The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VI. (of X.)

by Rick Raphael

  "Whad yer goin' ter do?" asked the Reverend Mr. Smith, deliberatelyignoring Mr. Williams's action.

  Mr. Williams pointed to the ring and smiled.

  "Liff yo' ten dollahs."

  "On whad?"

  "Dat ring."

  "_Dat_ ring?"

  "Yezzah." Mr. Williams was still cool.

  "Huh!" The Reverend Mr. Smith picked the ring up, examined itscientifically with one eye closed, dropped it several times as if totest its soundness, and then walked across and rasped it several timesheavily on the window pane.

  "Whad yo' doin' dat for?" excitedly asked Mr. Williams.

  A double rasp with the ring was the Reverend Mr. Smith's only reply.

  "Gimme dat jule back!" demanded Mr. Williams.

  The Reverend Mr. Smith was now vigorously rubbing the setting of thestone on the floor.

  "Leggo dat sparkler," said Mr. Williams again.

  The Reverend Mr. Smith carefully polished off the scratches by rubbingthe ring a while on the sole of his foot. Then he resumed his seat andput the precious thing back into the pot. Then he looked calmly at Mr.Williams, and leaned back in his chair as if waiting for something.

  "Is yo' satisfied?" said Mr. Williams, in the tone used by men who havesustained a deep injury.

  "Dis is pokah," said the Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith.

  "I rised yo' ten dollahs," said Mr. Williams, pointing to the ring.

  "Did yer ever saw three balls hangin' over my do'?" asked the ReverendMr. Smith. "Doesn't yo' know my name hain't Oppenheimer?"

  "Whad yo' mean?" asked Mr. Williams excitedly.

  "Pokah am pokah, and dar's no 'casion fer triflin' wif blue glass 'njunk in dis yar club," said the Reverend Mr. Smith.

  "I liffs yo' ten dollahs," said Mr. Williams, ignoring the insult.

  "Pud up de c'lateral," said the Reverend Mr. Smith. "Fo' chips is fohty,'n a dollah's a dollah fohty, 'n dat's a dollah fohty-fo' cents."

  "Whar's de fo' cents?" smiled Mr. Williams, desperately.

  The Reverend Mr. Smith pointed to the ring. Mr. Williams roseindignantly, shucked off his coat, hat, vest, suspenders and scarfpin,heaped them on the table, and then sat down and glared at the ReverendMr. Smith.

  Mr. Smith rolled up the coat, put on the hat, threw his own out of thewindow, gave the ring to Mr. Whiffles, jammed the suspenders into hispocket, and took in the vest, chips and money.

  "Dis yar's buglry!" yelled Mr. Williams.

  The Reverend Mr. Smith spread out four eights and rose impressively.

  "Toot," he said, "doan trifle wif Prov'dence. Because a man warsten-cent grease 'n' gits his july on de Bowery, hit's no sign dat he kinbuck agin cash in a jacker 'n' git a boodle from fo' eights. Yo's now inyo' shirt sleeves 'n' low sperrets, bud de speeyunce am wallyble. I'sewillin' ter stan' a beer an' sassenger, 'n' shake 'n' call it squar'. Declub'll now 'journ."

  THE BUMBLEBEAVER[7]

  BY KENYON COX

  A cheerful and industrious beast, He's always humming as he goes To make mud-houses with his tail Or gather honey with his nose.

  Although he flits from flower to flower He's not at all a gay deceiver. We might take lessons by the hour From busy, buzzy Bumblebeaver.

  [Footnote 7: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox,Duffield & Co.]

  AFTER THE FUNERAL

  BY JAMES M. BAILEY

  It was just after the funeral. The bereaved and subdued widow, envelopedin millinery gloom, was seated in the sitting-room with a fewsympathizing friends. There was that constrained look so peculiar to theoccasion observable on every countenance. The widow sighed.

  "How do you feel, my dear?" said her sister.

  "Oh! I don't know," said the poor woman, with difficulty restraining hertears. "But I hope everything passed off well."

  "Indeed it did," said all the ladies.

  "It was as large and respectable a funeral as I have seen this winter,"said the sister, looking around upon the others.

  "Yes, it was," said the lady from next door. "I was saying to Mrs.Slocum, only ten minutes ago, that the attendance couldn't have beenbetter--the bad going considered."

  "Did you see the Taylors?" asked the widow faintly, looking at hersister. "They go so rarely to funerals that I was surprised to see themhere."

  "Oh, yes! the Taylors were all here," said the sympathizing sister. "Asyou say, they go but a little: they are _so_ exclusive!"

  "I thought I saw the Curtises also," suggested the bereaved womandroopingly.

  "Oh, yes!" chimed in several. "They came in their own carriage, too,"said the sister, animatedly. "And then there were the Randalls and theVan Rensselaers. Mrs. Van Rensselaer had her cousin from the city withher; and Mrs. Randall wore a very black heavy silk, which I am sure wasquite new. Did you see Colonel Haywood and his daughters, love?"

  "I thought I saw them; but I wasn't sure. They were here, then, werethey?"

  "Yes, indeed!" said they all again; and the lady who lived across theway observed:

  "The Colonel was very sociable, and inquired most kindly about you, andthe sickness of your husband."

  The widow smiled faintly. She was gratified by the interest shown by theColonel.

  The friends now rose to go, each bidding her good-by, and expressing thehope that she would be calm. Her sister bowed them out. When shereturned, she said:

  "You can see, my love, what the neighbors think of it. I wouldn't havehad anything unfortunate to happen for a good deal. But nothing did. Thearrangements couldn't have been better."

  "I think some of the people in the neighborhood must have been surprisedto see so many of the uptown people here," suggested the afflictedwoman, trying to look hopeful.

  "You may be quite sure of that," asserted the sister. "I could see thatplain enough by their looks."

  "Well, I am glad there is no occasion for talk," said the widow,smoothing the skirt of her dress.

  And after that the boys took the chairs home, and the house was put inorder.

  CASEY AT THE BAT

  BY ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER

  It looked extremely rocky for the Mudville nine that day: The score stood four to six with just an inning left to play; And so, when Cooney died at first, and Burrows did the same, A pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game.

  A straggling few got up to go, leaving there the rest With that hope that springs eternal within the human breast; For they thought if only Casey could get one whack, at that They'd put up even money, with Casey at the bat.

  But Flynn preceded Casey, and so likewise did Blake, But the former was a pudding, and the latter was a fake; So on that stricken multitude a death-like silence sat, For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.

  But Flynn let drive a single to the wonderment of all, And the much-despised Blaikie tore the cover off the ball; And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occurred, There was Blaikie safe on second and Flynn a-hugging third!

  Then from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell, It bounded from the mountain-top, and rattled in the dell, It struck upon the hillside, and rebounded on the flat; For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

  There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place, There was pride in Casey's bearing, and a smile on Casey's face; And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

  Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt, Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt; Then, while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, Defiance glanced in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

  And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there; Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped: "That ain't my style," said Casey. "S
trike one," the umpire said.

  From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore; "Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted some one in the stand. And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

  With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone; He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on; He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew, But Casey still ignored it; and the umpire said, "Strike two."

  "Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered, "Fraud!" But the scornful look from Casey, and the audience was awed; They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

  The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched with hate; He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate; And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

  Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright, The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; But there is no joy in Mudville--mighty Casey has struck out.

  THE MARTYRDOM OF MR. STEVENS[8]

  BY HERBERT QUICK

  _Pietro:_ Th' offense, it seemeth me,Is one that by mercy's extremest stretchMight be o'erpassed.

  _Cosimo:_ Never, Pietro, never!The Brotherhood's honor untouchableIs touch'd thereby. We build our labyrinthOf sacred words and potent spells, and allThe deep-involved horrors of our craft--Its entrance hedg'd about with dreadful oaths,And every step in thridding it made dankBy dripping terror and out-seeping awe,Shall it be said that e'en LudovicoMay break our faith and live? Never, say I!

  --_Vision of Cosimo._

  The Bellevale lodge of the Ancient Order of Christian Martyrs held itsmeetings in the upper story of a tall building. Mr. Alvord called forAmidon at eight, and took him up, all his boldness in the world ofbusiness replaced by wariness in the atmosphere of mystery. As he andhis companion went into an anteroom and were given broad collars fromwhich were suspended metal badges called "jewels," he felt a good deallike a spy. They walked into the lodge-room where twenty-five or thirtymen with similar "jewels" sat smoking and chatting. All seemed to knowhim, but (much to his relief) before he could be included in theconversation, the gavel fell; certain ones with more elaborate "jewels"and more ornate collars than the rest took higher-backed and more highlyupholstered chairs at the four sides of the room, another stood at thedoor; and still another, in complete uniform, with sword and belt, beganhustling the members to seats.

  "The Deacon Militant," said the wielder of the gavel, "will report ifall present are known and tested members of our Dread and MysticConclave."

  "All, Most Sovereign Pontiff," responded the Deacon Militant, who provedto be the man in the uniform, "save certain strangers who appear withinthe confines of our sacred basilica."

  "Let them be tested," commanded the Sovereign Pontiff, "and, ifbrethren, welcomed; if spies, executed!"

  Amidon started, and looked about for aid or avenue of escape. Seeingnone, he warily watched the Deacon Militant. That officer, walking inthe military fashion which, as patristic literature teaches, was adoptedby the early Christians, and turning square corners, as was the habit ofSt. Paul and the Apostles, received whispered passwords from the two orthree strangers, and, with a military salute, announced that all presenthad been put to the test and welcomed. Then, for the first timeremembering that he was not among the strangers, so far as known to thelodge, Amidon breathed freely, and rather regretted the absence ofexecutions.

  "Bring forth the Mystic Symbols of the Order!" was the next command. TheMystic Symbols were placed on a stand in the middle of the room, andturned out to be a gilt fish about the size of a four-pound bass, a jarof human bones, and a rolled-up scroll said to contain the Gospels. Thefish, as explained by the Deacon Militant, typified a great many thingsconnected with early Christianity, and served always as a reminder ofthe password of the order. The relics in the jar were the bones ofmartyrs. The scroll was the Book of the Law. Amidon was becomingimpressed: the solemn and ornate ritual and the dreadful symbols sentshivers down his inexperienced and unfraternal spine. Breaking in withuninitiated eyes, as he had done, now seemed more and more a crime.

  There was an "Opening Ode," which was so badly sung as to mitigate theawe; and an "order of business" solemnly gone through. Under the head"Good of the Order" the visiting brethren spoke as if it were aclass-meeting and they giving "testimony," one of them very volublyreminding the assembly of the great principles of the order, and themighty work it had already accomplished in ameliorating the condition ofa lost and wandering world. Amidon felt that he must have been veryblind in failing to note this work until it was thus forced on hisnotice; but he made a mental apology.

  "By the way, Brassfield," said Mr. Slater during a recess preceding theinitiation of candidates, "you want to give Stevens the best you've gotin the Catacombs scene. Will you make it just straight ritual, or throwin some of those specialities of yours?"

  "Stevens! Catacombs!" gasped Amidon, "specialties! I--"

  "I wish you could have been here when I was put through," went on Mr.Slater. "I don't see how any one but a professional actor, or a personwith your dramatic gifts, can do that part at all--it's so sort ofripping and--and intense, you know. I look forward to your rendition ofit with a good deal of pleasurable anticipation."

  "You don't expect me to do it, do you?" asked Amidon.

  "Why, who else?" was the counter-question. "We can't be expected to playon the bench the best man in Pennsylvania in that part, can we?"

  "Come, Brassfield," said the Sovereign Pontiff, "get on your regalia forthe Catacombs. We are about to begin."

  "Oh, say, now!" said Amidon, trying to be off-hand about it, "you mustget somebody else."

  "What's that! Some one else? Very likely we shall! Very likely!" thusthe Sovereign Pontiff with fine scorn. "Come, the regalia, and nononsense!"

  "I--I may be called out at any moment," urged Amidon, amidst an outcrythat seemed to indicate a breach with the Martyrs then and there. "Thereare reasons why--"

  Edgington took him aside. "Is there any truth in this story," said he,"that you have had some trouble with Stevens, and discharged him?"

  "Oh, that Stevens!" gasped Amidon, as if the whole discussion had hingedon picking out the right one among an army of Stevenses. "Yes, it'strue, and I can't help confer this--"

  Edgington whispered to the Sovereign Pontiff; and the announcement wasmade that in the Catacombs scene Brother Brassfield would be excused andBrother Bulliwinkle substituted.

  "I know I never, in any plane of consciousness, saw any of this, or knewany of these things," thought Florian. "It is incredible!"

  Conviction, however, was forced on him by the fact that he was now madeto don a black domino and mask, and to march, carrying a tin-headedspear, with a file of similar figures to examine the candidate, whoturned out to be the discharged Stevens, sitting in an anteroom,foolish and apprehensive, and looking withal much as he had done inthe counting-room. He was now asked by the leader of the file, in asepulchral tone, several formal questions, among others whether hebelieved in a Supreme Being. Stevens gulped, and said "Yes." He was thenasked if he was prepared to endure any ordeal to which he might besubjected, and warned unless he possessed nerves of steel, he had betterturn back--for which measure there was yet time. Stevens, in a faintvoice, indicated that he was ready for the worst, and desired to go on.Then all (except Amidon) in awesome accents intoned, "Be brave andobedient, and all may yet be well!" and they passed back into thelodge-room. Amidon was now thoroughly impressed, and wondered whetherStevens would be able to endure the terrible trials hinted at.

  Clad in a white robe, "typifying innocence," and marching to minor musicplaye
d upon a piano, Stevens was escorted several times around thedarkened room, stopping from time to time at the station of someofficer, to receive highly improving lectures. Every time he was askedif he were willing to do anything, or believed anything, he said "Yes."Finally, with the Scroll of the Law in one hand, and with the otherresting on the Bones of Martyrs, surrounded by the brethren, whose drawnswords and leveled spears threatened death, he repeated an obligationwhich bound him not to do a great many things, and to keep the secretsof the order. To Amidon it seemed really awful--albeit somewhat floridin style; and when Alvord nudged him at one passage in the obligation,he resented it as an irreverence. Then he noted that it was a pledge tomaintain the sanctity of the family circle of brother Martyrs, andAlvord's reference of the night before to the obligation as affectinghis association with the "strawberry blonde" took on new and fearfulmeaning.

  Stevens seemed to be vibrating between fright and a tendency to laugh,as the voice of some well-known fellow citizen rumbled out from behind adeadly weapon. He was marched out, to the same minor music, and thefirst act was ended.

  The really esoteric part of it, Amidon felt, was to come, as he couldsee no reason for making a secret of these very solemn and edifyingmatters. Stevens felt very much the same way about it, and was full ofexpectancy when informed that the next degree would test his obedience.He highly resolved to obey to the letter.

  The next act disclosed Stevens hoodwinked, and the room light. He wasinformed that he was in the Catacombs, familiar to the early Christians,and must make his way alone and in darkness, following the Clue of Faithwhich was placed in his hands. This Clue was a white cord similar to thesort used by masons (in the building-trades). He groped his way along byit to the station of the next officer, who warned him of the deadlyconsequences of disobedience. Thence he made his way onward, holding tothe Clue of Faith--until he touched a trigger of some sort, which letdown upon him an avalanche of tinware and such light and noisy articles,which frightened him so that he started to run, and was dexteriouslytripped by the Deacon Militant and a spearman, and caught in a net heldby two others. A titter ran about the room.