H O U S E .
I hitched, an’entered the poor-house door
A poor old woman was scrubbin’the floor ;
S he rose to her feet in great surprise,
A nd looked, quite startled, into my eyes ;I saw the whole of her trouble’
s trace
I n the lines that marred her dear O ld face ;
Mother I I shouted, your sorrow is done !
You’re adopted along 0
’
your horse-thief son,
Come over Me11:71e tirepoor-dome !
S he didn’t faint ; she knelt bymy side,
A n’thanked the Lord, till I fairly cried.
A n’maybe our ride wasn
’t pleasant and gay,
A n’ maybe she wasn
’t wrapped up that day ;
A n’maybe our cottage wasn
‘
t warm an’ bright,
A n ’ maybe it wasn’t a pleasant sight,
T o see her a-gettin’the evenin
’
s tea,
A n’frequently stoppin
’an
’kissin
’me
A n’maybe we didn
’t live happy for years,
I n spite of my brothers’and sisters
’
sneers,
W ho often said, as I have heard,
T hat theywouldn’t own a prison
-bird
(T hough they’regettin
’over that, I guess,
For all of’em owe me more or less)
B ut I’ve learned one thing ; an
’ it cheers 3. man
I n always a-doin
’the best he can ;
T hat whether on the b igbook , a blotGets over afellow’
s name or not,
Whenever he does ad eed that’s white,I t ’s credited to him fair and right.
A n’when you hear the great bugle
’s notes,
A n’the Lord divides his Sheep and goats ;
H owever they may settle my case,
Wherever theymayfix my place,My good old Christian mother, you
’ll see,
W ill be sure to stand right up for me,
With over tlze I n? ! from thepoor-lim e !
58 T H E S PANKO GR A PH .
it must have been longago. Now,
”she continued
,
I love genius and am an appreciator of any ad
vancement that will help us poor women to make our
work lighter. Now,Mister R obbin ’
s Show is agreat institution
, but, young man, just think of it ! Wouldn ’t
it be much n icer to have a Spankograph put on in the
regular way, an’the music turned on to keep time , and
receive your forty or fifty spanks, than in the old fash
ioned way when your ma used to take off her S lipperD on’
t you think it would be nicer and easier for all theparties in the play R eally, madam,
I think you are
right ; I’ll ask D on’
t ask any one. D o it yourselfGet up one with not too stronga spring Madam
,
said D oc ,”
you are givingme taffy H owdare you,sir, talk tafi
'
y with such a serious subject l Young man,listen to me
,let me give you some advice . S top part
ing your hair in the middle ; don’
t wax your moustache,stop lying to people, an
’tellin ’
em that thegiant is’leven
feet high, an’
the Great B urmese A nacondy is fifty feetlong ; take that wig off of that gal that you
’re sweet on
,
an’stop her playin
’C ircassian break the lookin’
glass
that’s under the table where the man cuts his head off
stop fl ippin’a guy, and get down to honest business.
Grab this new idea of a spankograph, develope it, it’
s
a bonanza, and when you have a mode l ready, let meknow. A s an agent I
’m a dandy ; good day.
B ANT Y T IM. 59
B ANT Y T IM
R EMA RKS O F S E R GE A NT T I LMO N JO Y T O T H E W H I T E
MAN’
S CO MMI T TE E O F SP U NKY P O INT , I LLINO I S .
I R ECKO N I git your drift, gents
You’low the boy shan
’
t s tay ;
T his is a whiteman’
s country ;
You’re D imocrats , you say ;
A nd whereas,and seein
’
, and wherefore,T he times bein all out o
’
j’nt,
T he nigger has got to mosey
F rom the limits 0’Spunky P
’int i
Le’s reason the thing a m inute ;
I’
m an o ld-fashioned D imocrat too,
T hough I laid my pol itics out o’the way
For to keep till the war was through.
B ut I come back here, allowin’
T o vote as I used to do,
T hough it gravels me like the devil to train
A long o’sich fools as you.
Now, dog my cats ef I kin see,
I n all the light of the day,
What you’ve got to do with the question
E f T im shall go or stay.
A nd furder than that I give notice,
E f one of you tetches the boy,
H e kin check his trunks to a warmer clime
T han he’ll find in I llanoy.
Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me !You know that ungodly day
When our left struck Vicksburg H eights, how ripped
A nd torn and tattered we lay?
B ANT Y T IM.
When the rest retreated I staid behind,Fur reasons sufficient to me
W ith a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike,
I sprawled on that cursed glacee.
Lord ! how the hot sun went for us,
A nd br’iled and blistered and burned ;H ow the rebel bullets whizzed round us
When a cuss in his death-
grip turned !
T ill along toward dusk I seen a thingI couldn
't believe for a spell
T hat nigger— that T im— was a-crawlin’
to me
T hrough that fire-
proof, gilt-edged hell !
T he rebels seen him as quick as me,
A nd the bullets buzzed like bees ;B ut he jumped for me, and shouldered me,
T hough a shot brought him once to his knees ;
B ut he staggered up, and packed me off,
With a. dozen stumbles and falls,T ill safe in our lines he drapped us both,H is black hide riddled with balls.
S o, mygentle gazelles, thar’s my answer,
A nd here stays Banty T im
H e trumped D eath’s ace for me that day,
A nd I’m not goin
’ back on him I
You may rezoloot till the cows come home,B ut ef one of you tetches the boy,
H e’ l l wrastle his hash to-night in hell,
O r my name’
s not T ilmonJoy
job : H ay.
SAGE B R U SH T O NI C . O I
S A GE B R U S H T ONI C.
WE have a scheme on hand which we believe will be
even more remunerative than the newspaper business
if successfully carried out . I t is to construct a national
remedy and joy-to-the-world tonic,composed of the
carefully expressed juice of our R ockyMountain tropical herb known as the sage brush. Sage brush is
known to possess wonderful medicinal properties. I t
is bitter enough to act as a tonic and to convey theidea of great strength. O ur idea would be to have ourportrait on each bottle to attract attention and aid in
effecting a cure. We have noticed that the home liestmen succeed best as patent medicine inventors, andthis would be right in our hand . T he tonic could beerected at the expense of three cents per bottle delivered on the cars here, and after we got fairly to going,we m ight probably reduce even that price . A t one
dollar per bottle we could realize a living profit, andstill do mankind a favor, and turn loose a boon to suf
fet ing humanity. I t will make the hair grow as everyone knows, and it will stir up a torpid liver equally as
well. I t just loves to get after anything that is dor
mant . I t m ight he lp the democratic party if it had a
chance .
O ur plan would be to advertise liberally, for weknow the advantages of judic ious advertising. O nly
last week,a man on S outh C S treet had three cows to
sell, which fact he set forth in this paper at the usual
rates . B efore he went'
to bed that even ing, the cowswere sold, and people were filing in the fron t gate like
62 SAGE B R U SH T ONI C .
a rowof men at the general delivery of the P ost O ffice.T he next morning a large mob of people was foundcamped out in front of the house, and the railroad was
giving excursion rates to those who wanted to come infrom the country to buy these cows that had been sold
the day before . We just quote this to Show how ad
vertising stirs the m ighty deep and wakes people up.
We would make propositions to our brethren of the
P ress by which they could make some money out of
the“ad
,
”too, instead of telling them to put it in the
middle O f the telegraph page, surrounded by pure read
ing matter, daily and weekly till forbid, and pay when
we got ready. P ublishers will find that we are not that
kind of people . We shall aim to do the square thing,
and will throw in an electrotype, showing us just dis
covering the sage brush, and exclaiming E ureka !
while we prance around like a Zulu on the war-path.
U nderneath this we will write,“ Yours for health,
”or
words to that effect, and everything will be pleasant
and n ice .
T he Sage B rush T onic will be made of two
grades. O ne will be for prohib ition states, and the
other for states where prohibition is not in general use.
T he P rohibition T onic will contain— in addition to the
sage brush— a small amount of tansy and Jamaica gin
ger to give it a bead and prevent it from fermenting.
A trial bottle will be sent to the subscribers of this
book,also a fitting little poem to be read at the funet
als. We will also publish a death notice of those usingthe ton ic at one-half rates — B ill Me.
T H E A CT O R S’
F UND .
TH E A CT O R S’F UND .
A B ENE F I T , eh ? T his beggingF or the A ctors
’ Fund makes one sick.
I’m on the Square, without a job,
A t Chris tmas-time so I kick.
W ho runs the snap ? T he managers ?’Twon’
t last ;’tis a played
-out thing.
I f you want a dime from that concern,
You must be in the R ing.
Sweet Charity, eh ! T his dodger
Fools the public , boy— mark we wellT here
’ll come a time when al l the P ros.
W ill sadly say, I t’
s a sell .
I know the trick. I’m on the stage
For years. What a bitter stingI t would be for me to have to ask
A ssis tence from the R ing !
My business , eh ? F irst old man.
I ’ve not advanced, boy. P lease to pause
I will explain just why’tis thus
My talent’s crushed. T hat
’
s the cause.
A nd these same men, the managers,
O ur friends 1 H ow they fling and swing,While the professionmust play to pleaseT hese gentry in the R ing.
Carpenter, eh ! S cene-shifters
I n Meir duties , boy, there’s no art .
T hey build up the sets and push the
B ut in the play take no part.
A ll members ! A h, it’s distressing
T o bow— I,who played the King
T o Forest’
s H amlet, oh ! long ago ,
B efore there was a R ing.
JIM BLU D SO .
Joe H ilison, ah ! I n D enver
Left an invalid on his back“
.
O h,’twas hard l ines to leave the lad,
B ut money talks. T imes are slack.
Now there’s a case for this great Fund.
T el l them— me ! Well, I should singr
No, no , my boy ; there’
s too much red tape,
A nd I’m not in the R ing.
A funeral comes. I declare,
T here’s our leading man in a coach !
Who can be dead ? A h, don’t you know?
No, not at al l. Come, approach.
Who is it, T om A las, poorJoe ?H e
’s gone. T hose whom you have shunned
Will lay him gently in his grave.
Joe’s cared for by the Fund !
l B L U D S O .
WALL, no I can’t tell where he lives,
B ecause he don’t l ive, you see
Leastways, he’s got out of the habit
O f livin’like you and me.
Whar have you been for the last three years,T hat you haven
’t heard folks tel !
H ow Jimmy B ludso passed in his checks,T he night of the P rairie B elle
H e warn’t no saint— them engineers
I s all prettymuch alike
O ne wife in Narchez-under-the-H ill,A nd another one here, in P ike.
A careless man in his talk was Jim,
And an awkward man in a row
66 T H E YO U T H FR O M CH I CAGO .
H e warn’t no saint— but at judgment
I ’d run my chance withJim’Longside of some pious gentlemen
T hat wouldn’t shook hands with him .
H e’d seen his duty a dead sure thing,A nd went for it thar and then
A nd Christ ain’t a-going to be too hard
O n aman that died for men.
TH E YO U TH FR OM CH I CA GO .
H e visits Laramie C ity for the benefit of his health.
I N my capaci ty of Justice of the P eace and generalwholesale and retail dealer in fresh, new-laid equityand even-handed justice , I often meet with those whohave seen better days, and who
, through the everchanging fortunes of the West, have fallen lower and
lower in the social scale , until they stand up and are
assessed as common drunks, or vags, or assault
and batteries, with that natural and easy grace whichcomes only to those who have been before the publicin that capacity so numerously that it has ceased to indicate itself by the usual embarrassment of the am
ateur.
P erhaps no surging sen timents of pity have stirredmy very soul during my official career, like those that
throbbed wildly athwart my system a few days ago.
I t was the case of a most bitter disappointment of
young life . A youth from Chicago came to me nea
the close of day. I was just about to lock up the judcial scales for the evening, and secure the doors of ti
T H E YO U T H FR O M CH I CA GO . 67
archives, preparatory to going out and shaking the
Mayor for a lemonade , after which I in tended to
breathe in a little fresh atmosphere and go home todinner.
I t had been a hard day in the temple of justice thatday, and the Court was weary.
I t had dealt out even-handed justice at regular ratessince early morning, at so much per deal, till fatiguewas beginning to Show itself in the lines upon the
broad, white brow.
T herefore , when a halting step was heard on the
stair, there was a low murmur on the part of the Court,and a half-surprised moan that sounded like the tail
end of an affidavit.
T he young man who entered the hallowed presence
of e ternal justice, and the all-pervading and dazzling
beauty of the Court in its shirt sleeves, was of aboutmedium stature, with shoes cut tic/collate; and R oman
striped socks clocked with brocaded straw-colored S ilk.
H e wore an écru colored straw hat, with navy-blue
brocaded band, and necktie of old gold, with polka-dotsof humberta and cardinal, interspersed with embroi
dered horseshoe and stirrup in ooudzer do said ! and ul
tramarine. H is hair was dark and oleaginous, and hisshirt was cream-colored ground, with narrow
,baby blue
stripes,cutaway collar, and cuffs that extended out
into space .
H e also had some other clothes on.
B ut over all, and pervading the entire man , was thelook of hopelessness and corroding grief. With all his
good clothes on , he was a hollowmockery, for his eyeswere heavywith woe.
T H E YO U T H FR O M CH I CAGO .
T he nose also was heavy with woe.
T his feature , in fact, was more appropriately drapedin token of its sadness than any of the rest . Few
noses are so expressive of a general and incurable
gloom as this one was. I t had evidently at one timebeen a glad, j oyous , and buoyant nose, but now it was
despondent and low-spirited.
T here was a look of goneness and utter desolationabout it that would stir the better impulses of the mostheartless.
T he feature had evidently tried to centralize itself,but had failed. H ere and there narrow strips of courtplaster had gone out after it and tried to win it back
,
but they had not succeeded.
I said,“Mister, there seems to be a panic among
your nose . I t’s none of my business, of course, but
couldn ’
t you get a brass band and call it together ?T hen you could hold a meeting and decide whether ithad better resume or not.”
T he gentleman from Chicago went through the mo
tions of wiping the wide waste and howling desolationwhere his once joyous nose had been ; and then , putting away the plum-colored silk handkerchief with the
orange border, he said
S quire,I
'
have been grossly deceived. You see
me,the victim of a base misrepresentation . Chicago
at this season of the year is extremely unhealthy.
T he intense hot weather carries away both rich and
poor, and spares not the innocent and the good, and Ifeared that my turn would come soon.
I heard of the salubrious clime of your mountaircity, where the days are filled with gladness and the
T H E YO U T H F R O M CH I CA GO . 69
burning heat and the deadly miasmas of the m ighty
c ity by the inland sea never come .
I came here two brief days ago, and you can see
with the naked eye what the result has been .
I t is not gratifying. T he c limate may in the ah
stract be all right, but there are certain sudden and
wonderful atmospheric changes that I cannot accountfor
,and they are very disastrous.
I was S itting in a S econd-street saloon to-day, talk
ing about matters and things, when the conversation
turned on physical strength. O ne thing led to another,and final ly I made a little humorous remark to a youngman there , which remark I have made in Chicago manytimes without disastrous results, but the air clouded upall of a sudden , and in the darkness I could see R oman
candles going O ff,and pin
-wheels and high-priced rockets and blue-lights, etc .
Shortly after that I gathered up what fragments of
my face I could find, and went down sorrowfully to thedoctor
’
s ofli ce.
H e held an inquest on my nose, and I paid for it.I shall go back to Chicago to-morrow. I shall not
be as handsome as I was, but I have gained a gooddeal of information about the broad and beautiful Wes twhich is priceless in value to me.
A ll I wished to saywas this : I fyou see fit to men
tion this matter to the public , tone it down as much as
possible,and say that for a bilious, nervous tempera
ment,perhaps the air here is too bracing.
I have considered his sensitive feelings, and have
tried to give the above account in fair and impartial
terms — B ill I i e.
70 LI T TLE ME G AND I .
L I T TLE ME G A ND I .
YO U ask me, mates, to Spin a yarn before wego below ;Well, as the night is calm and fair, and no chance for a blow,
I’ll give you one, a story as true as ever yet was told ;
For, mates, I wouldn’t lie about the dead ; no, not for gold.
T he story’
s of a maid and lad, who loved in days gone byT he maiden was Meg A nderson, the lad, messmates, was I .
A neater, trimmer craft than Meg was very hard to find ;Why, she could climb a hill and make five knots agin the wind ;A nd as for larnin, hulks and spars ! I
’ve often heard it said
T hat she could give the scholars points and then come'
out
ahead
T he o ld school-master used to say, and, mates, it made me cry,
T hat the smartest there was l ittle Meg, the greatest dunce was I .
B ut what cared I for larnin then, while shewas bymy side'
;
For tho’a lad, I loved her, mates, and for her would have died ;
A nd she loved me, the little lass, and often have I sm iled
When she said, I’
ll be your l itt le wife— ’
twas the prattle of a
child ;
For there lay a gulf between us, mates, wi th the waters runninghigh,
O n one side stood Meg A nderson, on the other side stood I .
Meg’s fortune was twelve ships at sea, and houses on the land,
Whi le m ine— why, mates, you m ight have held my fortune in yourhand ;
H er father owned a vast domain , for miles along the shore ;
My father owned a fishing smack, a hut and nothingmore.
I knew that Meg I ne’er could win, no matter how I
’d try,
For on a couch of down lay she, on a bed of straw lay I .
I never thought of leavingMeg, orMeg of leaving me,
For we were young, and never dreamed that I should go to sea,’T ill one bright morning father said, T here
’s a whale ship in
the bay,
I want you, B ill, to make a cruise ; you go aboard to—day.
LI T T LE ME G AND I . 7 I
Well, mates, in two weeks from that time I bade them all good
bye,
While on the dock stood littleMeg, and on the deck stood I .
I saw her oft before we sailed when ere I came on shore,
A nd she would say,“ B ill, when you
’re gone I
’ll love you more
and more,
A nd I’ll promise to be true to you through all the coming
years ;
B ut while she spoke her bright blue eyes would fill with pearlytears ;
T hen as I whispered words of hope and kissed her eyel ids dry,
H er las t words were,“God speed you, B ill l
”so part ed Meg
and I .
Well , mates, we cruised for four long years, til! at las t one sum
mer day
O ur good ship, the Minerva, cast anchor in the bayO h ! how my heart beat high with hope as I saw her home once
more,
A nd on the pier stood hundreds to welcome us ashore ;
B ut heart sank down within me as I gazed with anxious eye
N0 l ittle Meg stood on the dock as on the deck stood 1.
W hy, mates, it nearly broke my heart when I went ashore that
day,
F or they told me littleMeg had wed while I was far away ;T hey told me, too, they forced her to
’t, and wrecked her fair
young life ;
Just think, messmates, a child in years to be an old man’s wife
B ut her father said it must be so, and what could she reply,
For she was only just sixteen , just twenty-one was I .
Well, mates, a few short years from then— perhaps it might be
O ne blustering night Jack Glynn and I were rowing to the shore,
When right ahead we saw a s ight that made us hold our breath,T here floating in the pale moonlight was a woman cold in death
I raised her up— A h ! God, messmates, that I had passed her by,
For in the bay lay l ittle Meg, and over her stood I .
V
72 B E TWE EN T H E A CT S .
Next day I laid poor Meg away ; and nightly on the wave
My spirit wanders forth to keep a watch beside her grave ;H er father knows not where she lies, nor he who her betrayed,
T here’s no one but B ill who knows where l ittle Meg is laid ;
I n a quiet grove of willows, her father’s house hard by,
T here sleeps in peace my l ittle Meg, and here, messmates, am I .
B E T WE E N TH E A CT S .
NOW , Nettie, the rouge ! Just a touch on this check.
D oes my dress set behind without trailing?My bangs don
’t quite suit. I ought to look meek.
T oo fluffy— that
’s always their failing.
T here, the music has stopped. T hey’
ve called S econd
A nd I don’
t want to get a berating.
D o I speak the first lines ? S o I do ; that’s a fact.
I hO pe I’
ve not kept the stage waiting.
What, Charlie ! You here ? Move out of my way.
I go on at first entrance, you know.
O h, quit that ! Your fooling will ruin the play.
Now, there is my cue ! Let me go !
I don’t know what right you have there at all ,
I’m tired to death of your prating.
Well, step on one s ide— take care of my shawl,
A full m inute I’ve kept the stage waiting.
Yes, give me my shawl . D on’t spoil my bouquet.
What ? A card ? S O there is , I declare.
H e’s there ev
’ry n ight
— first row in parquette.
You’ll thrash him ? Yes, do if you dare !
Why, Charl ie, you goose, he’
s only a dude,
You don’t think with lzz
’
m I’d be mating
Well, if you are jealous, you needn’
t be rude.
T hird act ! I can’t keep the stage waiting.
74 A CH I NAMAN O N A B R O NCO .
(as Zeb carelessly tossed the saddle across the medita
tive bronco) his Mongolian physiognomy was irradi
ated with a broad grin as he remarked (while the bronco humped his back in order to secure the right length
of sinch to enable him to crawl, ophidian like,from
under the saddle at the most opportune moment)P oor blonco belly klind ?
” “ O h, yaas, respondedZeb knotting the sinch,
“ he’s a regular Christian, he
is. Zeb winked knowingly at the bystanders as he
knotted the curb-rein,and then turning to the Celestial
suavely inquired,“ R eady ?
”A lle leady, responded
H op, as, gathering up the reins,he placed one wooden
soled sabot safe ly within the Mexican stirrup, and Zeb
left him ( the Chinaman , not the bronco) to his fate .
T he Mongolian tightened the rein,and settling him
self squarely in the saddle, caressingly patted the
bronco’
s neck with his right hand, murmured softly,Git lup, go lon hlossy. T he bronco stepped off
quietly, the Chinaman grinned with de light, and thentouched the bronco ’
s flank with his left heel , Sayi ng
confidentially,“ A lle light .
”But, alas ! it was all
wrong, for the bronco performed a sideways chassez
movement ( like a crab trying locomotion on a sand bar),and then suddenly rising in the air, he described a
semi-circle, and throwinghis hind and fore-feet togetherwith a click, he landed upon his toes only to rise higheragain in the air. I t was first bronco, then Chinaman,then horse-shoes versus wooden shoes . T he Chinaman
squealed, the bronco doubled and bucked, until withone m ighty effort the bronco slipped through the
sinch. T he Chinaman performed an aerial voyagetoward the clouds, and the bronco trotted off, leaving
MCGI NT Y’
S H O R SE . 75
the saddle on the ridge-pole of T om Kane’s tent.
Careful and“
willing hands lifted the Celestial from the
roof of the blacksmith’
s shop, and planted him beneath
a pignon tree in the gulch, while the grazing broncolooked at the cortege with a knowingwink that seemedto say,
“ T he Chinese must go .
N.B . T he casket cost seven dollars.
McGI NT Y’S H O R SE .
MCG INT Y owned a thoroughbred, an’T iger was his name
H e was a noble animal , although unknown to fame ;H is color was a strongmaroon , an
’tho
’very fond of play,
You could tie him to a bag of oats, an’he
’d never run away.
McGinty’
s faithful hoss .
T ho’not a thing of beauty, still he play
’d a noble part ;H is m isfit hide could not conceal his kidneys and his heart.
H e was very fond of music, and at night whin all was still,
H e’d drive the neighbors from their beds with his high melodiousthrill .
McGinty’s operatic hoss .
Curiositywas his weakest point ,’twas by it he was led astray
H e ate the lock off the stable door one fatal summer day ;H e wandhered proudly thro
’the streets , ti ll exactly two o
’clock
Whin he halted fornist a vacant lot, where a gang was blastingrock.
McGinty’s inquisitive stallion.
From a point of observation, he watched thim charge the hole,
A nd to find out full particulars was the thought that mov’d his
souL
76 CR A ZY QU I LT A RCH I T E CT U R E .
H e seen thim light the fuse an’run , with footsteps quick and fast ;
H e canthered o’er the rocky ground, and set down upon the blast .
McGinty’
s deluded trotter.
T he rockmen saw the noble baste, but to save him’twas too late ;
T hey said a pray’
r for the boss’s soul, an
’thin left him to his
fate.
T hey saw him calmly watch the fuse as it sputter’
d an’ flashed
along,
T hen the blast wint O E whin the smoke had cleared
McGinty’
s boss was gone.
e s it it a at at at it at
H is liver they found hung on a tree, his lung upon a roof,
H is kidneys they kem back by mail— they never found a hoof.
T he stable’s hung in mourning, we sorely grieve his loss,
H is likes we’ll never see again, McGinty
’s noble hoss .
jar. Cavanag/z.
CR AZ y Q07 12T A R CH I TE CT U R E .
I T may be premature, perhaps, but I desire to sug
gest to any one who may be contemplating the erection
of a summer residence for me, as a slight testimonial
of his high regard for my sterling worth and symmetri
cal escutcheon— a testimonial more suggestive of earn
est admiration and warm personal friendship than of
great intrin sic value,etc .
— that I hope he will not
construct it on the modern plan of mental hallucination
and morbid delirium tremens peculiar to recent archi
tecture .
O f course a man ought not to look a gift house inthe gable end
,but if my friends don
’
t know me any
better than to build me a summer house,and throw in
CR A ZY QU I LT A R CH I T E CT U R E . 77
odd windows that nobody else wanted, and then daubit up with colors they have bought at auction , and
applied to the house after dark with a shotgun , I thinkit is time that we had a better understanding.
Such a structure does not come within e ither of
the three classes of R enaissance . I t is neither F lorentine, R oman nor Venetian . A ny man can originate aS tyle of architecture if he will drink the right kind of
whiskey long enough, and then describe his feelings toan amanuensis . I magine the sensation that one of
these modern, sawed-off cottages would create a hundred years from now,
if it should survive. B ut that is
impossible . T he only cheering feature of the wholematter is that these creatures of disordered imaginationmust soon pass away, and the bright sunlight of hard
horse-sense shine through the shattered dormers and
gables of gnawed-off architecture of the average summer resort. A friend of m ine , a few days ago , showedme his new house with much pride . H e asked mewhat I thought of it. I told him I liked it first rate.
T hen I went home and wept all night. I t was myfirst
falsehood.
T he house taken as a whole looked to me like askating rink that had started out to make monev and
then suddenly changed its m ind and resolved to be
come a tannery. T hen ten feet higher it had lost all
self-respect and blossomed into a full-blown “ drunk
and disorderly, surmounted by the smoke stack of a
foundry, and with the bright future of thirty days
ahead with the chain gang. T hat’
s the way it looked
to me.
T he roofs were made of little odds and ends of
78 CRAZY QU I LT A R CH I T E CT U R E .
m isfit rafters and d istorted shingles that somebody hadpurchased at sheriff’s sale, and the rooms and stairs
were giddy in the extreme . I went in and rambledaround among the cross-eyed staircases and othern ightmares till reason tottered on her throne. T hen I
came out and stood on the architectural wart calledthe side porch to get fresh air. T his porch was
painted a dull red, and it had wooden rosettes at the
corners that looked like a brand new carbuncle on thenose of a social wreck. Farther up on the memoralizedlumber pile I saw now and then places where theworkman ’
s mind had wandered, and he had nailed on
his clapboards wrong side up, and then painted themwith the P aris green that he had intended to use on
something else. I t was an odd looking structureindeed . I f my friend got all the materials for nothingfrom people who had fragments of paint and lumberleft over after they had failed, and then if theworkmenconstructed it nights for mental relaxation and intellectual repose, without charge, of course the schemewas a financial success, but architecturally the house isa gross violation of the statutes in such cases madeand provided, and against the peace and dignity of theS tate .
T here is a look of extreme poverty about the structure which a man m ight struggle for years to acquireand then fail . No one could look upon it without feeling a heartache for the man who built that house, and
probably struggled on year after year, building a knobhere, and a protuberance there, putting in a three cor~
nered window at one point and a yellow tile or a wadof broken glass or other debris at another, patiently fill
CRAZY QU I LT A RCH I T E CT U R E . 79
ing in around the ranch with any old rubbish that
other people had go t through with, and painting it as
he went along, taking what was left in the bo ttom of
the pot after his neighbors had painted their bob sleds
or their tree boxes- little favors, thankfully received
and then surmounting the whole pile with a potpourri
of roof, agrand farewell incubus of bumps and hollows
for the rain to wander through and seek out the differ
ent cells where the lunatics live who inhabit it.“ I did tell my friend of one thing that I thought
would improve the looks of his house. H e asked me
eagerlywhat it could be. I said it would take a man
of great courage to do it for him . H e said he didn’t
care for that. H e would do it himself. I f it onlyneeded one thing, he would never rest until he had it,whatever that might be. T hen I told him that if he
had a friend— one that he could trust— who would stealin there some night when the family were away, and
scratch a match on the leg of his breeches, or on thebreeches of any other gentleman that was present, and
hold it where it would ignite the alleged house, and
then remain to see that the F ire D epartment did not
meddle with it, he would confer a great favor on one
who would cheerfully retaliate in kind at call. — E z'
ll
80 AN A D VO CA T E O F E CO NO MY .
AN A D VO CA TE O F E CON OMY.
D uring one of the meetings of the B oard of A ldermen under the T weed administration
, the representative of a portion of one of the North-end wards arose,and was recognized by the president as Mr. O
’
D ay.
Mr. P resident, began Mr. O’
D ay, I have latelybeen thravelling in E urope
, and during my peregrinations I visited the noble c ity of Vanice
, the queen, sir,av the A driatic ; the scene
,Mr. P resident, of Mr.
Shakespeare ’
s noble production, T he Merchant of
Vanice,the remarkable city av dungeons and palaces.
S ir,I was particularly sthruck wid some of the features
of Vanation life. I n iver in me loife beheld anything
like the gondolas aV Vanice . T hey are beautiful.Well
,I thought, being an A merikin c itizen , that I would
give the benefit av me observations abroad to me na
tive city on me rethurn ,and I made a study of the gon
dolas fur that purpose . S ir, after much consideration,
I have come to the conclusion that the gondolas wudbe a pleasant picture in our Central P ark. T he chil
dren wud be delighted wid’em
,and they are not dan
gerons at all . T herefore, sir, I move you that twin ty-fiVe
gondolas be imported to beautify and adorn our noble
plisure resort . Mr. O’
D ay sat down, upon which an
other member of the Council arose . H e was recognized
by the president as Mr. O’
shay.
Mr. P risident, began Mr. O’shay, I have listened
wid great attention to the very instructive and intilli
gent remarks of me friend from the North-end ward,
82 NO O P ENING— WR I T E A GA I N.
So while you break the seals and read,
I’
ll write this ad.
”up here.
I wish that biz. would pull up a bit,
For things look devilish queer.
T here was poorJim R hodes, the heavyman,
H e was in here twice last night ;
B ut that piece ain’t on at the S tandard
I f it was, he’d be all right.
A nd there’s La D ieux, she
’s been here too ;
I t’s tough with her, poor soul
A n invalid mother at home to nurse,
A nd no wealth to get food or coal .
T hreatrical agencies are no good.
Why ! two or three years ago,
When I went in the biz. graft was immense,
But it’s different now, you know.
I’ve got more people booked, my boy,T han could play aweek in a year,
A nd fill each m insn'
el hall and
E ach variety theatre here.
What ! kicking again ? Well, what’s up now ?
Bad news— I see it plain.
F rom S helby, eh, and S tetson, too.
No opening— write again .
’
T he same old story, you say. O h, pshawl
S ee here, what would you doI f you had awife and kids to feed
A nd no snap for amonth or N o ?
Why, bless you, I knew a poor fellow once,
I t was only a year or two
Just give me a light while I fill the old pipe,
A nd I’ll tell the story for you.
T here’s nothing doing at all to-day,
S O we’l l just chat awhile,
A nd then we’ll take a skip down town
A nd indulge in a friendly smile.
NO O P E NI NG— WR I T E A GA I N.
I t was only a year or two ago,
A s I have said before,When T ony was on the B owery,
A nd Karl Klein, he kept next door ;While P oole was down at the Comique,
A nd things with us were fair,
I was sitting, one morning early,
R ight here in this very chair,
When a fellow I knew—an actor, too,
Not one who deals in cheek,
O r one of those T alma’d R omeos
For six and a half per week,
B ut a scholar and a gentleman
Came in at that very door,
W ith a woe-begone and weary lookI never saw before.
Why, what’s the matter, George I said,
For I noticed, right away,
T hat something had gone wrongwith him
You’re looking glum to-day ;
Wife and the kids all well, I hope.
H e smiled a ghastly sm ile,
B ut I noticed a sharp twitchingO f the under lip the while.
Come in, old man , come in,” I said ;
I’ve half an hour to spare,
I want to chat about the timesB e seated— have a chair.
T he postman will be in here soon ;
H is calls of late, it seems,
A re like Pat R ooney’
s serial tales,
Quite ‘few and far between.
’
What’s that ? ’Twas Campbell wrote that line ?
B ut then, of course, you know
T hat plagiarists are cheeky chaps
A t least I find them so ;
NO O P E NI NG— WR I T E A GA I N.
O riginals are not so thick
Just at this very timeA s Beautiful Snows, authors, or
T he poets who wrote Crime.
H e studied and then asked me
I f I ’d anything to do
For him .
” H e hadn’t worked a tap
For near a month or two .
A nd when he spoke of the folks at home,
I pledge my word to you
I t kind of made me weaken.
B ut what was I to do ?
I told him to drop in again
I n perhaps a day or so,
A nd something might turn up— of course
T o brace him up, you know.
B ut I noticed something curious
I n the look of his bright eye,A nd when I said good
-afternoon ,
H e answered me, Good-by.
When he’d gone out I turned my thoughts
T o business right away,I had some correspondence
With customers that day.
B ut somehow- it’
s d— d funny,
I scarce can tell you why
I nstead of ending with T ruly Yours,
I’d wind up with Good-by.
”
D id you ever have a feeling
T hat things wasn’t just in place,
A kind of idea that your
Nut had got off its cabaseWell , so it was with me that day,
No matter how I ’d try
T o keep from thinking how George lookedWhen he said to me, Good ~by.
NO O P E NING— WR I T E AGA I N.
I t was no use— I piked”around,
I couldn’t do a thing
I couldn’t read, I couldn
’t write,
I couldn’t talk or S ing.
80 I put on my hat and coat, andS aid I to myself,
I’ll go
’cross town and hunt George
A nd I’ll spare him a little wealth.
Now B rother D e Witt T almage said that
A ctors never could
S neak in at the gate of heaven
O r do a b it of good .
B ut D e Witt, he ain’t acquainted yet,
F or I know some of the boysW ho do a good thing once in awhile
A nd don’t make any noise.
B ut that’s nothing to my story and
D e Witt is not my style ;You let him alone and he
’ll come home,
I reckon , after awhile.
I f he don’t— why, I Shan
’t worry, for he
Would not go in
T o the little Church round the corner,
I f you or I cashed I n .
Well, to proceed : I went’cross town, to
A place perhaps you know,
A tenement house in Chrystie S treet,
I n a place called Lovers’R ow.
I climbed up three long flights of stairs,
A nd at last I reached the door,
A nd I knocked, with a dread feeling
I had never felt before.
I knocked again , no answer came,
I listened— all was still,
A nd over my whole being there creptA deathly chill.
86 NO O P E NI NG— WR I T E A GA IN.
I called aloud— the neighbors cameW e bursted in the door ;W e entered, and the man I sought
W as kneel ing on the floor.
H is wife and little children were
S tretched upon the bed,
A nd close beside their wasted formsT his actor kneeling
— dead .
D ead of a broken heart, becauseT hat wife and little babesH ad starved in this great city,
With no friendly hand to aid.
D ead of a broken heart —good God !
Can such things ever be,
I n this great heaving, throbbingworld,A nd no one there to see ?
T hey say, old man, that there is O ne
W ho notes the sparrow’s fall,
Whose loving eye is ever on the
S inner, saint and all.
T here was a postal card beside himI stooped and picked it up.
I t told the old, old story
I t had overrun the cup ;
For on one side I read the actor’s
R esidence and name,
A nd on the other were these words,
No opening—write again.
”
A little ray of sunshine stole
A thwart the attic floor,Lighting the tear
-stained faces of
T he neighbors round the door,Gilding the silken tresses of theLittle folks he loved,
A like unto amessenger from
T hat bright home above.
NE U T R A LI A . 87
T hey’d gone away from us, old man,
U p to that good old home,
U p to the O ne who bade usS uffer little ones to come ;
T o that bright land where there’s no more
O f sorrow, care and pain,
T o a manager who never said,
No O pening— write again.
NE U TR A LI A
O R , LO VE , P H I LO S O P H Y, AND WA R , BY I R O NQU I LL,
VI CT IM,WH O R I S E S T O EXPLA IN.
WH EN some people write a novel
T hey begin it with a motto,B ut as I am not compelled to,
I suppose I hadn’t ought to.
Let me say, the war broke out
A nd I went for a commission,
A nd I dragged credentials forward
With most elegant precision.
Well, I got a good position
O n the staff of Gen . S kububs,
S o I went and bought a quantityO fm il itary flubobs ;
F irst, a little gilt-edged sabre,
With its bright metallic flashes,T hen a lot of fancy buttons,Gilded shoulder-straps and sashes.
A m il itary cap, with gold lace
U pon its borders,A nd I signed By order of
T o al l his m ilitary orders.
NE U T RA LI A .
Now, I’l l bet you half a dollar
T here is nothing now can charm ye
Like a place upon the staff
O f the man that runs the army ;
For they honor gilded buttons,I t makes no difference where they find
B ut they seldom see the soldier
T hat is standing up behind them .
A nd the thing the world calls rank,
W hy, it’s nothing more than gilding
Like the palaces of fairies,
Just a m istV sort of building.
Go and get a third-class drayman,
S tupid, awkward as a camel ;
I can wrap him up in purple,
I can dope him with enamel,
A nd I ’ll call this man a king ;
A nd I ’ ll plant him in a palace,
A nd peg some courtiers round him
D ressed conspicuously gallus.
A nd I’ll gamble off my hat
T hat as certain as I try it,
A s sure as I infest him
With a potent royal fiat,A l l the world will rush to honor him
I n one convulsive riot.
A s regards these sage remarks,
I t is verV consequential
T hat you keep them to yourselves,
For I got them confidential.
A nd as soon as I had heard them ,
O ff I wen t and bought a sabreA nd resolved to go for glory
O n somebody else’s labor.
NE U T R A LI A .
B ut with many happy moments
My oflicial stay was flavored,A nd I found myself a guest
E ven more than honored— favored.
Soon there came a grand old roiree,
A nd the c ity all attended ;
A nd the hall was hungwith flowersA nd decorations Splendid,
And the chandeliers were draped
With a tissue gauze that sent It
S ort of sifted light, suffused
With a del icate majenta.
A nd the splendid jewels glistened,A nd the ribbons and the laces
I n the tinted l ight were floatingLike the drapery of Graces ;
A nd the rich brocaded textures,With their rash, peculiar rustle,
R oared a ceaseless, so lemn bass
T o the all-pervading bustle.
R ound the room the ladies floatedI n their moire antique and satin ,
While the boys (behind large smi les),B owed to this
’nu and to that
’nu ;
A nd the floor was full ofwaltzers,
A nd the air with laughter laden,
Whi le the orchestra it moaned
Like a broken-hearted maiden.
A nd it moaned, and sobbed, and shrieked,
I n a wail for human folly,
While the fiddlers chewed tobaccoA nd looked very solemncholly,
A nd above the caller’s call ing,
A nd the wild tempes tuous chatter,
R ose the grand, combined results
O f the aggregated clatter.
NE U T RA LI A .
I t was just about this momentT hat I made a sudden entree,
A nd I added to the list
O f the dithyrambic gentryA nd hardly had the time
T o appreciate it fully,
When a chap I didn’t know
Said the thing was m ighty bully.
T hen I asked him who he was ,
A nd I frowned upon the creature,
A nd he said his name was B oggs
A nd his father was a preacher
A nd he asked me then who I was,
A nd I said I was an aide
Camp upon old Skubub ’s staff ;
T hen he said there was a lady
H e would like to have me dance with
Wel l, I told him I was will ing,
B ut I really thought I needed
S ome prelim inary drill ing ;
B ut he said it made no difference,
A nd he knew that I would answer,
For the lady he would show me
Was a very charming dancer ;
A nd she’d Show me through the changes
I f I needed the instruction
T hen I told him to propel
With the threatened introduction.
Now my backwardness was stuff,F or I had a certain notion
T hat I was all hunkey dorey
O n the poetry of motion
B ut the worst of nature’s phases
Yes , the funniest and oddest
When a man with frightful cheek
Makes an effort to be modest.
NE U T RA LI A .
I took the introduction
B oggs said her name was Laura.
S o I made my finest bow,
A nd I eyed the lady for a
B out a half a dozen seconds
T hen I asked her to determine
I f she’d take me for a partner
I n the next ensuing German ;A nd she smiled l ike the Madonna,A nd she answered Yes so sweetly,
T hat I drifted out to sea
A nd she captured me completely.
I have heard them talk of Guido,O f Van D yke and the F lorello,
B ut I’ll take my deposition
T hat there never was a fellow
T hat could plaster any pigment
O n to canvas or on paper,
O r could ever paint a picture
T hat could ever hold a taper,
T hat could ever be compared
A s in happiness of feature
O r in symmetry of form
T o that sunny-hearted creature,
T hat was po inted out by B oggs
T he descendan t of the preacher.
Let old Virgil praise the Naiads
O f the rapid, blue E rotes ,Spokeshave dances airy fairies
O n the l ight leaves of the Lotus
I f you’d sit them down by Laura
T hey would scarcely get a notice.
She had such a calm , bland way,A nd her tongue was never runn ing
I n an endless, eager effort
T o say something very cunning
NE U T R A LI A . 93
B ut she looked you in the eye
When she talked, or when she listened,
A nd you’d always know her feelings
By the way her blue eyes glistened.
T here may be women fairer
O fmore elegant demeanor
O f more useful information,
Calmer, lovelier, serener ;
But if there be such a one,
T he deponent hath not seen her.
O n her finger gleamed a diamond
With prismatic hues incessant,O n her neck a string of pearls,
S olid moonlight, oppo lescent ;
O r at least they say she wore them
O n the evening of the soiree
I f she did I didn’t see
’em
A ll I saw or heard was Laura.
B ut I guess she must have worn them,
F or that pompous , ugly madame
Parvenoodle since informed me
T hat old B anger’s daughter had
’em ,
A nd that all of Laura’s jewels
Were much cheaper and much duller,
A nd inferior to hers
B oth in brilliancy and color.
Now this madame Par venoodle
W ho disparaged everybodyW as a perfect beau idealA ristocracy of shoddy ;
A nd her husband made his moneyI f I ’m not much mistaken
O n a very recent contract
O n some very ancient bacon ;A nd so far as it was known
S he divided up her slander
NE U T R A LI A .
(’Twixt her enemies and friends)With amost impartial candor ;
A nd she had a way of talking
So that folks could understand her.
Well, that night has flown forever,
With its floor so smoothlywaxenGone are all those chestnut ringlets,
Gone those tresses, brown and flu en
Gone the stand-up paper collars,
Gone the faultless A nglo-Saxon.
B ut they glitter in my fancyLike the distan t neutethedral,
S teeple, domes and sunlit turrets
O f some beautiful cathedral.
A ll the next day and the next,
T hat succeeded the grand soiree,
I was crazyas a June bug.
A ll I thought of, was Miss Laura.
A ll the oflice work got tangled,
With the thoughts of fields E lysian,
A nd the ink it wasn’t slung,
With the requisite precision.
A nd I mixed the post returns
With the detai ls and the orders,T ill old Skububs made remark,
T hat Mymind seemed on the borders
H ere he winked a knowing twinkle
A t the cavalry inspector,
Colonel S koopendyke and Chopemup,
T he medical director.
O n the borders of insanity,F rom blighted love or tremens ;
A nd they took a wink about,A nd they shouted all like demons.
NE U T R A LI A .
T hen I played indignant on them,
A nd I told the witty triad,I was going for a maiden,
T hat was fairer than a dryad ;
A nd if any individual
Should make an observation,T hat would make this girl the object,O f a slight consideration,
T hat I’d jam his arm frontz}
T hat’s a Latin name I borrowed,
For a bone 3 person carries,
I believe it’s in his forehead.
Skububs was a nice old man,
Very courteous and pleasant,
B rave as a Namean lion ,
I n the battle omnipresent ;
H e appreciated fun,
Was a dignified old jokef ;A splendid judge of horsefiesh,A nd an everlasting smoker ;
Punished ardent spirits mildly,
A nd aperfect whale at poker.
A nd he knew his little business,
For he’d had a lifetime training
I n the theory ofwar
A nd the practice of campaigning.
Well, to shorten the narration,
A nd prevent undue expansion
O f a melancholy story,
I will simply say the mansion
O f old B anger saw me often
I n response to inv itation ,
A s the choice acknowledged bruteO f the fairest of creation.
NE U T RA LI A .
A nd the fairest used to send me
A diurnal l ittle glyphic,
O f the hygero varietyA nd demoiselle lucific.
A nd to parties, balls, and concerts,We would very often go forth,
A nd we talked ofmoonshine, love,
O f romance, war, and so forth.
By the sacred muses nine,
A nd the Genu up with’em ,
You can just presume to reckon
I began a slingia’
rhythm,
A nd the way I did it up ;
T his young lady of Caucasian
A ntecedents (from her lover)Got a stately, daily ration ,
O f consolidated bosh,D one up somewhat in this fashion
Am I but the slave of fancy, necromancy,
H as she taken me in charge ?
My ideals are they real,
O r together roam at large ?
Why, I’m crazy as a loon,
F or this very afternoon
D own the street I saw her sail ing l ike a barge.
Neverwas aknight more eager to beleaguer any townO r its walls try to flatten at the bidding of a crown,
T han am I , and I would go,
A lmost anywhere, you know
Miss my dinner,Grab an earthquake, crack a planet
Like a nut
S natch the sun, and moon, and stars,
I f I could win her.
”
Now there’s one thing very certain,
Man is naturally stupid,
NE U T R A LI A .
O n my right flank, on my left,
T hrough my hopes and my ambitions,A nd assaulting
— one by one
A l l my salient positions .
When this status of affairsCame before my observation,
I lit out for Laura’s mansion,
A nd embraced the first occasion
T o observe how much I loved her ;
When I had her mind refreshed on
T his ( to me) important topic,I propounded her the question.
Would she have me, would she not ?
She requested me to botherT hat outlandish old persimmons
T hat she called her dear kind father.
Well, I leaned back in my chair,Found the arm-holes of my waistcoat,
S tuck my thumbs in , viewed the ceiling,A nd concluded that I
’
d risk it.
O ldman B angerwas a crabbed, cross-grained banker
A nd he held on to his money,
Like a ship does to its anchor ;
T hat a poor man could be honest,
Was a thing he always doubted ;T hat religion wasn
’t humbug,
Was an idea he scouted.
Life for him had just two phases,A nd these two he always noticed,
I t was never over-draw,
A nd protect your note from protest.
Well, I went to interviewing him,
Laura’s dear beloved paternal ,
A nd I found him in the evening,
I n his ofi ee with the C olonel
NE U T R A LI A .
A nd the Colonel , he was boastingO f the wealth that he was wielding,
O f the real estate he owned,
A nd the rental it was yielding.
A nd he went on telling Banger,H ow his ardent love was centred
O n the blue-eyed little Laura,When I came. and knocked, and entered.
Just as soon as I beheld them,
I as quickly apprehendedT hat my cake henceforth was dough,A nd my love affair was ended ;
B ut I couldn’t stop my talking,
I t was too late to retrace I t
I saw the storm a brewing,A nd I braced myself to face it.
A ll I had to say I said,A nd a look of calm discredit
O vercame old B anger’s features
Just the moment that I said I t
A nd he rose upon his feet,
A nd he paced the floor a m inute,
While he kept his eye upon meWith a look of sarcasm in it.
What ! my daughter, little Laura?Well , I reckon I can answer,
I f you’ll give me just a little
I nformation in advance,sir.
What coupons have you got ?What ducats can you put up ?
T he collateral’
s the stuff
What assets can you foot up ?
Little Laura is expensive,
A nd I don’t want you to court her
U nless you have securities
Sufficient to support her.
NE U T R A LI A .
H ere I opened out my belfryA nd replied, S everal dollars
’
Worth of recklessness and shape
A nd a box of paper collars .
A nd I weighed him out a smash
O n the bone that ’s got the LatinName I spoke of once before,A nd you should have seen him flatten .
T hen I turned unto the Colonel ,
Saying, John, I’ve brought your saddle
H ome and hung it on the floorH ere the Colonel did skedaddle
T hro’a door which I had opened
F or his egress, and he ran on
D own the street as if I’d shot him
F rom a twelve-inch rifled a nnon.
T hen I took old B anger home
I n a’bus that happened handy
A nd I hid him an adieu
O n the steps of his veranda ;
A nd for many days thereafter
H e was toteing a proboscis
T hat was big enough to fit
O n the R hodian Colossus.
O n the next day came my grief
T ime can nevermore abridge it
Laurawore the Colonel’s ring
O n her left engagement digit ;
A nd I felt when I beheld her
View me coldly like a stoic,
T hat I’d go and do a something
Most romanticly heroic .
I can give you a prescription
T hat will always make a hero
Go and get a full-fledged lover
A nd reduce his hopes to zero ;
102 NE U T R A LI A .
Was dreaming of the danger
O f her rich and absent Colonel,W ho, not fancying the front,Got a detail of employ
B uying horses for our army corps
I n southern I llinois.
Well , we slashed them at A tlanta,
A nd we burst them l ike old china ;
T hen we chased ’em down through Georgia,
A nd we raced ’em through Carolina ;
B ut our grub gave out at lastFortune could no more relate na
A nd we sighed for rice and mule-pie,
A nd we foraged sweet potatoes .
T ill at last old S herman told us,
B oys, you’re just obl iged to reach a
Little fleet of floating grubA t the mouth of the O geetchee ;
B ut a fort— my cherished B ummers
Lies between you and the water,
A nd we’ll have to live on yam s
T ill you thieves have gone and got her.
A nd you’l l find her hard to capture,
S carp and Glac is pallisaded,A nd the parapets are steep,
A nd they’ll have to be
’scaladed ;
A nd the pathway of attack
Will be five-fold enfiladed .
T hen he turned and asked old H azen
I f he thought his thieves could take
A nd old H azen said, You bet ye ;
A int they just obliged to make it ?
O h I the way that we went for it !
A nd in just a holy m inuteWe was through it , round it, over it,
U nder it, and in it
NE U T R A LI A . 103
T he way that we went through it,Like a regiment of tunnels ,
T ill we reached our broad supply-ships
With their fiery, fum ing funnels,
A nd with grub upon their decksP iled six yards above the gun
’als.
S ee those B ummers, said old Sherman,
W ith most elegant emotion ;
A int their heads as horizontal
A s the bottom of the ocean ?
Fort McA llister stops firing, C ome ;
S ee ! H azen’s B ummers jam it.
T he B urns,hel l, hel-hel-hell l
T he thieves,oh ! dam it
,dam it, damit l
”
A nd T ecumseh he chassayed
I n a manner very frantic,
While lean Corse (of steep A ltoona),H e was equally anticWe had finished the campaign
F rom A tlanta to A tlantic .
What was l ittle Laura do ing ?She was reading hasty snatches,
H ere and there, of grand old battles,I n the rapid press dispatches .
S he was looking through the co lumns
For her rich, high-m inded suitor
H e the bravo of the parlor,
H e the dashing, gay recruiter ;
W ho had gambled and drank gin
F rom McGregor down to NatchezI t was he that she was seekingI n the rapid press d ispatches .
A nd she said, I f I should find him’Mong the wounded , dead and dying,
I t will be with fame’s bay Chaplet
O n his manly bosom lying
NE U T RA LI A .
So intrepid and so fearless.
A h 1 my colonel , my A pollo,B eing led by such as thou art ,
Who is he who dare not follow?
A ll the world shall be emblazonedW ith thy rich, magnetic valor
H ere she paused, to read a moment,
A nd her face it blanched with pallet.
For she read a l itt le local ,
H ow the Colonel (down at Cairo)Went and gambled off his moneyA t a little game called faro.
With about a hundred thousandH e
’
d unwisely been entrusted,
A nd he hunted up the tiger”
A nd stayed with it till busted ;A nd he hadn
’t bought a horse,
So the Colonel up and dus ted.
B ut they captured him at last ,
A nd they gave him an impartial
S ort of trial— down at Memphis
A t a general court-martial
A nd because he fed the “tiger
With some stuff that wasn ’t his
'n,
T hey contracted for his labor
I n a mi litary prison .
Little Laura reads the local
Not upon the taper finger
D oes the amethystic circlet
O f the Colonel longer linger
B ut she fiings it from her, shrieking,
A nd the blue-eyed l ittle dreamer
Swooning on the brussels carpetLies without a single tremor.
Q i 0
NE U T R A LI A .
B oggs, the preacher’s son, is farming,
F or he went and bought a breaker,A nd he raised a crop of sod-corn
S ixteen bushels to the ac re ;A nd he takes his piacu steady,A nd he says he understands his
Little business bustin ’
prairie,O ut in Cowley County, Kansas.
B oggs has laid him out a city,B ut he couldn
’t show a comer
Where the stakes were set,
T he grass had grown fearfully last summer.
O ld man B anger is a pauper ;
When the banks began to crumbleA nd the price of gold was falling,H e was ruined in the tumbleMoneymade him , and unmade him
I t was all that could sustain him
Fortune (taking it away) irretrievably hath slain him.
A ny man is brave with moneyB raver far is he without it
W ho dares always act uprightly,A nd not fret himself about it.
I t will never do to falter
I f calamities assail us,
I f misfortune sweeps down on us
Like the vultures, simultaneous.
I t will never do to weaken
I t is cowardice to fly them ;
D o like old T roalian A jax
S trike an attitude, defy them l
I f we waver and fall back,Fate will ever then be urging
U s, like galley~slaves , at nightfall ,
B ack to our dungeon scourging.
NE U T RA LI A . 107
E very man and every woman,
I rrespective of pos ition,
I s a l iving, breathing romance
B e they pauper or patrician.
E ach day’s do ings makes a pamphlet,
Which we bind ingo ld and velvet,
A nd (beside preceding volumes)I n our memory we shelve it .
When the work of day is ended,
A nd the evening shuts the skylight,
A nd the Northern crown and hydra
S tands transfigured in the twilight
When O rion’
s blazing girdleGleams with hues of gold and li lac,
A nd around the pole careening
Whirls the P hantom A rcto P hilac.
O ft I'
go to read these volumes
I n the alcove, where I store them ;I n my stocking feet I saunter,
I nto memory’s Jam-forum
I n the parlor of my memory
I — one by one— look o’er them .
F rom their shelves I take them, gently,
With their gold and velvet covers
O ne by one I turn their pages,
R ead of heroines and lovers
R ead of recklessness in men
R ead of constancy in woman
R ead of sieges, and of marches,
A nd endurance superhuman,
Which the melancho ly yearsWith prismatic hues illumine.
T hen my fancy turns to dreaming,
A nd the chandelier burns dimmer,’T ill its rays begin to waverWith a pale, unsteady glimmer ;
108 H I S T ftANQU I L P A S S ENGE R .
And they quarrel with the shadows,Which they vainly try to banish ;
T hen they gather up their forces
A nd mysteriously vanish.
A ll at once comes indication
O f a strange, odylic presence,A nd the atmosphere and room
T eems with magic phosphorescence ;
A nd it stands in bold relief,
E verymoment growing bolder,A nd I feel some unseen fingers
R est their weight upon my shoulder.
T hen I feel the thermal current
O f a mild, mesmeric aura
I t whispers, I awaken l
H I S TR ANQU I L P A S S E NGE R .
A WOMAN hailed a B roadway car at T hirty-fourth
street and stood still until the car came to a full stop.
I t was in the morning. I t was a crowded car,and be
hind time . T he woman had a large, trustful, and tranquil face . She stood on the gutter and yelled, Con
ductor, do you pass Grace Church ?Yes, we do, said the conductor ; are you going
this week ?
Well ”said the woman peacefully,
“ I think I will
go now.
Well, I would not be too sudden about it,”said the
conductor as she walked toward the car ;“ it might
cause a rush of blood to the head.
I I O KA LAMAZO O IN MI CH I GAN.
with mighty force,“ B leecker street l
” With a facethat was the picture of pleasant anticipation , the Stoutpassenger wended her way to the rear platform again,
and gazed benignly about.Which is the bank she asked slowly.
T here ! yelled the conductor, pointing with hisright hand.
I s that the bank that was robbed ?I t is.
I t is quite a large bank, isn’
t it ?”
T he conductor said in a hollow and passionate voicethat it was. T hen he recovered himself, removed hishat politely, and said
Madam,will you be kind enough to take the car
after this, please ? We don ’
t go any further. No
checks are needed,as we transfer the passengers here
every day. With an agreeable smile the stout ladystepped to the ground, and turned toward the followingcar. T he conductor rang the bell briskly, the seventeen men jumped for their places on the rear platformand the car escaped down B roadway.
KA LAMA Z00 11VMI CH I GAN
T H E bummer, in front of the theatre door,S tood waiting for a check ;
T he police tried hard to drive him away
B ut be firm ly stood on deck.
When— longing for a lunch— he turnedA nd en tered a beer saloon
,
T he bar-keeper banged him in the jawW ith a partially filled spittoon .
KA LAMA ZO O I N MI CH I GAN. I I I
T he weary bummer faltered, as
H e murmured slow but sure,
You wouldn’t treat me thusly
B ut you know that I am poor.
I ’ve been taken for William Vanderbilt,
B ut you see I’m not the man ,
For I was born in Kalamazoo ,Kalamazoo in Michigan .
”
T hey heeded not his pleadings,
T hey heeded not'
his sighs,
A s he Spoke of the long lost ulster,
T o be redeemed in the sweet by and by.
T hen he asked to look at the bread and cheese,
O r to smell of one oyster can ,
For the sake of old time Kalamazoo ,Kalamazoo in Michigan.
H e tried to sing a ballad,When a watchodog lean and lank
U ndertook to chew his leg off,
A nd again his poor heart sank.
H e called the boss a gentleman ,T hen asked him for a drink ;
T hey threw him into the free soup pot
B ut they found he wouldn’t sink .
H e approached the lunch laid tableO h ! hewas a hash dim inisher.
T he bar-keeper looked in vain for the axe,
A nd sought the fire-extinguisher.
T he landlord locked the money-drawer,
Kept his eye on the billiard-table.
T hen he tried to buy a glass of beerWith an old cigar
-box lable.
T hen the bar-keeper, made desperate,
Went at him, beer mallet in hand,A nd knocked him into the middle of Kalamazoo,Kalamazoo in Michigan.
B en Coll ins.
1 12 S H A KE S P E A R E MO D E RNI ZE D .
S H AKE S P E A R E MO D E R NI ZE D .
A LL the world’s a bar,
A nd all the men and women merely drinkers ;
T hey have their hiccups and their staggerings
A nd one man in a day drinks many glasses ,
H is acts being seven stages. A t first the gentleman ,
S teady and steadfast in his good resolves ;
A nd then the wine and bitters ; appetizer,A nd pining,yearn ing look, leaving l ike a snail
T he comfortable bar. A nd then the arguments ,
T rying like H ercules, with wrathful frontage,
T o refuse one more, one more. T hen the myst ified,
F ull of strange thoughts, unheedinggood advice,
Careless of honor, sodden, thick and guttural,
Seeking the troubled repetition
E ven in the bottle’s mouth ; and then quite jovial,
I n fair good humor while the world swims round,
With eyes quite m isty, while his friends him cut,
F ul l of nice oaths and awful bickerings ;A nd so he plays his part. T he sixth age shifts
I nto the stupid , sl ipping, drunken man
With blossoms on his nose, and bleary eyed,H is shrunken face unshaved ; from side to s ide
H e rolls along ; and his unmanly voice,
H uskier than ever, fails and flies
A nd leaves him— staggering round. Last scene of all
T hat ends this true and painful history,
I s stupid childishness, and then oblivionS ans watch, sans chain, sans coin, sans everything.
1 14 PO LYGLO T .
T ake my hadvice, my rosmin’
pals,
See Lunnon town, then die.
B eg ze pardon,” quoth the F renchman,
You see ze only chance
T o have ze fun and plaizir,
Was in ma la belle F rance.
Ze youngmen aire so charmant,Le gran dame so divine
Who would not live in Pari s
W iz ze woman , wit and wine ?
A wee, neow, cried braw S andy,T hee dinna ken what thee sae
T here’s nae land loike auld S cotland,
Nae spot sae bricht an’
gae.
Gie me same good auld Glan LavacT a richt ma thirsty mair,
A n’the de’ il mae tak
’all trouble,
A s I swig the E squebagh.
”
H ole on dar, fellers, can’t yer l
”
T he P ompey then he cried,
I’se free to
’spross my
’
pinion,
I f you will list awhile.
Way down on de ole plantation
D is darkey’s heart was gay ;
I tell yer D ixey am der place
T o pass de time away.
Wel l, neow ! consarn my buttings l
T har ain’t a single doubt,
T he ways mhuman natur
A re past all findin’out ;
Jest l isten to them ere critters,
P layin’their game of brag ;
Perhaps you’ll say our banner
A int nuthin’but a rag.
But darn my tarnal picture,
I wouldn’t give a rap
Fur all the farrin country
Laid down upon the map.
LI ST E N T O T H E D I NNER B E LL. I I ;
For this consarned Yankee nation
Ken beat ’em all, I guess ;
Leastways it gives all freedom,
A nd to all men, happiness.
”
541112A dams.
LI S TE N T O TH E D I NNE R B E LL .
LI ST EN to the dinner bell at twelve o’clock
H ow the boarders shout and laugh,A nd to provender hurry away ;
T he landlord looks so pale and thin
A s they sit down to eat ,
H e hardly knows, when they’re all in ,
Which one his board will beat
S ay, pass that union butter, one
O f these boarders said,I f the m il l doesn ’
t grind to-day,
We shan’t get any bread.
”
What a hardened, hungry lot’
T hese boarders seem to be ;
H ow they grab and gormandizeMost everything they see
B utter, eggs, and rare roas t beefA ll will fade away,
A nd can never be replenished
W ith the bills those boarders pay.S lowly speaks the landlord,
O h, will they ever go !
I can’t redeem my ulster
With the money that they owe.
T ake this lesson to yourselves,
But please take nothing more
T H E GR O WLE R CLU B .
Pay your board and leave my house,O r I ’ l l fire you from the door .
Go out Wes t and dig for I ndians ;
You maywear gems and silk,
B ut the mill can never grind
With the water that’s in m ilk.
You want your trunk, I want my cash
I’ve trusted you enough,
O h, you can’t fool me— don’
t be rash,
A nd say my turkey’
s tough.
T ake this lesson to yourselves, beforeYou bring your trunk ;T he coffee mill can never grind
When the cook is on a drunk.
TH E GR O WLE R CL U B .
H AVE I visited T he Growlers ? Well, I should re
mark. D id I enjoymyself ? Well, rather— yes, throughthe kindness of genial Jack Conway I found myselfseated (one Sunday night) behind one of the numeroustables in the lodge room of T he Growlers. My first
official act on taking the chair was to take a beer. I
then took another glass with my friend Cropsey, andthen imbibed a glass of lager with one of “
the beercommittee . A s the other members of the aforesaid
comm ittee seemed to feel slighted, I drank a glass of
the f'
oaming beverage with each one in turn . I do not
remember of ever having seen lager so plentiful, exceptwhen Mike Norton ran for alderman some twentyyears ago, or when my friend Joe D oyle and the New
H aven boys visited T racy’s back room.
T he meetingwas called to order by a tap from the
1 18 LI T T LE B R E E CH E S .
because the scene was laid in a bar-room. After this
wonderful victory we carefully regained our seat andpaid more attention to the new beer committee
,with
whom it was necessary to drink, as the comm ittee hadbeen changed since the open ing of the session . A nd
here we desire to remark that there is more good
genial fun and enjoyment to be found at T he Growlers
,than any place that i t has been our good fortune
to visit in the metropolis. T he session broke up and
wemeandered home tried to un lock the front door witha pocket-comb, and aroused our better-half, who, afteropening the door and learning from us where we hadbeen
, said that thereafter we would be apt to find
growlers enough at home . We m ildly acquiesced,tumbled into bed, went to sleep and dreamed that we
were turned into a b ig tin growler, and was sitting be
neath the fountain in the park, which was spoutinglager beer, while beer kegs with wings on were flyingaround us Which makes us say, Long life to
“ T he
Growlers.
LI T TLE B R E E CH E S .
I D O N’T go much on religion ,
I never ain’t had no show,
B ut I’ve got a m iddlin
’tight grip, sir,
O n the handful of things I know.
I don’t pan out on the prophets,
A nd free-will , an’that sort of thing ;
B ut I b’lieve in God an
’the angels,
E ver since one night last spring.
LI T T LE B R E E CH'
E S . I 19
I come into town with some turnips,
A nd my little Gabe came along ;No four-year-o ld in the countyCould beat him, for purty an
’strong ;
P eart, an’chipper, an
’sassy,
A llus ready to swear an’fight
A n’ I’d learnt him to chaw terbaccer
Jest to keep his milk-teeth white.
T he snow came down like a blanketA s we passed by old T aggart
’s store ;
I went in for ajug of molasses,
A nd I left the old team at the door
T hey skeered at something an’started,
I heard one little squall,
A nd hell-to-split over the prairie
Went team, Little B reeches, an’all.
H ell-to-split over the prairie
I was almost froze with skeer ;
B ut wemustered up some torches,
A nd we searched for’em far an
’near.
A t last we found hosses an’wagon
Snowed under a soft white mound,
U pset, dead beat— but of little GabeNo hide or hair was found.
Now here all hope soured on me,
O f my fel low-critter
’s aid,
I jest dropped down on mymarrow bones,Crotch deep in the snow, an
’I prayed.
A t last the torches they all gin out,
A n’ me
’n I srial Parr
Went off for some wood to a sheep-fold
T hat he said was somewhere thar.
We found it at last, a l ittle place
Where they shut up the lambs at n ight.I peeped in, an
’saw
’em all huddled thar
S o warm , so sleepy, an’white.
[20 A NI GH T SCE NE .
A nd thar sot Little B reeches, an’chirped
A s peart as ever you see,
I want a chew of terbaccer,
A n’that
’s what
’s the matter with me ! ”
H ow did he git thar ? A ngels.
H e never could walk so far :
T hey jest scooped down, an’they toted
T o where it was safe an’warm .
A n’I think that savin
’a l ittle child,
A nd bringin’ him back to his own
,
I s a darned sight better biznessT han loafin
’ ’round the throne.
C01.joh r H ay .
A NI GH T S CE NE I N TH E S TA T I ON H O U S E
A F TE R T WE LVE .
COME , H arry and T om . T ake a walk around as
far as the station house, I’ll Show you some fun— it is
S aturday night, and general ly the busiest of the week.
T his invitation was extended to two friends O f m ine,
who having nothing else to do, gladly accompanied
Good evening, S ergean t
A h ! Good evening, gentlemen, take a seat , howthe approach of heavy footsteps caused him
'
to
break O ff the conversation and re tire behind his desk.
A policeman entered draggingwith him, by means of a
handcuff fastened to his left wrist, a surlyyoung ruffian .
who instantly commenced to tell his wrongs, etc .
What ’s your nameWhy look here , Sergeant, IYour name
122 A NI GH T SCENE .
stain. A nd what a strange surrounding. We spokein whispers
,and as I passed my hand across the tiny
features soon to be still in death, awoman’s discordant
voice from one of the cells below broke forth in a
ribald song. While oaths and vile curses could beheard at intervals from others, there lay the innocentchild
,with its brief life crushed from its tiny clay, the
guiltless soul ready to wing its way to H im who gaveit, while around her, in every phase , was vice and guiltin all its vileness— and she so soon to be a messengerto H im who said
Suffer little children to come unto me for of such
is the kingdom of heaven.
T here was a rattling O f wheels, a hurried halt, a
quick foot and the ambulance surgeon stepped lightlyinto the room. O ne glance , a brief examination, and adubious shake of the head was all. R ude hands ten
derly picked up the already stiffening form ; placingit carefully in the ambulance, a few instructions to the
m iserable father, and that was all— another storywas
told and the book closed.
I believe,”said my friend H arry,
“you invited me
round to the station house to see some fun. P lease,hereafter, let me sleep with the rest of New York in
ignorance ofwhat you can see in a station house after
twelve— B obby Na t/comb.
O NLY A NEWS PA P E R MAN. 123
ONL Y A NE WSP A P E R MAN
T o T H E NEW YO RK P R E SS CLU B .
A S R E C I T E D BY E D . J. CoNNE LLv I N H I S MA ST E R P I E CE,
“T H E
SANCT UM.
”
D O N’T notice the soiled paper collar,
O r glance at the time honored shoes,
D on’t m ind if he has not a dollar,
B uttonhole him and ask him the news.
H is time it is nothing, don’t hurry,
D etain him as long as you can
H e’s used to all trouble and worry,
H e’s on ly a newspaper man.
You may smoke in his sanctum at leisure,
You may tear his exchanges at will,
P ut your feet on his old office table,A nd stand off your subscription bill.
D O not worry about his vacation,
Make him listen to every plan
F or improving the rest of creation,
H e’s only a newspaper man.
H e must give you a twenty-line local,
For MaryMatilda, the star,
A nd praise her abi lities vocal ,
When she sang H ow the Gates Came A jarI n the burlesque of H unting the S l ipper.
T hen a send O ff for the leading man
Who goes E ast in the spring, and Via'
:“the d ipper,
H e’s only a newspaper man .
B ring your interlined doggerel with you,
Make him listen to every line
O f your sick m ilk-and-water sonatas,
A nd your madrigals on summer time.
124 A U LD LANG SYNE .
H e’s getting the m ilk and the honey
While you are unfolding a plan
T o get the most work for least money
H e’
s only a newspaper man .
T here are some favored ones in the city,
Whose pathway is’bro idered with flowers,
T here are o thers,— and more is the pity,
Whose paths lead away from these bowersWhose l ife is a season of labor,Let them do whatever they can
T o achieve the success of their neighbor,O f such is the newspaper man.
A U LD LANG S YNE .
T H E glin ting ideality,
T hat gems each mortal life,
O ft O vergilds reality,
Confusion , care and strife.
T hen (banishing the bleak tod ay),We bow at mem
’ry
’s shrine,
A nd conjure up bright visions,O f the days of A uld Lang Syne.
Lang Syne though thou art years agone,
T hy scenes are with me still ;
I see the cot upon the lawn,
T he school-house on the hill
I climb again the chamber stair
A t sombre even time,A nd (kneeling) echo mother’s prayer,
A s in thy days, Lang Syne.
Lang Syne,”ah
,how I love thy shade,
F rom me’twill ne
’erdepart ,
For recol lection’s meshes
H ath entwined it round my heart .
1 26 T H E FLO WE R S’
R E VE NGE .
B ut where was Florine,” for whom all P aris sighed
A h, yes ! there she is, arrayed as a bride,
T o be wed ? A las,no ! thro’ the long silent hours
S he stood, breathing love to a basket of flowers.
T his was her passion, and she was a slave ;
H er boudoir resembled a huge floral cave.
S he knew but one love, she toiled but to buyE xotics that grew under every sky.
Wealth for her labors came in Crassus-like flow,
Which made her to flowers a merciless foe
T heywere sent from afar, they crowded each sill,
T he favorites she loved, she most liked to kil l.
I n a valley surrounded by tropical trees,
Where bright-plumaged birds sang their songs to breeze,
Where rivulets romped o’
er the pebbly beds,A nd dewdrops besprinkled the flowery headsO f every known plant, for this was the throne
Where the lily majestic sat in rule o’er her own.
S he thrives on the waters and likewise the land,
No kingwas e’er known to the flowery band.
T he glow-worms and beetles in armor were bright,
T he butterfly fanned the soft breeze of the night,
T he daisy blew loudly through a fuchia leaf, rolled,P roclaiming rebellion ’
gainst tyranny bold.
We’re cowards, cried the lily, in a vo ice pure and clear,
While the dewdrops they trembled l ike a maiden’
s first tear ;
R evenge !”
said the rose, as she perfumed the air,
A nd D ie, said the flowers , shall F lorine the fair !”
T hat night F lorine paced on her flower-strewn floor,
S urrounded by victims, and sighing for more,
When sleep, so O ppressive, came over her eyes,
From a flowery pillow, forbid her to rise.
A nd then came a scene— a feast for the eye
Why, look ? A ye, in m illions they keep passing by.
What equipment , what grandeur, what a disciplined horde
Yes, there sounds the bugle, outfiashes the sword.
A T O U GH C U ST O ME R . 1 27
T he lily in armor as white as the snow
Sat on her charger, impatient to go ;
T here came from the v iolets knights armed cap-a-pie,
I n velvety mantles as blue as the sea ;
T he roses were clad in mail glowing red,
Fat knights from the sunflower, with uncertain tread
Why even the daisy, discarding all fear,
E squired the pansy and carried her spear.
O’er F lorine
’s fair features theymarched as a host,
I n dreams of her conquests she made idle boastT hus taunted , in m illions they made plunderous raid,
A nd knights of all colors and perfumes they laid
O n the fair heaving breast ,’til l
c
one gasping breathA nnounced to the flowers their enemy
’
s death.
I n the mom , her maid found her with hands gently press’d
A s if to defend the cold, quiet breast.O n a single white column that o
’er her grave towers
T here is carved in the stone
T o T H E LA D Y O F FLOWE RS .
A T O U GH C U S T OME R .
LE T me tell you a tale that was once told to me,
A nd al though it was told me in prose at the time,I will give it a metrical dressing, and see
I f the story will lose any reason by rhyme.
T here came to a store in a village one day,
A long and lank stranger in homespun arrayed ;
A nd good mot uin said he, in a difli dent way,
I ’ve jess come to town, for a bit of a trade.
128 A T O U GH C U ST O ME R .
T he proprietor nodded and cheerily Spoke
Well, what can I do for you, neighbor, and how? ”
Wal , one of mywife’s knittin
’needles ez broke
A n’she wants me to git one
— how much be they now ?”
T hey’re two cents apiece ! W al , say, m ister, look here,
I’ve got a fresh egg, an
’my wife sez to me,
Swap the egg for the needle,’
- it seems a b it queer,B ut the thing
’s about even, —it
’s a b ig nu, yer see.
”
S aid the storekeeper presently, Well , I don’t mind
H e laid down the needle and put the eg by
When the countryman blurted out, A in’t yer incl ined
T o treat a new customer — fact is I’m dry.
”
T hough staggered a little, it must he confessed,
B y the customer coming it rather too free,
Yet sm ilingly granting the modest request ,T he dealer responded, Well, what shall it be
Wal , a drop ofmadairy I reckon’11 pass,
I’ve bin used ter that ever since I waz born.
T he storekeeper handed a bottle and glass,A nd the customer poured out a generous horn.
F or a moment he eyed the gratuitous dram,
With the air O f a man who must something resign
T hen blandly remarked, D o you know that I am
Very partial to mixin’an egg in my wine ?
”
Very well , let us finish the matter, I beg.
You’re very particular, though, I must say,
T he storekeeper muttered and handed an egg
T he identical one he had taken in pay.
O n the rim O f the tumbler the man broke the shellI t
’s cert
’nly han
’some the way yer treat folk :
H eopened it deftly, and plumply it fell
With a splash : and no wonder, it had double yolk !
A C U LL’
S CO NVE R SA T I O N.
A nd when he shall pass from this world to another,
Write— in letters of gold— that all who run may read,
T read softly above the dear head of a brotherW ho never went back on an old friend in need.
A C ULL’
S CON VE R S A T I 01V.
I T was five in the eve, if aright I remember,O ne overcoat night, t
’ward the las t of November,
A n actor propelled him by perambulation,With looks that betokened defunct combination.
H is speed was not slow, still i t might have been fasterA s he searched U nion S quare to dig up T ony Pastor.
H e seemed not to notice the exquisite scenery,
A ught but the signs around every beanery.
H e tried to brace up, and to look quite imperious,B ut his stomach said nix and it made him feel serious.
H e arri ved at the London, there ended his journey,Which proves that some men can dispense with a gurney.
H allo, cull, was the first salutation.
H ow came yer to shake do great dime aggregation ?”
Well, I’ll tell yer
— she bus ted las t week in S t . Louis,A n
’we couldn
’t catch on dere,
’cause nobody knew us .
S o I jes t tole her knobbs dat I ’d try on my muscle,
A n’I lef’ her behind an’
I tole’er go hustle
H ow was it you’n his rabbs separated ?
O h, that’s a short story dat
’s quickly related.
Lush all do time ; he jess made me tired.
I was afeared he’
d git bot’of us fired .
S o I’ll jess sell de stuff for whatever it fetches,
A n’I ’ ll collar a ‘
chip an’
go west an’ do sketches.
You remember de time dat I met yer in C incy
When you an’ her jowls got in dere from Quincy,
A n’she was so par
’lized you bed to carry
’er,
A n de hotel proprietor made yer go marry’er
Yes , but de second week after I shook’er.
Yes yer did, when that T exas guy done ye an took her“90
A CU LL’
S CO NVE R SA T I O N. 131
Who have I got now ? oh you bet she’s a daisy,
W hy in H artford at Newtons she knocked em plum crazy ;
I n B en Gilfoil’s afterpiece every one hollered,
D ey made such a no ise dat I tought we’d git col lared.
S he’s a lady; you bet, an
’no boozer or kicker,
’
A n’der wasn
’t a crow in de wine room could lick ’
er.
What are you doin’now ? asked our friend of the other.
O h, her revets wanted to ‘ lay off a week wid her mother ;
S o I bought her new togs from the kicks to de cady,’
A n’ we open next week down in Newark for eighty.
Why, my partner wrote dere, an’deywouldn
’t give him it,
But wrote back dat thirty a week was de limit.”
S hut up there, a well-known vo ice thundered,
O r— if I get the club— I will give you a hundred.
S ome one said drink,”and without hesitation
T hey drank, and it stopped further argumentation .
I f the man that said drink had gone to his dinner,
(A t m ining camp prices) he would have quit winner.
Cheese it there, Cull Mr. D onaldson, excuseme,
Laying off here this week, an’I thought you m ight use me.
Well , we’re filled. F illed ? dat
’s what I supposed,
N0 home for de friendless since Geoghean closed.
”
Jim says, H ere’s a case that
’l l get you your supper,
A nd a bed and a shave and a shine for your upper.”
“ T anks , Jim . O le boy, you can bet you’re a dandy,
I’ll send you dis back
’s soon
’s I have it handy.
S end me back nothing, I’ll bet you won
’t knowme
,
B ut I ’ ll give you a pointer,’— that
’s all you can owe me.
A nd no banner was carried (if right I remember)T hat overcoat night t
’ward the last of November.
13a MAMI E I S D YI NG .
MAMI E I S D YI NG.
MAMI E is dying. Yes, those were the words
T hat came flashing o’er the wires
T o a sma’wee place in the western wilds
Ne’er decked with churchly spires.
O ur John , as he was familiarly called,Was the v illage operator
A nd for four long hours he sat alone,
A thoughtful meditator.
H e had listened in a sort of mechanical wayT o the messages flying along,
O rders concern ing the movements of the train
Kept the instrument Singing its song.
I t spoke O f the state of the markets
A t home and in foreign cl imes
Christmas greetings, and friends apart
S ending tokens of love o’er the lines .
T o his office there came those three little words,
S O full ofwoe and sorrow
B ringinggrief to desolate hearts
I n some homestead on the morrow.
T he message he put in an envelope,
A nd sent it by the office lad
T o an address he never knew before,
O r forgotten if he had.
T here was a tear in his eye,
A nd his hand was trembling too ;For he had a wife and children at home,
W ho loved him fond and true.
A nd it came to him with awful force,
I f one of his darlings should be
T aken to heaven away from him ,
H ow cheerless this life would be.
134 E U —P E E P .
B O — I ’E E P .
P E ASE , mamma, won’t you pay peep with me ?
Said a babe scarce four years old.
She was sitting the while on her mother’
s knee,
A nd the darling was being told
T o pray for papa ere to bed she’d go
A nd her bright eyes closed in sleep.
D od bess papa, came soft and low ;
A nd mamma, pease pay D o-Peep.
”
O ur Father now raise up your l ittle hands.
O ur Fader, the darling said.
God bless him while in distant landsSay this and we
’
ll go to bed.
I don’t want to do yet, mamma dear.
T hen pray that angels keep
Your papa in their watchful care.
I f I do will you pay B o-Peep
D od bess papa and bring him soon
T o P uss, and me, and you.
Mamma, does D od live in the moon,A nd is papa up there too ?
A h, baby m ine, God’s everywhere
O n the land and on the deep.
D en ask him pease to dust come here
A nd let us pay B o-Peep.
S o like the child, Bo-P eep we play
F rom the cradle to the grave,
F orgetting that on Judgment D ayH e
’ll ask you for what H e gave
Where is the seed you have sown ,
T he harvest you should reap
T he seed have with the four winds blownLike the baby, we played B o-Peep .
A LL I N T H E D R AW . 135
A LL I N TH E D R A IV.
B I LL, Charley and T im playing cards in the shanty,
H eld sacred to poker and the game of O ld S ledge.
’T was Charley
’s first deal and T imothy
‘
s anti,”
A nd B ill “going blind,
”sat holding the
“edge.
”
C harles looked at his pic turs and said he was that ,
A nd T imothy said he would stay with his pards.
”
I’ll make my blind good, tho
’ I have nary a par,
B old B illy exclaimed,“ just gimme five cards !
T hen Charley came in on a couple of graces,”
O r otherwise queens, and T im on two pair,
Charley filled in the draw,
” for three little aces
D ame fortune had blindly ass igned to his share.
T im also was lucky, for a“ full set him thinking,
What a fine institution was the game of old draw ;
A nd B ill took his five, not an eye-winker blinking
T o reveal how they skinn’d’neath his bony old paw.
I’ll bet you a dollar, cried Charles, as a feeler.
T im saw it, and raised him as many as four ;
A nd B ill, grim as death,“saw the last of the dealer
A nd T imothy’s raise and five dollars more.
T hey’re blufl‘ing,
”thought Charley, and now I will skin
’em ,
A nd “saw the five harder, and raised i a score,
A nd T imothy said, t/zz'
r surely will bring'
em ,
S o i n saw”the twenty, and raised twenty more.
T hey kept up the bet with heedless impunity,
T hey put up their pistols, their blankets and knives,A nd Charley and T im were a busted community,
”
For B il l scooped the pot on four l ittle fives !
s e n e e e e
136 LO VE’
S R E ME MB RA NCE .
When in the rough shuflle of l ife you’
re stuck,
I n the m idst of m isfortune, nary pair in your paw,
D on’t give up your edge,
”keep rushing the buck,
”
P lay close to your breast— for it’s all in the draw.
LO VE’
S R E ME MB R ANCE .
T O EA RNE v MCGU I R E , E SQ.
I AM going to leave thee, darling,
A nd the parting grieves me more
T han tongue can ever tell thee,
My wife, sweet Maggie A sthore.
B ut angels wil l guard my darling,
A nd keep her as spotless and white
A s the stars that shine in the heavens ,
While her Barney’s far from sight .
You may trust me, my bonnie sweet Maggie,While distance keeps us atwain ,
For I shall be anxiously waiting
T o bask in thy sm iles again.
T ear drops will fall at our parting,
My heart will whisper its love,I
’l l think O f thee ever, dear Maggie,While thou art a mateless dove
B ut the hours pass by as fleetly
A S the rainbow leaves the sky,
A nd remembrance chides me sweetlyO f the love-kiss by and by .
T hen look on the bright side, Maggie,My wife, my darl ing, my own,
T hy image Shall live in my heart , dear,
While B arney is far from his home.
Walter F lair/i”
T H E Y’
R E NO T L I VING T O GE T H E R .
No trouble, care or strife,
When he left that town next morningH e took her away his wife.
S he insisted on going on the stage,
T hen came stormyweather ;
S he and an end man made their escape
I hear they’re not living together.
T hey started a female minstrel troupe,
With hammocks , and tights , and gauze ;
With bangs, and pads, and furbelows,T hey overcame the flaws .
With red-fire angels they billed the town,F lashed sparks like electric l ights ;
T hey skinned the country al l around
W ith fairies, and spangles , and tights.
T he manager got found one night
I n an awkward position rather,
H is dear wife caught him dead to rights
I hear they’re not l iving together.
Why ! how de do, old pards,When d id you get in town ?
Come up till I introduce you !
What’s the matter ? you look run down.
O h ! I remember— your wife, yes, yes,
I heard about the troubleS o you
’
re going to lead a single l ife
D O you think it’
s better than double ?Cheer up, old friend, don
’t weaken a bit,
You’re made O f too good leather ;
T he business manager nailed her, eh ?
T oo bad you’re not living together.
MO R A L.
’T is only a matter of time with them all,When repentance comes too late,
When the waning love O f the paramour
T urns to revuls ion if not to hate.
T H E Y’
R E NO T LI VI NG T O GE T H E R . 139
When the faded charms of the wanton one
Can no longer please the eye,
She expires each moment that she exists,
A nd the stranger Sees her die.
While her closing years, had she but been true,A nd not broken the nuptial tether,
O r hit the pipe with Long Chin Foo,
T hey might have been living together.
Wal ter F latt/tar .
Excelsior Recitations and Readings.
N o . 1
DesignedandArrangedforPuhlloandParlorRecitati onandBeading.
c O NT l N T I
Bachelor’s D ream , T he. F roward D uster, T he. O ur F irst Cigars.
B efore and A lter T ak ing. Granni c’s P icture. P addy
’s Lament .
Boy’s E ssay on Girls , A . H e U nderstood I t. P arson Snow
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B order Funeral , A . H orse or H usband t Ph i l i p Barton E ngineer.
B ro ther B i l l. H owWe F ought the F ire. P hot ograph Album , T he.
B ro therGardner on Liars . I n D er S hwecd Long Ago. R ai lway Matinee, A .
Cane-B ottomed Chair. Intensely U tter. Re l igious Card P layer.
Countryman at too S how,I nven tor
’s W i fe
,T he. R obert E mmet .
T he. lrrepress ible Yankee, T he Romance of a Hammock .
Clown’s B aby, T he. Jim s Kid Shoemaker
’s D augh ter,
cow,T he. A Boy
’s Com Li ttle Meg and I .
T he.
posi tion . Lost Grave, T he.
B e Cake Walk. Marr iage T our , A .
D eath-B ed of B enedict Mart y’s Lamb .
A rnold. Miner’s P rotege, The.NO” , T he.
D rummer’s B ri de
,T he. Modern S ermon. A .
T ME u neersMakingLove Music Grinders, T he.
E n’s F lag]
. Ninety-eight. T est , A
E ssay on t e E lephant . No. 5 Col ect S t. T hat Queen.
Father P rout’s Sermon. Not O pposed to Matri T
TyiI f
t o Li ck “10eac er.F ireman’
s S to T he. many.
F isher’sWife, he. O ld A ctor
’s S tory, T he. U nknown D ead.
F ree Seat , A . O ld S ergeant, T he. Widder , T he.
F reck led Face Girl T h O n the O ther T rain Widow’s Son . The.
F renchman ’s Version O ratory and the P ress. Woman at Poker.
YoungNom l. O riginal Love S tory, A n.
B ound in il luminated paper cover. P r i ce, 25 ca n“ .
N o . 8 .
c O N T l NT 8Aux I talians. Katrina’
s Visi t to New Providence P u l l ed himB elle of S handon. York. T hrough .
B ishop of R oss, T he. Legend of I nnlsfallen, T he Rag-picker,
B uildi ng and B e Lost and Found. S h pwreeked.
Chari ty D inner, Maniac, T he. S oft Guitar , T he.
Connor . Mr. F lsher’
s B ereavement . Song of the Shirt.
C r Kate. My H ot hbor'
s Baby. Spring H ouse-cleaui nCud le D oon. Nora urph y and the S tory of the Faithful onl .D eath of the O ld Squi re, S pirits. S treet Cries.
T he. O ccupant of Lower No. 8, T hat Woman P layed D eD ot Bab 03Min0. T he. sp r.
D rama 0 T hree T he. O ld Man Goes to T own, T i r z ah A nn’s S ummer
D uel between Mr. Shott T he. T rip.
andMr. Nott . 0rat i o 11 on the Labor T o D raw or Not to D raw.
E migrants, T he. Questi on. T readwater Jlm.
Fashionable Schoolgirl , O ver the H ill from the T wo Glasses, T he.
T he. P oor H ouse. U ncle I ke’
s R oosters .
H is Last Court . O ver the H i ll to the P oor What I ntemperancc D oesH ow “
R uby”P layed. H ouse What Made H im Gls
H ow S ockery S et a H en . P ad d y 9 R eflections on Widow Cummiskey,
Jinet e, T h e. C leopathera
’s Needle. Wickedest Man in
Jus tice in Leadvil le. P iece of R ed Calico.
Wpll
l
l is.
Kn igh t’s T oast , T he. lP ledge wi th Wine. n ie
’s Welcome.
B ound in i lluminated paper cover. P r i ce , 25 O c t .
F or sale by all B ooksellers , or wi ll be sent, post -pai d, on receipt of pric
E XC E LS I O R P U B L I S H ING H O U S E ,
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A rt of T raining Animals— A complete guide for ama
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’
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A rtist'
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Color Painti Crayon D rawing, etc . By Ju rns B u rn:and other em inent art ists . ow that so many are tak ing 1
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meets a want wh ich can be filled by no other ngle volume. I t is veryc lear. ful l, and ex lic i t, and teaches the bes t method s . Mr. Board 18
and favors ly known as an art i st and writer, and his book mayre be re lied upon .
ly
l t gives the able and consc ientious aid of anexpert , hence is pec
BadMemoryMadeGood, and GoodMade Batten— Showshow a wonderful wer of mem ory may be acquired by a simple art ,read i ly, and enab es its possessor to ach ieve feats incomprehensib le tothose ignorant of the secret . I t will be of
great an istance to teac hers ,
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Baker’
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B lack-Board in the Sunday-School . -A practi cal guide
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Book of Scrolls and Ornaments— For Car, Carriage,F resco . and other P ainters. Th is book is now used in many rom inentcar shops, and for ornamental work generally . Mr. J H . udolphe
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Book of A lphabets— For P ainters , D raughtsmen , D e
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— A collection of de
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"and wi ll be found h ighly useful foravari ety of purposes
T he designs are al l rad ical , and range from the simplest styles to th emost elaborate wor T his co l lec tion wi l l be found usefu l to the signpainter , designer, decorator , and others fo r whom it is intended .
’
P ai nter'
sMagazine. D eserves study by all painters interested in decorat ion .
— H ub
Books of Adverti sed Wonders— This is a collection of
the secrets, money-making recipes, wonders, and various things adver
t ised by c irculars and newspapers to catch curious peop le. Some are
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Candy Mekon— A complete guide for making al l plain
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and every operat ion his is a good trade in every c i ty . town , and vil
lags . and is easily learned Fresh candies of all fashionab le k inds sellreadi ly at immense profits, and wi ll bui ld up a trade i n an commun itynow using the fac tory kinds . A ny grocer or baker coul add largelyto h is profit in a smal l lace by introduc ing
a few of these s pec ial t iesThe book also gives a ul l l ine of syrups or soda water . rec ipes for
mat
i i
ey1 popular styles of ice cream , and other informat ion . I llus
tra 0 o o o o o o o o o o o o o s o n s .
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Carpenter’
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D etoctivo’
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—A most interesting book of detectivelife and adventure . Curious.amusing, and thri lling . Im ge l llusgg
at
g'dC
D isease.of D ogs,
— Their pathology, diagnosis, and treat~
ment to wh ich is added a complete dictionary of can ine materiamed ics A practical guide for every dog owner T el ls how to preven tas wel l as to cure d iseases, and gives much informat ion on care andmanagement of dogs i f you have a valuab le s
port ing or watch dog ,
or a pet dog of an k ind . you should ge t th is boo for its valuab le sug
gestions on care 0
.
dogs , and for hand reference in any emergency .
t is tboroughly reliable , and simple an explicit in its language . 25c ts.
Dog Traming,
—Chapters on dog tm mng from the A rt
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” The following b riefly gives an idea of its contents Watch do
gs, their selection and value . shepherd
’
s dogs, d imerent kinds and the r re ve merits and defec ts . their rearing andtrain ing . Varieties an merits of sporting dogs prel imin train .
ing lessons in the field water dogs. P er arm ing D s— S imp e t ricksa training , to teach h im h is name. to cap to wal erect , to dance,to jump rope , to si t and lie down at command, to beg, to ive his paw,
to sneeze , to speak for i t , to fetch and carry , to bring you is tai l in h ismouth, to stand on a bal l and roll i t up and down a plank , to walk on
”221
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Dyer and seam en— A complete practical guide, designedlally for the use of job dyers. I t includes dyein silk, stuff. or
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Employment Seeker’s Guide—Gives advantages and
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gs and young men wi i get useful hints from
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Fun Everlasting—A large collection of cha os humorous
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H ome R ecreati ons or, H ow to Amuse the YoungD es i ed to afl ord fresh and agreeable entertai nment for juven i le part ies . o lldays, and the home c irc le . I t will
'
ve man pleasant hoursand keep young folks out of misch ief and ma e them d employment ,
1111}thei r
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H orn -SM . f ungal — I ncludes preparation of foot,choice of shoes and their preparati on. fi tting , fil ing, nai ls and nai l ing ,
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H oudin the Conjurer.
— This life of the famous French
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"I llustrated with num erous engravmgs
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— Fu11 of themost entertain
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H unters and Trappers’
P ractical Guide — This little
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Impromptu Speaker.-This is not a collection of set
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Cah ob de Baby . Sam’s Feast .
B ound in il luminated paper cover. P ri ce, 35 cen t s .
For saleby all Booksellers, or wil l he sent, post-paid, on receipt ofprice.
E XO E LB I O R P U B L I S H ING H O U S E .
P . 0. 301 1144. 20 an d 81 B eek m a n S treet , New Y ork , N. Y .
B U R D E T T’
eroic 0C O N T E N T S .
Ball ad of Roland C'
s" . Thc E xecution of Queen “ary. LochinvarB att le of Fon tenoy , i atner John. I ain T ruck. The 307 .A m ?B att le of i vry. The: 1 irem an T he. for Li ta.
fl ‘iuttie“Monger-ten, T he. Glove and the Lions. The. Mom b on ed ;
.2eau. H en ofNavarre before Paria.l ie h Geiefi . i l ero em. O
'Murtogh.
l l G ib l l’. D el im I ierva RM P h il. B lur-d
'
aheap.mi hi nson '
a B ride. H ow he Saved Michael ’s. Pol ish Bo y. T he.
ggidwell
gt S pri ngfield. H O
B:Jane Conquest Rang the om
gie MeXeal
aT he.
arge o the hem e, ii. t'a wry. T he,“3
in the T nnneL figh t B rigadeChristianMai lm an ! the Lion. Jim B ludeoe. Seven th Fnei ice ra. The.
John Bartholomew's B ide. S hip on Fins. T he.
CowardlyJim. John M h ard. S pani sh A rmada. T he.
Curfew must not h ingT o-night R ateMe oney , S pan ish Mo ther. Th e.
D eath of“ O id BB raze . Karl theMartyr . S upporting the Gum .
D efence ofLucknow, The. Las t Redoubt , T he T om .
D iver. T he. Le aguer ot'
Lhcitnow,T rooper
’s S tory, The.
D own fal l of P oland, T he. Leap of Rouahan Bag. T he. True H ero . A .
E xecution ofMontroea, T he. Little H ero T he.
B oun d i n I l lustrated P aper Cover . P ri ce 25 Cen ts.
B U R D E T T’
S
rio ecC O N T E N T S .
A fter the Battle. D rafted , O pposition to Mim verne
A merica. D uty o i‘
the American Scholar . men .
American F lag. T he. i s P luribus U num O ur Whole Country.
Arno ld W ink leried . E nsign-Bearer . T he. O ur Country.
Barbara Frietch ie. F -c es U nited in Death . O ur H eroes .
B attle of FortMoultrie, The. Fourth of July P aul Revere’aR ide.
Battle-Flag at S henandoah Georgia Volun teer . T he. P atriotism .
T he. Gun of New O r leans , T he. P atriot S py. T he.
Batt le of B unker H ill John B urns of Get sharg. P ride of Ba B , T he.
B attle of Lexington , T he. Kearny at Seven P Revolutionary icing, Tng.B attle of Lookout Mountain, Kelly
’s Fei ry S av lnz oi
‘
the Colors, T he.
T he. Ken tucky Belle. Scott and the Veteran.
B att le of Gettysburg, T he. Li ttle Regiment. T he. S heridan'
aR ide.
B at t le-Flags, The. Lookout Mountain. was. Somebodv’
aD arling.
B ay B il ly" Mi les Koo n
’a H orse. S prig ot'Green , T he.
B ivouac o i‘
the D ead , T he. Nation’
a ymn , T he. S tars and S tri pes. T he.B lue and the Gray, T he. Natlon a D ead , T he. S ubstitute. T he.
’Bostou Boys. O ld Bar ant. T he Bwoni of B unker H ill,Caldwell of S prin
gfield. O ld S o i li
'
er aS tory. T he.Capture of S tony oin t T he. O ld S urgeon a S tory . T he. T ribute to our H onoredi
‘
har're by the l ord , T he. O ld S o ld ier T ram p . T he. (1, A .
l o iumb la. O ld Can teen . T he. U nion and Liberty .
Conquered B anner, T he. O ne in B lue and O ne in U n ion of the S tates. T he.
Decoration D ay. Gray. U nion l i nked wi th Liberty.
B o n d in I l lu st rated P aper C over . P rice 25 Cen ts .Q.
For sale by all B ooksel lers or will be sent , postpaid,receipt of price.
EXCELS IO R P U BLlS H lNG H O U S E ,29 and 3 1 B eekm an S treet , New York , N. Y.
P . 0 . B ox 1 1 44 .
