"But I must get along to my story, about my automatic pastor. One daythe preacher resigned,--life probably hectored out of him by a lot o'cheap skates whose notion of holdin' office in church consisted incuttin' down expenses and findin' fault with the preacher because hedidn't draw in sinners enough to fill the pews and pay their bills for'em.
"When it come to selectin' a committee to get a new pastor, I buttedright in. I had an idea, so--me to the front, leadin' trumps and bangin'my cards down hard on the table. Excuse my gay and festive reference toplayin'-cards, but what I mean is, that I thought the fullness of timehad arrived and was a-hollerin' for J.P. Wamsley.
"Well, sir, it was right then and there I invented my automatic pastor,continuous revolving hand-shaker and circular jolly-hander.
"I brung it before the official brethren one night and explained itsmodus operandi. I had a wax figger made by the same firm that suppliesme with the manikins for my show-windows. And it was a peach, if I dosay it myself. Tall, handsome figger, benevolent face, elegant smilethat won't come off, as the feller says, Chauncey Depew spinnage infront of each ear. It was a sure lu-lu.
"'Now,' I says to 'em, 'gentlemen, speakin' o' pastors, I got one here Iwant to recommend. It has one advantage anyhow; it won't cost you acent. I'll make you a present of it, and also chip in, as heretofore,toward operatin' expenses.' That caught old Jake Hicks--worth a hundredthousand dollars, and stingier 'n all git-out. He leaned over andlistened, same as if he was takin' 'em right off the bat. He's a retiredfarmer. If you'll find me a closer boy than a retired farmer moved totown, you can have the best plug hat in my store.
"'You observe,' I says, 'that he has the leadin' qualifications of alland comes a heap cheaper than most. He is swivel mounted; that is, thetorso, so to speak, is pinioned onto the legs, so that the upper part ofthe body can revolve. This enables him to rotate freely without bustin'his pants, the vest bein' unconnected with the trousers.
"'Now, you stand this here, whom we will call John Henry, at the door ofthe church as the congregation enters, havin' previously wound him up,and there he stays, turning around and givin' the glad hand and cheerysmile, and so doth his unchangin' power display as the unwearied sunfrom day to day, as the feller says. Nobody neglected, all pleased. Youremember the last pastor wasn't sociable enough, and there wasconsiderable complaint because he didn't hike right down after thebenediction and jolly the flock as they passed out. We'll have a wirerun the length of the meetin' house, with a gentle slant from the pulpitto the front door, and as soon as meetin's over, up goes John Henry andslides down to the front exit, and there he stands, gyratin' and handin'out pleasant greeting to all,--merry Christmas and happy New Year tobeat the band.
"'Now as for preachin',' I continued, 'you see all you have to do is toraise up the coat-tails and insert a record on the phonograph concealedhere in the back of the chest, with a speakin' tube runnin' up to themouth. John Henry bein' a regular minister, he can get the HomileticReview at a dollar and a half a year; we can subscribe for that, get theup-to-datest sermons by the most distinguished divines, get some gentthat's afflicted with elocution to say 'em into a record, and on Sundayour friend and pastor here will reel 'em off fine. You press thebutton--he does the rest, as the feller says.'
"'How about callin' on the members?' inquires Andy Robinson.
"'Easy,' says I. 'Hire a buggy of Brother Jinks here, who keeps a liverystable, at one dollar per P.M. Get a nigger to chauffeur the pastor atfifty cents per same. There you are. Let the boy be provided with anassortment of records to suit the people--pleasant and sad, consolatoryand gay, encouragin' or reprovin', and so forth. The coon drives up,puts in a cartridge, sets the pastor in the door, and when the familygets through with him they sets him out again.
"'There are, say about three hundred callin' days in the year. He caneasy make fifteen calls a day on an average--equals four thousand fivehundred calls a year, at $450. Of course, there's the records, but theywon't cost over $50 at the outside--you can shave 'em off and use 'emover again, you know.'
"'But there's the personality of the pastor,' somebody speaks up. 'It'sthat which attracts folks and fills the pews.'
"'Personality shucks!' says I. 'Haven't we had personality enough? Forevery man it attracts it repels two. Your last preacher was one of thebest fellers that ever struck this town. He was a plum brick, and hadlots o' horse sense, to boot. He could preach, too, like a house afire.But you kicked him out because he wasn't sociable enough. You're askin'an impossibility. No man can be a student and get up the rattlin'sermons he did, and put in his time trottin' around callin' on thesisters.
"'Now, let's apply business sense to this problem. That's the way I runmy store. Find out what the people want and give it to 'em, is my motto.Now, people ain't comin' to church unless there's somethin' to draw 'em.We've tried preachin', and it won't draw. They say they wantsociability, so let's give it to 'em strong. They want attention paid to'em. You turn my friend here loose in the community, and he'll make eachand every man, woman and child think they're it in less'n a month. Ifanybody gets disgruntled, you sic John Henry here on 'em, and you'llhave 'em come right back a-runnin', and payin' their pew rent inadvance.
"'Then,' I continued, 'that ain't all. There's another idea I propose,to go along with the pastor, as a sort of side line. That's tradin'stamps. Simple, ain't it? Wonder why you never thought of it yourselves,don't you? That's the way with all bright ideas. People drink soda waterall their lives, and along comes a genius and hears the fizz, and goesand invents a Westinghouse brake. Same as Newton and the apple, andColumbus and the egg.
"'All you have to do is to give tradin' stamps for attendance, and yourchurch fills right up, and John Henry keeps 'em happy. Stamps can beredeemed at any store. So many stamps gets, say a parlor lamp or amasterpiece of Italian art in a gilt frame; so many more draws a steamcooker or an oil stove; so many more and you have a bicycle or a hairmattress or a what-not; and so on up to where a hat full of 'em gets anautomobile.
"'I tell you when a family has a what-not in their eye they ain't goin'to let a little rain keep 'em home from church. If they're all reallytoo sick to go they'll hire a substitute. And I opine these here stampswill have a powerful alleviatin' effect on Sunday-sickness.
"'And then,' I went on, waxin' eloquent, and leanin' the pastor againstthe wall, so I could put one hand in my coat and gesture with the otherand make it more impressive,--'and then,' I says, 'just think of themother churches. We won't do a thing to 'em. That Baptist preacher thinkshe's a wizz because he makes six hundred calls a year. You just waittill the nigger gets to haulin' John Henry here around town and loadin'him up with rapid-fire conversations. That Baptist gent will look likethirty cents, that's what he'll look like. He'll think he's Rojessvinskyand the Japanese fleet's after him. And the Campbellites think they doneit when they got their new pastor, with a voice like a Bull o' Bashancomin' down hill. Just wait till we load a few of them extra-sizedrecords with megaphone attachment into our pastor, and gear him up totwo hundred and fifty words a minute, and then where, oh, where isMister Campbellite, as the feller says.
"'Besides, brethren, this pastor, havin' no family, won't need his backfence fixed; in fact, he won't need the parsonage; we can rent it, andthe proceeds will go toward operatin' expenses.
"'What we need to do,' I says in conclusion, 'is to get in line, get upto date, give the people what they want. We have no way of judgin' thefuture but by the past, as the feller says. We know they ain't no humanbein' can measure up to our requirements, so let's take a fall out ofscience, and have enterprise and business sense.'"
J.P. Wamsley reached for a match.
"Did they accept your offer?" asked his companion. "I am anxious to knowhow your plan worked. It has many points in its favor, I confess."
"No," replied J.P. Wamsley, as he meditatively puffed his cigar andseemed to be lovingly reviewing the past. "No, they didn't. I'm kind o'sorry, too. I'd like to have seen the thing tried myself. But," he
added, with a slow and solemn wink, "they passed a unanimous resolutioncallin' back the old pastor at an increased salary."
"I should say, then, that your invention was a success."
"Well, I didn't lose out on it, anyhow. I've got John Henry rigged upwith a new bunch of whiskers, and posin' in my show-window as Dewitt,signin' the peace treaty, in an elegant suit of all-wool at $11.50."
THE BOHEMIANS OF BOSTON
BY GELETT BURGESS
The "Orchids" were as tough a crowd As Boston anywhere allowed; It was a club of wicked men-- The oldest, twelve, the youngest, ten; They drank their soda colored green, They talked of "Art," and "Philistine," They wore buff "wescoats," and their hair It used to make the waiters stare! They were so shockingly behaved And Boston thought them _so_ depraved, Policemen, stationed at the door, Would raid them every hour or more! They used to smoke (!) and laugh out loud (!) They were a very devilish crowd! They formed a Cult, far subtler, brainier, Than ordinary Anglomania, For all as Jacobites were reckoned, And gaily toasted Charles the Second! (What would the Bonnie Charlie say, If he could see that crowd to-day?) Fitz-Willieboy McFlubadub Was Regent of the Orchids' Club; A wild Bohemian was he, And spent his money fast and free. He thought no more of spending dimes On some debauch of pickled limes, Than you would think of spending nickels To buy a pint of German pickles! The Boston maiden passed him by With sidelong glances of her eye, She dared not speak (he _was_ so wild), Yet worshipped this Lotharian child. Fitz-Willieboy was so _blase_, He burned a _Transcript_ up one day! The Orchids fashioned all their style On Flubadub's infernal guile. That awful Boston oath was his-- _He_ used to 'jaculate, "Gee Whiz!" He showed them that immoral haunt, The dirty Chinese Restaurant; And there they'd find him, even when It got to be as late as ten! He ate chopped _suey_ (with a fork) You should have heard the villain talk Of one _reporter_ that he knew (!) An artist, and an actor, too!!! The Orchids went from bad to worse, Made epigrams--attempted verse! Boston was horrified and shocked To hear the way those Orchids mocked; For they made fun of Boston ways, And called good men Provincial Jays! The end must come to such a story, Gone is the wicked Orchids' glory; The room was raided by police, One night, for breaches of the Peace (There had been laughter, long and loud, In Boston this is not allowed), And there, the sergeant of the squad Found awful evidence--my God!-- Fitz-Willieboy McFlubadub, The Regent of the Orchids' Club, Had written on the window-sill, This shocking outrage--"Beacon H--ll!"
A LETTER FROM HOME[4]
_From the Princess Boo-Lally, at Gumbo Goo, South Sea Islands, to HerBrother, Prince Umbobo, a Sophomore at Yale._
BY WALLACE IRWIN
"It is spring, my dear Umbobo, On the isle of Gumbo Goo, And your father, King Korobo, And your mother long for you.
"We had missionaries Monday, Much the finest of the year-- Our old cook came back last Sunday, And the stews she makes are _dear_.
"I've the _loveliest_ string of knuckles Which dear Father gave to me, And a pair of shin-bone buckles Which I _so_ wish you could see.
"You remember Mr. Booloo? He is coming over soon With some friends from Unatulu-- We all hope they'll call at noon.
"Mr. Booloo's rather slender, But we'll fix him up with sage, And I think he'll be quite tender For a fellow of his age.
"Genevieve O-loola's marriage Was arranged so _very_ queer-- Have you read 'The Bishop's Carriage'? Don't you think it's just _too dear_?
"I am hoping next vacation I may visit you a while. In this out-of-way location It's _so_ hard to know the style.
"Will you try and match the sample I enclose--be sure it's green. Get three yards--that will be ample. Velvet, mind, not velveteen.
"Gentle mother worries badly, And she thinks it is a shame That a man like Dr. Hadley Lets you play that football game.
"For the way they hurt each other Seems so barbarously rude-- No, you've not been raised, dear brother, To do anything so crude.
"And those horrid meals at college-- Not what you're accustomed to. It is hard, this quest for knowledge, But be brave. "Your sister, Boo."
"P.S.-- "If it's not too great a bother And a mental overtax, Would you send your poor old father, C.O.D., a battle-axe?"
[Footnote 4: From "At the Sign of the Dollar," by Wallace Irwin.Copyright, 1905, by Fox, Duffield & Co.]
THE COURTIN'
BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL
God makes sech nights, all white an' still Fur 'z you can look or listen, Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, All silence an' all glisten.
Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Ith no one nigh to hender.
A fireplace filled the room's one side With half a cord o' wood in-- There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'.
The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser.
Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung, An' in amongst 'em rusted The old queen's-arm that Gran'ther Young Fetched back f'om Concord busted.
The very room, coz she was in, Seemed warm f'om floor to ceilin', An' she looked full ez rosy agin Ez the apples she was peelin'.
'T was kin' o' kingdom-come to look On sech a blessed cretur; A dogrose blushin' to a brook Ain't modester nor sweeter.
He was six foot o' man, A 1, Clear grit an' human natur'; None couldn't quicker pitch a ton Nor dror a furrer straighter.
He'd sparked it with full twenty gals, He'd squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em, Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells-- All is, he couldn't love 'em.
But long o' her his veins 'ould run All crinkly like curled maple; The side she breshed felt full o' sun Ez a south slope in Ap'il.
She thought no v'ice bed sech a swing Ez hisn in the choir; My! when he made Ole Hundred ring, She _knowed_ the Lord was nigher.
An' she'd blush scarlit, right in prayer, When her new meetin'-bunnet Felt somehow thru its crown a pair O' blue eyes sot upun it.
Thet night, I tell ye, she looked _some_! She seemed to 've gut a new soul For she felt sartin-sure he'd come, Down to her very shoe-sole.
She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu, A-raspin' on the scraper-- All ways to once her feelin's flew Like sparks in burnt-up paper.
He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, Some doubtfle o' the sekle; His heart kep' goin' pity-pat, But hern went pity Zekle.
An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk Ez though she wished him furder, An' on her apples kep' to work, Parin' away like murder.
"You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?" "Wal ... no ... I come dasignin'--" "To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morrer's i'nin'."
To say why gals act so or so, Or don't, 'ould be presumin'; Mebby to mean _yes_ an' say _no_ Comes nateral to women.
He stood a spell on one foot fust, Then stood a spell on t' other, An' on which one he felt the wust He couldn't ha' told ye nuther.
Says he, "I'd better call agin"; Says she, "Think likely, Mister"; Thet last word pricked him like a pin, An' ... Wal, he up an' kist her.
When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, Huldy sot pale ez ashes, All kin' o' smily roun' the lips An' teary roun' the lashes.
For she was jes' the quiet kind Whose naturs never vary, Like streams that keep a summer mind Snowhid in Jenooary.
The blood clost roun' he
r heart felt glued Too tight for all expressin', Tell mother see how metters stood, An' gin 'em both her blessin'.
Then her red come back like the tide Down to the Bay o' Fundy, An' all I know is they was cried In meetin' come nex' Sunday.
THE TOWER OF LONDON
BY ARTEMUS WARD
Mr. Punch, _My Dear Sir_:--I skurcely need inform you that yourexcellent Tower is very pop'lar with pe'ple from the agricultooraldistricks, and it was chiefly them class which I found waitin at thegates the other mornin.
I saw at once that the Tower was established on a firm basis. In theentire history of firm basisis I don't find a basis more firmer thanthis one.
"You have no Tower in America?" said a man in the crowd, who had somehowdetected my denomination.
"Alars! no," I anserd; "we boste of our enterprise and improovements,and yit we are devoid of a Tower. America oh my onhappy country! thouhast not got no Tower! It's a sweet Boon."
The gates was opened after a while, and we all purchist tickets, andwent into a waitin-room.
"My frens," said a pale-faced little man, in black close, "this is a sadday."
The Wit and Humor of America, Volume III. (of X.) Page 10