"I dells you oonst more for der last dime. I'fe got der small pox! untMishter Ellis he gifs me a leffy to gif der small pox to Miss Scutter;unt if dat vrow is Miss Scutter, I bromised to gif her ter small pox."
It was _Miss_ Scudder, and I explained to her that it was a _small box_he had for her. The affair was soon settled as regarded its delivery,but not as regards the laughter and shouts of the occupants of the oldstage-coach as we rolled away from Jericho. The driver joined in,although he had no earthly idea as to its cause, and added not a littleto it by saying, in a triumphant tone of voice,--
"I vos pound to gif ter olt voomans ter small pox!"
WALK
BY WILLIAM DEVERE
Up the dusty road from Denver town To where the mines their treasures hide, The road is long, and many miles, The golden styre and town divide. Along this road one summer's day, There toiled a tired man, Begrimed with dust, the weary way He cussed, as some folks can. The stranger hailed a passing team That slowly dragged its load along; His hail roused up the teamster old, And checked his merry song. "Say-y, stranger!" "Wal, whoap."
"Ken I walk behind your load A spell in this road?" "Wal, no, yer can't walk, but git Up on this seat an' ride; git up hyer." "Nop, that ain't what I want, Fur it's in yer dust, that's like a smudge, I want to trudge, for I desarve it." "Wal, pards, I ain't no hog, an' I don't Own this road, afore nor 'hind. So jest git right in the dust An' walk, if that's the way yer 'clined. Gee up, ger lang!" the driver said. The creaking wagon moved amain, While close behind the stranger trudged, And clouds of dust rose up again.
The teamster heard the stranger talk As if two trudged behind his van, Yet, looking 'round, could only spy A single lonely man. Yet heard the teamster words like these Come from the dust as from a cloud, For the weary traveler spoke his mind. His thoughts he uttered loud, And this the burden of his talk: "Walk, now, you ----, walk! Not the way you went to Denver? Walk, ---- ----! Jest walk!
"Went up in the mines an' made yer stake, 'Nuff to take yer back to ther state Whar yer wur born. Whar'n hell's yer corn? Wal, walk, you ----, walk!
"Dust in yer eyes, dust in yer nose, Dust down yer throat, and thick On yer clothes. Can't hardly talk? I know it, but walk, you ----, walk!
"What did yer do with all yer tin? Ya-s, blew every cent of it in; Got drunk, got sober, got drunk agin. Wal, walk, ----! Jest walk.
"What did yer do? What didn't yer do? Why, when ye war thar, yer gold-dust flew, Yer thought it fine to keep op'nin' wine. Now walk, you ----, walk.
"Stop to drink? What--water? Why, thar Water with you warn't anywhere. 'Twas wine, Extra Dry. Oh, You flew high-- Now walk, you ----, walk.
"Chokes yer, this dust? Wal, that Ain't the wust, When yer get back whar the Diggins are No pick, no shovel, no pan; Wal, yer a healthy man, Walk--jest walk."
The fools don't all go to Denver town, Nor do they all from the mines come down. 'Most all of us have in our day-- In some sort of shape, some kind of way-- Painted the town with the old stuff, Dipped in stocks or made some bluff, Mixed wines, old and new, Got caught in wedlock by a shrew, Stayed out all night, tight, Rolled home in the morning light, With crumpled tie and torn clawhammer, 'N' woke up next day with a katzenjammer, And walked, oh ----, how we walked.
Now, don't try to yank every bun, Don't try to have all the fun, Don't think that you know it all, Don't think real estate won't fall, Don't try to bluff on an ace, Don't get stuck on a pretty face, Don't believe every jay's talk-- For if you do you can bet you'll walk!
MR. DOOLEY ON GOLD-SEEKING
BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE
"Well, sir," said Mr. Hennessy, "that Alaska's th' gr-reat place. Ithought 'twas nawthin' but an iceberg with a few seals roostin' on it,an' wan or two hundherd Ohio politicians that can't be killed on accountiv th' threaty iv Pawrs. But here they tell me 'tis fairly smothered ingoold. A man stubs his toe on th' ground, an' lifts th' top off iv agoold mine. Ye go to bed at night, an' wake up with goold fillin' inye'er teeth."
"Yes," said Mr. Dooley, "Clancy's son was in here this mornin', an' hesays a frind iv his wint to sleep out in th' open wan night, an' whin hegot up his pants assayed four ounces iv goold to th' pound, an' hiswhiskers panned out as much as thirty dollars net."
"If I was a young man an' not tied down here," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'dgo there: I wud so."
"I wud not," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin I was a young man in th' ol'counthry, we heerd th' same story about all America. We used to set beth' tur-rf fire o' nights, kickin' our bare legs on th' flure an'wishin' we was in New York, where all ye had to do was to hold ye'er hatan' th' goold guineas'd dhrop into it. An' whin I got to be a man, Icome over here with a ham and a bag iv oatmeal, as sure that I'd returnin a year with money enough to dhrive me own ca-ar as I was that me namewas Martin Dooley. An' that was a cinch.
"But, faith, whin I'd been here a week, I seen that there was nawthin'but mud undher th' pavement,--I larned that be means iv a pick-axe attin shillin's th' day,--an' that, though there was plenty iv goold, thimthat had it were froze to it; an' I come west, still lookin' f'r mines.Th' on'y mine I sthruck at Pittsburgh was a hole f'r sewer pipe. I madeit. Siven shillin's th' day. Smaller thin New York, but th' livin' wascheaper, with Mon'gahela rye at five a throw, put ye'er hand around th'glass.
"I was still dreamin' goold, an' I wint down to Saint Looey. Th' nearestI come to a fortune there was findin' a quarther on th' sthreet as Ileaned over th' dashboord iv a car to whack th' off mule. Whin I got toChicago, I looked around f'r the goold mine. They was Injuns here thin.But they wasn't anny mines I cud see. They was mud to be shovelled an'dhrays to be dhruv an' beats to be walked. I choose th' dhray; f'r I wasniver cut out f'r a copper, an' I'd had me fill iv excavatin'. An' Idhruv th' dhray till I wint into business.
"Me experyence with goold minin' is it's always in th' nex' county. If Iwas to go to Alaska, they'd tell me iv th' finds in Seeberya. So I thinkI'll stay here. I'm a silver man, annyhow; an' I'm contint if I can seegoold wanst a year, whin some prominent citizen smiles over hisnewspaper. I'm thinkin' that ivry man has a goold mine undher his owndure-step or in his neighbor's pocket at th' farthest."
"Well, annyhow," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'd like to kick up th' sod, an'find a ton iv gold undher me fut."
"What wud ye do if ye found it?" demanded Mr. Dooley.
"I--I dinnaw," said Mr. Hennessy, whose dreaming had not gone this far.Then, recovering himself, he exclaimed with great enthusiasm, "I'd throwup me job an'--an' live like a prince."
"I tell ye what ye'd do," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye'd come back here an'sthrut up an' down th' sthreet with ye'er thumbs in ye'er armpits; an'ye'd dhrink too much, an' ride in sthreet ca-ars. Thin ye'd buy foldin'beds an' piannies, an' start a reel estate office. Ye'd be fooled a gooddeal an' lose a lot iv ye'er money, an' thin ye'd tighten up. Ye'd be ina cold fear night an' day that ye'd lose ye'er fortune. Ye'd wake up inth' middle iv th' night, dhreamin' that ye was back at th' gas-housewith ye'er money gone. Ye'd be prisidint iv a charitable society. Ye'dhave to wear ye'er shoes in th' house, an' ye'er wife'd have ye aroundto rayciptions an' dances. Ye'd move to Mitchigan Avnoo, an' ye'd hire acoachman that'd laugh at ye. Ye'er boys'd be joods an' ashamed iv ye,an' ye'd support ye'er daughters' husbands. Ye'd rackrint ye'er tinantsan' lie about ye'er taxes. Ye'd go back to Ireland on a visit, an' puton airs with ye'er cousin Mike. Ye'd be a mane, close-fisted,onscrupulous ol' curmudgeon; an', whin ye'd die, it'd take haf ye'erfortune f'r rayqueems to put ye r-right. I don't want ye iver to speakto me whin ye get rich, Hinnissy."
"I won't," said Mr. Hennessy.
LOVE SONNETS OF A HOODLUM
BY WALLACE IRWIN
I
Say, will she treat me white, or throw me down, Give me
the glassy glare, or welcome hand, Shovel me dirt, or treat me on the grand, Knife me, or make me think I own the town? Will she be on the level, do me brown, Or will she jolt me lightly on the sand, Leaving poor Willie froze to beat the band, Limp as your grandma's Mother Hubbard gown?
I do not know, nor do I give a whoop, But this I know: if she is so inclined She can come play with me on our back stoop, Even in office hours, I do not mind-- In fact I know I'm nice and good and ready To get an option on her as my steady.
VIII
I sometimes think that I am not so good, That there are foxier, warmer babes than I, That Fate has given me the calm go-by And my long suit is sawing mother's wood. Then would I duck from under if I could, Catch the hog special on the jump and fly To some Goat Island planned by destiny For dubs and has-beens and that solemn brood. But spite of bug-wheels in my cocoa tree, The trade in lager beer is still a-humming, A schooner can be purchased for a V Or even grafted if you're fierce at bumming. My finish then less clearly do I see, For lo! I have another think a-coming.
IX
Last night I tumbled off the water cart-- It was a peacherino of a drunk; I put the cocktail market on the punk And tore up all the sidewalks from the start. The package that I carried was a tart That beat Vesuvius out for sizz and spunk, And when they put me in my little bunk You couldn't tell my jag and me apart.
Oh! would I were the ice man for a space, Then might I cool this red-hot cocoanut, Corral the jim-jam bugs that madly race Around the eaves that from my forehead jut-- Or will a carpenter please come instead And build a picket fence around my head?
XII
Life is a combination hard to buck, A proposition difficult to beat, E'en though you get there Zaza with both feet, In forty flickers, it's the same hard luck, And you are up against it nip and tuck, Shanghaied without a steady place to eat, Guyed by the very copper on your beat Who lays to jug you when you run amuck. O Life! you give Yours Truly quite a pain. On the T square I do not like your style; For you are playing favorites again And you have got me handicapped a mile. Avaunt, false Life, with all your pride and pelf: Go take a running jump and chase yourself!
XIV
O mommer! wasn't Mame a looty toot Last night when at the Rainbow Social Club She did the bunny hug with every scrub From Hogan's Alley to the Dutchman's Boot, While little Willie, like a plug-eared mute, Papered the wall and helped absorb the grub, Played nest-egg with the benches like a dub When hot society was easy fruit!
Am I a turnip? On the strict Q.T., Why do my Trilbys get so ossified? Why am I minus when it's up to me To brace my Paris Pansy for a glide? Once more my hoodoo's thrown the game and scored A flock of zeros on my tally-board.
XXI
At noon to-day Murphy and Mame were tied. A gospel huckster did the referee, And all the Drug Clerks' Union loped to see The queen of Minnie Street become a bride, And that bad actor, Murphy, by her side, Standing where Yours Despondent ought to be. I went to hang a smile in front of me, But weeps were in my glimmers when I tried. The pastor murmured, "Two and two make one," And slipped a sixteen K on Mamie's grab; And when the game was tied and all was done The guests shied footwear at the bridal cab, And Murphy's little gilt-roofed brother Jim Snickered, "She's left her happy home for him."
HOW "RUBY" PLAYED
BY GEORGE W. BAGBY
(Jud Brownin, when visiting New York, goes to hear Rubinstein, and givesthe following description of his playing.)
Well, sir, he had the blamedest, biggest, catty-cornerdest pianner youever laid eyes on; somethin' like a distracted billiard-table on threelegs. The lid was hoisted, and mighty well it was. If it hadn't been,he'd 'a' tore the entire inside clean out and shattered 'em to the fourwinds of heaven.
_Played well?_ You bet he did; but don't interrupt me. When he first sitdown he 'peared to keer mighty little 'bout playin' and wisht he hadn'tcome. He tweedle-leedled a little on a treble, and twoodle-oodled someon the base,--just foolin' and boxin' the thing's jaws for bein' in hisway. And I says to a man sittin' next to me, says I, "What sort of foolplayin' is that?" And he says, "Heish!" But presently his handscommenced chasin' one another up and down the keys, like a passel ofrats scamperin' through a garret very swift. Parts of it was sweet,though, and reminded me of a sugar squirrel turnin' the wheel of a candycage.
"Now," I says to my neighbor, "he's showin' off. He thinks he's a-doin'of it, but he ain't got no idee, no plan of nothin'. If he'd play me atune of some kind or other, I'd--"
But my neighbor says, "Heish!" very impatient.
I was just about to git up and go home, bein' tired of thatfoolishness, when I heard a little bird waking up away off in the woodsand call sleepy-like to his mate, and I looked up and see that Rubin wasbeginning to take some interest in his business, and I sit down again.It was the peep of day. The light came faint from the east, the breezesblowed gentle and fresh, some more birds waked up in the orchard, thensome more in the trees near the house, and all begun singin' together.People began to stir, and the gal opened the shutters. Just then thefirst beam of the sun fell upon the blossoms a leetle more, and it techtthe roses on the bushes, and the next thing it was broad day; the sunfairly blazed, the birds sung like they'd split their little throats;all the leaves was movin', and flashin' diamonds of dew, and the wholewide world was bright and happy as a king. Seemed to me like there was agood breakfast in every house in the land, and not a sick child or womananywhere. It was a fine mornin'.
And I says to my neighbor, "That's music, that is."
But he glared at me like he'd like to cut my throat.
Presently the wind turned; it begun to thicken up, and a kind of graymist came over things; I got low-spirited directly. Then a silver rainbegan to fall. I could see the drops touch the ground; some flashed uplike long pearl ear-rings, and the rest rolled away like round rubies.It was pretty, but melancholy. Then the pearls gathered themselves intolong strands and necklaces, and then they melted into thin silverstreams, running between golden gravels, and then the streams joinedeach other at the bottom of the hill, and made a brook that flowedsilent, except that you could kinder see the music, especially when thebushes on the banks moved as the music went along down the valley. Icould smell the flowers in the meadow. But the sun didn't shine, nor thebirds sing: it was a foggy day, but not cold.
The most curious thing was the little white angel-boy, like you see inpictures, that run ahead of the music brook and led it on, and on, awayout of the world, where no man ever was, certain, I could see the boyjust as plain as I see you. Then the moonlight came, without any sunset,and shone on the graveyards, where some few ghosts lifted their handsand went over the wall, and between the black, sharp-top trees splendidmarble houses rose up, with fine ladies in the lit-up windows, and menthat loved 'em, but could never get anigh 'em, who played on guitarsunder the trees, and made me that miserable I could have cried, becauseI wanted to love somebody, I don't know who, better than the men withthe guitars did.
Then the sun went down, it got dark, the wind moaned and wept like alost child for its dead mother, and I could 'a' got up then and thereand preached a better sermon than any I ever listened to. There wasn't athing in the world left to live for, not a blame thing, and yet I didn'twant the music to stop one bit. It was happier to be miserable than tobe happy without being miserable. I couldn't understand it. I hung myhead and pulled out my handkerchief, and blowed my nose loud to keep mefrom cryin'. My eyes is weak anyway; I didn't want anybody to bea-gazin' at me a-sniv'lin', and it's nobody's business what I do with mynose. It's mine. But some several glared at me mad as blazes. Then, allof a sudden, old Rubin changed his tune. He ripped out and he rared, hetipped and he tared, he pranced and he charged like the grand entry at acircus. 'Peared to me that all the gas in the house w
as turned on atonce, things got so bright, and I hilt up my head, ready to look any manin the face, and not afraid of nothin'. It was a circus and a brass bandand a big ball all goin' on at the same time. He lit into them keys likea thousand of brick; he give 'em no rest day or night; he set everylivin' joint in me a-goin', and, not bein' able to stand it no longer, Ijumped spang onto my seat, and jest hollered,--
_"Go it, my Rube!"_
Every blame man, woman and child in the house riz on me, and shouted,"Put him out! put him out!"
"Put your great-grandmother's grizzly gray greenish cat into the middleof next month!" I says. "Tech me if you dare! I paid my money, and youjest come anigh me!"
With that some several policemen run up, and I had to simmer down. But Iwould 'a' fit any fool that laid hands on me, for I was bound to hearRuby out or die.
He had changed his tune again. He hop-light ladies and tip-toed finefrom end to end of the key-board. He played soft and low and solemn. Iheard the church bells over the hills. The candles of heaven was lit,one by one; I saw the stars rise. The great organ of eternity began toplay from the world's end to the world's end, and all the angels went toprayers.... Then the music changed to water, full of feeling thatcouldn't be thought, and began to drop--drip, drop--drip, drop, clearand sweet, like tears of joy falling into a lake of glory. It wassweeter than that. It was as sweet as a sweet-heart sweetened with whitesugar mixed with powdered silver and seed-diamonds. It was too sweet. Itell you the audience cheered. Rubin he kinder bowed, like he wanted tosay, "Much obleeged, but I'd rather you wouldn't interrup' me."
The Wit and Humor of America, Volume II. (of X.) Page 7