■ ■ 
 
 RnHnflfll 
 

 
 

 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY 
 
 i 
 
 COMIC DIALOGUES 
 
 RECITATIONS. 
 
 BEING BARTON'S COMIC RECITATIONS AND HUMOROUS DIA- 
 LOGUES, AND SPENCER'S COMIC SPEECHES AND 
 DIALOGUES, COMBINED IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 New York : 
 DICK & FITZGERALD, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 No. 18 Ann Street. 
 
■;-■■ " 
 
 ■vV. ' 
 
 p:* 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 
 
 DICK & FITZGERALD, 
 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 
 
if 
 
 ^ARTOFS 
 
 COMIC RECITATIONS 
 
 AND 
 
 HUMOEQUS DIALOGUES. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 A VAKIETY OF COMIC RECITATIONS IN PROSE AND POETRY, 
 AMUSING DIALOGUES, BURLESQUE SCENES, ECCEN- 
 TRIC ORATIONS AND STUMP SPEECHES, 
 HUMOROUS INTERLUDES, AND 
 LAUGHABLE FARCES.' 
 
 DESIGNED FOR 
 
 SCHOOL COMMENCEMENTS AND AMATEUR THEATRICAL^, 
 
 EDITED BT 
 
 JEEOME BAKT02SF. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 DICK & FITZGEKALD, PTTBLISHEKS. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 18G8, 
 
 By DICK & FITZGERALD, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the South- 
 ern District of New York. 
 
 Paym: BROTHEB8, 
 
 Electrotypers and Stereotypers, 
 2() Spruce Street. 
 
 LC Control Number 
 
 tmp96 031311 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction 5 
 
 I TvOLOGUE 7 
 
 Ljtus Stage-struck Hero 9 
 
 Tere she goes— and there she goes. 11 
 
 Pastor M'Knock's Address 15 
 
 Old Sugar's Courtship 18 
 
 -The Bachelor's Reasons for taking a Wife 21 - 
 
 The Spanish Valet and the Waiting Maid 22 
 
 The Jackdaw of Rheims 25 
 
 Jonathan and the Englishmen 29 
 
 Artemus Ward's Trip to Richmond 30 
 
 The Auctioneer and the Lawyer 32 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Skinner 34 
 
 The Bachelor and the Bride , 39 
 
 The Drunkard and his Wife 42 
 
 A Western Lawyer's Plea against the Fact 43 
 
 Reading a Tragedy 44 
 
 Cast-off Garments 45 
 
 How to Cure a Cough 48 
 
 The Soldier's Return 49 
 
 The Countrymen and the Ass 51 
 
 Come and Go 53 
 
 How they Pop the Question 54 
 
 The Cleyer Idiot 56 
 
 The Knights ; or, both Right and both Wrong 57 
 
 How the Lawyer got a Patron Saint _ 60 
 
 Josh Billings on Laughing 61 
 
 The Night after Christmas 62 
 
 A Change of System 64 
 
 The Citizen and the Thieves 90 
 
 Boggs's Dogs ....,,, 91 
 
 3 
 
4 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Smack in School 92 
 
 The Tinker and the Miller's Daughter 93 
 
 An Original Parody 95 
 
 The Parsons and the Corkscrew 96 
 
 The Old Gentleman who Married a Young Wife 97 
 
 The Stage-struck Darkey 101 
 
 Goody Grim versus Lapstone 104 
 
 The Woman of Mind 109 
 
 Nursery Reminis cences Ill 
 
 A Martyr to Science 113 
 
 Lodgings for Single Gentlemen 132 
 
 The Farmer and the Counsellor 134 
 
 The P ugilists 135 
 
 IIow Pat saved his Bacon 138 
 
 The Irish Drummer 140 
 
 Mike Hooter's Bear Story 141 
 
 The Critic 145 
 
 Mr. Caudle wants a " Latch-key" • 147 
 
 Humbugging a Tourist 150 
 
 The Widow's Victim 164 
 
 ^^Josh Billings on the Mule 170 
 
 The Tinker and the Glazier 171 
 
 "Wonderful Dream 174 
 
 A New Occasional Address 175 
 
 An Occasional Prologue 176 
 
 Address on Closing a Performance 177 
 
 A Prologue 177 
 
 Epilogue 179 
 
 Finale 180 
 
IOTKODTJCTIOK 
 
 Weeping Philosophers there were of old, 
 
 Down whose long faces tears incessant rolled, 
 
 Fellows whose eyes, like mountain torrents 1 beds, 
 
 Ban o'er with freshets from their fountain heads — 
 
 Water deciding then — as now we see, 
 
 Each body's true specific gravity. 
 
 If of that whimpering sect one wretch remain 
 
 This book will cure his " water on the brain," 
 
 Or change its source, and irrigate his eyes 
 
 With gushes born of laughter, not of sighs. 
 
 The widow Niobe, of bygone years, 
 
 Whom the gods literally " dissolved in tears,' 5 
 
 Beading this volume would her woes have spurned, 
 
 Or, her grief lightened, to a rainbow turned ! 
 
 Culled from all sources, here the flowers of wit, 
 Into a garland for the gay are knit, 
 And blossoms Humor in his chaplet weaves, 
 Lend an enrapturing richness to the leaves. 
 Not ancient quirks from Joseph Miller's mill, 
 But bran-new jests, the sparkling pages fill ; 
 Puns that would make an undertaker smile, 
 Or cheer a miser who had lost his pile ; 
 Stories so full of fun, the veriest bore 
 Must catch their point, and, tickled by it, roar ; 
 
 5 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Dramatic scenes, that in the evening read, 
 Will send the hearer side-shaken to bed ; 
 Speeches, reported by the Comic Muse, 
 That fire all Laughter's batteries like a fuse, 
 And rhythmic hits, so whimsical and terse 
 That Satire's self seems grinning from each verse. 
 
 " Business is business ; " but its toil and care, 
 
 By Mirth unlightened, who on earth could bear ? 
 
 The day-fight o'er, its turmoil and its fret, 
 
 The mind, unharrassed, hastens to forget, 
 
 And the heart — torpid 'mid the jostling throng — 
 
 Bounds to the touch of Humor, Wit and Song. 
 
 Then turn the gas on, close the shutters tight, 
 
 Part the blank darkness from the inner light, 
 
 And cabined snugly in the Social Ark, 
 
 Set sail with Momus for your Patriarch. 
 
 This book's his chart, and stand by it and him 
 
 On seas of merriment prepare to swim, 
 
 With sheets outspread, a joyous household band, 
 
 Bound, with ligh hearts, to Laughter's happy land. 
 
 But, " hold, enough ! " the nervous reader cries, 
 This preface long detains me from the prize. 
 Good wines no " bush " to advertise them need, 
 And wit, if genuine, for itself can plead. 
 Bight, reader, right ! Adieu, proceed alone, 
 The book's before you — exit chaperone. 
 
 J. B. 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
 TO AN EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT TAKEN PROM THIS BOOK. 
 
 The Court's assembled — no grave court of law 
 "With critic ears for every verbal flaw, 
 But a gay group whose members every one 
 Have vowed allegiance to immortal Fun, 
 Nor mean — we see it in your eyes — to blame 
 The Junior Counsel speaking in his name. 
 
 We shall not cite a Marshall or a Kent 
 For musty rule or solemn precedent ; 
 Our pleasant pleas on merrier grounds we base, 
 For on your risibles we rest our case. 
 Mirth is our client, and our action lies 
 Against the demons of the realm of sighs. 
 These we would nonsuit, and to gain our cause 
 We only ask, for verdict, your applause ! 
 Smile on our efforts then, our zeal 'twill fan, 
 And throw a laugh in, sometimes, if you can. 
 We're up for trial — may the Comic elves 
 Help us work credit to acquit ourselves. , 
 
 Wit's vadi mecum unto court we've brought, 
 Brimful of antidotes to tristful thought, 
 And as these recipes for gloom we quote — 
 Odd as the tints in Joseph's motley coat — 
 
 7 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 If we should fail to read with accent true, 
 Laugh at the text, and give to thai it's due. 
 
 The court being ready — may it please the court 
 To hear the plaintiffs niake their light report. 
 Our book's so full of quips in prose and rhyme, 
 Drawn from a source " one step from the sublime," 
 "We scarcely know what readings to select, 
 For gems while choosing, gems we must reject. 
 Would that our lips were like the fairy girl's 
 That dropt, when opened, solitaires and pearls — 
 Then should Wit's jewels, polished, rich and clear, 
 Dropped from our mouths, find grace in every ear. 
 
 No more o' that — here let excuses rest ; 
 To wing the hours with joy we'll do our best. 
 Friends are our audience — not sardonic pokes 
 "Who make a practice of dissecting jokes, 
 And "accent," "gesture," "attitude," discuss, 
 Of honor minus, but of humbug plus. 
 Good-natured faces on all sides we see, 
 Beady to titter at each jeu cV esprit, 
 And knowing these to genial hearts akin 
 "We'll close our prologue, and at once begin. 
 
BARTON'S 
 
 COMIC RECITATIONS 
 
 AND 
 
 HUMOROUS DIALOGUES. 
 
 THE STAGE -STEUCK HEEO. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 A stage-struck hero while at home, 
 
 His Zanga oft would roar ; 
 One day the servant-maid did come 
 
 And gently ope'd the door. 
 
 " Woman, away ! " aloud he cries, 
 
 " I wish to be alone." 
 " I beg your pardon," she replies, 
 
 " There's one below unknown." 
 
 He seized her hand, and that with speed, 
 
 " Oh, Isabella, dear ! 
 In tears ! thou fool ! " " Not I indeed ! 
 
 I seldom shed a tear." 
 
 " But what's the meaning of all this ! " 
 " I'll tell thee." " Well, sir, well ! " 
 
 " But ! be thou plunged in hell's abyss 
 " If it thou e'er shouldst tell ! " 
 
10 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 " You terrify me, sir. Oh, Lord ! 
 
 What can the secret be ! 
 I'll never tell — upon my word ! 
 
 No, never ! yon shall see ! 
 
 I What is it, sir % I long to know." 
 l - Know, then, I hate Alonzo ! " 
 
 ' 1 understand — that man below ; 
 How dare he trouble me so 1 " 
 
 Away she went, and in good truth 
 
 The man began to blame ; 
 In the meantime our spouting youth 
 
 Richard the Third became. 
 
 " Here will I pitch my tent ! " he cries, 
 
 And on the sofa stretch'd ; 
 The servant-maid again appear'd, 
 
 For she his breakfast fetch'd. 
 
 " Give me a horse — bind up my wounds ! " 
 
 He, jumping up, did call ; 
 The woman, startled at the sounds, 
 
 Let all the tea-things fall ! 
 
 In came the man, who having said, 
 
 " Buckram, sir, I am ; " 
 " Off with his head ! " he cries aloud — 
 
 11 So much for Buckingham ! " 
 
 The man jump'd back, the woman scream'd, 
 
 For both were sore afraid, 
 A bedlamite our spouter seem'd, 
 
 And like Octavian said — 
 
 " I cannot sleep ! " " And wherefore pray 1 " 
 " The leaves are newly pulTd ! " 
 
 This said, the woman walk'd away 
 Until his frenzy cool'd. 
 
 But Buckram gave his bill, and so 
 He was resolved to stay ; 
 
 
HERE SHE GOES AND THERE SHE GOES. 11 
 
 " I'll hug on't, will glut on't ! "— <• Oh, no, 
 I'd rather, sir, you'd pay 1 " 
 
 " Reptile ! " — the exclamation shocks 
 
 Great were the tailor's fears ; 
 " I'll dash thy body o'er the rocks ! " 
 
 The man pulled out his shears. 
 
 " I'll grapple with thee thus," he cried — 
 
 And soon the shears he won j 
 The tailor was so terrified, 
 
 That he thought fit to run. 
 
 HEEE SHE GOES— AND THEEE SHE GOES. 
 
 NACJ 
 
 Two Yankee wags, one summer day, 
 Stopped at a tavern on their way ; 
 Supped, frolicked, late retired to rest, 
 And woke to breakfast on the best. 
 
 The breakfast over, Tom and Will 
 
 Sent for the landlord and the bill ; 
 
 Will looked it over ; " Very right — 
 
 But hold ! what wonder meets my sight 1 
 
 Tom ! the surprise is quite a shock ! : ' 
 
 " What wonder 1 where 1 ' ' " The clock ! the clock ! " 
 
 Tom and the landlord in amaze 
 Stared at the clock with stupid gaze, 
 And for a moment neither spoke ; 
 At last the landlord silence broke : 
 
 " You mean the clock that's ticking there ? 
 
 I see no wonder, I declare ; 
 
 Though may be, if the truth were told, 
 
 'Tis rather ugly — somewhat old ; 
 
 Yet time it keeps to half a minute, 
 
 But, if you please, what wonder's in it 1 " 
 
12 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 " Tom, don't you recollect," said Will, 
 " The clock in Jersey near the mill, 
 The very image of this present, 
 With which I won the wager pleasant 1 " 
 Will ended with a knowing wink — 
 Tom scratched his head, and tried to think. 
 '" Sir, begging pardon for inquiring, 1 ' 
 The landlord said, with grin admiring, 
 " What wager was it 7 " 
 
 " You remember, 
 It happened, Tom, in last December, 
 In sport I bet a Jersey Blue 
 That it was more than he could do, 
 To make his finger go and come 
 In keeping with the pendulum, 
 Repeating, till one hour should close, 
 Still ' here she goes — and there she goes '— 
 He lost the bet in half a minute." 
 
 "Well, if I would, the deuce is in it ! " 
 Exclaimed the landlord; " try me yet, 
 And fifty dollars be the bet." 
 " Agreed, but we will play some trick 
 To make you of the bargain sick ! " 
 " I'm up to that ! " 
 
 " Don't make us wait ; 
 Begin, the clock is striking eight." 
 He seats himself, and left and right 
 His finger wags with all his might, 
 And hoarse his voice, and hoarser grows, 
 With " here she goes — and there she goes ! " 
 
 " Hold ! " said the Yankee, " plank the ready ! M 
 The landlord wagged his fingers steady, 
 While his left hand, as well as able, 
 Conveyed a purse upon the table. 
 " Tom, with the money let's be off! " 
 This made the landlord only scoff; 
 
HERE SHE GOES AND THERE SHE GOES- ]3 
 
 He heard them running down the stair, 
 But was not tempted from his chair; 
 Thought he, " The fools ! I'll bite them yet ! 
 So poor a trick shan't win the bet." 
 And loud and loud the chorus rose 
 Of " here she goes — and there she goes I v 
 While right and left his finger swung, 
 In keeping to his clock and tongue. 
 
 His mother happened in, to see 
 
 Her daughter ; " Where is Mrs. B 1 
 
 When will she come, as you suppose 1 
 Son ! " 
 
 " Sere she goes — and there she goes ! " 
 " Here ! where 1 " — the lady in surprise 
 His finger followed with her eyes ; 
 " Son, why that steady gaze and sad 1 
 Those words — that motion — are you mad 1 
 But here's your wife — perhaps she knows. 
 And "— 
 
 " Here she goes — and there she goes /" 
 
 His wife surveyed him with alarm, 
 And rushed to him and seized his arm ; 
 He shook her off, and to and fro 
 His fingers persevered to go, 
 While curled his very nose with ire, 
 That she against him should conspire, 
 And with more furious tone arose 
 The " here she goes — and there she goes ! " 
 
 " Lawks ! " screamed the wife, " I'm in a whirl ! 
 Run down and bring the little girl ; 
 She is his darling, and who knows 
 But"— - 
 
 " Sere she goes — and there she goes ! yi 
 
 " Lawks ! he is mad ! What made him thus 1 
 Good Lord! what will become of us 7 
 Run for a doctor — run — run — run— 
 For Doctor Brown, and Doctor Dun, 
 
14 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 And Doctor Black, and Doctor White, 
 And Doctor Grey, with all your might." 
 
 The doctors came, and looked and wondered, 
 
 And shook their heads, and paused and pondered, 
 
 Till one proposed he should be bled, 
 
 ; No — leached you mean," the other said — 
 
 11 Clap on a blister," roared another, 
 
 " No — cup him " — " No — trepan him, brother ! " 
 
 A sixth would recommend a purge, 
 
 The next w T ould an emetic urge, 
 
 The eighth, just come from a dissection, 
 
 His verdict gave for an injection ; 
 
 The last produced a box of pills, 
 
 A certain cure for earthly ills ; 
 
 " I had a patient yesternight," 
 
 Quoth he, "and wretched was her plight, 
 
 And as* the only means to save her, 
 
 Three dozen patent pills I gave her, 
 
 And by to-morrow, 1 suppose 
 
 That "— 
 
 " Here she goes — and there she goes ! " 
 
 " You all are fools," the lady said, 
 
 The way is, just to shave his head, 
 
 Run, bid the barber come anon" — 
 
 " Thanks, mother," thought her clever son, 
 
 " You help the knaves that would have bit me, 
 
 But all creation shan't outwit me ! " 
 
 Thus to himself, while to and fro 
 
 His finger perseveres to go, 
 
 And from his lips no accent flows 
 
 But " here she goes — and there she goes 1 " 
 
 The barber came — " Lord help him ! what 
 
 A queer customer I've got ; 
 
 But we must do our best to save him — 
 
 Bo hold him, gemmen, while I shave him! " 
 
 But here the doctors interpose — 
 
 " A woman never " — 
 
 " There she goes ! M 
 
PASTOR M'KNOCK'S ADDRESS. 15 
 
 "A woman is no judge of physic, 
 
 Not even when her baby is sick. 
 
 He must be bled " — " No — no — a blister" — 
 
 " A purge you mean " — " I say a clyster " — 
 
 " No— cup him "— " leach him "— - " pills ! pills ! pills ■ ." 
 
 And all the house the uproar fills. 
 
 What means that smile % What means that shiver % 
 
 The landlord's limbs with rapture quiver, 
 
 And triumph brightens up his face — 
 
 His finger yet shall win the race ! 
 
 The clock is on the stroke of nine — 
 
 And up he starts — 'Tis mine ! 'tis mine ! " 
 
 " What do you mean 1 " 
 
 " I mean the fifty ! 
 I never spent an hour so thrifty : 
 But you, who tried to make me lose, 
 Go, burst with envy, if you choose ! 
 But how is this ! Where are they ? " 
 
 " Who 1 » 
 u The gentlemen — I mean the two 
 Came yesterday — are they below 1 ^ 
 " They galloped off an hour ago. 1 ' 
 " Oh, purge me ! blister shave and bleed I 
 For, hang the knaves, I'm mad indeed] " 
 
 PASTOR M'KNOCK'S ADDRESS. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Good, honest Parson John M'Knock, 
 Had long observed, with grief, his flock 
 Were getting fond, from day to day, 
 Of mixing whiskey with their clay. 
 To cure this ill, he thought it right 
 Some admonition to indite, 
 Which, from the pulpit he might lance, 
 Against this horrid sin's advance. 
 
 
16 COMIC KECITATIONS. 
 
 Now John himself loved whiskey toddy 
 
 As well as any other body ; 
 
 So prudence told him to beware, 
 
 And use his censure with great care ; 
 
 Lest, while another's faults were shown, 
 
 He indirectly whipp'd his own. 
 
 Thus thoughts he turn'd with greatest care, 
 
 Himself more than his flock to spare. 
 
 John, every fear and danger scorning, 
 
 Spoke boldly thus one Sunday morning : 
 
 " My dearest brethren, I would fain 
 
 Save ye and my ainsel' the pain 
 
 Of preaching t'ye of a sin 
 
 That maist o' ye hae tumbled in, 
 
 And that's in vary truth na less 
 
 Than sottish, wicked drunkenness. 
 
 I preach na, friends against the use, 
 
 But solely 'gainst the gross abuse 
 
 Of rich good gen'rous Highland whiskey, 
 
 Which makes ye, if na daft, owre frisky \ 
 
 And then ye fa' intil a gin 
 
 The deil sets to catch sinners in. 
 
 Now, i' the morning when ye rise, 
 
 I see na reason t' despise 
 
 A wee sup, just to put to richt 
 
 The feelings of the former nicht ; 
 
 But then, my brethren, I'm a thinking, 
 
 I wad na hae ye always drinking 7 
 
 " Then after breakfast, just in order 
 
 To keep the stomach frae disorder, 
 
 And mak' the fish and eggs agree 
 
 Wi 1 marmalade and cakes and tea, 
 
 I'd hae ye tak' especial care, 
 
 Na to neglect a little mair ; 
 
 And, as there ne'er can be a question 
 
 But whiskey helps a man's digestion, 
 
 I'd have ye sip at ony time 
 
 A sma' wee drap afore ye dine j 
 
PASTOR m'KNOCK'S ADDRESS 17 
 
 But tak' ye special care o' thinking 
 That I wild hae ye always drinking ! 
 
 " Then after dinner very soon, 
 And just to keep the victual doon, 
 And up the gay joy of the feast, 
 I'd hae ye tak' a gill at least ; 
 But mind and dunna noo be thinking 
 I recommend ye always drinking ! 
 And i' the afternoon, d'ye see, 
 Mix still a wee drap wi' your tea ; 
 This practice is o' muckle service, 
 And certainly makes tea less nervous ; 
 But dinna ye, my friends, be thinking 
 By this I'd hae ye always drinking ! 
 Pray ne'er neglect, whate'er be said, 
 A noggin 'fore ye gang to bed ; 
 Ye'll sleep the sounder a' the nicht, 
 And wake refresh'd at morning licht. 
 So this, my friends, I think we may 
 Indulge in safely ev'ry day ; 
 But dinna always be a thinking 
 That I wud hae ye always drinking ! 
 
 " So but confine yoursels to this, 
 And naething will be much amiss ; 
 And recollect that men of sense 
 Still use the greatest temperance. 
 Bear this in mind, and ye'll stand fair to 
 Escape some ills that man is heir to, 
 And by this plan your doctor's bill 
 Will lighter be for draught and pill. 
 'Tis true expenses will increase, 
 For beef and mutton, ducks and geese, 
 But stomachs must hae mony faults 
 That like na sic food mair than salts. 
 Few men wud rather, that can chuse, 
 Their siller spend in drugs than shoes. 
 But every day, if you get foo, 
 Depend upon t, at last ye'll rue. 
 
18 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Woe to the man in youthful prime, 
 That wastes his siller thus, and time ; 
 He'll sair repent and wail the day, 
 When time has turned his locks to gray. 
 So tak' na mair o' drink or food 
 Than what will do the body good : 
 Of my advice but mak' a proof, 
 And then ye'll dee quite weel enough.' , 
 
 OLD SUGAE'S COUETSHIP. 
 
 ROBfc. 
 
 " The ony objection ever made to me in this arr county, 
 as a legislatur', was made by the winnum' 'cause I war a 
 bachelor, and I never told you afore why I 7^-mained in the 
 state of number one — no fellar stays single premeditated, 
 and, in course, a handsum fellar like me, who all the gals 
 declar' to be as enticin' as a jay bird, warrj't goin' to stay 
 alone, ef he could help it. 
 
 " I did see a creatur' once, named Sofy Mason, up the Cum- 
 berland, nigh unto Nashville, Tennessee, that I took an or- 
 ful hankerin' arter, and I sot in to lookin' anxious fur mat- 
 rimony, and gin to go reglar to meetin', and took to dressin' 
 tremengeous nnifled, jest to see ef I could get her good 
 opinion. She did git to lookin' at me, and one day, comin' 
 from meetin', she was takin' a look at me a kind of shy, 
 just as a hoss does at something he's scared at, when arter 
 champin' at a distance fur awhile, I sidled up to her, and 
 blarted out a few words about the sarmin' — she said yes, but 
 cuss me ef I knew whether that war the right answer or 
 not, I'm a thinkin' she didn't know then, nuther ! Well, we 
 larfed and talked a little all the way along to her daddy's, 
 and thar I gin her the best bend I had in me, and raised 
 my bran new hat as peert and per-lite as a minister, lookin* 
 all the time so cnticin' that I sot the gal tremblin'. Her old 
 daddy had a powerful numerous lot of healthy niggers, and 
 
OLD sugar's courtship. 19 
 
 lived right adjinin' my place, while on to'ther side lived Jake 
 Simons — a sneakin', cute varmint, who war wusser than a 
 miser for stinginess ; and no sooner did this cussed sarpini 
 see me sidlin' up to Sofy, than he went to slikin' up too, and 
 sot himself to work to cut me out. That arr wur a struggle 
 ekill to the battle of Orleans. Furst sum new fixup of Jake's 
 would take her eye, and then I'd sport suthin' that would 
 outshine him, until Jake at last gin in tryin' to outdress me, 
 and sot thinkin' of suthin' else. Our farms wur just the 
 same number of acres, and we both owned three niggers 
 apiece. Jake knew that Sofy and her dad kept a sharp eye 
 out fur the main chance, so he thort he'd clar me out by 
 buyin' another nigger ; but I jest foller'd suit, and bought 
 one the day arter he got his, so he had no advantage thar ; 
 he then got a coic, and so did I, and jest about then both on 
 our pusses gin out. This put Jake to his wit's eend, and I 
 war a wunderin' what in the yearth he would try next. 
 
 " "We stood so, hip and thigh, fur about two weeks, both 
 on us talkin' sweet to Sofy, whenever we could get her alone. 
 I thort I seed that Jake, the sneakin' cuss, wur gittin' a mite 
 ahead of me, 'cause his tongue wur so ily ; howsever, I didn't 
 let on, but kept a top eye on him. One Sunday mornin' I 
 wur a leetle mite late to meetin', and when I got thar, the 
 first thing I seed war Jake Simons, sittin' close bang up 
 agin Sofy, in the same pew with her daddy ! 
 
 " I biled a spell with wrath, and then tarned sour ; I could 
 taste myself ! Thar they wur, singin' himes out of the same 
 book. Je-e-eminy, fellers, I war so enormous mad that the 
 new silk handkercher round my neck lost its color ! 
 
 "Arter meetin', out they walked, linked arms, a smilin' and 
 lookin' as pleased as a young couple at thar furst christenin', 
 and Sofy tarned her cold shoulder at me so orful pinted, that 
 I wilted down, and gin up right straight — Jake had her, 
 thar wur no disputin' it ! I headed toward home, with my 
 hands as fur in my trousers pockets as I could push 'em, 
 swarin' all the way that she war the last one would ever git 
 a chance to rile up my feelin's. Passin' by Jake's plantation, 
 
20 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 I looked over the fence, and thar stood an explanation of 
 the matter, right facin' the road whar every one passin' 
 could see it — his consarned cow was tied to a stake in the 
 gardin' with a most promisin' calf along side of he?' ! That calf ■■ 
 jest soured my milk, and made Sofy think, that a feller who 
 war allays gittin 1 ahead like Jake, wur a right smart chance 
 for a lively husband ! What is a cussed sight wusser than 
 gittin' Sofy, war the fact, that he borrowed that calf the night 
 before from Dick Hardley ! Arter the varmint got Sofy hitched 
 he told the joke all over the settle-rae?^, and the boys never 
 seed me arterwards that they didn't ba-ah at me fur lettin' 
 a calf cut me out of a gal's affections. I'd a shot Jake, but 
 I thart it war a free country, and the gal had a right to her 
 choice without bein' made a widder, so I jest sold out and 
 travelled ! " 
 
 THE BACHELOK'S EEASONS EOE TAKING A 
 
 WIFE. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Grave authors say and witty poets sing, 
 
 That honest wedlock is a glorious thing; 
 
 But depth of judgment most in him appears, 
 
 Who wisely weds in his maturer years. 
 
 Then let him choose a damsel young and fair, 
 
 To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir ; 
 
 To sooth his cares, and free from noise and strife, 
 
 Conduct him gently to the verge of life ; 
 
 Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore, 
 
 Full well they merit all they feel, and more ; 
 
 Unawed by precepts, human and divine, 
 
 Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join j 
 
 Nor know to make the present blessing last, 
 
 To hope the future, or esteem the past ; 
 
 But vainly boast the joys they never tried, 
 
 And find divulged the secrets they would hide. 
 
 The married man may bear his yoke with ease, 
 
 Secure at once himself and heaven to please ; 
 
bachelor's reasons for taking a wife 21 
 
 And pass his inoffensive hours away, 
 
 In bliss all night, and innocence all day. 
 
 Though fortune change, his constant spouse remains, 
 
 Augments his joys or mitigates his pains. 
 
 But what so pure, which envious tongues will spare 1 
 
 Some wicked wits have libelled all the fair. 
 
 With matchless impudence they style a wife 
 
 The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life ; 
 
 A bosom serpent, a domestic evil, 
 
 A night invasion, and a mid-day devil. 
 
 Let not the wise these slanderous words regard, 
 
 But curse the bones of every lying bard. 
 
 All other goods by Fortune's hand are given ; 
 
 A wife is the peculiar gift of heaven : 
 
 Vain Fortune's favors, never at a stay, 
 
 Like empty shadows glide and pass away : 
 
 One solid comfort, our eternal wife, 
 
 Abundantly supplies us all our life. 
 
 This blessing lasts (if those who try say true) 
 
 As long as e'er a heart can wish — and longer too. 
 
 Our grandsire Adam, ere of Eve possessed, 
 
 Alone and even in Paradise unblessed, 
 
 With mournful looks the blissful scenes surveyed, 
 
 And wandered in the solitary shade : 
 
 The Maker saw, and pitying, did bestow 
 
 Woman, the last, the best of gifts below. 
 
 A wife ! ah, gentle deities, can he 
 
 That has a w T ife e'er feel adversity 7 
 
 Would men but follow what the sex advise, 
 
 All things would prosper, all the world grow wise ! 
 
 'Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won 
 
 His father's blessing from an elder son ; 
 
 Abusive Nabal owed his forfeit life 
 
 To the wise conduct of a prudent wife 
 
 Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show, 
 
 Preserved the Jews, and slew the Assyrian foe; 
 
 At Esther's suit the persecuting swoid 
 
 Was sheathed, and Israel lived to bless the Lord. 
 
 Be charmed with virtuous joys, and sober life, 
 
 And try that Christian comfort called — a wife ! 
 
22 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 THE SPANISH VALET AND THE WAITING 
 
 MAID. 
 
 ^ TT OLOGUE, FROM " THE WONDER." 
 
 JEnter Lissardo, l. 
 
 Lissar. Was ever man so tormented ? I saw that little 
 gipsy, Flora, in close confab with Lazat, the miller's man — 
 only once let me lay hold of him, I'll — by-the-by, this a very 
 pretty ring my lady gave me — methinks a diamond is a vast 
 addition to the finger of a gentleman. Egad, I have a pretty 
 hand, it is very white and well-shaped — faith, I never no- 
 ticed it so much before — it becomes a diamond ring as well 
 as the first Don's in Andalusia. 
 
 Flora. {Without, calling.) Lissardo! Lissardo! 
 
 Lissar. Oh, the little minx — there she is calling for me ; 
 but I'll not answer. 
 
 Enter Flora, r. 
 
 Flora. Lissardo ! Lissardo ! I say — sure the fellow's 
 dumb — ha ! what do I see ? a diamond ring — (aside) how the 
 deuce did he get that? [Aloud.) You have got a very pretty 
 ring there, Lissardo. 
 
 Lissar. Um, the trifle's pretty enough ; but the lady who 
 gave it me is as beautiful as an angel, I assure you ? ( Struts 
 about and gives himself airs.) 
 
 Flora. {Aside.) I can't bear this — the lady ! {Aloud.) 
 "What lady, pray ? 
 
 Lissar. There's a question to ask a gentleman. 
 
 Flora. A gentleman indeed ! why the fellow's spoil'd — 
 is this your love for me, you brute ? 
 
 Lissar. Don't talk to me about love — didn't I catch you 
 in close conversation with Lazat, the miller's man ? 
 
 Flora. There was no harm in that, I was only — 
 
 Lissar. You were only — you're a base, ungrateful woman, 
 and I've done with you — there, madam, you can take that 
 
SPANISH YALET AND THE WAITING MAID. 23 
 
 tobacco stopper you gave me some time back, and stop your 
 impertinent mouth, with it. 
 
 Flora. Indeed, sir ! I believe I can keep tally with you 
 in that respect ; there, sir, there's the pretty little pincush- 
 ion you gave me — take it. [Throws it at him.) 
 
 Lissar. There's another little trine — there, madam — 
 (gives a pocket-book) it will serve you to write down an account 
 of your false love. ( Throws it at her.) 
 
 Flora. Indeed, sir. (Aside.) The wretch so provokes me! 
 (Runs off, and returns icith an apron full of letters. ) There, sir — 
 there — you good-for-nothing brute — here's a bundle of your 
 false scrawls for you, take them. (Pelts him with the letters, he 
 running away, and she after him.) 
 
 Lissar. I believe, madam, I can return the compliment. 
 (Taking out a packet and pelting her.) And here's another pre- 
 cious article, take it. (Lifts his stick and about to beat her.) 
 
 Flora. ( Throws herself into his arms.) Beat me now, cruel 
 Lissardo, do. 
 
 Lissar. No, no ! 
 
 Air. 
 
 Lissar. Dear Flora, what would you be at 1 
 I don't wish to quarrel with you ; 
 You're in love with the miller, Lazat ; 
 If I meet him I'll cause him to rue. 
 
 The first time I set eyes on him, I'll give him a taste of as 
 sharp a two-edged stiletto as any in all Madrid ; and if he 
 comes again to poach on my manor, I'll duck him in his 
 own mill-pond, and he shall soon learn the difference be- 
 tween feeding on fisb and feeding fish. 
 
 Flora. If this is the way you try to make yourself agree- 
 able, I shall, in future, take care to walk in some other 
 path. [Angrily.) You are enough to provoke a saint — so you 
 are ! I've got anger enough from mother about you al- 
 ready ; but never mind, it's the last time we shall ever meet 
 — heigho ! it's very provoking though — and I'm sure I didn't 
 deserve this from you — oh ! dear, oh ! ( Crying.) 
 
24 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Lissab. I can't stand this — come, come, Flora dear. 
 Flora. Yoi' promise^ but promise in vain, 
 I lo nut to trifle like you ; 
 Your wish is to quarrel, that's plain, 
 But I can be constant and true. 
 Well, good by, Lissardo — we part friends, I hope. (Going.) 
 Lissab,. Stop, stop, Flora ! a word with you, before you 
 
 Flora. It must be only one word then, for I have not 
 time to hear another. 
 
 Lissab. But suppose that one should prove agreeable — 
 would you not then stop to hear another r 
 
 Flora. Perhaps, in that case — (hesitating:) But what is 
 the word ? 
 
 Lissab. A very short monosyllable, containing only four 
 letters — this little word has been the cause of more quarrels, 
 more misery, and more happiness, than all the words in the 
 English language put together — what do you think of 
 L, O, Y, E ? 
 
 Flora. Oh ! then I'm going in earnest. 
 
 Lissab. (Detaining her.) What ! without hearing the other 
 three ? 
 
 Floba. Three words ! what can they be ? 
 
 Lissar. A gold ring ! (Going.) Now I'm in a hurry. 
 
 Flora. (Detaining him.) Well, but, Lissardo, where can 
 you be going ? I can't think. 
 
 Lissab. Only to your father — have I your leave ? 
 
 Flora. But are you really in earnest, indeed, and in truth ? 
 and will you tell him the three words? 
 
 Lissab. Certainly not — (Floba pouts) — that is — without 
 you desire it ; and if you have no objections, I shall add a 
 few more words about a church. 
 
 Flora. Charming ! 
 
 Lissab. And a clerk to publish the banns of marriage. 
 
 Floba. Delightful ! 
 
 Lissab. ( Archly.) And we shall be as happy as the day is 
 long — and then you know we shall have — 
 
THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS. 25 
 
 Air. 
 Both. No more sighing, no more sorrow ; 
 Let us happy pass the time ; 
 To-day we'll sing, and dance to-morrow, 
 And the bells shall merry chime. 
 
 {Bells chime.') 
 Hark ! hark ! the bells so well keep time 
 I love to hear their merry chime, 
 The merry chime, the merry, merry chime. 
 
 ^ 
 
 THE JACKDAW OF EHEIMS. 
 
 The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair ! 
 Bishop and abbot, and prior were there ; 
 
 Many a monk, and many a friar, 
 
 Many a knight, and many a squire, 
 With a great many more of lesser degree, — 
 In sooth a goodly company ; 
 And they served the Lord Primate on bended knee. 
 
 Never, I ween, 
 
 Was a prouder seen, 
 Read of in books, or dreamt of in dreams, 
 Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims ! 
 
 In and out 
 
 Through the motley rout, 
 That little Jackdaw kept hopping about ; 
 
 Here and there 
 
 Like a dog in a fair, 
 
 Over comfits and cates, 
 
 And dishes and plates, 
 Cowl and cope, and rochet and pall, 
 Mitre and crosier ! he hopp'd upon all ! 
 
 With saucy air, 
 
 He perch'd on the chair 
 Where, in state, the great Lord Cardinal sat 
 In the great Lord Cardinal's great red hat ; 
 
26 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 And he peer'd in the face 
 
 Of his Lordship's Grace, 
 With a satisfied look, as if he would say, 
 " We two are the greatest folks here to-day ! *' 
 
 And the priests, with awe, 
 
 As such freaks they saw, 
 Said, " The Devil must be in that little Jackdaw ! ' 
 
 The feast was over, the board was clear'd, 
 The flawns and the custards had all disappeared, 
 And six little singing-boys — dear little souls ! 
 In nice clean faces, and nice white stoles, 
 
 Came, in order due, 
 
 Two by two, 
 Marching that grand refectory through ! 
 A nice little boy held a golden ewer, 
 Emboss'd and fill'd with water, as pure 
 As any that flows between Rheims and Namur, 
 Which a nice little boy stood ready to catch 
 In a fine golden hand-basin made to match. 
 Two nice little boys, rather more grown, 
 Carried lavender-water, and eau de Cologne ; 
 And a nice little boy, had a nice cake of soap, 
 Worthy of washing the hands of the Pope. 
 
 One little boy more 
 
 A napkin bore, 
 Of the best white diaper, fringed with pink, 
 And a Cardinal's hat mark'd in " permanent ink." 
 
 The great Lord Cardinal turns at the sight 
 Of these nice little boys dress'd all in white : 
 
 From his finger he draws 
 
 His costly turquoise ; 
 And, not thinking at all about little Jackdaws, 
 
 Deposits it straight 
 
 By the side of his plate ; 
 While the nice little boys on his Eminence wait ; 
 Till, when nobody's dreaming of any such thing, 
 That little Jackdaw hops off with the ring ! 
 
• 
 
 THE JACKDAW OB 1 RHEIMS. 27 
 
 There's a cry and a shout, 
 
 And a deuce of a rout, 
 And nobody seems to know what they're about, 
 But the monks have their pockets all turn'd inside out ; 
 
 The friars are kneeling, 
 
 And hunting, and feeling 
 The carpet, the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling. 
 
 The Cardinal drew 
 
 Off each plum-colored shoe, 
 And left his red stockings exposed to the view 
 
 He peeps, and he feels 
 
 In the toes and the heels ; 
 They turn up the dishes — they turn up the plates — 
 They take up the poker and poke out the grates — 
 
 They turn up the rugs — 
 
 They examine the mugs : — 
 
 But, no ! — no such thing ; 
 
 They can't find the ring ! 
 And the abbot declared that, " when nobody twigg'd it, 
 Some rascal or other had popp'd in, and prigg'd it ! " 
 
 The Cardinal rose with a dignified look, 
 
 He call'd for his candle, his bell, and his book ! 
 
 In holy anger, and pious grief, 
 
 He solemnly cursed that rascally thief! 
 
 He cursed him at board, he cursed him in bed ; 
 
 From the sole of his foot to the crown of his head ; 
 
 He cursed him in sleeping, that every night 
 
 He should dream of the devil, and wake in a fright ; 
 
 He cursed him in eating, he cursed him in drinking, 
 
 He cursed him in coughing, in sneezing, in winking ; 
 
 He cursed him in sitting, in standing, in lying ; 
 
 He cursed him in walking, in riding, in flying, 
 
 He cursed him in living, he cursed him in dying N 
 Never was heard such a terrible curse ! ! 
 But what gave rise 
 To no little surprise, 
 Nobody seem'd one penny the worse . 
 
28 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 The day was gone, 
 
 The night came on, 
 The monks and the friars they search'd till dawn, 
 
 When the sacristan saw, 
 
 On crumpled claw, 
 Come limping a poor little lame Jackdaw ! 
 
 No longer gay, 
 
 As on yesterday ; 
 His feathers all seem'd to be turn'd the wrong way ; — 
 His pinions droop'd — he could hardly stand — 
 His head was as bald as the palm of your hand ; 
 
 His eye so dim, 
 
 So wasted each limb, 
 That, heedless of grammar, they all cried, " That's him !- 
 That's the scamp that has done this scandalous thing ! 
 That's the thief that has got my Lord Cardinal's ring ! " 
 
 The poor little Jackdaw, 
 
 When the monks he saw, 
 Feebly gave vent to the ghost of a caw ; 
 And turn'd his bald head, as much as to say, 
 " Pray be so good as to walk this way ! " 
 
 Slower and slower 
 
 He limp'd on before, 
 Till they came to the back of the belfi y door, 
 
 Where the first thing they saw, 
 
 'Midst the sticks and the straw, 
 Was the ring in the nest of that little Jackdaw ! 
 
 Then the great Lord Cardinal call'i for his book, 
 And off that terrible curse he took ; 
 
 The mute expression 
 
 Served in lieu of confession, 
 And, being thus coupled with full restitution, 
 The Jackdaw got plenary absolution ! 
 
 When those words were heard, 
 
 That poor little bird 
 Was so changed in a moment, 'twas really absurd, 
 
 He grew sleek and fat ; 
 
 In addition to that, 
 
JONATHAN AND THE ENGLISHMEN. 29 
 
 A fresh crop of feathers came thick as a mat ! 
 
 His tail waggled more 
 
 Even than before ; 
 But no longer it wagg'd with an impudent air, 
 No longer he perch'd on the Cardinal's chair. 
 
 He hopp'd now about 
 
 With a gait devout ; 
 At matins, at vespers, he never was out ; 
 And, so far from any more pilfering deeds, 
 He always seem'd telling the confessor's beads. 
 If any one lied— or if any one swore — 
 Or slumber'd in prayer-time and happen'd to snore, 
 
 That good Jackdaw 
 
 Would. give a great " caw ! " 
 As much as to say, " Don't do so any more ! " 
 While many remark'd, as his manners they saw. 
 That they " never had known such a pious Jackdaw ! " 
 
 He long lived the pride 
 
 Of that country side, 
 And at last in the odor of sanctity died j 
 
 When, as words were too faint 
 
 His merits to paint. 
 The conclave determined to make him a saint ; 
 And on newly-made saints and Popes, as you know, 
 It's the custom, at Rome, new names to bestow, 
 So they canonized him by the name of Jim Crow. 
 
 JONATHAN AND THE ENGLISHMEN. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 On the plain of New Jersey, one hot summer's day, 
 Two Englishmen, snug in a stage-coach, were vap'ring ; 
 
 A Yankee, who happen'd to travel that way. 
 
 Took a seat alongside, and sat wond'ring and gaping. 
 
 Chockfull of importance (like every true Briton, 
 
 Who knows British stars far outshine our poor Luna), 
 
 These coc. . eys found nothing their optics could hit on, 
 But what was insipid or miserably puny. 
 
30 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Compared with the English, our horses were colts, 
 Our oxen were goats, and a sheep but a lamb ; 
 
 And the people ! (poor blockheads) such pitiful dolts ! 
 Mere Hottentot children, contrasted with them ! 
 
 The lightning flash'd frequent, with horrible glare ; 
 When near and more near, a fierce tempest portending, 
 The thunder rebellowed along the rent air. 
 
 An oak by the wayside Jove's bolt made a dash on, 
 With a peal that knock'd horses and cockneys all flat ; 
 
 " There, hang you ! " cries Jonathan, quite in a passion, 
 " Have you got better thunder in England than that 1 " 
 
 ABTEMUS WABD'S TEIP TO KICHMOND. 
 
 BROWNE. 
 
 It's putty plane to my mind that we earnt tu have Peas 
 as long as the fite goes on. Not much. The sympathizin' 
 Demos promist that these rebellion shood be over as soon as 
 they was lected, an' they air doin' all in thar power to get 
 it over — all over the North. You cood stick more loyalty 
 in a chicken's ear than sich men possess. 
 
 The other day I 'pinted myself a committee ov the whole 
 to go to Richmond an' see ef I coodent conviris J. Davis ov 
 the error of his ways, and persuade him to jine the Young 
 Men's Christian Association. Sumthin' must soon be did to 
 have the "War stopt, or by the time it's ended the Northern 
 Sympathizers will have no Southern Brethren, or no Consti- 
 tootion, or no Declaration of Injypendence, or no nothing, 
 or anything else. None. Whar cood we procoor G. Wash- 
 ingtons, J. Quincy Jeffersons, Thomas Adamses, and etset- 
 tery, to make another Constitootion and so 4th — the larst 
 especially ? Echo ansers — Whar ? That's why the Blacks 
 air taken sich good care ov that instrooment — which reminds 
 me ov a little incident, as A. L. obsarves. 
 

 ARTEMUS WARD'S TRIP TO RICHMOND. 31 
 
 But, I am goin' to tell you about ine trip to the Capitol 
 ov the Southern Conthieveracy. It was a bootiful moriiin' 
 that I started ; nary a cloud obskewered the Orb ov Day, and 
 I rove at the Secesh lines, when a dirty-looking Confed. 
 called me " Halt," and pinted a bagonet at me. He arst me 
 who I was, an' whar I was gone. 
 
 " My friendly ruff," sez I, " I've just bin up North stealin' 
 things an' sich for Jeff. Me an' him air ole pals." 
 
 He left me pars. 
 
 After travelling a spell, I obsarved a ole house by the road- 
 side, & feelin' faint and thirsty, I entered. The only family 
 I found at home was a likely lookin' young femail gal, whose 
 Johnny had gone for a solger. She was a weepin' bitterly. 
 
 " Me putty rose-bud," sez I, " why dost thou weep ? " 
 
 She made nary answer, but weepedested on. I placed me 
 hand onto her hed, brusht back the snowy ringlets from her 
 pale brow, an' kis — an' passyfied her. 
 
 " What cawsed them tears, fare maid ? " I arskt again. 
 
 " Why," sez she, " brother John promist 2 bring me home 
 some Yankee boans to make jewelry, but he had to go an' git 
 killd, & now I won't get ary boan, an' — O, it's 2 bad — boo- 
 hoo-oo-o ! " 
 
 Yes, it was muchly 2 bad — and more too. A woman's 
 tears brings the undersined, an' for the time bein' I was a 
 rebel sympathizer. 
 
 "Enny fathers ?" 
 
 " Only one. But he's dead. Mother went over to see 
 Unkle Eeub." 
 
 " Was John a putty good brother ? " 
 
 " Yes, John was O so kind. His was the only breast I had 
 to repose these weary head onto." 
 
 I pitied the maid, and hinted that she might repose her 
 weary head on my shirt front — an' she reposed. And I was 
 her brother John for a while, as it were. 
 
 Ere we pai Led, I arskt for a draught of water to squench 
 me thirst, an' the damsel tript gayly out of the door to pro- 
 cure it. As she was gone a considirable period, I lookt out 
 
32 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 the winder and saw her hoppin' briskly 4th, accompanied by 
 2 secesh cusses, who war armed to the teeth. I begin to 
 smell as many as two mouses. The "putty dear" had dis- 
 covered I was a Yankee, an' was goin' to hev me tooken pris- 
 oner. I frustrated her plans a few — I leapt out the back 
 winder as quick as a prestidiguretaterandisch, an' when she 
 entered the domicil, she found " brother John " non ester 
 (which is Latin, or sumthin'), and be4 I had proceeded much 
 I found me timerepeater non ester too. The fare maid, who 
 was Floyd's Neace, had hookt it while reposin' on me weskit. 
 It was a hunky watch — a family hair-loom, an' I wouldn't 
 have parted with it fer a dollar and sixty-nine cents ($1.69). 
 In doo corse ov mail I arrov in Bichmon. I unfolded me 
 mission, and was ushered into J. Davis's orgust presents. 
 But the result was not as soothing to weak nerves as my 
 hart could wish, and I returned to Washington, disgustid 
 with all peas measures. The sympathizers may do their own 
 dirt-eatin' in the footer, as they have done in the parst. 
 Good-by ! Adoo ! Farewell ! 
 
 THE AUCTIONEER AND THE LAWYEE. 
 
 SMITl 
 
 A City Auctioneer, one Samuel Stubbs, 
 Did greater execution with his hammer, 
 Assisted by his puffing clamor, 
 
 Than Gog and Magog with their clubs, 
 
 Or that great Fee-fa-fum of war. 
 
 The Scandinavian Thor, 
 
 Did with his mallet, which (see Bryant's 
 
 Mythology) fell'd stoutest giants : — 
 
 For Samuel knock'd down houses, churches, 
 
 And woods of oak and elm and birches, 
 
 With greater ease than mad Orlando 
 
 Tore the first tree lie laid his hand to. 
 
 He ought, in reason, to have raised his own 
 Lot by knocking others' down ; 
 
THE AUCTIONEER AND THE LAWYER. 33 
 
 And had he been content with shaking 
 His hammer and his hand, and taking 
 Advantage of what brought him gristle 
 Might have been as rich as Christie ; — 
 But somehow when thy midnight bell, Bow, 
 
 Sounded along Cheapside its knell, 
 
 Our spark was busy in Pall-mall 
 Shaking his elbow — 
 Marking, with paw upon his mazzard, 
 The turns of hazard ; 
 Or rattling in a box the dice, 
 
 Which seem'd as if a grudge they bore 
 To Stubbs ; for often in a trice 
 Down on the nail he was compell'd to pay 
 All that his hammer brought him in the day, 
 
 And sometimes more. 
 
 Thus, like a male Penelope, our wight, 
 What he had done by day undid by night; 
 No wonder, therefore, if like her, 
 
 He was beset by clamorous brutes, 
 Who crowded round him to prefer 
 
 Their several suits. 
 One Mr. Snipps, the tailor, had the longest 
 
 Bill for many suits — of raiment, 
 And naturally thought he had the strongest 
 
 Claim for payment. 
 But debts of honor must be paid, 
 Whate'er becomes of debts of trade ; 
 And so our stylish auctioneer, 
 From month to month throughout the year, 
 Excuses, falsehoods, pleas alleges, 
 Or flatteries, compliments and pledges. 
 When in the latter mood one day, 
 He squeez'd his hand, and swore to pay. 
 " But when ! " " Next month you may depend on't, 
 My dearest Snipps, before the end on't ; 
 Your face proclaims in every feature 
 You wouldn't harm a fellow-creature — 
 
 You're a kind soul, I know you are, Snipps." 
 
34 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 " Ay, so you said six months ago ; 
 
 But such fine words, I'd have you know, 
 
 Butter no parsnips." 
 This said, he bade his lawyer draw 
 
 A special writ, 
 
 Serve it on Stubbs, and follow it 
 Up with the utmost rigor of the law. 
 
 This lawyer was a friend of Stubbs ; 
 
 That is to say, 
 
 In a civic way, 
 "Where business interposes not its rubs : 
 For where the main chance is in question, 
 
 Damon leaves Pythias to the stake, 
 
 Pylades and Orestes break, 
 And Alexander cuts Hephsestion ; 
 But when our man of law must sue his friends, 
 Tenfold politeness makes amends. 
 
 So when he meets our Auctioneer, 
 
 Into his outstretch'd hand he thrust his 
 Writ, and said, with friendly leer, 
 
 " My dear, dear Stubbs, pray do me justice ; 
 In this affair I hope you see 
 No censure can attach to me^- 
 Don't entertain a wrong impression ; 
 
 I'm doing now what must be done 
 In my profession." 
 " And so am I," Stubbs answer'd with a frown; 
 
 So crying " Going — going — going — gone ! " 
 
 He knock'd him down ! 
 
 ME. AND MES. SKINNEE. - 
 
 HAKDWICK. 
 
 Mr. Skinner, a respectable middle-aged gentleman, but 
 of a somewhat convivial turn, was very fond of attending 
 public dinners, where, as he said, he only went " to support 
 the chair ! " Mrs. Skinner was of a Caudle-like turn of 
 
MR. AND MRS. SKINNER. 35 
 
 mind, and was in the habit of cautioning her lord and — no ! 
 not exactly her master, by a few words at parting ; such as 
 " Now mind, dear, don't get worse for the wine," and " Pray 
 take care of your purse," and " Pray don't stop after the 
 dinner ; " to all of which Mr. S. would promise to be partic- 
 ularly attentive, although he would venture upon a mild 
 remonstrance : 
 
 (This is the highly respectable, staid, middle-aged, prudent 
 Mr. Skinner, before going to the dinner.) 
 
 " Really, Mrs. Skinner, these remarks are entirely un- 
 called-for. I should imagine, Mrs. S., that by this time you 
 were fully aware of my strength of mind, and firmness of 
 resolution. Charity — blessed charity, Mrs. S., prompts me 
 to go ; but rest assured, I shall not give more than what is 
 necessary to maintain the integrity of my name. I never 
 allow my heart to get the better of my head, Mrs. Skinner. 
 If I go to a public dinner, it's as much a matter of business 
 as pleasure ; I never over-do it. Prudence, Mrs. S., pru- 
 dence is my watchword and motto. I'm not to be betrayed 
 into over-indulgerce, nor late hours ; oh, dear, no ! other men 
 may have these failings, but J have not. My position in so- 
 ciety, and well-known respectability, is a sufficient guaran- 
 tee against anything of that kind. I'm proud — Caroline — 
 proud, I may say, of my inflexible determination ; when I 
 have once made up my mind, nothing can alter or influence 
 me ; I wouldn't deviate from my fixed purpose, not even for 
 my own brother, Mrs. S. ; you under-value my strength of 
 mind, and insult me, by supposing me — me, JBbenezer Skin- 
 ner, capable of such vacillation and impropriety. "What do 
 you say ? ' Think of the last time.' Now, Caroline, you 
 know the last, as I told you, I was taken suddenly ill, and 
 was sent to the hospital in a cab, where they detained me 
 two or three hours ; you know I was perfectly sober when I 
 arrived at home. "What do you say ? ' That was owing to 
 the stomach-pump.' Mrs. Skinner, may you never be sud- 
 denly indisposed at a party. ' The time before that, too, I 
 didn't come home till morning ? ' That's too bad, Caroline ; 
 
36 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 you know perfectly well, the policeman who brought me 
 home told you, as I did myself, that the crowd at the fire 
 was so great I couldn't get through it, and was forced, 
 against my will, into a tavern opposite, where the fumes of 
 the liquors the firemen drank overpowered my finely-strung 
 nerves. But I dare say nothing of that kind will occur to- 
 night, and you may rely upon it, that I shall be guilty of 
 no approach to inebriation — it's what I detest and abhor. 
 Of course I must — like others — respond to the usual loyal 
 toasts ; but beyond that, Mrs. S., don't think, for a moment, 
 I shall go. In fact the truth is, I would rather not go at all ; 
 but you see, I am one of the stewards, and duty — religious 
 duty — Caroline, towards the truly excellent objects of the 
 society, calls upon* me, in the sacred name of benevolence 
 and humanity, to contribute my humble aid to the good 
 cause, and to partake of the annual dinner ; and I cannot, 
 without self-reproach, neglect. j.t ; Jbut, upon the word of a 
 man, who's valued possession is his strength of mind, and 
 power to resist temptations/Via^ be at home by twelve o'clock. 
 You smile — why so ?-^yo'u know my determination of char- 
 acter, Mrs. S., why doubt me ? Mind, I don't say it may 
 not be five minutes- after twelve, but not later. By-the-by, I 
 might as well take a key, and thenVneither you nor the ser- 
 vant need wait up. You* say/' Oh, no ; you're not going to 
 risk the house being set on fire, with my filthy cigar left 
 burning in the passage again.' Now, Caroline, dearest! 
 that's not right ; you know I don't smoke. ' How came it 
 there, then ? ' , How should I know ? I suppose some one 
 threw it in when I opened the door. However, time presses, 
 it's now nearly five, and I've got to walk to the rank to get 
 a cab ; I must be off. ' I'm to remember that you'll sit up 
 for me?' Certainly, my dear, prudence and punctuality 
 was always my motto, and punctually at twelve will I be 
 home. Mrs. Skinner — ta-ta." 
 
 Mr. Skinner goes to the dinner, and now you will please 
 to suppose he is returning home just as the gray light of 
 daybreak is dawning — somebody has taken (by mistake, of 
 
MR. AND MRS. SKINNER. 37 
 
 course) his new silk -umbrella and has left him an old ging- 
 ham — he has lost his own hat, and he has to pnt up with 
 one too big for him — he does not go straight home, for the 
 reason that his legs tremble under him and compel him to 
 walk in a zigzag direction. 
 
 (This is the highly respectable, staid, prudent, &c, &c, 
 Mr. Skinner, returning "home from the dinner.) 
 
 {Singing.) " We're nae that fou, we're nae that fou, but 
 just a wee drap in our ee." "Why, dear me! dear me! 
 whatever is the time ? Everybody is gone home ; I wish I 
 was at home. Here — cab, cab, cab ! Why, even all the cabs 
 are gone home. All the people's gone to bed, except my 
 wife, she ain't, / know ; she'll wait up for me, to let me in, 
 instead of the girl — what a fool she is I I wish she'd let 
 Mary Ann sit up to open the door ; it would do just as well, 
 and she wouldn't break her rest. Nice girl, that Mary Ann 
 — very nice girl. Let me see, let me see ; how old's my 
 wife ? Why — forty — forty — ay, forty-four : and she's as 
 well as ever. Ah ! there's no chance yet I JSTow, when I do 
 get home, I shall catch it — I know I shall ; I've given all 
 the money away, doubled my subscription, and become a 
 life subscriber. Well, well — ' Charity covers a ' — what is it? 
 — (hiccup) what is it ? ' a. multitude of ' something. Beauti- 
 ful song that, the man sung — very touching ; something 
 about ' drying up the Orphan's Beer ! ' — I forget the rest — 
 cost me five guineas tho' — never mind." (Singing thickly.) 
 " ' Non, Nobis, Dominoes? Non, no, no, no ! — hang it, I 
 don't know ; which the deuce is my house ? I can't see it. 
 Why (hiccup), this isn't my street; my street's a terrace, 
 that goes up steps, with a brass knocker, and a letter-box. 
 What does it say ? — Long — Long — Long Acre ! Why, this 
 ain't the way to Islington Grove ! — that's where I live." (As 
 if addressing a company.) " Skinner, gentlemen, will be most 
 happy and delighted to see you all there, gentlemen, come 
 when you will ; Mrs. Skinner will be proud to receive you ; 
 she's a good woman, though I say it ; a better creature than 
 Mrs. S. never breathed, gentlemen ; she will make you all 
 
38 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 comfortable for a week, if you like, gentlemen." {Suddenly 
 waking up.) " Hallo ! hallo ! What am I talking about ? 
 Catch her at it. "Why, it was only yesterday she snubbed 
 my city friend, Biffins. She don't like conviv-viv-viv-i-ality, 
 does my wife. I wonder what she'll say to me, being so 
 late ? She'll think I've been drinking ; she's wrong, though, 
 very wrong ! How could I miss my way I can't make out ! 
 "Why, here's a bridge ; I don't go over any bridge to Isling- 
 ton, do I ? Certainly not. How the fog gets in one's eyes ! 
 I know these fogs will do a deal o' mischief ; if it hadn't been 
 for the fog, I should a' been home hours ago — but she won't 
 believe it — not a bit of it. She be bothered ; she should a' 
 let me have the key ; next time I will have it. (Hiccup.) Now 
 I feel as happy as possib-ib-ble. I wonder how people can 
 grumble, and not be eharit-a'b-a'b-ble ? — they ain't like me. 
 Now, there's Bunkins, I'll lend him five pounds to-morrow ! 
 And there's Swivell, his business is rather shaky ; I'll keep 
 him afloat awhile. Then there's Boozle, he asked me to do 
 a bill for twenty, yesterday, and I refused him — how un- 
 kind ! — I'll do one for fifty, if he likes, in the morning. 
 There's old John, my clerk, too ; he's a good old faithful ser- 
 vant ; I'll raise his salary directly. Then there's my poor 
 brother Tom, in the work-house. Tom, my boy, you shall 
 come out and be my partner. What a good thing it is to 
 have a kind heart ! How I feel for the poor creatures that's 
 badly off! I'll make Mrs. Skinner give away soup in the 
 morning, to all the wretched, starving, poor things that 
 ain't got a bed to eat, and not a bit of bread to lie down 
 upon ! I'll fetch in all the ragged boys that tumble after 
 the omnibuses, and clothe 'em, that I will. I'll subscribe to 
 the hospital, for a man don't know what he may come to ; 
 and I'll give a poor cabman more than sixpence a mile ! I 
 feel for 'em — out in all weathers and all hours." ( With en- 
 ergy.) " Where are they all? I shan't get home at all ! Ah, 
 thorn's one at last. Here, my man ; cab ! cab !— home ! 
 What do you say? 'Where to?' Why, home— Islington 
 Grove ; — drive on, and charge what you like. Mrs. Skinner 
 
THE BACHELOR AND THE BRIDE. 39 
 
 must pay it. Won't she like that ? Well, never mind, I 
 shall sleep like a top while she talks. I'm all right now I've 
 got a cab — in I go ! " (Singing.) " ' Old Simon the Cellarer 
 keeps a — a ' — oh, I don't know ; that's what the man sung. 
 All right, cabby, I'm ready ; help me in, old boy ; here's a 
 cigar, and drive on ! " 
 
 THE BACHELOE AND THE BEIDE. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Frank Forethought was a very careful fellow, 
 
 In all his actions circumspect and wise ; 
 Never quite fuddled, very seldom mellow, 
 
 Nor e'er for love heaved unavailing sighs ; 
 For glances which all other hearts could gain, 
 On him bestow'd, were still bestow'd in vain. 
 
 And let not lovesick youths, with upcast eyes, 
 
 Nor reeling sots, or let such only blame ; 
 To those who liberty and reason prize, 
 
 To be in love or liquor is the same : 
 Such follies we in either case commit, 
 As are for fools or madmen only fit. 
 
 Frank, though near forty, had (the observation 
 I made just now) both love and wine defied, 
 
 "When, all at once, he felt a strange sensation — 
 A sort of throbbing at his larboard side 
 (As sailors term it), with a sudden flush, 
 
 As if the blood forth from his frame would rush. 
 
 His pulse, before so temperate, now grew quick, 
 
 And sighs (unknown before) he scarce could smother, 
 
 So as he felt inclining to be sick 
 
 He took a dram, another, and another : 
 
 Tliis plan, though oft the best, as matters stood, 
 
 In his dilemma, did more harm than good. 
 
40' COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 What, in the sufferer, caused this state alarming 
 Scarce need I say ; what but a woman could 1 
 
 And this was young and fair, resolved on charming ; 
 And though he lon^ her blandishments withstood, 
 
 Oft on her eyes incautious would he gaze, 
 
 Until at last they set him in a blaze 
 
 Those eyes so fatal were to all beholders, 
 
 Like gas, at once could light and heat impart : 
 
 I'd have a score of hazels at my shoulders, 
 Rather then 'two such hazels at my heart. 
 
 When glowing glances of fond feelings tell us, 
 
 How thrills — but stop, I mustn't make spouse jealous. 
 
 So to proceed, our swain was like a tree. 
 Which sapless grown is easier made to flame j 
 
 This fair assailant plied most dexterously 
 
 Her smiles and wiles, till quite secured her aim ; 
 
 And these attacks, in ardor unabated, 
 
 Had brought him to the state before related. 
 
 He thought of naught but her who'd caused his pain 
 Sleeping or waking, and the charm grew stronger ; 
 
 Therefore resolved, since struggling was in vain, 
 To marry — and to think of her no longer : 
 
 She, press'd to name the day, could scarcely speak, 
 
 But blushing, sighing, murmui'd "Sunday week." 
 
 Frank had a mother, whom he much respected 
 (For she'd a fortune at her own disposal), 
 
 And much he fear'd that if by her detected 
 
 In marriage project, hopes of wealth would close all, 
 
 Since she had vow'd, if he inclined to wed, 
 
 To lead a second husband to her bed. 
 
 And it so chanced there was a strolling player 
 To whom she seem'd a willing ear to lend ; 
 
 Frank knew not this — and yet with secret care 
 Procured a ring, a license, and a friend 
 
 Who would act as father to his destined bride, 
 
 And keep the secret from the world beside. 
 
THE BACHELOR AND THE BRIDE. 41 
 
 The time arrived, and Forethought, with his friend, 
 Might snugly station'd in the porch be seen, 
 
 Expecting that the bride would thither bend 
 
 Her course ; she came not — with impatience keen 
 
 The kind companion would no longer stay, 
 
 But went to know the cause of this delay 
 
 I once was angling, and with great delight 
 
 Hook'd several fish, felt of my skill much vanity, 
 
 But when I couldn't get another bite, 
 Began to feel a vast deal of humanity ; 
 
 And 'gainst the barbarous sport my anger rising, 
 
 Put up and went away philosophizing. 
 
 In this state were Frank's feelings : he began 
 To think 'twould prove a fortunate miscarriage, 
 
 And that for him, perhaps, the wisest plan 
 
 Was to go home, and think no more of marriage. 
 
 But while these thoughts in his suspense opp? ess'd him, 
 
 A man of smart appearance thus address'd him. 
 
 " Sir, I came here hoping to wed in private — 
 I wish'd to keep some persons in the dark, 
 
 So meant, lest they the knowledge should arrive at, 
 To take my mate from no one but the clerk ; 
 
 Since he refuses, I make free to ask, 
 
 If you in kindness will perform the task. 
 
 " But for a few short moments 'twill detain you, 
 The minister and bride are waiting there." 
 
 Says Frank, " By a refusal I'll not pain you, 
 Though 'pon my word this is a strange affair ; 
 
 I meant to take a wife myself to-day ! 
 
 And never dreamt of giving one away I " 
 
 The clergyman look'd grave — the knot was tied — 
 The fees were paid ; his smiles were then benign ; 
 
 With curious eye our hero view'd the bride, 
 But still she hid her countenance divine ; 
 
42 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 And e'en her natural tones contrived to smother ; 
 
 At length he caught a glimpse, and — 'twas his mother ! 
 
 The rest is plain — she who had Frank decoy'd, 
 Was sister to this fortune-hunting swain : 
 
 Who had her fascinating arts employ'd, 
 To banish any scruples might remain, 
 
 Her son respecting, in the matron's mind, 
 
 By proving him to wedlock's joys inclined. 
 
 Now all you single gentlemen of forty, 
 
 Take warning by Frank Forethought's piteous case ; 
 How happy I should this, my tale, have taught ye, 
 
 By his example to avoid disgrace. 
 Moist spring, and glowing summer, having past, 
 Do not in autumn catch love's plague at last. 
 
 THE DBUNKABD AND HIS WIFE. 
 
 LA FONTAINE. 
 
 Each one's his faults, to which he still holds fast, 
 
 And neither shame nor fear can cure the man ; 
 
 'Tis apropros of this (my usual plan), 
 I give a story, for example, from the past. 
 
 A follower of Bacchus hurt his purse, 
 
 His health, his mind, and still grew each day worse ; 
 
 Such people, ere they're run one-half their course, 
 Drain all their fortune for their mad expenses. 
 
 One day this fellow, by the wine o'erthrown, 
 Had in a bottle left his senses; 
 
 His shrewd wife shut him all alone 
 In a dark tomb, till the dull fume 
 
 Might from his brains evaporate. 
 He woke and found the place all gloom, 
 
 A shroud upon him cold and damp, 
 
 Upon the pall a funeral lamp. 
 " What's this ? " said he, " my wife's a widow, then ! " 
 
 On that the wife, dressed like a Fury, came, 
 
A WESTERN LAWYER^ PLEA. 43 
 
 Mask'd and with voice disguised, into the den, 
 
 And brought the wretched sot, in hopes to tame, 
 Some boiling gruel fit for Lucifer. 
 
 The sot no longer doubted he was dead — 
 A citizen of Pluto's — could he err 1 
 
 "And who are youl " unto the ghost he said. 
 " I'm Satan's steward," said the wife, " and serve the food 
 
 For those within this black and dismal place." 
 
 The sot replied, with comical grimace, 
 Not taking any time to think, 
 " And don't you also bring the drink V 
 
 WESTEEN LAWYEE'S PLEA AGAINST THE 
 EACT. 
 
 Gentlemen of the Jury: — The Scripture saith, "Thou 
 shalt not kill ;" now, if you hang my client, you transgress 
 the command as slick as grease, and as plump as a goose egg 
 in a loafer's face. Gentlemen, murder is murder, whether 
 committed by twelve jurymen, or by a humble individual 
 like my client. Gentlemen, I do not deny the fact of my 
 client having killed a man, but is that any reason why you 
 should do so ? No such thing, gentlemen; you may bring 
 the prisoner in " guilty ; " the hangman may do his duty ; 
 but will that exonerate you ? No such thing ; in that case 
 you will be murderers. Who among you is prepared for the 
 brand of Cain to be stamped upon his brow to-day ? Who, 
 freemen — who in this land of liberty and light ? Gentlemen, 
 I will pledge my word, not one of you has a bowie-knife or a 
 pistol in his pocket. No, gentlemen, your pockets are odor- 
 iferous with the perfumes of cigar cases and tobacco. You 
 can smoke the pipe of a peaceful conscience ; but hang my 
 unfortunate client, and the scaly alligators of remorse will 
 gallop through the internal principles of animal viscera, 
 until the spinal vertebrae of your anatomical construction is 
 turned into a railroad, for the grim and gory goblins of 
 despair. Gentlemen, beware of committing murder ! Be- 
 
44 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 ware, I say, of meddling with the eternal prerogative! 
 Gentlemen, I adjure you, by the manumitted ghost of tem- 
 poral sanctity, to do no murder. I adjure you, by the name 
 of woman, the mainspring of the tickling timepiece of time's 
 theoretical transmigration, to do no murder ! I adjure you, 
 by the love you have for the esculent and condimental gusto 
 of our native pumpkin, to do no murder ! I adjure you, by 
 the stars set in the flying ensign of your emancipated coun- 
 try, to do no murder ! I adjure you, by the American Eagle 
 that whipped the universal game cock of creation, and now 
 sits roosting on the magnetic telegraph of time's illustrious 
 transmigration, do no murder ! And lastly, gentlemen, if 
 you ever expect to wear store-made coats — if you ever ex- 
 pect free dogs not to bark at you — if you ever expect to 
 wear boots made of the free hide of the Eocky Mountain 
 buffalo — and, to sum up all, if you ever expect to be any- 
 thing but a set of sneaking, loafing, rascally, cut-throated, 
 braided small ends of humanity, whittled down into indis- 
 tinctibility, acquit my client, and save your country. 
 The prisoner was acquitted. 
 
 READING A TRAGEDY. 
 
 BAYLY. 
 
 Oh, proud am I, exceeding proud, I've mustered the Elite I 
 I'll read them my new Tragedy — no ordinary treat ; 
 It has a deeply-stirring plot — the moment I commence 
 They'll feel for my sweet heroine an interest intense ; 
 It never lags, it never flags, it cannot fail to touch ; 
 Indeed, I fear the sensitive may feel it over much ; 
 But still a dash of pathos with my terrors I combine, 
 The bright reward of tragic bard — the laurel will be mine ! 
 
 Place chairs for all the company, and, ma'am, I really think 
 If you don't send that child to bed, he will not sleep a wink ; 
 I know he'll screech like anything before I've read a page • 
 My second act would terrify a creature of that age ; 
 And should the darling, scared by me, become an imbecile, 
 Though flattered at the circumstance — how sorry I should feel ! 
 
CAST-OFF GARMENTS. 45 
 
 What ! won't you serjd the child to bed 2 well, madam, we shall see ; 
 Pray take a chair, and now prepare the laurel crown for me. 
 
 Have all got pocket handkerchiefs 3 your tears will fall in streams : 
 Place water near to sprinkle over any one who screams ; 
 And pray, good people, recollect, when what I've said controls 
 Your sympathies, and actually harrows up your souls, 
 Remember (it may save you all from suicide or fits), 
 'Tis but a mortal man who but opes the floodgates of his wits ! 
 Retain your intellects to trace my brightest gem (my moral), 
 And, when I've done, I'm very sure you'll wreathe my brow with 
 laurel. 
 
 Hem — " Act the First, and Scene the First — A Wood — Bumrumpti 
 
 enters — 
 Bumrumpti spea7cs, l And have I then escaped from my tormentors'? 
 Revenge ! revenge ! oh, were they dead, and 7 a carrion crow, 
 I'd pick the flesh from off their bones, I'd sever toe from toe! 
 Shall fair Fryfitta, pledged to me, her plighted vow recall, 
 And wed with hated Snookums or with any man at all ! 
 No — rather perish earth and sea, the sky and — all the rest of it — 
 For wife to me she swore she'd be, and she must make the best of it.' " 
 
 Through five long acts — ay, very long — the happy bard proceeds ; 
 Without a pause, without applause, scene after scene he reads ! 
 That silent homage glads his heart ! it silent well may be ; 
 Not one of all his slumbering friends can either hear or see ! 
 The anxious chaperon is asleep ! the beau beside the fair ! 
 The dog is sleeping on the rug ! the cat upon the chair ! 
 Old men and babes — the footman, too ! oh, if we crown the bard, 
 We'll twine for him the popjjy wreath, his only fit reward. 
 
 CAST-OFF GABMENTS. 
 
 From " Nothing to "Wear." 
 
 BUTLER. 
 
 Well, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey and gained her, 
 With the silks, crinolines and hoops that contained her, 
 I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder 
 At least in the property, and the best right 
 
46 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 To appear as its escort by day and by night : 
 
 And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand ball— 
 
 Their cards had been out for a fortnight or so, 
 
 And set the Avenue on the tiptoe — 
 I considered it only my duty to call, 
 
 And see if Miss Flora intended to go. 
 I found her — as ladies are apt to be found, 
 When the time intervening between the first sound 
 Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter 
 Than usual — 1 found ; 1 won't say — I caught her— 
 Intent on the pier-glass, undoubtedly meaning 
 To see if perhaps it didn't need cleaning. 
 She turned as I entered — " Why, Harry, you. sinner, 
 I thought that you went to the Flashers' to dinner ! " 
 " So I did," I replied, " but the dinner is swallowed, 
 
 And digested, I trust, for 'tis now nine and more j 
 So being relieved from that duty, I followed 
 
 Inclination, which led me, you see, to your door. 
 And now will your ladyship so condescend 
 As just to inform me if you intend 
 Your beauty, and graces, and presence to lend 
 (All which, when I own, I hope no one will borrow), 
 To the Stuckups', whose party, you know, is to-morrow 1 " 
 The fair Flora looked up with a pitiful air, 
 And answered quite promptly, " Why, Harry, mon cher, 
 I should like above all things to go with you the>e; 
 But really and truly — I've nothing to wear. v ' 
 " Nothing to wear ! go just as you are ; 
 Wear the dress you have on, and j^ou'U be by far, 
 I engage, the most bright and particular star 
 
 On the Stuckup horizon" — I stopped, for her eye, 
 Notwithstanding this delicate onset of flattery, 
 Opened on me at once a most terrible battery 
 
 Of scorn and amazement. She made no reply, 
 But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose 
 
 (That pure Grecian feature), as much as to say, 
 " How absurd that any sane man should suppose 
 That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes, 
 
 No matter how fine, that she wears every day ! " 
 
CAST-OFF GARMENTS. 47 
 
 So I ventured again — " Wear your crimson brocade," 
 (Second turn up of nose) — " That's too dark by a shade." 
 "Your blue silk "— " That's too heavy;" " Your pink"— 
 
 " That's too light." 
 " Wear tulle over satin " — " I can't endure white. 1 ' 
 " Your rose-colored, then, the best of the batch " — 
 " 1 haven't a thread of point lace to match." 
 " Your brown moire antique " — " Yes, and look like a Quaker ; " 
 " The pearl-colored " — " I would, but that plaguey dressmaker 
 Has had it a week " — " Then that exquisite lilac, 
 In which you would melt the heart of a Shylock." 
 (Here the nose took again the same elevation.) 
 " I wouldn't wear that for the whole of creation." 
 
 " Why not 1 It's my fancy, there's nothing could strike it, 
 As more comme it faut " — " Yes, but dear me, that lean 
 
 Sophronia Stuckup has got one just like it, 
 And I won't appear dressed like a chit of sixteen." 
 " Then that splendid purple, that sweet Mazarine; 
 That superb point d'aiguille, that imperial green, 
 That zephyr-like tarletan, that rich grenadine " — 
 " Not one of all which is fit to ba seen," 
 Said the lady, becoming excited and flushed. 
 " Then wear," I exclaimed, in a tone which quite crushed 
 
 Opposition, (l that gorgeous toilet which you sported 
 In Paris last spring, at the grand presentation, 
 When you quite turned the head of the head of the nation, 
 
 And by all the grand court were so very much courted." 
 
 The end of the nose was portentously tipped up, 
 And both the bright eyes shot forth indignation, 
 As she burst upon me with the fierce exclamation, 
 kC I have worn it three times at the least calculation, 
 And that, and the most of my dresses are ripped up ! " 
 Here Tripped out something, perhaps rather rash. 
 
 Quite innocent though ; but to use an expression 
 More striking than classic, " it settled my hash," 
 
 And proved very soon the last act of our session. 
 " Fiddlesticks, is it, sir 7 I wonder the ceiling 
 Doesn't fall down and crush you — oh, you men have no feeling, 
 You selfish, unnatural, illiberal creatures, 
 
48 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Who set yourselves up as patterns and preachers. 
 
 Your silly pretence — why what a mere guess it is ! 
 
 Pray, what do you know of woman's necessities 1 
 
 I have told you and shown you I've nothing to wear, 
 
 And it's perfectly plain you not only don't care, 
 
 But you do not believe me" (here the nose went still higher). 
 
 " 1 suppose if you dared you would call me a liar. 
 
 Our engagement is ended, sir — yes, on the spot ; 
 
 You're a brute, and a monster, and — I don't know what. 5 ' 
 
 I mildly suggested the words — Hottentot, 
 
 Pickpocket, and cannibal, Tartar, and thief, 
 
 As gentle expletives which might give relief; 
 
 But this only proved as spark to the powder, 
 
 And the storm I had raised came faster and louder ; 
 
 It blew and it rained, thundered, lightened and hailed 
 
 Interjections, verbs, pronouns, till language quite failed 
 
 To express the abusive, and then its arrears 
 
 Were brought up all at once by a torrent of tears, 
 
 And my last faint, despairing attempt at an obs- 
 
 Ervation was lost in a tempest of sobs. 
 
 HOW TO CUEE A COUGH. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 One Biddy Brown, a country dame, 
 
 As 'tis by many told, 
 Went to a doctor — Drench by name— 
 
 For she had caught a cold. 
 
 And sad, indeed, was Biddy's pain, 
 
 The truth must be confest, 
 Which she to ease found all in vain, 
 
 For it was at her chest. 
 
 The doctor heard her case — and then, 
 
 Determined to assist her, 
 Prescribed — oh ! tcnderest of men, 
 
 Upon her chest a blister ! 
 
THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. 49 
 
 Away went Biddy, and next day 
 
 She called on Drench again. 
 " Well, have you used the blister, pray • 
 
 And has it eased your pain ] " 
 
 " Ay, zur," the dame, with curtsey cries, 
 
 " Indeed, I never mocks ; 
 But, bless ye ! I'd no chest the size, 
 
 So I put it on a box. 
 
 " But, la ! zur, it be little use, 
 
 It never rose a bit ; 
 And you may see it if you choose, 
 
 For there itfs sticking yet ! " : ^ 
 
 J 
 
 THE SOLDIEK'S BETUKN. 
 
 AN ETHIOPIAN DIALOGUE. 
 
 WHITE. 
 
 Scene. — A Wood. 
 Enter Old Soldier, r., with valise, and in old black coat, large shoes, §c. 
 
 mm* Soldier. Dis must be de place ; ebery tree and shrub 
 
 . am familiar to me — eben de ole pump dat I passed just now 
 
 has a 'semblance ob days gone by. It seems to me a — 
 
 'Enter George, l., with whitewash pan and brush. 
 
 Ah ! here comes some one dat can gib me de information I 
 seek. Young man, can you tell me if — ah ! for three weeks 
 I have not tasted food. 
 
 George. {Aside.) He must be rather peckish by dis time ! 
 
 Soldier. Twenty years ago I left dis spot, an' my poor 
 little bruder must be quite a man by dis time. I left him 
 gambolling on de hillside. 
 
 George. (Aside.) Oh ! he was a gambler. Oh my ! (Sol- 
 dier advances, R., and drops valise on George's toes.) Oh dear t 
 
 Soldier. Ha ! wouldst rob me of my all? (Seizes him.) 
 
 George. Oh don't ! I wouldn't take nuffin. 
 
50 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Soldier. My all is in dat casket. 
 
 George. His awl ! Why, he must be a shoemaker. Say, 
 hab you got your lapstone an' hammer wid you V 
 
 Soldier*. [Looking around.) I haven't seen an honest face 
 since I came into dis part ob de country. I really a — (To 
 Tom:, sitting.) Well, there is one ; dat's what I called a good, 
 honest, open countenance. 
 
 George. Yes, you'd say so if you could only see him 
 about dinner time. 
 
 Soldier. Young man ! (Advances.) Wouldst listen to a 
 painful story ? 
 
 George. I would for twenty years. 
 
 Soldier. Twenty years ! Listen then, an' mark me. 
 (George marks him on the bach with whitewash brush.) Twenty 
 years ago — do I live while I tell it ? — (weeps) there lived in 
 dis village a respectful colored woman who had two sons, 
 both boys. 
 
 George. Both boys ! Wasn't one ob dem a gal ? 
 
 Soldier. Silence and listen. For many years dey grew 
 up, de delight of dere parents, till the oldest boy conceived 
 de idea ob joining de army. De ole folks interfered to make 
 him change his mind, but go he would ; so dere was no use 
 in talkin'. He left dere side in de summer bloom, an' in 
 one hour — one short hour — he was thousands an' thousands 
 ob miles away. Since dat day, he has neber seen his aged 
 sire, an 'longs for de time when he shall see once more dat 
 little gambolling bruder, on de hillside — 
 
 George. Does my ears deceibe my eyesight? Ah ! (Looks 
 at his feet, his shoes, &c.) Had you a muder? 
 
 Soldier. I had a muder. Why, ob coarse I had a muder. 
 
 George. Dat muder had two sons — boys ? 
 
 Soldier. She had, as you remark. 
 
 George. Ore day, he left for parts unknown; he has 
 neber been heaid ob since dat day. 
 
 " An' one dreadful ni^ht the wind it blew, 
 De thunder thundered and de snow it snew ! " 
 
 Soldier. Hum ! (Both approach in front.) 
 
THE COUNTRYMEN AND THE ASS. 51 
 
 GEORGE. Ha ! ha ! he ! ho ! hu ! hy ! Metliinks I should 
 know dat bruder by a scar on his wrist. 
 
 Soldier. I hab dat scar, an' many a good ole soldier hab 
 I scar'd wid it. 
 
 George. Dat eyes ! 
 
 Soldier. Dem nose ! 
 
 George. Dose bar ! 
 
 Soldeir. Dat feet ! Oh dear ! Twelve at least ! 
 
 Both. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! Come to de 
 arms of your long-losted bruder ! {Both fall awkwardly — 
 George gets tip very sulky.) 
 
 George. I don't care to meet any more ob my relations 
 just about now ; no, siree ! {Limps off, L.) 
 
 Soldier. Stop little bruder George, and listen to de rest 
 ob my misfortunes and history for twenty years. [Hobbles 
 after him.) 
 
 THE COUNTEYMEK AND THE ASS. 
 
 BYRC 
 
 A country fellow and his son, they tell 
 In modern fables, had an ass to sell : 
 For this intent they turned it out to play, 
 And fed so well, that hy the destined day, 
 They brought the creature into sleek repair, 
 And drove it gently to a neighboring fair. 
 
 As they were jogging on, a rural class 
 Was heard to say, " Look ! look there, at that ass ! 
 And those two blockheads trudging on each side, 
 That have not, either of 'era, sense to ride ; 
 Asses all three ! " And thus the country folks 
 On man and boy began to cut their jokes. 
 
 Th' old fellow minded nothing that they said, 
 But every word stuck in the young one's head ; 
 And thus began their comment thereupon : 
 " Ne'er heed 'm, lad." M Nay, father, do get on." 
 
52 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 " Not I, indeed." " Why, then, let m^ I pray." 
 " Well, do ; and see what prating tongues will say." 
 
 The boy was mounted ; and they had not got 
 Much further on, before another knot. 
 Just as the ass was pacing by, pad, pad, 
 Cried, " ! that lazy looby of a lad t 
 How unconcernedly the gaping brute 
 Lets the poor aged fellow walk a-foot." 
 
 Down came the son, on hearing this account, 
 
 And begged and prayed, and made his father mount ; 
 
 Till a third party, on a further stretch, 
 
 " See ! see " exclaimed, " that old hard-hearted wretch ! 
 
 How like a justice there he sits, or squire ; 
 
 While the poor lad keeps wading through the mire." 
 
 " Stop," cried the lad, still vexed in deeper mind, 
 
 " Stop, father, stop ; let me get on behind." 
 
 This done, they thought they certainly should please, 
 
 Escape reproaches, and be both at ease ; 
 
 For, having tried each practicable way, 
 
 What could be left for jokers now to say 7 
 
 Still disappointed by succeeding tone, 
 " Hark ye, you fellows ! Is that ass your own 1 
 Get off, for shame ! or one of you, at least ! 
 You both deserve to carry the poor beast, 
 Ready to drop down dead upon the road, 
 With such a huge unconscionable load." 
 
 On this they both dismounted ; and, some say, 
 
 Contrived to carry, like a truss of hay, 
 
 The ass between 'em ; prints, they add, are seen 
 
 With man and lad, and slinging ass between ; 
 
 Others omit that fancy in the print, 
 
 As overstraining an ingenious hint. 
 
 The copy that we follow says, the man 
 Rubbed down the ass, and took to his first plan, 
 
COME AND GO. 53 
 
 Walked to tha fair, and sold him, got his price, 
 And gave his son this pertinent advice : 
 " Let talkers talk ; stick thou to what is best ; 
 To think of pleasing all — is all a jest.'' 
 
 COME AND GO. 
 
 SHABPE. 
 
 Dick Dawdle had land worth two hundred a-year, 
 Yet from debt and from dunning he never was free, 
 
 His intellect was not surprisingly clear, 
 But he never felt satisfied how it could be. 
 
 The raps at his door, and the rings at his gate, 
 And the threats of a jail he no longer could bear; 
 
 So he made up his mind to sell half his estate, 
 Which would pay all his debts, and leave something to spare. 
 
 He leased to a farmer the rest of his land 
 
 For twenty-one years j and on each quarter day 
 
 The honest man went with the rent in his hand, 
 His liberal landlord, delighted, to pay. 
 
 Before half the term of the lease had expired, 
 
 The farmer, one day, with a bagful of gold, 
 Said, " Pardon me, sir, but I long have desired 
 
 To purchase my farm, if the land can be sold. 
 
 " Ten years I've been blest with success and with health, 
 With trials a few— I thank God, not severe — 
 
 I am grateful, I hope, though not proud of my wealth, 
 But I've managed to lay by a hundred a year." 
 
 " Why how," exclaimed Dick, " can this possibly be ? n 
 (With a stare of surprise, and a mortified laugh) ; 
 
 " The whole of my farm proved too little for me, 
 And you, it appears, have grown rich upon half." 
 
 " 1 hope you'll excuse me," the farmer replies, 
 
 11 But I'll tell you the cause, if your honor would know ; 
 
54 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 In two little words all the difference lies, 
 I always say come, and you used to say go?"* 
 
 " Well, and what does that mean, my good fellow 1 " he said. 
 
 " Why this, sir, that /always rise with the sun ; 
 You said ' go ' to your man, as you lay in your bed, 
 
 I say, ' Come, Jack, with me,' and I see the work done.'* 
 
 HOW THEY POP THE QUESTION. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 The sailor says : " I like your rig; 
 
 And though I've noticed many, 
 I really think you are, old girl, 
 
 As trim a craft as any. 
 And if you'll say the word, 
 
 Through every kind of weather, 
 Just blast my timbers if we don't 
 
 Go cruising on together." 
 
 The poet with enraptured gaze, 
 
 Points out a single star — 
 " 'Tis thus, sweet lady, that you shine 
 
 On mortals from afar j 
 But ah ! it is my fondest hope — 
 
 Though selfish, I must own — 
 That in some modest, vine-wreathed cot 
 
 You'll shine for me alone." 
 
 The dancing master — French, of course- 
 Thinks earnestly of mating, 
 
 And seeks some lovely widow with 
 A bow excruciating. 
 
 " Madame, ze heart is in ze hope 
 You love a leetle beet, 
 
 And go ze way of life wiz me — 
 Madame, I kees your feet." 
 
HOW THEY POP THE QUESTION. 55 
 
 The actor quotes from many plays, 
 
 And swears by all the powers, 
 His hand shall build his Annabelle 
 
 A cot among the flowers. 
 Without her smiles he e'er is like 
 
 A ship without a rudder ; 
 Then talks of dark despair and death, 
 
 Until he makes her shudder. 
 
 And Pat, the coachman, winks at Bid, 
 
 As she flies from room to room — 
 The ever merry chambermaid, 
 
 With dusting-pan and broom — 
 He says, " Me darlint, when we've laid 
 
 Us by a heap of money, 
 We'll get the praste to tie the knot, 
 
 If you'll say yes, me honey." 
 
 Says Hans Yon Schmidt, who keeps saloon, 
 
 " I want to get un vrow, 
 As helps me make der lager pier, 
 
 Und milks de prindle cow ; 
 To make mine shirts, und cook der krout, 
 
 Und eberytings to do ; 
 To feed der horse und slop der pig, 
 
 Und tend my papies too." 
 
 And even Sam, the barber-man, 
 
 At Lize rolls up his eyes, 
 And talks of matrimonial bliss, 
 
 With most heart-rending sighs. 
 "Ef you don't gub dat lily hand 
 
 To dis yer lub-sick nigger, 
 He puts dis pistol to him head, 
 
 And den he pulls the trigger." 
 
 'Tis thus mankind rush to their fate, 
 
 For with a brilliant light, 
 That little elfin being, Love, 
 
56 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Has power beyond the sight. 
 Like children's barks, adown the falls, 
 
 To waters still below. 
 Some glide along without a heart, 
 
 And some to ruin go. 
 
 THE OLEYEE IDIOT. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 A boy, as nursery records tell, 
 Had dropp'd his drumstick in a well ; 
 He had good sense enough to know 
 He would be beaten for't, and so 
 Slily (tho* silly from his cradle) 
 Took from the shelf a silver ladle, 
 And in the water down it goes, 
 After the drumstick, I suppose. 
 
 The thing was miss'd, the servants blamed, 
 
 But in a week no longer named ; 
 
 Now this not suiting his designs, 
 
 A silver cup he next purloins 
 
 (To aid his plan, he never stopp'd), 
 
 And in the water down it dropped. 
 
 This caused some words and much inquiry, 
 
 And made his parents rather iry ; 
 
 Both for a week were vex'd and cross, 
 
 And then — submitted to the loss. 
 
 At length, to follow up his plan, 
 
 Our little, clever idiot man, 
 
 His father's favorite silver waiter 
 
 Next cast into the wat'ry crater. 
 
 Now this, indeed, was what the cook 
 
 And butler could not overlook ; 
 
 And all the servants of the place 
 
 Were searched, and held in much disgrace. 
 
THE KNIGHTS. 57 
 
 The boy now call'd out, " Cook, liere — Nell ; 
 What's this so shining in the well ] " 
 
 This was enough to give a hint 
 That the lost treasure might be in't ; 
 So for a man with speed they sent, 
 Who down the well directly went. 
 They listen with expectant ear, 
 At last these joyful words they hear, 
 " Oh, here's the ladle, and the cup, 
 And waiter too — so draw me up. r ' 
 
 " Hold (quoth the boy), a moment stay, 
 Bring something else that's in your way." 
 Adding (with self-approving grin), 
 " My drumstick, now your hand is in." 
 
 THE KNIGHTS ; OE, BOTH EIGHT AND BOTH 
 WEONG. 
 
 When chivalry was all the taste, 
 
 And honor stamped each dauntless breast ; 
 
 When falsehood was esteemed a shame, 
 
 And heroes bled for virtuous fame ; 
 
 To right the wronged, protect the weak, 
 
 And dry the tear on beauty's cheek ; 
 
 Two bearded knights, on milk-white steeds, 
 
 Equipped for tilts, and martial deeds, 
 
 Perchance, met on a spacious plain, 
 
 Where stood a trophy to the slain ; 
 
 A mighty shield, on one side white, 
 
 The other black as ebon night ; 
 
 Emblem of spotless virtue's fall, 
 
 And death's dark triumph over all. 
 
 Both stopped to view this curious sight, 
 But viewed it in a different light : 
 
58 COMIC RECITATIONS, 
 
 " Bless me!" cries one, how white this shield! 
 
 How bright it shines across the field ! " 
 
 " White ! " says the other, "no such thing ; 
 
 'Tis blacker than the raven's wing ! " 
 
 " Recall your words, presumptuous youth ; 
 
 A knight should never jest with truth." 
 
 " 'Tis you who want to jest, not I. 
 
 The shield is black ! " " By heaven, you lie ! " 
 
 " Now, Truth, bear witness to my vow — 
 
 I'll die, base knight, or make thee bow ! " 
 
 While both with sudden passion stormed, 
 
 And rage each angry face deformed, 
 
 From wordy war, to blows they turn, 
 
 And with revenge and fury burn : 
 
 On either helm the sword descends, 
 
 Each trusty helm the head defends ; 
 
 And on the impenetrable mail, 
 
 The sounding strokes fail thick as hail. 
 
 They prance their coursers round and round, 
 
 Each hopes to give the lucky wound ; 
 
 And each, convinced himself is right, 
 
 Maintains, with equal hope, the fight ; 
 
 Nor doubts to make his rival own, 
 
 Success attends on truth alone. 
 
 By chance, a clown, who passed that way, 
 At a distance saw the doubtful fray ; 
 Who, though he relished not hard blows, 
 Esteemed it right to interpose. 
 
 " Good sirs ! " he cried, then made his bow, 
 Respectful, diffident and low, 
 " I'm but a simple man, 'tis true ! 
 But wish to serve and save you too ; 
 And he who's wronged, I'll take his part, 
 With all my soul, and all my heart ! " 
 
 The knights, by this time almost spent, 
 To honest Hodge attention lent : 
 
THE KNIGHTS. 59 
 
 For e'en the presence of a fool 
 
 Will sometimes stubborn stomachs cool ; 
 
 And when for trifles men fall out 
 
 A trifle oft brings peace about. 
 
 Each, thinking Hodge must prove him right, 
 
 And justify his partial sight. 
 
 Made haste the matter to disclose, 
 
 That caused this war of words and blows, 
 
 And asked if black or white the shield, 
 
 That stood conspicuous on the field, 
 
 For passion still had kept them blind j 
 
 Passion, the shutters of the mind. 
 
 " Faith," said the clown, and scratched his head, 
 
 " Your honors straight shall be obeyed : 
 
 'Tis neither white nor black, but both • 
 
 And this is true 1 11 take my oath. 
 
 One side is black, the other white : 
 
 Each saw it in a single light, 
 
 But had you viewed the shield all round, 
 
 Both would have right and wrong been found. 
 
 The wondering knights like stuck pigs stared, 
 While Hodge the simple truth declared; 
 And each, ashamed of passion's sway, 
 Lifts up his eyes ; when, bright as day, 
 The shield both black and white appeared, 
 And both from falsehood's stain were cleared. 
 They thanked kind Hodge, and parted friends ; 
 Kesolved for wrath to make amends, 
 By looking twice ere once they fought, 
 And always aiding strength with thought. 
 
 Hence we this precious moral draw ; 
 Fixed as the Medes and Persians' law — 
 That he who only one side sees, 
 With erring judgment oft decrees ; 
 And he who only one tale hears, 
 'Gainst half the truth oft shuts bis ears. 
 
60 COMIC KECITATIONS. 
 
 HOW THE LAWYEE GOT A PATEON SAINT. 
 
 A LEGEND OF BBETAGNE. 
 
 BAXE. 
 
 A lawyer of Brittany, once on a time, 
 When business was nagging at home, 
 
 Was sent as a legate to Italy's clime, 
 To confer with the Father at Koine. 
 
 And what was the message the minister brought 1 
 To the Pope he preferred a complaint 
 
 That each other profession a Patron had got, 
 While the Lawyers had never a Saint ! 
 
 " Very true," said his Holiness, — smiling to find 
 
 An attorney so civil and pleasant, — 
 " But my very last Saint is already assigned, 
 
 And I can't make a new one at present. 
 
 " To choose from the Bar it were fittest, I think ; 
 
 Perhaps you've a man in your eye ;" 
 And his Holiness here gave a mischievous wink 
 
 To a Cardinal sitting near by. 
 
 But the lawyer replied, in a lawyer-like way, 
 
 " I know what is modest, I hope ; 
 I didn't come hither, allow me to say 
 
 To proffer advice to the Pope ! " 
 
 " Very well," said his Holiness, " then we will do 
 
 The best that may fairly be done ; 
 It don't seem exactly the thing, it is true, 
 
 That the Law should be Saint-less alone. 
 
 " To treat your profession as well as I can, 
 And leave you no cause of complaint, 
 
 I propose, as the only quite feasible plan, 
 To give you a second-hand Saint. 
 
JOSH BILLINGS OK LAUGHING. 61 
 
 " To the neighboring church you will presently go 
 And this is the plan I advise : — 
 
 First, say a few aves — a hundred or so- 
 Then, carefully bandage your eyes ; 
 
 " Then (saying more aves) go groping around, 
 
 And, touching one object alone, 
 The Saint you are seeking will quickly be found, 
 
 For the first that you touch is your own." 
 
 The lawyer did as his Holiness said, 
 
 Without an omission or flaw ; 
 Then, taking the bandages off from his head, 
 
 What do you think he saw 7 
 
 There was St. Michael (figured in paint) 
 
 Subduing the Father of Evil ; 
 And the lawyer, exclaiming " Be thou our Saint ! * 
 
 Was touching the form of the Devil ! 
 
 JOSH BILLINGS ON LAUGHING. 
 
 Laughing is strikly an amuzement, altho some folks make 
 & bizzness ov it. It haz bin considered an index ov karakter, 
 and thare iz sum, so close at reasoning, that they say, they 
 kan tell what a man had for dinner, by seeing him laff. I 
 never saw two laff alike. While thare are some, who don't 
 make enny noise, thare are sum, who dont make ennything 
 but noise ; and some agin, who hav rnusik in their laff, and 
 others, who laff just az a rat duz, who haz caught a steel 
 trap with his tale. Thare is no mistake in the assershun, 
 that it is a cumfert tew hear sum laffs, that cum rompin out 
 ov a man's mouth, just like a distrik school ov ynng girls 
 let out tew play. Then agin thare iz sum laffs, that are az 
 kold and meaningless az a yesterday's bukwheat pancake — 
 that cum out ov the mouth twisted, and gritty, az a 2 inch 
 auger, drawed out ov a hemlok board. One ov these kind 
 
62 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 ov laffs haz no more cumfert in it than the — stummuk ake 
 haz, and makes yu feel, when yu hear it, az though yu waz 
 being shaved bi a dull razer, without the benefit ov soap, 
 or klergy. Men who never laff may have good hartes, 
 but they are deep seated — like sum springs, they hav their 
 inlet and outlet from below, and show no sparkling bubble 
 on the brim. I dont like a gigler, this kind ov laff iz like 
 the dandylion, a feeble yeller, and not a bit ov good smell 
 about it. It iz true that enny kind ov a laff iz better than 
 none — but giv me the laff that looks out ov a man's eyes 
 fust, to see if the coast is clear, then steals down into the 
 dimple ov his cheek, and rides in an eddy thare awhile, 
 then waltzes a spell, at the korners ov his mouth, like a 
 thing ov life, then busts its bonds ov buty, and fills the air 
 for a moment with a shower ov silvery tongued sparks — 
 then steals bak, with a smile, to its lair, in the harte, tew 
 watch agin for its prey — this it is the kind ov laff that i luy 
 and ain't afrade ov. 
 
 THE NIGHT AFTEB CHRISTMAS. 
 
 ANONYMvAJS. 
 
 'Twas the night after Christmas — when all through the house 
 
 Every soul was abed, and as still as a mouse, 
 
 Those stockings, so lately St. Nicholas' care, 
 
 Were emptied of all that was eatable there. 
 
 The darlings had duly been tucked in their beds, 
 
 With very full stomachs, and pain in their heads ; 
 
 I was dozing away in my new cotton cap, 
 
 And Nancy was rather far gone in a nap, 
 
 When out in the nurs'ry arose such a clatter, 
 
 I sprang from my sleep, crying " What is the matter ? M 
 
 I rushed to each bedside, still half in a doze, 
 
 Tore open the curtains, and threw down the clothes, 
 
 While the light of the taper served clearly to show 
 
 The piteous plight of those objects below. 
 
 For what to the fond father's eyes should appear, 
 
 But the little pale face of each sick little dear. 
 
THE NIGHT AFTER CHRISTMAS 63 
 
 Each pet, having crammed itself full as a tick, 
 
 I knew in a moment now felt like " Old Nick." 
 
 Their pulses were rapid, their breathings the same, 
 
 What their stomachs rejected I'll mention by name : 
 
 Now turkey, now stuffing, plum-pudding — of course 
 
 Now custards, now comfits, now cranberry sauce : 
 
 Before outraged nature each went to the wall, 
 
 Aye ! lollypops, flapdoddle — great things and small, 
 
 As from throes epigastric, indigestibles fly, 
 
 So figs, nuts and raisins, jam, jelly and pie : 
 
 All the horrors of surfeit thus brought to my view, 
 
 To the shame of mamma and Santa Clans too. 
 
 I turned from the sight : to my bed-room stepped back. 
 
 And brought out a vial marked u Pulv. Ipecac," 
 
 When my Nancy exclaimed (for their sufferings shocked her), 
 
 " Don't you think you had better, love, run for the doctor 1 " 
 
 I ran — and was scarcely back under the roof, 
 
 When I heard the sharp clatter of old Jalap's hoof; 
 
 I might say — I had hardly had time to turn 'round, 
 
 When the doctor came into the room with a bound. 
 
 He was spattered with mud from his hat to his boots, 
 
 And the clothes he had on seemed the drollest of suits; 
 
 In his haste he'd put all quite awry on his back, 
 
 And he looked like John FalstafT half- fuddled with sack. 
 
 His eyes how they twinkled! Had the doctor got merry 1 
 
 His cheeks looked like Port, and his breath smelt of Sherry ; 
 
 He hadn't been shaved — so to baffle the breeze, 
 
 The beard on his chin served as " cheveux de frise" 
 
 But inspecting their tongues in despite of their teeth, 
 
 And drawing his watch from his waistcoat beneath, 
 
 He felt of each pulse, saying " each little belly 
 
 Must get rid of the rest of that pie-crust and jelly." 
 
 I gazed on each chubby, plump, sick little elf, 
 
 And groaned when he said it, in spite of myself; 
 
 But a wink of his eye, as he physicked dear Fred, 
 
 Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread ; 
 
 He didn't prescribe — but went straightway to work 
 
 And dosed all the rest — gave his trousers a jerk, 
 
 And adding directions while blowing his nose, 
 
64 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 He buttoned his coat — from his chair he arose, 
 
 Then jumped in his gig — gave old Jalap a whistle, 
 
 And Jalap dashed oft" as if pricked by a thistle ; 
 
 But the doctor exclaimed ere he drove out of sight, 
 
 " More cases just like them ! Good night ! Jones, good night ! " 
 
 A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 
 
 A PETITE COMEDY IN ONE ACT. 
 
 HOWARD PAUL. 
 
 Sir Charles Ripple, Bart. 
 Lyttleton Page, Esq. 
 Mrs. Darlington. 
 
 Costumes — Ordinary ) of the day. 
 
 Stage Directions. — R. means Right; L., Left ; ft, Centre; R. ft, 
 Right of Centre ; L. ft, Left of Centre; D. F, Door in the Flat, 
 or Scene running across the back of the Stage ; ft D. F., Centre 
 Door in the Flat ; D. R. ft, Right Door in the Flat ; L. ft F., 
 Left Door in the Flat ; R. D., Right Door ; L. D., Left Door ; 2 
 E-, Second Entrance ; XI. E., Upper Entrance. The reader is sup- 
 posed to be on the Stage, facing the audience. 
 
 Scene. — A drawing-room elegantly furnished. Door c. and r. and l. 
 — tables R. and L. — mirror over mantel-shelf — pens and ink — books 
 — bell on table — embroidery frame — couch, chairs, etc. 
 
 Enter Page, c. from l. 
 
 PAGE. (Speaks as he enters.) I am sorry she is out ! (Speak- 
 ing off.) Tell the brougham to remain — I will wait your 
 mistress's return. (Gazing about admiringly.) It is here my 
 Diva reigns — on this couch she reposes — in this mirror her 
 beautiful eyes are reflected ! ( Walking about the room restlessly.) 
 Let me see what new greeting I can devise— what new com- 
 pliment pay her. Shall I tell her that she is as beautiful as 
 an angel and simple as a cowslip ? Pshaw ! that don't sound 
 the thing ! angels and cowslips don't go well together ! 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 65 
 
 "What a gift it is, to be able to look cruelly charming to the 
 woman you love, and utter some miraculous sentiment that 
 never was thought of before ! (Takes newspaper from pocket, 
 and sits, L.) Law, bless me ! Lord Palmleaf put up again 
 for — um ! — (as if skimming an article) promises reform, ballot, 
 abolition of — Ah ; yes, the old story ! promise everything, 
 and do — 
 
 Enter Mrs. Darlington, c, followed by Footman. 
 
 Mrs. D. (Speaking as she enters.) Eemember, Thomas, if the 
 gentleman next door calls, I will hear what he has to say. 
 (Seeing Pag-e, who rises.) Grood morning, Mr. Page — I saw 
 your brougham at the door. 
 
 Page. I have just this moment come. You observe, I 
 make no stranger of myself! (Mrs. Darlington gives oonnet 
 and shaicl to Footman, who exits, r. D.) 
 
 Mrs. D. I have been over to St. George's to witness a 
 grand wedding. The bride was a beautiful girl, and I should 
 think, not more then nineteen — she looked perfectly radiant 
 in her silken robes ! (Sits, R.) Poor creature ! another vic- 
 tim ! Oh, by the way, Mr. Page, I must tell you before I 
 forget it — my new tenant, next door, is very troublesome. 
 He has left his card twice this week, and quite insists on an 
 interview. Isn't it a bore to be harassed in this manner ? 
 
 Page. Perhaps he wishes some repairs. 
 
 Mrs. D. I have a suspicion that he is an admirer ! 
 
 Page. (Warmly.) Eh? you will not receive him then, 
 surely ? 
 
 Mrs. T>. (Laughingly.) Why should I not? To what am 
 I indebted for such an early visit from you to-day ? 
 
 Page. Most important business, which I'll communicate 
 after — 
 
 Mrs. D. What? 
 
 Page. Paying due homage to your beauty. 
 
 Mrs. D. Now for pity's sake, let me beg of you, as an 
 especial favor, not to do anything of the sort. If you only 
 knew how sick I am of compliments, and you are so lavish 
 of them ! Do be more economical in future ' 
 
66 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Page. If you were less interesting I might ! 
 
 Mrs. D. There — there, you must imagine that I am. Be- 
 sides, you remember our compact — you are never to be sen- 
 timental in my presence. 
 
 Page. But how can a man employ cold words with a 
 flame burning in his breast. (Sighing.) An amber flame, if I 
 may so term it, that has burned three long years. 
 
 Mrs. D. Don't talk such nonsense, Mr. Page. Three 
 years ! I was then under the protection — or, I should 
 rather say, the domination of a husband. 
 
 Page. But you have been a widow more than a year. 
 
 Mrs. D. And intend remaining one for many more to 
 come. 
 
 Page. In other words — I am doomed to love you for ever 
 without hope ! 
 
 Mrs. D. But what compels you to love me ? 
 
 Page. Your thousand graces — your wit — your — 
 
 Mrs. D. (Taking a fan from pocket, which she shakes at him.) 
 You are beginning again ! 
 
 Page. I stop ! (Placing his hand on his mouth.) 
 
 Mrs. D. I tell you nothing new, when I repeat I have re- 
 nounced for ever all ideas of matrimony ! Heigho ! what 
 experience I have had, was — But there is no use of reviving 
 'bitter recollections ! 
 
 Page. You were sacrified ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Yes, yes — all woman are ! My husband, to be 
 sure, had good qualities, but unfortunately, he had possessed 
 them too long ! Sixty-two years ! and the gout made him 
 irritable, impatient, and fretful — true, he was amiable when 
 in good health, but as he suffered ten months in twelve, you 
 can form an estimate of my happiness ! 
 
 Page. All you say proves the justice of my position. 
 Now if you had married a superb, dashing fellow — in point 
 of fact, a perfect man — 
 
 Mrs. D. (Banteringhj ) Like yourself — 
 
 Page. How well you use the privilege of your sex ! But 
 the idea of a man of seventy — 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 67 
 
 Mrs. D. Sixty-two, if you please ! Don't make it worse 
 than it was ! 
 
 Page. "Well, sixty-two. Love has lost its bloom, and men 
 marry at that age to be nursed. 
 
 Mrs. D. Husbands are much alike, young or old — they 
 are all despotic, treacherous, exacting, or capricious; they 
 are kind and attentive sometimes, I admit, but it's only when 
 the humor takes them. It is honey and caresses one mo- 
 ment, and wormwood and indifference the next. (Crossing.) 
 So if you do not wish me to habe you, pray don't love me a 
 minute longer. 
 
 Page. Do you think I can dismiss you from my heart as 
 I would a witness from the box. (Taking paper from Jus breast 
 pocket.) You urge me, I find, to the dull business purport of 
 my call this morning. I require your signature to this 
 document, "before filing it in the Court of Chancery. 
 
 Mrs. D. ( Taking it and signs.) You lawyers are a world of 
 trouble. It seems that my husband's estate yields nothing 
 but vexation. (Returning it.) 
 
 Page. Out of which one good arises — I am enabled to see 
 you oftener than I otherwise should. 
 
 Mrs. D. Not going to begin again, I hope ! I will save 
 your imagination any further trouble by wishing you good 
 morning, Mr. Page, (Aside.) Provoking -creature ! if he would 
 only worship me less, I believe I should lcve him ten timea 
 better. [Exit, R. 
 
 Page. (Pacing the stage.) Well, she Ia either the most indif- 
 ferent woman in the world, or haL a happy knack of seem- 
 ing so. Her heart is as impregnable as a fortress. She has 
 the most implicit confidence in me in all affairs save those 
 of love. If I were a fool, or even ugly or deformed, I could 
 in some measure account for her coldness, but — (Pan sing 
 opposite mirror and regarding himself.) Confound the thing — a 
 countenance like mine ought to do something for me. 
 Enter Sir Charles Ripple, d. — he strolls in leisurely, and speaks off 
 as he enters. 
 
 Sir C. Yes, yes, it is quite right — I'll wait till your mis- 
 tress returns. 
 
68 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Page. [Seeing him — aside.) Who is that? 
 
 Sir C. A man here — not favorable ! 
 
 Page. (Aside.) What a striking likeness to Sir Charles 
 Eipple ! 
 
 Sir C. (Aside.) He's confoundedly like Lyttleton Page. 
 
 Page. (Bowing.) I beg your pardon ! ( Aside.) It must be. 
 
 Sir C. (After a mutual glance of recognition.) I am sure of 
 it. (Aloud.) Why, Page, how are you? (Extending his hand.) 
 
 Page. Sir Charles ! I thought it was you the moment I 
 set eyes on you. I'm glad to see you. It has been two 
 years since we met ! 
 
 Sir C. Quite right ! I've been home from Italy these 
 three months. And how goes the world with you, Page — 
 the London world — still a bachelor ? 
 
 Page. Still a bacheloi ; but fiercely in love, notwith- 
 standing. 
 
 Sir C. A lawyer in love ! ha, ha ! Cupid and Coke ! what 
 a partnership ! 
 
 Page. It's folly to suppose a man is master of his own 
 heart ! 
 
 Sir C. The popular notion is that your profession is not 
 troubled with that organ. 
 
 Page. In my case, popular idea is in error, for in the 
 matter of heart, the deficit is on the side of the lady ! 
 
 Sir C. Do you mean to say she has rejected you? 
 
 Page. I fear so ; and the unfortunate part of the business 
 is, leaving my bruised feelings out of the case, she is worth 
 five thousand pounds a-ye£r ! 
 
 Sir C. Now I clearly understand your emotion — I can 
 sympathise with you ! 
 
 Page. It has not been for want of enterprise, I assure you 
 — I have been most attentive — slavishly so ; and. as for com- 
 pliments I have positively ransacked my library for grace- 
 ful images and glowing fancies to embroider my conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 Silt C And do you suppose your " ladye fair" doesn't 
 understand embroidery better than yourself ? 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 69 
 
 Page. I believe she would reject the advances of any 
 man, though he were as tender as Komeo, impassioned as 
 Petrarch, persuasive as Mephistopheles, and elegant as 
 Chesterfield. Mrs. Darlington, I fear, is unconquerable. 
 
 Sir C. Oh, is she the object of your affections ? 
 
 Page. Do you know her ? of course you do ! 
 
 Sis C. No, I do not yet! 
 
 Page. (With surprise.) Then how is it I find you m this 
 drawing-room ? 
 
 Sir C. This is the first time I was ever here in my life ! 
 everything must have a beginning, even an acquaintance 
 with a lady ! 
 
 Page. But if you do not know her, by what right or what 
 plea are you here ! I confess I was never so amazed in my life ! 
 
 Sir P. Then if you must know, I rented of her agent the 
 house next door a few weeks since, and this is a visit of re- 
 spect. True, it is not exactly an English custom — our civil- 
 ization is so deplorably humdrum. I picked it up in Venice 
 — haute galanterie, you perceive ; and a tenant, if he be well 
 bred and well travelled should — 
 
 Page. Come, come, Sir Charles, don't shelter your motives 
 under the house next door. 
 
 Sir C. Don't be jealous, my dear Page. Although neigh- 
 bors, we have never exchanged kisses at the window, nor 
 forget-me-nots by moonlight ! 
 
 Page. Still fond of adventure, Sir Charles ? 
 
 Sir C. As Childe Harold or a troubadour, and would go as 
 far in quest of it. * 
 
 Page. (With perplexity.) Yes, yes, oh yes ! (Aside.) I trust 
 he will not display his love of adventure under this roof. 
 
 Sir P. (Aside.) Jealous already, and perplexed as well ! 
 
 Page. Your object, I perceive, is to make love to Mrs. 
 Darlington, and I frankly tell you that you might as well 
 save yourself the trouble. 
 
 Sir C. (Interruptingly .) Trouble! ha, ha! 
 
 Page. You have the example of my failure before your 
 eyes. 
 
70 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Sir C. You are one man. Yenus married Yulcan, a filthy 
 blacksmith, after having refused a dozen excellent offers, at 
 least. It requires no "ballooning in metaphysics, to demon- 
 strate the caprice and wilfulness of women. 
 
 Page. (Gravely.) But I assure you she dislikes all men. 
 She avers they are despotic, capricious, exacting, and cruel. 
 What delights other women enrages her; and as to her 
 opinions, they are always opposite to your own. Now what 
 can one do to shift hers round to yours ? 
 
 Sir C. Always be of hers, and there will be no occasion 
 for her to change. It is a vast mistake to differ with a wo- 
 man on any point. I have a theory of my own that a 
 woman can be won by indifference sooner than any other 
 method. 
 
 Page. It don't strike me. 
 
 Sir C. How long have you known Mrs. Darlington ? 
 
 Page. Let me see — three — nearly four years. 
 
 Sir C. The enigma is solved — you have known her too 
 long, If I undertook to lay siege to a heart, I would answer 
 to carrying it at three assaults. Come, Page, I will deal 
 frankly with you. I confess I was captivated by your 
 charming widow ; and it was perfectly natural for me, as a 
 next door neighbor, to cultivate her acquaintance, if possi- 
 ble ! But much as I admire her, I resign my intentions, 
 unless — Now it occurs to me that I can serve you and illus- 
 trate my doctrine, that women are soonest won by indiffer- 
 ence. What do you say — shall we become affiliated like the 
 llluminatij and engage in the cause with one heart ? It will 
 cost me a pang, but that is nothing where the happiness of 
 a friend is involved. What do you say — shall we unite our 
 forces and strengthen our means of attack ? The affair will 
 amuse me ; and it's a sad case if two man can't win the heart 
 of one woman. 
 
 Page. Sir Charles, you are distinguished for your ingenu- 
 ity and power of reasoning. You might succeed in inducing 
 her to believe me worthy of her serious consideration. This 
 rencontre is most fortunate ! Perhaps if I had not met you, 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 71 
 
 the widow would have been lost to me for ever. And what 
 a loss it would have been — such a delightful woman ! 
 
 Sir C. And five thousand a-year — you shouldn't forget 
 that! 
 
 Page. Now, I shall leave the affair in your hands. (Aside.) 
 Courting by deputy may not be en regie, but as I can do 
 nothing unaided in the case, I cannot help but benefit by 
 junior counsel. (Aloud.) Au revoir ! I shall soon be with 
 you again. [Exit, c. 
 
 Sir C. I always knew Lyttleton Page to be a somewhat 
 feeble individual, but if any one had told me that he was 
 such a consummate blockhead, I would have kicked the in- 
 former. The idea, in this nineteenth century, of creature 
 No. 1 trusting fellow creature No. 2 to erect a temple of 
 love for creature No. 1 to inhabit, and the temple worth five 
 thousand pounds a-year, passes belief. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Darlington, r., speaking as she enters. 
 
 Mrs. D. Some one here, and unannounced ! ( To Ripples.) 
 I beg pardon, sir — whom have I the pleasure of addressing ? 
 (He rises, lows, and hands her his card.) This is not the first 
 card of yours that has been put into my hands. I think 
 " not at home 55 was always the reply, which, to a man of 
 discernment, is sufficiently obvious ! 
 
 Sir C. I must crave your pardon, for one moment. I have 
 the honor of being your tenant, and at the same moment 
 your very humble servant. I have been residing abroad for 
 some years, and it is the custom in Yenice for all tenants to 
 pay a visit of respect to their proprietaire, especially if it be 
 a lady ! 
 
 Mrs. D. But you are now in England — London and 
 Yenice are widely different. 
 
 Sir C. Truly, but I also wish to consult you — 
 
 Mrs. D. (Intemtptingly.) About some repairs, I presume ? 
 
 Sir G. (Catching at the idea.) Yes, yes, precisely! (Aside.) 
 She assists me. (Aloud.) One of the chimneys smokes like 
 Yesuvius before an eruption. 
 
72 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Mrs. D. My man of business shall send you a bricklayer ! 
 It was scarcely necessary to wait on me to tell me a chim- 
 ney smoked ! Perhaps that, too, is a Venetian custom ! 
 
 Sm C. You have anticipated my assurance on that point. 
 (Pointing to the couch.) I beg pardon, would you have the 
 kindness to be seated ? 
 
 Mrs. D. Sir ! 
 
 8ir C. It grieves me to see you stand. 
 
 Mrs. D. But, sir, it seems to me that it is I who — (Aside.) 
 Was there ever such cool audacity. He is positively doing 
 the honor of my own house. 
 
 Sir C. Let me beg of you — 
 
 Mrs. D. Since you insist on it, thank you ! (Sits at table, 
 B.) His sangfroid is positively amusing. 
 
 Sir C. You are extremely gracious to respect my desire ! 
 (Aside.) I am getting on ! 
 
 Mrs. D. It's clear he must not be encouraged ! (Takes em- 
 broidery frame, turns her bach, and begins working.) 
 
 Sir C. (Aside.) I don't wonder Page adores her — she is a 
 charming woman ! (Turns over leaves of books on table — a slight 
 silence.) 
 
 Mrs. D. Although presumptuous, he has not much to say 
 for himself! (Looking round.) I declare, he is reading! 
 
 Sir C. (Beads.) "Oh, thou in Hellas deemed of heavenly 
 birth ! " 
 
 Mrs. D. I beg your pardon, did you speak ? 
 
 Sir C. Not at all. 
 
 Mrs. D. I regret interrupting you ! 
 
 Sir C. Pray don't mention it ! (He continues reading, and 
 she embroiders.) 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) What a bear he is ! (Aloud.) Hem ! 
 
 Sir C. Hem ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Hem! (Aside.) If these are Venetian manners, I 
 prefer our plain English customs ! (Aloud.) Are you aware, 
 Sir Charles Eipple, that in England a visit involves some- 
 thing more than reading ? 
 
 Sir C. (Closing the book.) True — I was absorbed ! 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 73 
 
 Mrs. D. And you a traveller, too ! one would imagine 
 you glowing with reminiscence ! The Forum by moonlight, 
 a sunrise from Monte Rosa, a morning at Versailles, an ex- 
 cursion on Lake Leman, a drive on the Bois de Boulogne, 
 or a promenade in Naples, might surely suggest a conversa- 
 tion. The enchantment of Yenice, where you have resided, 
 should make eloquent any man with soul. 
 
 Sir C. Granted — if they had not been described to death. 
 Everybody who could put pen to paper, or pencil to canvas 
 for the last three centuries, has had a fling at Yenice. I 
 may, therefore, hold myself exempt from so hackneyed a 
 theme, and shall not inflict on you so much as the descrip- 
 tion of a gondola. 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) Convenient sophistry! 
 
 Sir C. {After a brief pause.) I think we shall have rain 
 before night. 
 
 She makes no reply — he limns a melody, and again resumes his reading. 
 
 Mrs. D. Are you musical ? 
 
 Sir C. I play a little on the drum ! 
 
 Mrs. D. A brilliant accomplishment ! {Ironically.) And 
 Venetian, I presume. I fear you dislike conversation ? 
 
 Sir C. Not I — but casual visiting is so fatal to unreserved 
 utterance. We might chat for an hour and get no further 
 than common places ! It would seem inappropriate, if not 
 eccentric, for me to say anything eloquent or sincere ! 
 
 Mrs. D. It is a woman's prerogative to gossip ! Besides, 
 it is so easy, and requires no mental strain ! One can't be 
 always on stilts ! 
 
 Sir C. Do you know that in Venice conversation is quite 
 gone out of fashion ? The practice has degenerated to law- 
 yers, and men of that stamp. 
 
 Mrs. D. It is odd you should make that remark, for I was 
 about to observe that a legal friend of mine, Mr. Lyttleton 
 Page, never opens his lips in my presence but out falls a 
 vow, or a compliment. 
 
 Sir C. I am surprised that any lady of sense will listen 
 
74 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 
 to vows which I liken to I, O, IPs, with which the bankrupt 
 of one sex pays to the other the debts of its heart. 
 
 Mrs. D. Your simile is that of a commercial traveller, 
 who has been jilted ! 
 
 Sir C. One feels a degree of latitude in speaking of an 
 intimate friend ! 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) An intimate friend! (Aloud.) I was not 
 aware that you knew Mr. Page ! He is one of the most 
 gallant men alive — his compliments are masterpieces. 
 
 Sir C. (Aside.) Filched from his library by his own con- 
 fession. (Shaking his head.) Humph ! 
 
 Mrs. D. (Ironically.) You are extremely civil, I must con- 
 fess ! I don't see the harm of a few courtiers ! 
 
 Sir C. They went out with coaching, high heels, patches, 
 and powder. They were all very well as toadies to the 
 Charleses, and it answered the purpose of Louis Quatorze to 
 cultivate the breed — but depend upon it they have lost their 
 power. 
 
 Mrs. D. Ours is imperishable ! 
 
 Sir C. While your beauty remains — where such a thing 
 exists ! 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) Can that remark have a personal ten- 
 dency ? (Aloud.) I fear I have the misfortune, then, in your 
 eyes, not to be agreeable ? 
 
 Sir C. I have aroused her vanity, that's something. 
 (Aloud.) Oh, you are still well enough ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Still ? For gracious sake, do I look like a grand- 
 mother ? 
 
 Sir C. Heaven forbid ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Your insinuation was most unpleasant ! and al- 
 low me to add, if I do look old, it is premature, produced 
 by two years of married life, sadness, and suffering. 
 
 Sir C. Your husband must have been very unhappy- 
 
 Mrs. D. May I inquire why ? 
 
 Sir C. It is the usual lot of husbands, and I cannot sup- 
 pose that yours escaped more favored then the rest. (Aside.) 
 That ought to excite her ! 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 75 
 
 Mrs. D. (Glancing at the card.) Permit rne to say, Sir 
 Charles Eipple, that it is my sex who are the real suffer- 
 ers. 
 
 Sill C. A mistake, madam. A bitter experience has taught 
 me the truth of what I urge. I am a widower. 
 
 Mrs. D. Perhaps you were unfortunate in your choice ? 
 
 Sir C. To tell you the truth, I believe wives are all, more 
 or less alike, coquettish, fidgety, vain, and frivolous ! My 
 wife was a glorious woman when in good health, but un- 
 fortunately she was an invalid twelve months in the year ! 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) How his experience rhymes with my 
 own ! (Aloud.) I maintain, all women are not what you 
 assert — and I further assert that there are faultless women ! 
 
 Sir C. They must inhabit the moon, then — I have discov- 
 ered none on this planet ! 
 
 Mrs. D. I perceive you do not veil your opinions. 
 
 Sir C. To be sincere, requires heroism — and few are cour- 
 ageous enough to express their convictions. 
 
 Mrs. D. Whether those convictions be acceptable or other- 
 wise to those with whom you seek contact. 
 
 Sir C. I fear I have offended you, and lest my candor 
 cause you pain, I will retire. ( Taking h is hat.) I have the 
 honor of wishing you good morning. (Going up, c.) 
 
 Mrs. D. Good morning, Sir Charles Eipple. (Aside.) Con- 
 found the man ! his very rudeness has something in it that 
 interests me ! 
 
 Sir C. (Returning a few steps.) "When shall I have the 
 honor of seeing Mrs. Darlington again ? 
 
 Mrs. D. There is no hurry ! 
 
 Sir C. (Aside.) Which liberally construed, means, as soon 
 as I please. (Aloud.) Depend upon it I shall pay you another 
 visit, if that chimney continues smoking ! (Bowing.) Good 
 norning, madam ! \_Exit, c. 
 
 Mrs. D. I never, until this moment, suspected myself of 
 possessing too much amiability ; but it occurs to me I was 
 off my guard with that provoking man ! To allow a stran- 
 ger to tell me that women are all coquettish, vain, frivolous ! 
 
76 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 it is too much ! ( Takes up book, turns over the leaves, and throws 
 it down on table, impatiently.) 
 
 Enter Page, door c. 
 
 Oh, Mr. Page, I am glad you have returned ! 
 
 Page. {Aside.) Already glad ! how well he has pleaded 
 my cause ! 
 
 Mrs. D. I am very angry — very angry, indeed ! 
 
 Page. Temper does not affect your voice, then — it is the 
 soul of music ! 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) After what I have just experienced, a 
 compliment is not unacceptable. 
 
 Page. A rather curious circumstance causes me to return 
 so soon ! I must tell you frankly that I did not know the 
 adversary in one of your suits — having left the preliminaries 
 to my managing clerk, and on looking over the papers, I 
 discover, to my surprise, that it is Sir Charles Hippie, one of 
 my most valued friends. 
 
 Mrs. D. Who has but this moment quitted the room — 
 
 Page. Can it be possible r lie's a most agreeable fellow, 
 is he not ? Brave and noble, and the very pink of gallan- 
 try ! (Aside.) I must place my colleague in as good a light 
 as possible. (Aloud.) Did he speak of me? 
 
 Mrs. D. (Smiling.) In the most extraordinary terms ! 
 
 Page. (Aside.) Generous creature! (Aloud.) Poor Sir 
 Charles ! in some respects he has been very unfortunate ! 
 
 Mrs. D. I suppose you mean in regard to his wife ? 
 
 Page. I never knew he was married ! 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside. ) Was he deceiving me ? 
 
 Page. In consideration of his misfortunes, I have come 
 to propose — 
 
 Mrs. D. (Apart, abstractedly.) But what was his motive 
 for doing so ? 
 
 Page. (Endeavoring to engage her attention.) To propose — ■ 
 
 Mrs. D. (Still apart, pacing the room.) Did he descend to a 
 falsehood, that he might the more effectually rail against 
 women ? 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 77 
 
 Page. (Following her.) To propose an amicable settlement. 
 (Aside.) What's the matter with her, I wonder? 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) And I was weak enough to listen to his 
 cruel reproaches ! If he dare call here again, I'll prove to 
 him that I am able to defend my much injured sex. (Sits at 
 tahle.) 
 
 Page. I repeat, Mrs. Darlington, that in order to avoid 
 delay, to say nothing of exposure, it will be better to adjust 
 this affair by arbitration 
 
 Enter Sir Charles. 
 Here he is ! 
 
 Sir C. (Bowing.) A thousand pardons, madam ! 
 
 Page. Well met, Sir Charles — your name was on my 
 tongue as you entered the door. I was suggesting — 
 
 Sir C. (Apart, in an undertone.) Find an excuse to leave 
 us at once ! 
 
 Page. (Apart.) I comprehend you — we are getting on 
 famously ! 
 
 Sir C. (Apart) No delay — every moment is of value. 
 
 Page. (Apart.) Exercise all your eloquence ! 
 
 Mrs. D (Apart.) What is all thaf buzzing about ? 
 
 Page. My dear Mrs. Darlington, an engagement near at 
 hand demands my presence for a few moments. (To her.) 
 You will pardon this abruptness. (To Sir Charles.) Day 
 day, Sir Charles! (Aside.) How fortunate am I to have at 
 my elbow so able an advocate in the court of Cupid. 
 
 [Exit, c. 
 
 Sir C. (Aside.) The widow is glancing poignards this way. 
 I must soothe her. 
 
 Mrs. D. Sir Charles Ripple, you seem to run in and out 
 of my house, as if it were the Exchange or a hotel. You 
 forget, sir, what is due to a lady. 
 
 Sir C. Don't charge me with so deplorable an offence. I 
 confess this visit would seem abrupt, had I not returned for 
 my gloves. 
 
 Mrs. D. (Turning Iter eyes about the room, and then observing 
 
78 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 his hands.) Unless suffering some optical delusion, it strikes 
 me that your gloves are precisely where they should be — 
 on your hands. 
 
 Sir C. (Affecting surprise.) Why so they are. I begin to 
 suspect myself of bewilderment of intellect, absence of 
 mind, or some disastrous affliction. I was as profoundly 
 convinced of the idea that I left my gloves here as I am 
 that St. Paul's has a dome. (Removing one of his gloves delib- 
 erately.) 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) Does he take me for an imbecile to be- 
 lieve such nonsense ? He evidently admires me, and that is 
 the secret ! (Aloud.) I must say your remissness is, indeed, 
 strange ; and allow me to add that your calls are too rapid 
 to be agreeable. 
 
 Sir C. (Retiring.) I fear I inconvenience you? 
 
 Mrs. D. Trifles never put me out of the way. 
 
 Sir C. Hem ! (Aside.) Then I may dare to regard this as 
 another call! (Sits.) You are — 
 
 Mrs. D. (Quickly.) Coquettish, vain, and frivolous, like 
 the rest of my sex, I suppose. 
 
 Sir C. (Aside.) Piqued and interested — 'tis well ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Apropos, I have just been talking with your 
 friend, Mr. Page — 
 
 Sir C. It must have afforded you great pleasure. 
 
 Mrs. D. You were the subject of our conversation. 
 
 Sir C. Then I am sure you were delighted ! 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) Yain coxcomb ! (Aloud.) I said I was 
 speaking of you — I should rather have said of your wife. 
 Mr. Page could give me no information concerning her. 
 
 Sir C. (Aside.) Invention assist me ! (Speaking slowly, end 
 seeming to invent as he proceeds^ Oh yes, that is easily explained 
 — he never saw her. I married in Corsica, and my bride 
 never came to England. My marriage was a curious whim, 
 I confess. She was the daughter of a brigand — a pale, 
 delicate, spiritual-looking creature. It was a strange, ro- 
 mantic, unhappy affair. It would pain you to hear the 
 details. (Aside,) For a fib at short notice, that must answer. 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 79 
 
 Mrs. D. You tell me sufficient to understand your opin- 
 ions of women. You find yourself in Corsica, that hot-bed 
 of vile passions, and by your own confession wed the off- 
 spring of a robber, whom you set up as a standard by whom 
 to judge ladies generally. It is a noble mission to bring 
 you — when I say you, I mean any man, to his senses. 
 
 Sm C. "What means will you employ ? 
 
 Mrs. D. By remarrying myself, and proving that I am a 
 faultless woman. 
 
 Sir C. You are, indeed, heroic ! 
 
 Mrs. D. I'll make an especial point of adoring my hus- 
 band ! coquetry shall never enter my head — I'll take care 
 that vanity and I are not on visiting terms — frivolity shall 
 be set aside for a calm sense of duty. In short, sir, I'll 
 make my husband a happy man, pierced by no regrets that 
 he did not visit the moon in search of a wife. 
 
 Sir C. What charming vengeance! Now, may I inquire 
 who is to be the happy man, for I presume you have made 
 your choice ? 
 
 Mrs. D. I can't see that it concerns you — 
 
 Sir C. Nay, though, had I a list of your acquaintance, I 
 should be tempted to guess. 
 
 Mrs. D. You seem to be interested ! 
 
 Sir C. (Warmly.) I am, very much! [Recovering himself.') 
 As much, madam, as a stranger dare be under the circum- 
 stances. *+ 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) He improves on acquaintance. (Aloud.) 
 It's no very great secret, after all. I don't know why I 
 should not tell you. It is — 
 
 Enter a Footman, announcing. 
 Footman. Mr Lyttleton Page ! 
 
 Enter Page, with umbrella. 
 Page. Soon returned, you see! good gracious, how it is 
 raining ! It is only a passing shower, though ! 
 
 Mrs. D. (To Sir Charles.) My servant, you see, spared 
 me the confusion of mentioning the name. (To Page.) Mr. 
 
80 COMIC KECITATIONS. 
 
 Page, don't wet the carpet, if you please ! Leave your um- 
 brella in the hall. 
 
 Page. How stupid of me ! I really beg your pardon ! 
 (Aside to Sir Charles.) I hope I have not returned too 
 quickly. [Exit C, with umbrella. 
 
 Sir C. I congratulate you on your choice. 
 
 Mrs. B You are very kind ! 
 
 Sir C. I think him the man, of all others, suited to you. 
 
 Mrs. D. (Emphatically.) Precisely my opinion ! 
 
 Page re-enters, c, as she saps this. 
 
 Page. May I ask what is your opinion ? 
 
 Mrs. D. (Looking at watch — rises.) That I have a few orders 
 to give my servant, and must leave you a moment, my dear 
 Mr. Page, with Sir Charles Eipple ! 
 
 Page. (Aside.) She said my dear Mr. Page ! 
 
 Sir C. (Rising.) I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing 
 Mrs. Darlington again? 
 
 Mrs. D. (Carelessly. ) If you are passing at some distant 
 period, I shall be very glad ! 
 
 Sir C. (Bowing.) Your condescension is profound! (He 
 offers his arm to conduct her to the door — Page does the same — 
 she accepts his and exits, R. 
 
 Mrs. D. (To Page.) Au revoir I 
 
 Sir C. (Aside.) Page will be ready to jump out of his 
 skin ! 
 
 Page. (Seizing Sir Charles by the hands.) My dear Sir 
 Charles, you have performed miracles ! 
 
 Sir C. (Aside. ) He must not win her easily — I must torture 
 him a little ! 
 
 Page. I am confident my suit is progressing. 
 
 Sir C. After the fashion of a crab — backwards. 
 
 Page. Eh? what do you mean ? 
 
 Sir C. All my eloquence is lost on her. 
 
 Page. But I observe a change in her manner. She called 
 me " dear Mr. Page " just now, a thing she rarely does, expect 
 in a blooming temper. 
 
 • 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 81 
 
 Sib C. I am aware of all that, but lawyer as you are, you 
 do not seem to detect the weak points of your client's case. 
 Those soft words are the mere delusive prologue to some- 
 thing extremely disagreeable that is to follow. So don't be 
 off your guard. 
 
 Page. Can it be possible? 
 
 Sin C. Stay a moment. You shall be spared the pain and 
 mortification of the scheme she meditates — anticipate her 
 cruelty by assuring her in distinct terms that your affection 
 was only feigned. 
 
 Page. She would be furious ! 
 
 Sir C. There you go ! women are beyond the pale of your 
 comprehension. Do you suppose their exquisite perception 
 is blinded by idle compliments, which, after all, are mere 
 prismatic bubbles blown with the softest of soap. Believe, 
 me, indifference is the only true plan. At first they will 
 detest- you, but in the end they will determine to reform 
 you by making you adore them. Be advised — change your 
 system. 
 
 Page. By Jove, I believe you are right. I have tried 
 honey for a long time to no purpose. 
 
 Sir C. Sweets clog ! the reign of sapphires and fairies is 
 over. You may flatter like the book of beauty, but it will 
 not serve your purpose. 
 
 Page. For an experiment, I loill change my system. I'll 
 assure Mrs. Darlington that the wedding-ring should be of 
 iron — not gold. 
 
 Sir C. Quite right ! 
 
 Page. That women are all vain ! 
 
 Sir C. Capital ! 
 
 Page. And coquettish ! 
 
 Sir C. Bravo ! 
 
 Page. And that in courting her society I was only in 
 search of a sensation. * 
 
 Sir C. You'll take her by storm. Her surprise will be 
 something marvellous. I'll leave you together at once, and 
 strike while the determination is warm upon you. Show 
 
82 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 her -that your accustomed honey has fermented, and that 
 your complimentary sugar has fallen in the market. {Aside.) 
 What fun, to lead them into a cloud. {Aloud.) I wish you 
 all the success this change of system deserves. [Exit, c. 
 
 Page. I fear I shall proceed awkwardly, though. It will 
 seem clumsy to mix up compliments and cruelty — a pane- 
 gyric in one breath and a reproach the next. {Drawing him- 
 self up.) But I'll be as brutal as common decency will per- 
 mit. If there is anything in this cold water system, I'll 
 spare no pains in ascertaining it. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Darlington, r. 
 
 Mrs. D. My dear Mr. Page, I hope you will not think 
 me rude in quitting you just now ? 
 
 Page. (Aside.) "My dear Mr. Page!" How artful wo- 
 men are ! I am not to be trapped so easily, she will find ! 
 (Aloud.) Tra, la, la ! 
 
 Mrs. D. A serious mischance with my milliner must be 
 my excuse ! (Looking at him.) Why, what under the sun is 
 the matter with the man ? Ha, ha ! 
 
 Page. (Aside.) She is laughing at me ! She sees that I 
 am acting! I shall never be able to keep it up ! (Aloud.) 
 Eh ? what's the matter with me ? Hem ! I am thinking — 
 thinking. 
 
 Mrs. D. Can't you think without putting your nose in 
 the air in that manner ? 
 
 Page. Yes — yes — madam ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Why say madam ? — it sounds harshly between 
 friends ! 
 
 Page. (Aside.) Between friends ! How well she does it ! 
 
 Mrs. D. You and I have known each other for a long 
 time ! 
 
 Page. True — and in that time what a deal of idle twaddle 
 I have uttered. I almost blush to think of it 
 
 Mrs. D. You have told me that I was bewitching, and 
 lovely, and enchanting, and — I forget what else ! 
 
 Page. Ay, I remember — I seem as if awaking from a 
 chronic stupor. 
 
85 
 
 A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 
 
 Mrs. D. Then do you mean to say that I am not bewitch- 
 ing ? 
 
 Page. (Warmly.) To be sure you — (Arresting himself.) I 
 am no judge of beauty ! {Aside.) I am sure I shall spoil it. 
 
 Mrs. D. Mr. Page, do you know what you are saying? 
 
 Page. Perfectly. 
 
 Mrs. D. And that I am not lovely ? 
 
 PAGE. Many may think you so. 
 
 Mrs. D. Nor enchanting ? 
 
 Page. Now, seriously, did you believe all the badinage I 
 uttered to ,amuse myself ? Oh, women are, indeed, vain ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Mr. Lyttleton Page — sir ! you are my legal ad- 
 viser, it is true, but in this case, I must take the law in my 
 own hands ! 
 
 Page. Believe me, it could not be in bet — (Aside.) Hallo ! 
 what am I about ? — just going to pay her another compli- 
 ment. 
 
 Mrs. D. I say, sir, I must take the law into my own 
 hands, and you will be kind enough to remember to whom 
 you are speaking ! 
 
 Page. My memory scarcely needs refreshing. 
 
 Mrs. D. I ask, sir, what is the meaning of this conduct ? 
 Half an hour ago, were I Juno, you could not have paid me 
 more homage. 
 
 Page. (Aside.) She's touched! Sir Charles is right! A 
 change of system was required. (Aloud.) The fact is, I have 
 been seriously thinking of what you so earnestly assured 
 me. Did you not say that if I did not wish you to hate me 
 I must cease loving you ? 
 
 Mrs. D. It is true, I did say so — but I have been thinking 
 as well as yourself. 
 
 Page. (Aside.) I am not to be caught by such speeches. 
 My colleague has taught me a trick worth two of that. 
 (Aloud.) Have you not on all occasions assured me that my 
 compliments were oppressive rather than pleasing, and that 
 you had renounced for ever all ideas of matrimony ? 
 
 Mrs. D. You do not seem to understand women I 
 
82 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Page. (Aside.) Just what Sir Charles says ! 
 
 Mrs. D. They often say things they don't mean ! 
 
 Page. (Aside.) They do, indeed ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Heigho ! This goes to show nie how little, after 
 all, we know of each other ! Suppose I had said to myself, 
 " Mr. Page is an agreeable person, not handsome, to be sure, 
 but still well-looking enough — and — " 
 
 Page. (Aside.) It will not do ! 
 
 Mrs. D. " And in consideration of his long and ardent 
 devotion, although I do not particularly love him, I will 
 bestow upon him my hand." 
 
 Page. (Quickly.) What, have you, then, accepted my nu- 
 merous proposals? (Aside.) What am I about? 
 
 Mrs. D. ( With emphasis.) I am putting a case — I said sup- 
 pose ! 
 
 Page. (Aside.) That is the crevice by which she escapes! 
 (Aloud.) Then / should say, "Your condescension is very 
 magnanimous — but as marriage is a very serious matter, I 
 desire time for reflection." 
 
 Mrs. D. Then suppose I demanded an immediate answer? 
 
 Page. I should insist upon a brief period for considera- 
 tion ! 
 
 Mrs. T>. And if it did not please me to grant it ? 
 
 Page. Why, then, the only chance left for me in that 
 case, would be to distinctly — (with an effort) refuse ! 
 
 Mrs. D. So, so ! very good ! (Ringing the bell.) 
 
 Page. (Aside — proudly.) It cost me a pang — but I said it ! 
 
 Enter Footman. 
 
 Mrs. D. Mr. Page wishes an escort to the door! (Aside.) 
 My feelings shall not be trifled with in this manner. ( Walks 
 stage.) 
 
 Page. (Aside.) The door ! I have exceeded proper limits, 
 and — (Aloud — confused.) Pardon me, Mrs. Darlington, when 
 I said that — it was with no intention, I assure you, of — it 
 was only my desire to — (Aside.) I am making a nice mess 
 of it J 
 

 A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 85 
 
 Mrs. D. (To Footman.) You have heard my orders! (The 
 Footman gives him his hat.) 
 
 Page. (Taking it, and lowing.) Oh, don't for an instant 
 fancy that your word is not law ! (Aside. ) This change of 
 system has succeeded with a vengeance ! but I'll return for 
 an explanation when she has calmed down a little ! (Aloud.) 
 Adieu, madam, adieu! [Mcit, c, followed by Footman. 
 
 Mrs. D. ( Walking about the room in an excited manner.) It is 
 impossible for a man to exchange affection for indifference, 
 and devotion for coldness, in this rapid manner. I am con- 
 vinced that there is — I see it all — it is the work of this 
 Mephistopheles — this Sir Charles Hippie — he is schooling 
 Page into his own wicked estimate of women ! What a 
 triumph it would be to bring the master to my feet, and 
 make him acknowledge a defeat! (Reflecting jor a moment.) I 
 will ! (Resuming her embroidery.) 
 
 Enter Sir Charles, a, hastily — he has his hat on. 
 
 Sir C. Once more I must throw myself on your indul- 
 gence. (Looking about the room.) 
 
 Mrs. D. Well, sir, what is the matter now ? 
 
 Sir C. Pray do not disturb yourself ! Where could I have 
 put it ? 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) What can he wish ? 
 
 Sir C. {Ambling about the room.) It's very strange! I can- 
 not see it ! 
 
 Mrs. D (Rising.) What do you wish ? Perhaps I can 
 assist you ? 
 
 Sir C. I am looking for my hat — I am sure I left it here ! 
 
 Mrs. D. It is on your head. 
 
 Sir C. (Removing it.) I must be out of my senses ! Instead 
 of my hat it is my brain I have lost — perhaps my heart, 
 who knows ? (Bowing. ) I have the honor — good morning ! 
 (As if retiring .) 
 
 Mrs. D. As you seem to do nothing but run up and down 
 stairs, I think you had better remain where you are. This 
 is your third call this morning. 
 
86 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Sm C. So it is. You are the soul of kindness ! {Puts down 
 hat, and sits.) 
 
 Mrs. D. Do you know there is an awful epidemic going 
 about ? 
 
 Sir C. The cholera? 
 
 Mrs. D. No — impertinence ; and your friend, Mr. Page, 
 has got it to perfection. 
 
 Sir C. Is it possible ? "Where could he have contracted 
 it I wonder ? 
 
 Mrs. D. (Ironically.) I cannot imagine. "Would you be- 
 lieve it, he is positively so infected that he has had the 
 audacity to refuse my hand. 
 
 Sir C. His case must be a desperate one. 
 
 Mrs. D. Is it not dreadful to think of? The man I had 
 settled on in my own mind — in fact, the only man I know 
 in the wide would who would have borne with my imper- 
 fections ! and he to desert me at the very moment I had 
 determined to vindicate the reputation of my sex ! 
 
 Sir C. Shameful to the last degree ! (Sighing.) I would I 
 were he. 
 
 Mrs. D. What do you say ? 
 
 Sir C. That I might assist you in this glorious vindica- 
 tion. A noble resolve should never be overthrown for want 
 of encouragement. 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) So — so, my friend! 
 
 Sir C. It is so seldom that a lady possessing grace, beauty, 
 and intelligence will take the pains to demonstrate a great 
 truth. 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) He retracts. (Aloud.) From that remark, 
 I judge you do not esteem my sex so lightly. 
 
 Sir C. (With sangfroid.) No, no — there are special cases 
 — grand exceptions to all general rules. 
 
 Mrs. D. But where are you to find this grace, beauty, and 
 intelligence of which you speak ? 
 
 Sir C. (Pointing to Mrs. Darlington.) There. 
 
 Mrs. D. ( Loohiiig around her.) There ! where ? 
 
 Sir C. Clustered in you. 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 87 
 
 Mrs. D. Ha, ha ! What, do you think me beautiful ? 
 
 Sir C. That has been my opinion from the very first mo- 
 ment I beheld you. 
 
 Mrs. D. Are you really serious ? 
 
 Sir C. I was never half so earnest in my life ! 
 
 Mrs. D. You are positively growing gallant, absolutely 
 paying me compliments ! You, too, of all others, who never 
 flatter any one ! Why, what has become of all your ice ? 
 
 Sir C. Melted in the sunshine of your presence. 
 
 Mrs. D. And in so short a time ? 
 
 Sir C. Its rays were powerful. Perhaps I am recovering 
 from the epidemic that is going about. 
 
 Mrs. D. Then you confess to being touched ? 
 
 Sir C. Slightly. But I think you have wrought a cure ! 
 
 Mrs, D. I must have proofs to convince me ! 
 
 Sir C. How can I offer them ? 
 
 Mrs. D. By professing a firm faith, acknowledging your 
 faults, and an open avowal of the universal perfection of 
 woman. 
 
 Sir C. Of— all ? 
 
 Mrs. D. A penitent should never hesitate ! 
 
 Sir C. I confess that I am embarrassed. 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) All the better ! (Aloud.) Step the first — 
 get on your knees. 
 
 Sir C. On my knees ! (Aside.) The attitude is anything 
 but pleasant. (Kneeling on one knee.) Behold me at your feet ! 
 
 Mrs. D. You are on one knee — that will never do — your 
 sins require two. 
 
 Sir C. There! (Kneels.) 
 
 Mrs. D. (Aside.) I have triumphed — glorious! (Aloud.) 
 Now repeat, "I abjure my heresy — I acknowledge my 
 errors." 
 
 Sir C. (With mock humility.) "I abjure my heresy and ac- 
 knowledge my errors." (Aside.) How ridiculous this is. 
 
 Mrs. D. " I ask pardon of all the ladies for sins I have 
 charged them with." (He repeats it.) " And I promise for the 
 future to respect and honor them." 
 
88 COMIC RECITATIONS, 
 
 Sir C. {Warmly — aside.) Now for it ! {Aloud.) As a body, 
 collectively speaking, but to love only one — yourself — whom 
 I will cherish till time everlasting. 
 
 Mrs. D. What do I hear ? 
 
 Sir C. That I am a culprit, converted by you whose 
 pardon I implore ! {Seizing he?' hand and hissing it.) 
 
 Mrs. D. Sir Charles Eipple, what are you about ? 
 
 Sir C. Doing penance for my sins — my manifold sins. 
 {Kissing her hand again.) 
 
 Enter Page, c. 
 
 Page. {SpeaJcing as he enters.) I must not let another mo- 
 ment pass without a thorough explanation. {Perceiving Sir 
 Charles on his Jcnees.) What do I see — eh ? fire and fury ! 
 
 Sir G. {Aside.) Now for warm work! {Risinq.) My dear 
 Page, you arrive most opportunely. I know you delight in 
 seeing your fellow man happy. Behold me the picture of 
 bliss! 
 
 Page. Don't talk to me of bliss, sir — your happiness be — 
 
 Sir C. Ah ha ! choose your words. 
 
 Page. Be hanged ! I hasten to explain to my dear Mrs. 
 Darlington my stupidity. 
 
 Mrs. D. {Aside.) I suspect it — Page is the victim of an 
 intrigue ! 
 
 Page. I wish to explain, my dear Mrs. Darlington, that 
 my refusal was all on my part a mere stratagem — a change 
 of system — a — 
 
 Sir C. ( Coughing to silence him, and laughing aside.) Hem ! 
 hem ! hem ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Stratagem — change of system — what does he 
 mean, Sir Charles ? 
 
 Sir C. Why do you ask me ? 
 
 Page. {Aside.) He is playing me false! (Aloud.) Do you 
 mean to say, Sir Charles Eipple, that you did not advise me 
 to change my system ? 
 
 Sir C. ( To Mrs Darlington.) Do you know that I think 
 our mutual and valued friend is touched here ! (Placing finger 
 on forehead with mock gravity.) 
 
A CHANGE OF SYSTEM. 89 
 
 PAGE. (Pacing the room frantically ) I am a dupe — an idiot 
 — fool that I was to entrust my heart to the diplomacy of a 
 man of the world like Sir Charles Ripple. (Goes up stage.) 
 
 Sir C. (Aside.) Poor Page! he is enduring the agony of 
 the Spartan with the gnawing fox hid under his cloak, and 
 the charming widow — I do believe there is a tear in her eye. 
 
 Mrs. D. ( Turning aside with emotion.) I was wrong to listen 
 to him for one moment. 
 
 Page. (Coming down furiously.) Sir Charles Eipple, I pro- 
 nounced you a traitor, and I demand — 
 
 Sir C. Instant satisfaction, which you shall have without 
 resorting to either foils or pistols, which happily belong to a 
 past age — at least, in England. Mrs. Darlington, I scarcely 
 know how to sufficiently apologize for obtruding myself in 
 an affair which at all times concerns but two hearts. The 
 truth is, I found my friend Page writhing under the con- 
 viction that his love was unrequited. Ten minutes in your 
 society proved the contrary. In a gay moment I proposed 
 an alliance — nay, do not smile — he accepted, and we have 
 enacted a little comedy — farce — what shall I call it ? 
 
 Mrs. D. And the hero is — 
 
 Sir C. Mr. Lyttleton Page, who retained me without fee 
 or reward to take his heart out of Chancery. ( With a glance 
 at Mrs. Darlington. ) And I think I have succeeded. 
 
 Page. Forgive my suspicions; but it was exasperating, 
 you must own, to find you on your knees. 
 
 Sir C. And now, madam, I throw up my brief — the case 
 is won, and I claim your pardon. And after all, Page, 
 though my theories at first sight may want in a certain con- 
 sistency, you must acknowledge your suit has prospered not 
 a little by a Change of System. 
 
 curtain. 
 
90 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 THE CITIZEN AND THE THIEVES. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 A citizen, for recreation's sake, 
 
 To see the country would a journey take 
 
 Some dozen miles, or very little more ; 
 
 Taking his leave with friends two months before, 
 
 With drinking healths and shaking by the hand, 
 
 As he had travelled to some new-found land. 
 
 Well, taking horse, with very much ado, 
 
 London he leaveth for a day or two : 
 
 And as he rideth, meets upon the way 
 
 Such as (what haste soever) bid men stay. 
 
 " Sirrah ! " says one, " stand and your purse deliver, 
 
 I am a taker, thou must be a giver" 
 
 Unto a wood hard by, they haul him in, 
 
 And rifle him unto his very skin. 
 
 " Masters," quoth he, " pray hear me ere you go ; 
 
 For you have robbed me more than you do know, 
 
 My horse, in truth, I borrow'd of my brother ; 
 
 The bridle and the saddle of another ; 
 
 The jerkin and the bases be a tailor's ; 
 
 The scarf, I do assure, is a sailor's ; 
 
 The falling band is likewise none of mine, 
 
 Nor cuffs, as true as this good light doth shine. 
 
 The satin doublet, and raised velvet hose, 
 
 Are our churchwarden's, all the parish knows. 
 
 The boots are John the grocer's at the Swan ; 
 
 The spurs were lent me by a serving man. 
 
 One of my rings — that with the great red stone — 
 
 In sooth, I borrow'd of my neighbor Joan ; 
 
 Her husband knows not of it. Gentlemen ! 
 
 Thus stands my case — I pray show favor then." 
 
 " Why," quoth the thieves, " thou needst not greatly care, 
 
 Since in thy loss so many bear a share ; 
 
 The world goes hard, and many good folks lack, 
 
BOGGS'S DOGS. 91 
 
 Look not, at this time, for a penny back. 
 Go, tell in London, thou didst meet with four, 
 That, rifling thee, have robbed at least a score." 
 
 BOGGS'S DOGS. 
 
 % 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Dri> you ever hear of Jehosaphat Boggs, 
 
 A dealer and raiser of all sorts of dogs ] 
 
 " No % " Then I'll endeavor in doggerel verse 
 
 To just the main points of the story rehearse. 
 
 Boggs had a good wife, the joy of his life, 
 
 There was nothing between them inclining to strife, 
 
 Except her dear J.'s dogmatic employment; 
 
 And that, she averred, did mar her enjoyment. 
 
 She often had begged him to sell off his dogs 
 
 And instead to raise turkeys, spring chickens, or hogs. 
 
 She made him half promise at ; no distant day 
 
 He would sell the whole lot, not excepting old Tray ; 
 
 And, as good luck would have it, but few days intervened 
 
 When, excepting old Tray's, every kennel was cleaned. 
 
 Ah. how his dear Dolly, with a voice glad and jolly, 
 
 Did soft-soap her dear for quitting his folly. 
 
 cc And now, my dear J., please don't say me nay, 
 
 But the first opportunity sell also old Tray." 
 
 u I will my dear vrow, and I solemnly vow, 
 
 I'll give you the money to buy a good cow." 
 
 And thus the case rested, till one summer night 
 
 Her dear J. came home with a heart happy and light, 
 
 Old Tray was not with him. ll Ah, ha, my goo 1 wife, 
 
 This will be far the happiest day of your life." 
 
 " Oh, bless you, dear J., how much did you say, 
 
 Please tell me at onco what you got for old Tray ? " 
 
 " I got forty dollars." " You did 1 " quoth his spouse, 
 
 11 Why that to a certainty will buy me two cows, 
 
 I'll make butter and cheese " — " Hold on if you please " — 
 
 Says J. in a tone sounding much like a tease ; 
 
92 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 " It's just as I told you, the price is all right, 
 And the man is to pay me next Saturday night ; 
 But instead of the dollar's in X\s and V's, 
 He gives me four puppies at ten dollars apiece. 55 
 
 THE SMACK IN SCHOOL. 
 
 PALMER. 
 
 A district school, not far away, 
 
 'Mid Berkshire hills, one winter's day. 
 
 Was humming with its wonted noise 
 
 Of three-score mingled girls and boys ; 
 
 Some few upon their tasks intent, 
 
 But more on furtive mischief bent. 
 
 The while the master's downward look 
 
 Was fastened on a copy-book ; 
 
 When suddenly, behind his back, 
 
 Rose sharp and clear a rousing smack ! 
 
 As 'twere a battery of bliss 
 
 Let off in one tremendous kiss ! 
 
 " What's that ] ; ' the startled master cries ; 
 
 " That, thir," a little imp replies, 
 
 " Wath William Willith, if you pleathe— 
 
 I thaw him kith Thuthanna Peathe ! " 
 
 With frown to make a statue thrill, 
 
 The master thundered, " Hither, Will! " 
 
 Like wretch o'ertaken in his track, 
 
 With stolen chattels on his back, 
 
 Will hung his head in fear and shame, 
 
 And to the awful presence came — 
 
 A great, green, bashful simpleton, 
 
 The butt of all good-natured fun. 
 
 With smile suppressed, and birch upraised, 
 
 The threatener faltered — i( I'm amazed 
 
 That you, my biggest pupil, should 
 
 Be guilty of an act so rude ! 
 
 Before the whole set school to boot — 
 
 What evil genius put you to't? " 
 
THE TINKER AND MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 93 
 
 " 'Twas she, herself, sir," sobbed the lad, 
 
 " I did not mean to be so bad ; 
 
 But when Susannah shook her curls, 
 
 And whispered, I was 'fraid of girls, 
 
 And dursn't kiss a baby's doll, 
 
 I couldn't stand it, sir, at all, 
 
 But up and kissed her on the spot ! 
 
 I know — boo-hoo — I ought to £ot, 
 
 But, somehow, from her looks — boo-hoo — 
 
 I thought she kind o' wished me to ! " 
 
 THE TINKEE AND MILLEE'S DAUGHTER 
 
 WOLCX 
 
 The meanest creature somewhat may contain, 
 As Providence ne'er makes a thing in vain. 
 
 Upon a day, a poor and trav'ling tinker, 
 
 In Fortune's various tricks a constant thinker, 
 
 Pass'd in some village near a miller's door, 
 Where lo ! his eye did most astonish'd catch 
 The miller's daughter peeping o'er the hatch, 
 Deform'd and monstrous ugly, to be sure. 
 Struck with the uncommon form, the tinker started, 
 Just like a frighten'd horse, or murd'rer carted, 
 
 Up gazing at the gibbet and the rope ; 
 Turning his brain about, in a brown study 
 (For, as I've said, his brain was not so muddy), 
 " Zounds ! " quoth the tinker, " I have now some hope. 
 Fortune, the jade, is not far off, perchance," 
 And then began to rub his hands and dance. 
 
 Now, all so full of love, o'erjoyed he ran, 
 
 Embraced and squeezed Miss Grist, and thus began : 
 
 " My dear, my soul, my angel, sweet Miss Grist, 
 Now may I never mend a kettle more, 
 If ever I saw one like you before ! " 
 
 Then nothing loth, like Eve, the nymph he kiss'd. 
 
94 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Now, very sensibly, indeed, Miss Grist 
 Thought opportunity should not be miss'd ; 
 Knowing that prudery oft let slip a joy ; 
 Thus was Miss Grist too prudent to be coy. 
 For really 'tis with girls a dangerous farce 
 To flout a swain when offers are but scarce. 
 She did not scream, and cry, " I'll not be woo'd ; 
 Keep off, you dingy fellow — don't be rude ; 
 I'm fit for your superiors, tinker."' No, 
 Indeed, she treated not the tinker so. 
 But lo ! the damsel with her usual squint, 
 Suffered her tinker lover to imprint 
 
 Sweet kisses on her lips, and squeeze her hand, 
 Hug her, and say the softest things unto her, 
 And in love's plain and pretty language woo her, 
 
 Without a frown, or even a reprimand. 
 
 Soon won, the nymph agreed to be his wife, 
 And, when the tinker chose, to be tied for life. 
 
 Now, to the father the brisk lover hied, 
 Who at his noisy mill so busy plied, 
 Grinding, and taking handsome toll of corn, 
 Sometimes, indeed, too handsome to be borne. 
 " Ho ! Master Miller," did the tinker say — 
 
 Forth from his cloud of flour the miller came ; 
 " Nice weather, Master Miller — charming day — 
 
 Heaven's very kind." The miller said the same. 
 " Now, miller, possibly you may not guess 
 
 At this same business I am come about : 
 'Tis this, then — know I love your daughter Bess ; — 
 
 There Master Miller ! — now the riddle's out. 
 I'm not for mincing matters, sir ! d'ye see — 
 I like your daughter Bess, and she likes me." 
 
 " Poh ! " quoth the miller, grinning at the tinker, 
 " Thou dost not mean to marriage to persuade her ; 
 
 Ugly as is old Nick, I needs must think her, 
 
 Though, to be sure, she is as heav'n has made her. 
 
 No, no, though she's my daughter, I'm not blind ; 
 
AN ORIGINAL PARODY. 95 
 
 But, tinker, what hath now possessed thy mind: 
 Thou'rt the first offer she has met, by dad — 
 But tell me, tinker, art thou drunk or mad 1 " 
 " No — I'm not drunk nor mad," the tinker cried, 
 " But Bet's the maid I wish to make my bride; 
 
 No girl in these two eyes doth Bet excel/ ' 
 " Why, fool ! " the miller said, " Bet hath a hump ! 
 And then her nose ! — the nose of my old pump." 
 
 " I know it," quoth the tinker, " know it well." 
 " Her face," quoth Grist, " is freckled, wrinkled, flat; 
 Her mouth as wide as that of my torn cat ; 
 
 And then she squints a thousand ways at once — 
 Her waist a corkscrew; and her hair how red I 
 A downright bunch of carrots on her head — 
 
 Why, what the deuce is got into thy sconce 1 " 
 
 " No deuce is in my sconce," rejoined the tinker ; 
 c * But, sir, what's that to you, if fine I think her 1 " 
 " Why, man," quoth Grist, " she's fit to make a show, 
 
 And therefore sure I am that thou must banter." 
 " Miller," replied the tinker, " right, for know 
 
 'Tis for that very thing, a show, I want her." 
 
 
 AN OBIGINAL PAEODY. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 It must be so ! stomach thou reasonest well, 
 
 Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire ; 
 
 This longing after something good for dinner 1 
 
 Or whence these secret pangs ; these hollow murmurs, 
 
 That issue from my bowels 1 Why shrinks my soul 
 
 Back on herself, and startles at a famine 1 
 
 'Tis hunger, powerful hunger, stirs within me ; 
 
 'Tis famine's self that points to one o'clock ! 
 
 And shows the time of dinner is at hand. 
 
 Dinner ! thou pleasing, thou delightful thought, 
 
 Thro' what a variety of knowing processes, 
 
 Each morsel, both of lean and fat, dolh pass, 
 
96 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Ere dinner, in rich prospect, lies before me, 
 
 And I with ardent stomach fall upon it. 
 
 Here will I hold ! If Molly's in the kitchen, 
 
 And that she is, and in a bustle too, 
 
 Both nose and ears confess — she must be cooking something 
 
 And that which Molly cooks, it must be tasty ; 
 
 But when or where this dinner will be ready, 
 
 I'm weary of conjectures. Oh, patience, end them. 
 
 Thus am I wholly arm'd from top to toe, 
 
 Patience and appetite both working within me, 
 
 That gently bids me wait till I am called. 
 
 But this supposes I shall never dine ; 
 
 The soul secure in her existence, smiles 
 
 At the debates, and thinks my stomach mad ; 
 
 The kitchen fire shall fade, cookery itself 
 
 Grow out of date with mayors, and sauces be no more ; 
 
 But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth — 
 
 Unhurt amid the war of pots and pans, 
 
 The wreck of gridirons and the crush of kitchens 
 
 THE PAESONS AND THE COEKSCEEW. 
 
 MONCRIEFF. 
 
 Twelve parsons once went to a squire's to dine, 
 
 Who was famous for giving good venison and wine, 
 
 All great friends to the cloth, with good living in view, 
 
 Quite grace full they sat down, as parsons should do. 
 
 A wicked young whipster, our worthy squire's cousin, 
 
 Whispered, " Cousin, I boldly will lay rump and dozen, 
 
 Though here we've a dozen staunch priests, of the lot 
 
 Not one of the twelve here a prayer-book has got." 
 
 " Agreed," cried the squire. " Coz, we must not be loth 
 
 Such a wager to lay for the sake of the cloth. 
 
 The parsons, no doubt, to confute you are able, 
 
 So we'll bring, with the dinner, the bet on the table." 
 
 Dinner served ; cried the squire, " A new grace I will say, 
 
 Has any one here got a prayer-book, I pray 1 " 
 
 Quite glum looked the priests, coughed, and with one accord 
 
THE OLD GENTLEMAN AND YOUNG WIFE. 97 
 
 Cried " Mine's lost" — " Mine's at home " — " Mine's at church, 
 
 'pon my word." 
 Quoth our cousin, " Dear squire, I my wager have won, 
 But another I purpose to win ere I've done ; 
 Though the parsons could not bring a prayer-book to view, 
 I'll bet the same bet, they can find a corkscrew." 
 " Done ! done ! " roared the squire. " Hilloa ! butler, bring 
 
 nearer 
 That excellent magnum of ancient Madeira ; " 
 'Tvvas brought — " Let's decant it ; a corkscrew, good John." 
 Here each of the parsons roared out " I've got one ! " 
 But let us not censure our parsons for this, 
 "When a thing's in its place, it can ne'er come amiss ; 
 Prayer-books wont serve for corkscrews ; and I'm such a sinner, 
 Though a sermon I like, I don't want it at dinner ! 
 
 THE OLD GENTLEMAN WHO MAEEIED A 
 YOUNG WIFE. 
 
 From the " School of Scandal." 
 
 SHERIDAN. 
 
 Sir Peter Teazle. Lady Teazle. 
 
 Sir Peter,. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it. 
 
 Lady T. Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as 
 you please; but I ought to have my own way in every- 
 thing ; and what's more, I will, too. "What, though I was 
 educated in the country, I know very well that women of 
 fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are 
 married. 
 
 Sir P. Very well, ma'am, very well ! so, a husband is to 
 have no influence, no authority ? 
 
 Lady. T. Authority ! no, to be sure ; if you wanted au- 
 thority over me, you should have adopted me, and not mar- 
 ried me. I am sure you were old enough. 
 
 Sib P. Old enough, aye, there it is. Well, well, Lady 
 
98 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Teazle, though, my life may be made unhappy by your tem- 
 per, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance. 
 
 Lady T. My extravagance ! I'm sure I'm not more ex- 
 travagant than a woman of fashion ought to be. 
 
 Sir P. No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more 
 sums on such unmeaning luxury. 'Slife ! to spend as much 
 to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter, as 
 would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a green-house, and 
 give a fete champetre at Christmas. 
 
 Lady T. Lord, Sir Peter, am I to blame, because flowers 
 are dear in cold weather ? you should find fault with the 
 climate and not with me. For my part, I'm sure, I wish it 
 were spring all the year round, and that roses grew under 
 our feet. 
 
 Sir P. Oons ! madam, if you had been born to this, I 
 shouldn't wonder at your talking thus ; but you forget what 
 your situation was when I married you. 
 
 Lady T. No, no, I don't ; 'twas a very disagreeable one, 
 or I should never have married you. 
 
 Sir P. Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat an 
 humble style; the daughter of a plain country 'squire. 
 Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I first saw you sitting at your 
 tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of 
 keys at your side ; your hair combed smooth over a roll, and 
 your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of your 
 own working. 
 
 Lady T. Oh, yes ! I remember it very well, and a curi- 
 ous life I led. My daily occupation, to inspect the dairy, 
 superintend the poultry, make extracts from the family re- 
 ceipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's lap-dog. 
 
 Sir P. Yes, yes, madam, 'twas so, indeed. 
 
 Lady T. And then, you know, my evening amusements. 
 To draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to 
 make up ; to play Pope Joan with the curate ; to read a 
 novel to my aunt ; or to be stuck down to an old spinet to 
 strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase. 
 
 Sir P. I am glad you have got so good a memory. Yes, 
 
THE OLD GENTLEMAN AND YOUNG WIFE. ^ 
 
 raadam, these were the recreations I took you from ; but 
 now you must have your coach, vis-a-vis, and three pow- 
 dered footmen before your chair ; and in the summer, a pair 
 of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens. "No re- 
 collection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double, 
 behind the butler, on a dock'd coach-horse ? 
 
 Lady T. No ; I swear I never did that ; I deny the butler 
 and the coach-horse. 
 
 Sm P. This, madam, was your situation ; and what have 
 I done for you ? I have made you a woman of fashion, of 
 fortune, of rank ; in short, I have made you my wife. 
 
 Lady T. Well, then, and there is but one thing more you 
 can make me to add to the obligation, and that is — 
 
 Sir P. My widow, I suppose ? 
 
 Lady T. Hem ! hem ! 
 
 Sir P. I thank you, madam ; but don't natter yourself ; 
 for though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, 
 it shall never break my heart, I promise you ; however, I 
 am equally obliged to you for the hint. 
 
 Lady T. Then why will you endeavor to make yourself 
 so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant 
 expense. 
 
 Sir P. 'Slife, madam, I say, had you any of these little 
 elegant expenses when you married me ? 
 
 Lady T. Lud, Sir Peter ! would you have me out of the 
 fashion ? 
 
 Sir P. The fashion, indeed ! What had you to do with 
 the fashion before you married me ? 
 
 Lady T. For my part, I should think you would like to 
 have your wife thought a woman of taste. 
 
 Sir P. Ay, there again; taste! zounds, madam* you had 
 no taste when you married me. 
 
 Lady T. That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter ; and after 
 having married you, I should never pretend to taste again, 
 I allow. But now, Sir Peter, since Ave have finished our 
 dfcily jangle, I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady 
 Sneerwell's. 
 
COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 98 
 
 Sir. P. Ay, there's another precious circumstance ; a 
 charming set of acquaintance you have made there. 
 
 Lady T. Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and 
 fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation. 
 
 Sir P. Yes, egad, they are tenacious of reputation with a 
 vengeance ; for they don't choose anybody should have a 
 character but themselves. Such a crew. Ah! many a 
 wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief than 
 these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, and clip- 
 pers of reputation. 
 
 Lady T. What ! would you restrain the freedom of speech ? 
 
 Sir P. Ah, they have made you just as bad as any one of 
 the society. 
 
 Lady T. Why, I believe I do bear a part with tolerable 
 grace. 
 
 Sir P. Grace, indeed! 
 
 Lady T. But I vow I bear no malice against the people 
 I abuse. When I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure 
 good humor ; and I take it for granted, they deal exactly in 
 the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter, you know you 
 promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too. 
 
 Sir P. Well, well, I'll call in just to look after my own 
 character. 
 
 Lady T. Then, indeed, you must make haste after me, or 
 you'll be too late. So, good bye. \_Extt. 
 
 Sir P. So, I have gained much by my expostulations ; 
 yet, with what a charming air she contradicts everything I 
 say, and how pleasingly she shows her contempt for my au- 
 thority. Well, though I can't make her love me, there is 
 great satisfaction in quarrelling with her ; and I think she 
 never appears to such advantage as when she is doing every- 
 thing in her power to plague me. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
THE STAGE-STRUCK DARKEY. 101 
 
 THE STAGE-STRUCK DARKEY. 
 
 AN ETHIOPIAN INTERLUDE. 
 
 WHITE. 
 
 Scene. — Street, 
 
 Thee or four Performers seated on Stage. Enter Travelling 
 Manager, with valise, overcoat, §c. 
 
 Manager. How do you do ? Does any ob you folks want 
 a situation ? 
 
 All. What to do? 
 
 Manager. Well, I'm a travelling manager of a show and 
 in search of talent. I want a young man of good natural 
 parts, and I'll teach him de rest. 
 
 All. (Speaking together.) Julius is de berry boy. 
 Enter Julius, whistling, and sauntering along. 
 
 Manager. Young man, would you like to be an actor ? 
 
 Julius. A what ? 
 
 Manager. Have you ever been on de stage ? 
 
 Julius. No, but I've drove three months on de Sixth Ave- 
 nue cars. 
 
 Manager. Oh, you don't understand. See, look here. 
 (Strikes very tragic position.) See — don't you see ? 
 
 Julius. Yes, siree sir ; I'm one ob dem. 
 
 Manager. Well, noVI want a specimin to see what you're 
 made of; I want to hear your voice. Suppose you touch 
 me on de shoulder and call me a liar, as they do in anger 
 on de stage. 
 
 Julius. It's a go — I'll do it. (Walks aro-und stage, then goes 
 behind Manager's back, slaps him on shoulder, and says, very 
 faintly.) Liar! 
 
 Manager. Oh, dat's too weak. Now let me show you. (Tluy 
 change positions — Manager says, very savagely) Liar-r-r-r-r ! 
 ( Waving body to and fro.) 
 
 Julius. Why, what do you call dat? (Imitating him.) 
 
 Manager. Why, dat's your tragedy — don't you see ? — and 
 here's when you recover. (Moving to and fro.) 
 
 Julius. Well, what's next ? 
 
102 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Manager. Let's see. What shall we play ? Oh ! some- 
 thing of our own ? Yes ; well, you play a man dat's been 
 bery rich — you used to eat canvas-back ducks, an all dat ar- 
 rangements ; you libed in a castle on top ob a hill. (Aside.) 
 Castles in de air. (Aloud.) An you owned a yacht, an used 
 to gib balls, an all dat sort ob things. In short, you was a 
 millionaire. Well, time wore on — you had a deal ob money 
 invested in stocks ; stocks went down, and you went up in 
 a balloon ; an now that you are a bankrupt, your daughter 
 married a coachman, an den you've gone in altogeder. 
 Dere, dat's your part. Now what shall I be? (Thinks.) I'll 
 be a man dat was bery poor when you war so rich ; you 
 wouldn't look at me — no, siree, you wouldn't gib me de 
 crumbs that fell from your table, no sir. Well, while you 
 been gettin poor, I'be been to California, and made loads ob 
 money ; I'm coming home wid all dis money in dis casket, 
 an you are driven to de highway. Your children haven^ 
 eat anything for six weeks, an you haven't eat anything for 
 longer dan dat. You see me coming, an go an hide yourself 
 till I come in ; den you come forward, and try to bully and 
 rob me ; but you find dat won't do, so you try de pathetic ; 
 den I tell you to take de casket. I'll say, " Take it," but 
 you mustn't take it de fust time ; mind, de second time is 
 your cue. Now let's see how you can play a starvin' man. 
 (Julius goes off, and comes on very fiercely, &c.) Well, dat's a 
 good gait for a blacksmith goin' to dinner, but remember, 
 you haven't eat anything for — how long did I say ? 
 
 Julius. Six weeks. 
 
 Manager. Well now, I'll show you how to walk. ( Comes 
 forward, very shakily, c, and sighs.) 
 
 Julius. What's dat for? 
 
 Manager. Why, dat's your sigh — don't you see? Mind, 
 don't forget to keep up your shake. Try it again. ( Julius 
 imitates Manager well.) Now den for de road scene. (Both exit 
 — stage dark.) 
 
 Enter Julius, disguised. 
 
 Julius. Ah me ! For six weeks we have not tasted food. 
 
THE STAGE-STRUCK DARKEY. 103 
 
 Aha ! what do I see ? As I live, a traveller comes dis way. 
 I'll hide an reconnoitre. (Hides.) 
 
 Enter Manager, disguised genteelly, with casket. 
 
 Manager. Haha ! I am near my journey's end, methinks. 
 Old recollections crowd upon my brain, and — what ho ! 
 (Julius daps him on the hack.) Hah ! 
 
 Julius. Marry, I should know dat form. 
 
 Manager. Ha ! dat face ! 'Tis — Keep up your shake I 
 
 Julius. Einaldo. 
 
 Manager. Einaldo ! Keep up your shake ! 
 
 Julius. Aye, Einaldo. Come, dis is no time for trifling. 
 You behold before you, or behind you, a desperate man, 
 driven to desperation by starvation. My wife and children 
 have eat no food for six weeks. 
 
 Manager. {Aside.) Keep up your shake. 
 
 Julius. I would have gold, gold — ha ! ha ! — gold ! 
 Peaceably if I can, forcibly if I must. (Seizes Manager by 
 the throat and chokes him — Manager kneels down.) How's dat ? 
 Pooty good ? 
 
 Manager. (Coughing.) "Well, pooty fair, but don't squeeze 
 quite so tight. 
 
 Julius. (Rises.) Dost scorn my threat ? 
 
 Manager. Aye ! thee and thy threat ! 
 
 Julius. Behold me at thy feet — (kneels) me, Einaldo, who 
 never bent nor bowed before created man. Eelieve my wife 
 and starving children, and I am your slave forever. 
 
 Manager. Eise, Einaldo. You shall have gold. Here, 
 take de casket. (Julius makes grab at the casket^ and each pidl, 
 both take stage.) Dere I knew you would spoil de piece. 
 Didn't I say de second time, take it ? 
 
 Julius. (Angry at himself.) Well, I didn't mean to do it. 
 I thort you said de first time. 
 
 Manager. You'll neber make an actor. [ExiU 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
104 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 GOODY GEIM VERSUS LAPSTONE. 
 
 MATTHEWS. 
 
 JUDGE. {Standing.) What a profound study is THE law ! 
 and how difficult to fathom ! Well, let us consider the law, 
 for our laws are very considerable, both in bulk and num- 
 bers, according as the statutes declare ; considerandi, consider- 
 andoy considerandum, and are not to be meddled with by those 
 who don't understand them. 
 
 Law always expresses itself with true grammatical pre- 
 cision, never confounding moods, cases, or genders, except, in- 
 deed, when a woman happens accidentally to be slain, then 
 a verdict is always brought in manslaughter. The essence 
 of the law is altercation, for the law can altercate, fulmi- 
 nate, deprecate, irritate, and go on at any rate. " Your son 
 follows the law, I think, Sir Thomas ? " " Yes, madam ; 
 but I am afraid he will never overtake it ; a man following 
 the law is like two boys running round a table ; he follows 
 the law, and the law follows him. However, if you take 
 away the whereofs, whereases, wherefores, and notwithstand- 
 ings, the whole mystery vanishes ; it is then plain and sim- 
 ple." Now, the quintessence of the law has, according to 
 its name, five parts. The first is the beginning, or incipien- 
 dum ; the second, the uncertainty, or dubitandum ; the third, 
 delay, or puzzleendum ; fourthly, replication without endum ; 
 and, fifthly, monstrum et hoverendum ; all which is clearly ex- 
 emplified in the following case — Goody Grim against Lapstone. 
 This trial is as follows : — Goody Grim inhabits an alms- 
 house, No. 2 ; Will Lapstone, a superannuated cobbler, in- 
 habits No. 3 ; and a certain Jew peddler, who happened to 
 pass through the town where those almshouses are situated, 
 could only think of No. 1. Goody Grim was in the act of 
 killing one of her own proper pigs, but the animal, disliking 
 the ceremony, burst from her hold, ran through the semicir- 
 cular legs of the aforesaid Jew, knocked him in the mud, 
 ran back to Will Lapstone's, the cobbler, upset a quart bot- 
 
GOODY GRIM VS. LAPSTONE. 105 
 
 tie full of gin, belonging to the said Lapstone, and took 
 refuge in the cobbler's state bed. 
 
 The parties being, of course, in the most opulent circum- 
 stances, consulted counsel learned in the law. The result 
 was, that Goody Grim was determined to bring an action 
 against Lapstone, for the loss of her pig with a curly tail ; 
 and Lapstone to bring an action against Goody Grim, for 
 the loss of a quart bottle full of Holland gin ; and Mordecai 
 to bring an action against them both, for the loss of a tee- 
 totum, that fell out of his pocket in the rencounter. They 
 all delivered their briefs to counsel, before it was considered 
 they were all parties and no witnesses. But Goody Grim, 
 like a wise old lady as she is, now changed her battery, and 
 is determined to bring an action against Lapstone, and bind 
 over Mordecai as an evidence. 
 
 The indictment sets forth {reads from 'payer} " that he, 
 Lapstone, not having the fear of the assizes before his eyes, 
 but being moved by pig, and instigated by pruinsence, did, 
 on the first day of April, a day sacred in the annals of the 
 law, steal, pocket, hide and crib divers, that is to say, five 
 hundred hogs, sows, boars, pigs and porkers, with curly 
 tails, and did secrete the said five hundred hogs, sows, boars, 
 pigs and porkers, with curly tails, in said Lapstone's bed, 
 against the peace of our Lord the King, his crown and dig- 
 nity." 
 
 Mordecai will be examined by Counsellor Puzzle. {The 
 Judge seats himself.) 
 
 Puzzle. Well, sir, what are you ? 
 
 Mordecai. I sells old clo's, and sealing-wax, and puckles. 
 
 Puzzle. I did not ask you what you sold ; I ask you what 
 you are ? 
 
 Mordecai. I am about five-and-forty. 
 
 Puzzle. I did not ask your age ; I ask you what you 
 are ? 
 
 Mordecai. I am a Jew. 
 
 Puzzle. Why couldn't you tell me that at first ? Well, 
 then, if you are a Jew, tell me what you know of this affair. 
 
106 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 MORDECAI. As I vas valking along — 
 
 Puzzle. Man, I didn't want to know where you were 
 walking. 
 
 Mordecai. Vel, as I was valking along — 
 
 Puzzle. So you will walk along, in spite of all that can. 
 be said. 
 
 Mordecai. Pless ma heart, you frighten me out of my 
 vits — as I vas valking along, I seed de unclean animal com- 
 ing towards me, and so says I — Oh ! Father Abraham, says 
 I— 
 
 Puzzle. Father Abraham is no evidence. 
 
 Mordecai. You must let me tell my story my own vay, 
 or I cannot tell it at all. As I vas valking along, I seed 
 the unclean animal coming toward me, and he runn'd be- 
 tween my legs, and upshet me in te mut. 
 
 Puzzle. Now, do you mean to say, upon your oath, that 
 that little animal had the power to upset you in the mud ? 
 
 Mordecai. I vill take my oath dat he upshet me in ta 
 mut. 
 
 Puzzle. And pray, sir, on what side did you fall ? 
 
 Mordecai. On te mutty side. 
 
 Puzzle. I mean, on which of your own sides did you fall ? 
 
 Mordecai. I fell on my left side. 
 
 Puzzle. Now, on your oath, was it on your left side? 
 
 Mordecai. I vill take my oath it vas my left side. 
 
 Puzzle. And pray, what did you do when you fell down ? 
 
 Mordecai. I got up again as fast as I could. 
 
 Puzzle. Perhaps you can tell me whether the pig had a 
 curly tail ? 
 
 Mordecai. I vill take ma oath his tail vas so curly as my 
 peerd. 
 
 Puzzle. And pray, where were you going when this hap- 
 pened ? 
 
 Mordecai. I vas going to de sign of de Cock and Pottle. 
 
 Puzzle. Now, on your oath, what had a cock to do with 
 a bottle ? 
 
 Mordecai. I don't know ; only it vas the sign of de 
 
GOODY GRIM VS. LAPSTONE. 107 
 
 house. And all more vat I know vas, dat I lose an ivory 
 tee-totum out of ma pocket. 
 
 Puzzle. Oh, you lost a tee-totum, did you ? I thought 
 we should bring you to something at last. My Lord, I beg 
 leave to take an exception to this man's evidence ! he does 
 not come into court with clean hands. 
 
 Mordecai. How te devil should I, when I have been pol- 
 ishing ma goods all morning ? 
 
 Puzzle. Now, my Lord, your Lordship is aware that tee- 
 totum is derived from the Latin terms te and tutum, which 
 means " Keep yourself safe." And this man, but for my 
 sagacity, observation, and so forth, would have kept himself 
 safe ; but now he has, as the learned Lord Verulam expresses 
 it, "let the cat out of the bag." 
 
 Mordecai. I vill take ma oath " I had no cat in ma bag," 
 
 Puzzle. My Lord, by his own confession he was about to 
 vend a tee-totum. Now, my Lord, and gentlemen of the 
 jury, it is my duty to point out to you that a tee-totum is an 
 unlawful machine, made of ivory, with letters printed upon 
 it, for the purpose of gambling. Now your Lordship knows 
 the act commonly known by the name of " Little go Act," 
 expressly forbids all games of chance whatever, whether 
 put, whist, marbles, swabs, tee-totum, chuck-farthing, 
 dumps, or what not. And therefore, I do contend that the 
 man's evidence is contra bonos mores, and he is consequently 
 non compos testimonce. 
 
 Judge. Counsellor Botherem will now proceed. 
 
 Botherem. My Lord, and gentlemen of the jury, my 
 learned friend Puzzle has, in a most facetious manner, en- 
 deavored to cast a slur on the highly honorable evidence of 
 the Jew merchant. And I do contend that he who buys and 
 sells is bona- fide inducted into all the mysteries of merchan- 
 dise ; ergo, he who merchandises is, to all intents and pur- 
 poses, a merchant. My learned friend, in the twistings and 
 turnings of his argument in handling the tee-totum, can 
 only be called obiter dictum ; he is playing, my Lord, a losing 
 game. Gentlemen, he has told you the origin, use, and 
 
108 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 abuse, of the tee-totum ; but, gentlemen, he has forgot to tell 
 you what that great luminary of the law, the late learned 
 Coke, has said on the subject, in a case exactly similar to 
 this, in the 234th folio volume of the Abridgment of the 
 Statutes, page 1349, where he thus lays down the law in the 
 case of Hazard versus Blacklegs : " Gamblendum consistet, enact- 
 um gamblendi, sed non evendum macheni playendi" My Lord, I 
 beg leave to say that, if I prove my client was in the act of 
 vending, and not playing, with the said instrument, the tee- 
 totum, I humbly presume that all my learned friend has said 
 will come to the ground. 
 
 Judge. Certainly, brother Botherem, there's no doubt the 
 learned Sergeant is incorrect. The law does not put a man 
 extralegium for merely spinning a tee-totum. 
 
 Botherem. My Lord, one of the witnesses has owned 
 that the pig had a curly tail. Now, my Lord, I presume* 
 if I prove the pig had a straight tail, I consider the ob- . 
 jection must be fatal. 
 
 Judge. Certainly : order the pig into court. ( The pig 
 being produced, upon examination, is found to have a straight 
 tail) 
 
 In summing up the evidence, gentlemen of the jury, it 
 is wholly unnecessary to recapitulate ; for the removal of 
 this objection removes all ground of action. And notwith- 
 standing the ancient statute, which says Serium pigum et 
 boreum pigum, et vendi curium tailum, there is an irrefragable 
 proof, by ocular demonstration, that Goody Grim's grunter 
 has a straight tail ; and, as it has been distinctly proved 
 that the pig set forth in the indictment had a curly tail, it 
 is evident that it was somebody else's pig ; ergo, it was not 
 Goody Grim's pig at all, and therefore the prisoner must be 
 acquitted. And really, gentlemen, if the time of the court is 
 to be taken up with these frivolous actions, the designs of 
 justice will be entirely frustrated ; and the attorney who 
 recommends this action should be punished, not in the or- 
 dinary way, but with the utmost rigor and severity of the 
 law. 
 
THE WOMAN OF MIND. 109 
 
 THE WOMAN OF MIND. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 My wife is a woman of mind, 
 
 And Deville, who examined her bumps, 
 Vowed that never was found in a woman 
 
 Such large intellectual lumps. 
 " Ideality " big as an egg, 
 
 With " Causality " — great — was combined ; 
 He charged me ten shillings, and said, 
 
 •'Sir, your wife is a woman of mind." 
 
 She's too clever to care how she looks, 
 
 And will horrid blue spectacles wear, 
 Not because she supposes they give her 
 
 A fine intellectual air ; 
 No ! she pays no regard to appearance, 
 
 And combs all her front hair behind, 
 Not because she is proud of her forehead, 
 
 But because she's a woman of mind. 
 
 She makes me a bushel of verses, 
 
 But never a pudding or tart, 
 If I hint I should like one, she vows 
 
 I'm an animal merely at heart ; 
 Though I've noticed she spurns not the pastry, 
 
 Whene'er at a friend's we have dined, 
 And has always had two plates of pudding — 
 
 Such plates! for a woman of mind. 
 
 Not a stitch does she do but a distich, 
 
 Mends her pens, too, instead of my clothes ; 
 I haven't a shirt with a button, 
 
 Nor a stocking that's sound at the toes ; 
 If I ask her to darn me a pair, 
 
 She replies she has work more refined ; 
 Besides to be seen darning stockings I 
 
 Is it fit for a woman of mind ] 
 
110 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 The children are squalling all day, 
 
 For they're left to the care of a maid ; 
 My wife can't attend to " the units," 
 
 " The millions " are wanting her aid. 
 And it's vulgar to care for one's offspring — 
 
 The mere brute has a love of its kind — 
 But she loves the whole human fam/ly, 
 
 For she is a woman of mind. 
 
 Everything is an inch thick in dust, 
 
 And the servants do just as they please ; 
 The ceilings are covered with cobwebs, 
 
 The beds are all swarming with fleas ; 
 The windows have never been clean'd, 
 
 And as black as your hat is each blind ; 
 But my wife's nobler things to attend to, 
 
 For she is a woman of mind. 
 
 The nurse steals the tea and the sugar, 
 
 The cook sells the candles as grease, 
 And gives all the cold meat away 
 
 To her lover who's in the police ; 
 When I hint that the housekeeping's heavy, 
 
 And hard is the money to find, 
 " Money's vile filthy dross ! " she declares, 
 
 And unworthy a woman of mind. 
 
 Whene'er she goes out to a dance, 
 
 She refuses to join in the measure, 
 For dancing she can't but regard 
 
 As an unintellectual pleasure. 
 So she gives herself up to enjoyments 
 
 Of a more philosophical kind, 
 And picks all the people to pieces, 
 
 Like a regular woman of mind. 
 
 She speaks of her favorite authors 
 In terms far from pleasant to hear ; 
 
 " Charles Dickens " she vows " is a darling," 
 " And Bulwer •' she says " is a dea'r ; ' 
 
NURSERY REMINISCENCES. Ill 
 
 " Wilkie Collins " with her " is an angel," 
 
 And I'm an " illiterate hind," 
 Upon whom her fine intellect's wasted, 
 
 I'm not fit for a woman of mind. 
 
 She goes not to church on a Sunday, 
 
 Church is all very well in its way, 
 But she is too highly informed 
 
 Not to know all the parson can say; 
 It does well enough for the servants, 
 
 And was for poor people designed, 
 But bless you ! it's no good to her, 
 
 For she is a woman of mind. 
 
 NURSERY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 BASSAMU 
 
 I remember, I remember, 
 
 When I was a little boy, 
 One fine morning in September 
 
 Uncle brought me home a toy. 
 
 I remember how he patted 
 
 Both my cheeks in kindliest mood ; 
 
 " There," said he, " you little fat head, 
 There's a top because you're good." 
 
 Grandmamma — a shrewd observer — 
 
 I remember gazed upon 
 My new top, and said with fervor, 
 
 " Oh, how kind of Uncle John ! " 
 
 While mamma, my form caressing — 
 In her eye the tear-drop stood — 
 
 Read me this fine moral lesson, 
 
 " See what comes of being good ! " 
 
112 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 I remember, I remember, 
 On a wet and windy day, 
 
 One cold morning in December, 
 I stole out and went to play ; 
 
 I remember Billy Hawkins 
 
 Came, and with his pewter squirt 
 
 Squibb'd my pantaloons and stockings, 
 Till they were all over dirt ! 
 
 To my mother for protection 
 I ran — quaking every limb — 
 
 She exclaimed, with fond affection, 
 " Gracious goodness ! look at him ! " 
 
 Pa cried, when he saw my garment — 
 'Twas a newly-purchased dress — 
 
 " Oh S you nasty little warment, 
 How came you in such a mess ? " 
 
 Then he caught me by the collar — 
 
 Cruel only to be kind — 
 And to my exceeding dolor, 
 
 Gave me — several slaps behind. 
 
 Grandmamma, while yet I smarted, 
 As she saw my evil plight, 
 
 Said — 'twas rather strong-hearted — 
 " Little rascal ! sarve him right ! " 
 
 I remember, I remember, 
 
 From that sad and solemn day, 
 
 Never more in dark December 
 Did I venture out to play. 
 
 And the moral which they taught, I 
 Well remember ; thus they said — 
 
 " Little boys, when they are naughty, 
 Must be whipped and sent to bed ! " 
 
A MARTYR TO SCIENCE. 113 
 
 A MAETYE TO SCIENCE; OE, WANTED— A 
 CONFEDEEATE. 
 
 AN OEIGINAL FAECE, IN ONE ACT, FOE MALE CHAEACTEES ONLY. 
 
 F. WESTON. 
 
 Tweezer, a retired Chiropodist, aged 60. 
 Dick, his son, aged 25. 
 
 Humphrey Davy Rattleton, A.B.C.D.E.F.. &c, &c, &c., 
 peripatetic Lecturer on Magnetico-photographico-biology, aged 30. 
 Drudgley, a Lawyer, aged 50. 
 
 Scene — Tweezer ville, near New York. 
 
 Time — The present. 
 
 Costumes — Of the day. 
 
 Scene — A room comfortably, and rather gaudily furnished, a small 
 table at r., a larger in the centre, chairs, a window opening to gar- 
 den. Doors, r. and l. (For Stage Directions see page 64.) 
 
 Tweezer (Calls, without, R.) Dick ! Dick! 
 Enter Tweezer, r. 
 . Tweez. Out again ! What a mania that boy has for ag- 
 riculture ! Ever since I bought this snug little box, in 
 which I might rest my corns — no ! I mean my bones, and 
 enj oy a little quiet, Dick has devoted himself to rural affairs 
 with an ardor which has quite surprised me ; I don't believe 
 he knew a rose from a dandelion when Ave lived in New 
 York, and now, now he breaks my head with all sorts of 
 Latin names for the most uncommon flowers. There's some- 
 thing more than flowers at the root of it ; it isn't natural, 
 this sudden and unusual devotion to such a simple pursuit 
 as botany. I must take care he doesn't fall in love with the 
 wrong woman — that would be a terrible mistake ; old Jack 
 Stilton and I have put our heads together ; w r e agree that 
 Letitia was made for Dick, Dick made for Letitia, and when 
 
114 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Jack and I do make up our minds about anything, it is not 
 very easy to move us. 
 
 Dick appears at open window. 
 
 . Ah, Dick ! "Where have you been since breakfast ? 
 
 Dick. Studying botany, as usual, all among the lilies and 
 daffadowndillies — charming pursuit ! I can't say how much 
 I love — the country. Who could live in town ? Groves of 
 chimneys, atmosphere of smoke, rivers of mud, not a glimpse 
 of green fields, not a breath of pure air — 
 
 Tweez. But does it not occur to you, Dick, that without 
 towns, we could hardly retire into the country ? How did 
 I make my money ? not by growing my own corn, but by 
 cutting other people's — and corns, Dick, are an institution 
 of this great country — a civic institution, without which, I 
 need hardly say, the vested rights of chiropodists would 
 cease to be ; how then could that most useful class live ? 
 
 Dick. But surely, father, you don't wish me to follow that 
 profession ? 
 
 Tweez. By no means — by no means ! no, you shall be a 
 lawyer ; you've the gift of talk, you have plenty of — cheek ; 
 and are by no means deficient in brains — in short, you're a 
 chip of the old block ; and so, as I made my money by the 
 weakness of other people's understandings, you shall make 
 yours by understanding their weakness. 
 
 Dick. Be it so. Though I shan't like goosequills as well 
 as jonquils, nor think parchment as beautiful as a parterre ; 
 I must begin to do something for myself — I'm of age — and 
 I must try to carve out a road to fortune. 
 
 Tweez. ( Aside.) Now's the time to bring in a word of 
 Letitia. (Aloud.) You're right, my dear boy, right — right — 
 and I'll give you a reason for working, one you little dream 
 of. 
 
 Dick. (Aside.) He doesn't mean a wife, surely. 
 
 Tweez. I'll tell you a secret, Dick — one that concerns 
 yourself. 
 
 Dick I'm all attention, father. 
 
A MARTYR TO SCIENCE. 115 
 
 TWEEZ. When I first cut corns in New York, I began with 
 a dollar in my pocket, and a brass plate on my door. Ah ! 
 that brass was a good investment, a little sometimes goes a 
 long way. Little did I think, however, of once owning a 
 villa in the country. I worked on, on, on — at last I married. 
 She was a good woman if ever there was one. 
 
 Dick. Ah, sir ! I never knew her. 
 
 Tweez. And my only grief now is, that she is not here 
 to share with me the prosperity we dreamt of so far away. 
 A wife, Dick, a wife is a great help. 
 
 Dick. (Aside.) I hardly can venture yet to tell him all. 
 [Aloud.) A wife is — 
 
 Tweez. Who is that, Dick ? {Pointing off.) Ah ! Mr. 
 Drudgley, my lawyer, he comes on a little matter of busi- 
 ness — rather inconveniently at this moment, as I wished 
 particularly to speak to you on a subject. Leave us, Dick ; 
 come back to luncheon. 
 
 Dick. (Aside.) Wants to get rid of me. {Aloud.) Oh! I 
 can go and botanize for an hour. (Aside.) Dearest Emily! 
 he must soon be told everything, My dear old dad will 
 forgive me, but what will Emily's father say V 
 
 [Exit at window. 
 
 Drtjdg. {Without.) Don't trouble, I'll announce myself. 
 (Knocks.) 
 
 Tweez. Come in! 
 
 Enter Drudgley, l. door. 
 
 Good morning, Mr. Drudgley, I had hardly expected to see 
 you so soon. 
 
 Drudg. That, sir, is only because, in common with the 
 world at large, you belie our profession. All the world is 
 in a conspiracy (which I would indict if I could) to call the 
 law dilatory. There certainly was a branch of the profes- 
 sion that was so, but with that I never meddled ; Chancery 
 has always been a proverb for delay ; my line runs in an- 
 other direction entirely. 
 
 Tweez. Well ! then I may hope that you've brought the 
 
116 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 papers relative to the mortgage. I do not conceal from you, 
 Mr. Drudgley, that in thus investing a very large portion 
 of what I possess, I am bound to be cautious, perhaps sus- 
 picious. I must cut down to the very root. 
 
 Drudg. As you once did professionally in re Corn and 
 Bunion versus Foot, eh ? You're quite right, Mr. Tweezer ; 
 it would indeed be quite contrary to my mode of transact- 
 ing business to allow clients to hurry themselves. Look 
 into the matter, sir, till you see truth shining at the very 
 bottom of the legal well. Ah ! if every one of my clients 
 always did that — if they only had a little of your caution, 
 perhaps suspicion, as you call it, there would be little enough 
 for us to do sometimes. 
 
 Tweez. Well ! leave the papers with me — I've a quiet 
 day. All the world but ourselves is gone to the races — I 
 shall have no interruptions — 
 
 Drudgl (Consulting memorandum hook.) Is there a Miss Tit- 
 marsh residing hereabouts ? — Emily Titmarsh ? — living with 
 her aunt, Mrs. Hobbleton. 
 
 Tweez. To be sure there is ; not half a mile distant across 
 the fields — go across my meadow — it will save you half the 
 walk. 
 
 Drudg. Thank you — thank you. "Now read over the 
 papers very carefully ; with your acute intellect and busi- 
 ness habits you'll have mastered the subject long before my 
 return. [Exit at window. Tweezer giving him directions. 
 
 Tweez. And now for a quiet investigation of my new 
 venture. Drudgley represents to me that it must double 
 the investment, and that the mortgage is sure to come into 
 my hands ; if so, Dick will be thoroughly well off, and with 
 Jack Stilton's savings, the young couple will " do." I don't 
 quite like Drudgley's excessively complimentary addresses. 
 He always talks about my business habits ; I must look 
 with some — caution into the papers. Yet — isn't he right ? 
 I am a good man of business — have been so all my life. At 
 all events, I've not signed yet. Now for it. (As he begins to 
 nettle down to real, the gate bell rings.) Now, in the name of all 
 
A MARTYR TO SCIENCE. 117 
 
 that's uncomfortable, who can this be ? Miss MacWheedle, 
 I shouldn't wonder — that woman has a design on me I do 
 believe. 
 
 Battletox. (Without.) "Where is my friend ? 
 
 Tweez. A stranger. I don't know the voice. 
 
 Rattle. Stand aside, nor hinder the embrace of friend- 
 ship. (Buns in at L. door.) 
 
 Tweez. This is some mistake — a stranger ! 
 
 Rattle. What do you mean by stranger ? Whas do you 
 mean by mistake ? Ah ! you don't remember me — fortu- 
 nately, I have a better memory. I remember you perfectly. 
 Do you pretend to have forgotten that glorious day on board 
 the excursion boat ? Ah ! Tweezer, Tweezer ! did we not 
 vow eternal friendship ? Did I not see you home ? Did 
 not you, with amiable pertinacity, planting your foot on your 
 native — doormat, exclaim, Tweezer is not unmindful — none 
 of his clan were ungrateful — 
 
 Tweez. I beg, sir — 
 
 Rattle. To apologize ? no ! Say no more — confession 
 is half way to restitution. Though you forget, I forgive ; 
 and according to your polite and pressing invitation, here 
 I am — you said — 
 
 Tweez. (In despair.) Sir — 
 
 Rattle. I remember — thank you — that was the precise 
 word with which you began. You said, " Sir, I shall ever 
 retain a grateful and lively recollection of this day's scien- 
 tific conversation." "Mr. Rattleton," you continued, " I do 
 not hesitate to class you among the remarkable men of this 
 age, and if ever " — This is the point — " if ever " — mind, if 
 I don't quote you word for word, forgive me, " If ever you 
 come near Tweezerville, without looking up old Dick Tweez- 
 er, he'll never forgive you the slight." To-day it so happens 
 that fate kindly brings me to this neighborhood. To my 
 delighted eyes there appears on each side of a gate, painted 
 in Romanesque capitals, " Tweezerville," and dear Dick 
 Tweezer's name on a bright brass plate. (With emotion.) I 
 could not bear that you should feel slighted — and so here I 
 
118 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 am. This is my carpet bag — and here, ready to strain yon to 
 his aching heart, stands your friend — prepared to accept 
 your hospitality, and (at a future date) to return it. 
 
 Tweez. Now, sir, that you have expended your super- 
 fluous breath, allow me to speak. I do not at all remember 
 the affair of the excursion boat, or the scientific conversation, 
 or any pressing offer of hospitality, or even the dear friend I 
 see so suddenly before me. 
 
 Rattle. Well, it's excusable ! — we parted late. Confound 
 the salmon ; it gave even me a head-ache in the morning — 
 would it were among the extinct animals of the museum ! — 
 but it did not obliterate from " this distracted globe " the 
 great fact of the invitation. You don't dispute its being 
 given, I hope ? — you don't dispute its being accepted, I hope ? 
 So, I'm come to revel in a quiet, philosophical, scientific way 
 — Ah ! how seldom is it that we escape from our learned so- 
 cieties at this season of the year ! 
 
 Tweez. But who or what are you ? My memory does not 
 even serve to recall your face. 
 
 Battle. (Aside.) How should it ? 
 
 Tweez. Favor me with the name of the gentleman who 
 thus honors Tweezerville with his presence. 
 
 Rattle. Now that's capitally acted ! bravo ! I shouldn't 
 have thought you'd so much "go" in you. A quiet, de- 
 mure old fellow like you ! Ah ! when we discussed ichthy- 
 osauri on board the excursion boat, I had no idea that you 
 could make so good a figure on the boards. 
 
 Tweez. Boards ! — what boards ? 
 
 Rattle. The stage — Thespis — Melpomene — Thalia — all 
 that sort of thing ! But, seriously speaking, you canH have 
 forgotten Humphrey Davy Rattleton — a man with a tail of 
 initial letters as long as a luggage train, at present lectur- 
 ing on the newly-discovered science of Magnetico-photo- 
 graphioo-biology, and about to enlighten on that subject 
 the Institute in the next town. As the lecture comes off 
 to-morrow night, your offer of a bed comes most oppor- 
 tunely. 
 
A MARTYR TO SCIENCE. 119 
 
 Tweez. Excuse me, sir, but the offer of a bed, as you are 
 pleased to call it, has not been made. 
 
 Rattle. The bed not made. Tell Mary Ann to air the 
 sheets — I'm not afraid of damp beds here ! 
 
 Tweez. I can hardly help laughing at his assurance — 
 Sir, had you written, I should have been prepared to do 
 honor to my long expected guest ; as it is, I can only wish you — 
 
 Rattle. To accept temporary hospitality — good — 
 
 Tweez. And now, Mr. Rattlepate — 
 
 Rattle. Rattleton, if you please — I'm rather particular 
 about my name — it does not signify just at present, but a 
 good deal of money might depend on the manner of spelling 
 it — might depend — hem ! I say nothing. 
 
 Tweez. Well, Mr. Rattleton-— then— 
 
 Rattle. Stay ! Stand as you are. "What a study for a 
 painter ! — benevolence — hospitality — humor — all largely — ■ 
 very largely developed. Let me prevail on you to come over 
 and hear me lecture to-morrow night — nay ; even to assist 
 me in my experiments — in the name of science, I implore 
 you. I have never had a favorable example yet — you pre- 
 sent that example — I shall succeed with you, I know. {Aside.) 
 He'd be a glorious confederate — known and respected in the 
 neighborhood. {Aloud.) Come — say you'll come. I shall 
 demonstrate the science of magnetic fluids generally ; and 
 you — you are a whole battery in yourself — scientific — 
 
 Tweez. I beg your pardon, sir — I am a very plain and 
 unscientific person. 
 
 Rattle. Excuse me there. Every line in your face belies 
 that statement — science is in every wrinkle — not fully devel- 
 oped — no — but the material is there. The mine is no less a 
 mine, because the spade and mattock have left the soil vir- 
 gin still. The ore is there, sir, though the hum of labor has 
 never yet disturbed the holy calm of nature. (Aside.) 1 must 
 have him — and such a confederate is not to be had every 
 day. 
 
 Tweez. I can only repeat, sir, that I have no magnetism, 
 and no other ism about me ; that I know nothing, and care 
 
120 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 nothing about ologles of any sort, and am altogether unscien- 
 tific. 
 
 Rattle. Really, Tweezer, this is provoking. I've never 
 thoroughly succeeded yet, for want of — of — an assistant — 
 furnished with magnetic fluid, as I see you are, and willing 
 to give way to the influences of the lecturer. 
 
 Tweez. In plain words — a confederate. Sir, you've come 
 down here on false pretences — you've — 
 
 Rattle. Take your time, Tweezer — Listen to me while 
 you recover your breath. We magnetico-photographico- 
 biologists are benefactors to the human race ; but the igno- 
 rant world is against us. Now, our fluids — yours and mine 
 — are in accord — with, you, I should succeed — I know I 
 should. 
 
 Tweez. But I'm not a fluid. 
 
 Rattle. Yes, you are — that's the curious thing about it. 
 I never noticed it on board the excursion boat, but you are 
 one huge battery of magnetic fluid ; and you must help me, 
 call yourself what you will — assistant, illustrator, even con- 
 federate — I'll not quarrel about words ; lend me half-a-dollar. 
 
 Tweez. I? 
 
 Rattle. Yes! just for an experiment. I left my purse at 
 home, and metal is essential. 
 
 Tweez. Well, here is one. You'll restore it, of course ? 
 (Gives money.) 
 
 Rattle. Do you doubt me ? 
 
 Tweez. Hem! 
 
 Rattle. Now, let me explain. You gaze upon the coin 
 which I hold thus — I pass my hands before you so — don't 
 be alarmed — you can be persuaded to almost anything ; 
 when once I have you in accord with my fluid — 
 
 Tweez. Persuade me to almost any thing ? Perhaps per- 
 saude me to go to your lecture — 
 
 Rattle. Anything. Only you must yield to my influ- 
 ence. 
 
 Tweez. It's quite demoniacal — if true. You say that you 
 never succeeded yet. 
 
A MARTYR TO SCIENCE. 121 
 
 RATTLE. Never ; but then I hadn't found a good fluid. 
 Now I have. Let us proceed. Would you like to know 
 what people think about ? — the value of property — the state 
 of their affections — 
 
 Tweez. Ah, yes — if I could — 
 
 Battle. You can, when once I place this coin thus — in 
 the palm of my hand — you gaze on it — I proceed with my 
 lecture — 
 
 Tweez. Let us hear what you have to say. 
 
 Rattle. I'll cut all the first part of it, and come to the 
 experiments. You'll always see the scientific people asleep 
 at lectures, till we come to the experiments. Keep your 
 eye on the half-dollar. 
 
 Tweez. That I will. (Aside.) Nothing shall tempt me to 
 take my eyes off. 
 
 Rattle. " Ladies and gentlemen — The gigantic science, 
 of which I am but a humble votary, having been fully ex- 
 plained to you in the first part of this evening's address, it 
 now becomes my pleasing duty to illustrate my remarks by 
 a few experiments on individuals taken at random from the 
 distinguished and intellectual body assembled in this hall." 
 Hear ! Hear ! 
 
 Tweez. "Who says that ? 
 
 Rattle. The audience, to be sure — audiences always 
 concur in observations complimentary to themselves. But 
 don't interrupt — this highly respectable gentleman — that's 
 you— 
 
 Tweez. Hear, hear ! 
 
 Rattle. You mustn't say that — 
 
 Tweez. Oh ! I thought you said we always concur in com- 
 plimentary observations. 
 
 Rattle. True, the audience does — this highly respectable 
 gentleman — 
 
 Tweez. Hear, hear ! 
 
 Battle. Silence — you put me out. 
 
 Tweez. (Aside.) I can't. 
 
 Rattle. With whom I've not the slightest previous ac- 
 quaintance — 
 
122 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Tweez. But you had — or how should I be there ? 
 
 Battle. Thankye, Tweezer, for reminding me about the 
 excursion boat. In public, however, we must not have any 
 communication. For science to make way with the million, 
 we must humbug a little. Don't interrupt — you keep look- 
 ing at the half-dollar. 
 
 Tweez. Ah, that I do ! 
 
 Battle. This person, selected at random from among 
 yourselves, will allow me to pass the magnetic current 
 through his system. See ! I now proceed to deprive him of 
 all distinct individuality. He becomes as it were a part of 
 myself — he and I know each other's thoughts and wishes. 
 I bid him sit down — See ! he sits. Bise ! he rises. Hold 
 out the right arm — See ! he does so. Be in a garden — smell 
 the flowers. (Tweezer sniffs violently.) Bravo ! — now, Tweez- 
 er, you can do that ? 
 
 Tweez. Of course, now that I am your fluid, I must do 
 whatever you tell me. 
 
 Battle. Bravo ! bravo ! we should make a fortune to- 
 gether. I see a brilliant career of spirit-rapping — table-turn- 
 ing — invisible flights — a fortune ! You'll come, and do this 
 for me. 
 
 Tweez. I must — command your fluid ! 
 
 Battle. Enough for the present. Why, is it possible 
 that I have succeeded ? By Minerva ! I have then. I hope 
 I shall be able to undo my work. Does the effect really go 
 off, as they say, in half-an-hour ? (Slips the half-dollar into his 
 pocket. ) 
 
 Tweez. Hullo ! that's my half-dollar. 
 
 Battle. To be sure it is. He's wide awake about that, 
 at all events. Now, I must keep every one else out, at all 
 events, till I relieve Tweezer from his trance. (Loch the 
 door. ) Ah, what do I see ? That old shark, Drudgley, 
 coming this way. He has at least one suit out against me. 
 I must flit — he's coming towards the window — then the door 
 must befriend me. [ Unlocks door and exits y L. 
 
A MARTYR TO SCIENCE. 123 
 
 Enter Drudgley by window — meanwhile Tweezer, under the influ- 
 ence of the magnetism, remains perfectly passive — the actor on each 
 person touching his hand should acquire a sudden vitality and con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 Drudgley. Well, Mr. Tweezer, have you read the papers, 
 and mastered their contents? (Pause.) Is he deaf, I wonder ! 
 I say {louder), have you mastered the papers? Are you 
 ready to sign? {Pause.) What, silent still? Very odd — sir — 
 sir — I really begin to be alarmed. ( Takes his hand.) 
 
 Tweez. So you've come back ! 
 
 Drudg. (Drawing a long breath.) What a relief! Why, I've 
 been standing here talking to you for a minute or two, 
 without getting any answer. I feared you were ill. 
 
 Tweez. And what answer do you expect to get ? What 
 answer do you deserve ? 
 
 Drudg. Deserve — deserve, Mr. Tweezer ? Why, the answer 
 of a true friend to a conscientious lawyer. 
 
 Tweez. Ah ! if you were one. 
 
 Drudg. What do you mean — do you wish to insult me ? 
 
 Tweez. It's of no sort of use blustering — the mortgage 
 is not worth the paper the deed's engrossed on. 
 
 Drudg. (Abide.) Who can have been here? Not even a 
 clerk knows for whom the mortgage was to be. (Aloud.) 
 Mr. Tweezer, I don't understand such language from one 
 who is under great obligations to me — I should not, sir, 
 (emotion) I could not have expected this — I should as soon 
 have looked for the wife of my bosom — 
 
 Tweez. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Drudg. What do you mean ? Is there anything ludicrous 
 in a man quoting the opinion, or appealing to the experi- 
 ence of the women who must know him best of all the 
 world ? I should as soon expect Mrs. Drudgley to doubt 
 my honor, as one who was once, at any rate, my valued 
 client, and excellent friend. (Appears overcome.) 
 
 Tweez. Now, no crocodile tears ; you know that Mrs. 
 Drudgley is your master — the better horse, eh ? People at 
 large think you're head of the firm, we know better. 
 
124 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Drtjdg. (Aside.) Has she been here ? Impossible ! she said 
 she was going to her aunt's — aunts are convenient relations 
 sometimes ; she goes to see her because I will not have aunt 
 Sally in my house, but I mustn't quarrel. (Aloud.) Ah! Mr. 
 Tweezer, you always were fond of a joke. 
 
 Tweez. You call it a joke, do you ? you're quite right to 
 treat it as such, if you don't mind it, of course I don't. 
 
 Drudg. (Aside.) I wish I knew how much he really knows ; 
 there certainly is something very wild — insanity or inebria- 
 tion — in his eye. I must find the son, he'll be able to ex- 
 plain what's the matter with his father ; I wonder if he is 
 mad. [Exit in alarm, window. 
 
 Tweez. (Calling after Mm.) No, sir, Tweezer is not mad. 
 He has recovered his senses. This is a capital thing, to learn 
 what each one thinks and means. I feel Dick coming — but 
 he's not clear — all in a mist. I shall not know what the 
 mystery is till my fluid communicates with the pulsation of 
 his. (Sits down.) 
 
 Dick enters at door l. 
 
 Dick. There sits my dad. Now for a confession. Father ! 
 (Pause.) Father! (Pause.) Why, what sudden deafness is 
 this ? The poor dear old boy isn't ill, I hope. (Touches him.) 
 
 Tweez. Ah, Dick ! so you've been with Emily ? 
 
 Dick. Emily, sir ! 
 
 Tweez. Yes. You don't mean to pretend you haven't 
 been there, do you ? 
 
 Dick. Certainly not, as you say so. I've been with Emily ! 
 — how did he learn it ? (Aside.) 
 
 Tweez. I hope you love her dearly ? 
 
 Dick. Dearly, sir % — that I do. Bravo ! this is the wife 
 he mysteriously hinted at just now. We shall get on like 
 a house on fire ! 
 
 Tweez She's a good girl, I believe, Dick ? 
 
 Dick. The best of girls, sir. I'm delighted that you ap- 
 prove of my choice. 
 
 Tweez. But I don't. I meant you to marry another — 
 Letitia Stilton ; not that I'd interfere with your affections. 
 
A MARTYR TO SCIENCE. 125 
 
 But you should have consulted me before you proposed to 
 Emily. 
 
 Dick. Why, we feared you might not give your consent ; 
 and so — and so — 
 
 Tweez. And so you did without it ? and got married — 
 
 Dick. Married, sir ? How on earth did you learn that 
 we were married ? — you didn't know it this morning, for 
 you were on the point of opening the subject when Mr. 
 Drudgley — Ah ! of course, Drudgley — he's the intending 
 mischief maker. But, fortunately for us, he has not suc- 
 ceeded in setting you against us. 
 
 Tweez. Drudgley knows nothing about it ; never mind 
 him. Let us make the best of what's done. "We can't have 
 bigamy even for Jack Stilton's daughter. But I ought to 
 be very angry. 
 
 Dick. Forgive us this once ; we'll never do it again. 
 You'll see Emily — I know you'll like her — she'll idolize you. 
 You'll call her daughter, won't you ? 
 
 Tweez. Ah ! but what will Jack Stilton say ? He used 
 to be such a fiery fellow. He used to beat the watchmen 
 once — a long time ago : we got taken before Sir Richard 
 Birnie — hem ! Do you think he'll forgive Emily ? 
 
 Dick. You must talk him over. The memory of your 
 joint indiscretions in youth will mollify him. But do tell 
 me how you learnt that we were married. 
 
 Rattleton enters cautiously at window. Tweezer, who appears to 
 move machanically, sinlcs in a chair. 
 
 Rattle. Coast clear ? Father and son tete-a-tete, I sup- 
 pose. 
 
 Dick. Ah ! sir, is it you who have done me the favor of 
 meddling in my private affairs ? You have fortunately done 
 no mischief, whatever you intended. 
 
 Battle. I've nothing to do with your private affairs. I 
 don't know what you mean by mischief. I've made none. 
 (Aside.) I conclude the old one has been enlightening him. 
 Bravo the science of magnetico-photographico-biology. 
 
126 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Dick. I'm really much obliged to your officious zeal. 
 You have opened a very delicate subject with my father. 
 As it happens (no thanks to your intentions) he is quite will- 
 ing to forgive my marriage with Emily Titmarsh. 
 
 Battle. Emily — Titmarsh ! Say it again. 
 
 Dick Emily Titmarsh. 
 
 Battle. This is indeed a surprise — a very disagreeable 
 surprise. 
 
 Dick. Confound it ! you surely don't affect ignorance of 
 my union with her ? Yes, she is no longer a Titmarsh but 
 a Tweezer ! 
 
 Battle. This is indeed a blow ! From this day forth let 
 us never meet, for if we do, it must be as foes. I loved 
 Emily. 
 
 Dick. Loved my wife ! 
 
 Battle. No ; she was to be my wife. 
 
 Dick. Impossible ! 
 
 Battle. But true nevertheless. She did indeed reject me, 
 but I lived in hopes. Those hopes you have dashed to the 
 ground. Oh ! Emily — false — false ! Why was I born ? 
 Why do I live ? 
 
 Dick. Don't be absurd ; the days of heroics are over ! I 
 have won the lady. She's mine. I'm going now to bring 
 her home. 
 
 Battle. Spare me that pang at least. Let me not look- 
 on her. 
 
 Dick. Pooh ! pooh ! Now, Emily, dear, you shall come to 
 your future home. [Exit Dick, l. door. 
 
 Battle. Well ! that's off my mind. I can't hope any 
 more in that quarter. I can't have the niece. I'll try the 
 aunt. She's got two thousand dollars a year I know, and 
 all at her own disposal. Ah ! Tweezer seems recovering 
 himself. 
 
 Tweez. (Rubbing his eyes, and resuming his natural manner.) 
 What ! Mr. Battleton, not gone, I thought you were to be 
 at New York by this time. 
 
 Battle. We haven't lunched yet. 
 
A MARTYR TO SCIENCE. 127 
 
 Tweez. Haven't we ? — I've been dreaming, then. "Where's 
 my son, I wonder ? 
 
 Rattle. He was here just now ; he's stepped out for a 
 minute. Let me have some luncheon, and be off. But, 
 never fear, I'll fetch you to-morrow, my cultivator of the 
 humanities. I'll take the liberty of ringing the bell. (Rings.) 
 
 Tweez. You've done nothing but take liberties all the 
 morning. (Aside.) 
 
 Enter Servant at door, l. 
 
 Lunch ! \_Exil Servant — returns with tray. 
 
 Rattle. (Sits down to lunch.) Your health, Tweezer. Cap- 
 ital sherry — very. 
 
 Enter Dick, l. 
 
 Dick. I forgot one thing — Why, here's this fellow mak- 
 ing himself at home ! 
 
 Tweez. Dick, I've something to say to you. 
 
 Dick. Looks grave ! Can't be a lecture, after our amica- 
 ble understanding just now. 
 
 Tweez. We were interrupted this morning, just as I was 
 going to broach a very interesting subject. 
 
 Dick. Yes, sir ; but since then we've said all that is ne- 
 cessary to be said, haven't we ? I've great pleasure in remem- 
 bering all the kind things you said. Though you said you 
 were angry, I didn't believe you ; your words were contra- 
 dicted by your looks. 
 
 Tweez. What are you dreaming of? 
 
 Dick. I confess I did not expect to find you thought me 
 old enough to marry— 
 
 Tweez. Not old enough ? On the contrary, marriage is 
 what I set my heart on. 
 
 Dick.- So I found, to my great surprise. Well, sir, are we 
 to live here for the present ? 
 
 Tweez. It would be most convenient, perhaps ; but there'll 
 be time enough for all that when the preliminaries are set- 
 tled. 
 
128 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 DlCK. I don't quite comprehend you. What sort of pre- 
 liminaries do you mean ? 
 
 Tweez. Why, my dear Dick, you know that however 
 well the parents may understand one another, and however 
 well the young people may understand one another, there 
 are times and seasons — consent to be asked — the day fixed — ■ 
 the knot tied — 
 
 Dick. I'm all at sea. 
 
 Tweez. I'll bring you into port. Jack Stilton has only 
 to be asked, and Letitia will be your own. 
 
 Dick. What can the governor be driving at ? He knows 
 I'm married to Emily, and wants me now to marry Letitia. 
 Let us if we can, sir, get at something like an explanation. 
 
 Rattle. (Finishing his luncheon.) Let me explain. 
 
 Tweez. You'd better not interfere, sir. 
 
 Battle. But I must interfere ! — justice demands it ! — 
 your son already loves, but not the lady you destine for him. 
 
 Tweez. Not Letitia ! Who then is his choice ? 
 
 Dick. Oh, father ! — to ask such a question after giving 
 your consent to my marriage. 
 
 Tweez. What marriage ? This is the first I've heard of 
 it. What marriage ? 
 
 Dick. My marriage with Emily. 
 
 Tweez. Your marriage with Emily ? 
 
 Rattle. His marriage with Emily ! 
 
 Dick. I confessed this morning in this room, not an hour 
 ago, that I was already a married man. 
 
 Tweez. Pinch me, somebody ! Do you mean to say you're 
 actually married to her ? 
 
 Dick. Yes ; and that you are quite ready to welcome her 
 as a daughter. 
 
 Tweez. Not a word of truth in the whole story. 
 
 Rattle. Oh, Tweezer ! that salmon again — at one o'clock 
 in the day too ! — fie, fie ! 
 
 Tweez* Do you want to drive me wild ? 
 
 Dick. No, sir ; but I want you to abide by your own 
 words. I asked you how you had learnt that I was married : 
 
A MARTYR TO SCIENCE. 129 
 
 you told me it didn't signify — nay, hear me out — that you 
 would make the best of it and forgive us. 
 
 Tweez. You mean to persuade me that I forgave you ! 
 that I said all this ! You'll persuade me that I am not my- 
 self soon. 
 
 Battle. Only beside yourself. I once loved Emily Tit- 
 marsh. She rejected me — I lost sight of her. To-day I find 
 her married to your son. I make the best of it — I forgive ; 
 you make the best of it — you forgive. Embrace us both — 
 come, come. (Both reject Rattleton.) 
 
 Tweez. If you are married, I suppose I must make the 
 best of it ; but it's a terrible upset of a cherished plan. But 
 I see Drudgley coming across the lawn. 
 
 Rattle. Where — where ? Dick, I've something particu- 
 lar to say to you in the next room. Come. 
 
 Dick. Something particular ? 
 
 Rattle. (Dragging him off.) There's no time to be lost. 
 
 [Exeunt, r. 
 
 Drudgley enters at window — manner very formal. 
 
 DRUDa. Well, sir, I've come back, hoping to find you in 
 a better frame of mind than when I had my last painful 
 conversation with you. 
 
 Tweez. Painful conversation ? I didn't at all see that 
 our conversation was at all painful — was it ? 
 
 Drudg. It was to me — very painful. It was full of re- 
 marks prejudicial to a very honorable profession, of which I 
 am but a humble member. We may be permitted to feel 
 and to resent the indignities done to our class. 
 
 Tweez. I don't think you expected me to sign papers 
 without reading them P 
 
 Drudg. Certainly not. I'm glad, however, to find your 
 tone and language so much more moderate since we parted. 
 Look over — scrutinize them — but remember you insulted 
 me about business and about my wife, in a way that can only 
 be excused by supposing that you were under the influence 
 of— 
 
130 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Tweez. Drink — pray say, drink! I or you have been 
 drinking this morning. 
 
 Drudg. Allow me to observe that it is not I. 
 
 Tweez. Good, good — say it is I. Every one seems to be 
 of the same opinion — there's only one sane person here, to 
 all appearances. 
 
 Drudg. And that is- 
 
 Tweez Mr. Eattleton. 
 
 Drudg. He's here, is he ? Well, I want him ! 
 
 Tweez. On legal business ? 
 
 Drudg. Most of my business is legal — but now tell me — 
 when shall we complete ? when will you sign ? The whole 
 thing may fall through if not done directly. 
 
 Tweez. A little family affair has to be settled first, of 
 which I was not aware this morning. 
 
 Drudg. He evidently is suspicious. (Aside.) Where is 
 Mr. Eattleton ? 
 
 Tweez. Sit down — have something to eat. He'll be here 
 directly. 
 
 Drudg. Thank you. (Sits down and begins luncheon.) 
 
 JSnter Rattleton, r., and goes up to Drudgley, l. 
 
 Eattle. Ah ! Mr. Drudgley, how are you ? It is some 
 time since we met. Have you any information touching 
 that little matter ? 
 
 Drudg. (Producing writ.) Yes ! I'll trouble you with this 
 — excuse my serving it myself — I've never been able to lay 
 my hand on you till now. 
 
 Eattle. Now look here ; you show me a writ, I'll show 
 you a coin. ( Takes out the half-dollar.) Look steadily at this ; 
 do you see anything peculiar about it. 
 
 Drudg. (Continuing to eat.) No — it's only a half-dollar. 
 
 Eattle. Look steadily. I pass my hands so — gaze on it 
 — see — the spell works — he's mine — my second fluid to-day. 
 (Drudgley's fork han been arrested on its way to his mouth.) 
 There ; he's quiet for a time. 
 
 TWEEZ. What's the matter ? — is ho choking ? 
 
A MARTYR TO SCIENCE. 131 
 
 BATTLE. No ; I've only electro-etceteraed him. 
 
 Tweez. What do you mean ? 
 
 Battle. Why, I've passed the fluid through his system 
 and he becomes a portion of myself — loses his own individ- 
 uality. 
 
 Tweez. Allow me to ask, have I been in an electro-etcet- 
 era state to-day ? 
 
 Battle. Something very like it. 
 
 Tweez. By way of rehearsal for your confounded soiree, 
 I suppose ? 
 
 Battle. Unintentional — on my honor. 
 
 Tweez. And it is to you I am indebted for having for- 
 given my son and insulted my lawyer ? 
 
 Battle. Don't distress yourself — both are good actions. 
 Look at me: I'll worm out his secrets. {Takes Drudgley's 
 hand.) Tell me, man of parchment, what dost thou hope from 
 me? 
 
 Drudg. You don't know, Mr. Battleton — you've been 
 running away from your best friend. 
 
 Battle. Ah ! you want to stick to me ! 
 
 Drudg. If you knew all, you'd know that in my house is 
 a document of the greatest importance to you. 
 
 Battle. Not a second writ ? 
 
 Drudg. No ; the title deeds of an estate in Wisconsin — 
 some five thousand dollars a-year. 
 
 Battle. Wealth untold ! Where is the innocent sheep- 
 skin ? 
 
 Drudg. In box No. 7, right hand side, as you enter my 
 office. 
 
 Battle. Good. {Makes passes.) 
 
 Drudg. (Puis the food in his mouth, and continues as lvfo?r.) 
 So, as I was going to observe, Mr. Battleton, you can't think 
 how long I have looked for you. 
 
 Battle Not longer than I have for the title deeds of a 
 little estate to Wisconsin, value about five thousand dollars 
 a-year, now in box No. 7, on the right hand, as yoi* enter 
 your office. 
 
132 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Drtjdg. What ! what ! — who told you this P Believe me, 
 Mr. Rattleton, I have sought you for two purporses — to re- 
 cover a debt and to pay one — I shall be able to do both at 
 the same time. I congratulate you heartily. Good morning. 
 
 Rattle. No, no — hang me ! I'll not part with you till I 
 see the deeds safe in these hands of mine. I'll not trouble 
 you again to look after me as you have done. 
 Dick runs in, r. 
 
 Dick. Father, father — here's Emily. 
 
 Rattle. Stay — don't let her come in yet ; it would be too 
 much for me. Now, Mr. Drudgley, are you ready to start ? 
 — I want my deeds. 
 
 Drudg. Come, come — 
 
 Rattle. No delay, or I piit my art once more in force 
 against you. Here, Tweezer — here's your half-dollar. " Lie 
 there, my art." ( Gives it.) Dick, I congratulate you ! Science 
 has stood your friend, and mine — and yours, Tweezer. 
 Drudgley, be honest ; tell truth and shame the ancient gen- 
 tleman, or beware my power ; I've only got to do so, and so, 
 {Making passes.) Ah! I forgot — I'd better do this in another 
 place. ( To the Audience. ) Who'll lend me half-a-dollar ? — I've 
 five thousand a-year now. Don't speak all at once. Thank 
 you, sir. If you will step up here with the coin, I shall no 
 longer have to go about the world in want of A CONFED- 
 ERATE. 
 
 curtain. 
 
 LODGINGS FOE SINGLE GENTLEMEN. 
 
 COLMAN THE YOUNGER. 
 
 Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown place, 
 Has seen "Lodgings to Let" stare him full in the face, 
 Some are good and let dearly ; while some, 'tis well known, 
 Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone. 
 
 Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely, 
 Hired lodgings that took single gentlemen only ; 
 
LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN. 133 
 
 But Will was so fat, he appear 'd like a tun, 
 Or like two single gentlemen roll'd into one. 
 
 He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated ; 
 But all the night long he felt fever'd and heated ; 
 And, though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep, 
 He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep. 
 
 Next night 'twas the same ! and the next ! and the next ! 
 He perspired like an ox ; he was nervous and vex'd ; 
 Week passed after week, till by weekly succession, 
 His weakly condition was past all expression. 
 
 In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him ; 
 For his skin, " like a lady's loose gown," hung about him. 
 He sent for a doctor, and cried, like a ninny, 
 " I have lost many pounds — make me well, there's a guinea." 
 
 The doctor look'd wise; — "A slow fever," he said; 
 Prescribed sudorifices, and going to bed. 
 " Sudorifices in bed," exclaimed Will, " are humbugs ! 
 I've enough of them there, without paying for drugs ! M 
 
 Will kick'd out the doctor: — but when ill indeed, 
 E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed; 
 So, calling his host, he said, " Sir, do you know, 
 I'm the fat single gentleman, six months ago ? 
 
 " Look ye, landlord, I think," argued Will with a grin, 
 " That with honest intentions you first took me in : 
 But from the first night — and to say it I'm bold — 
 I've been so very hot, that I m sure I caught cold ! " 
 
 Quoth the landlord, " Till now, I ne'er had a dispute ; 
 Ive let lodgings ten years, — I'm a baker to boot ; 
 In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven ; 
 And your bed is immediately — over my oven." 
 
 "The oven ! " says Will : — says the host, "Why this passion ? 
 In that excellent bed died three people of fashion. 
 
134 COMIC KECITATIONS. 
 
 Why so crusty, good sir 1 " — " Zounds !" cried Will, in a taking, 
 " Who wouldn't be crusty, with half a year's baking 1 " 
 
 Will paid for his rooms: cried the host, with a sneer, 
 " Well, I see you've been going away half a year." 
 " Friend, we can't well agree j — yet no quarrel," Will said : 
 " But I'd rather not perish, while you make your bread," 
 
 THE FARMER AND THE COUNSELLOR 
 
 SMI3 
 
 A counsel in the " Common Pleas," 
 Who was esteemed a mighty wit, 
 Upon the strength of a chance hit, 
 
 Amid a thousand flippancies, 
 
 And his occasional bad jokes, 
 
 In bullying, bantering, browbeating 3 
 Ridiculing and maltreating 
 
 Women, or other timid folks ; 
 
 In a late cause, resolved to hoax 
 
 A clownish Yorkshire farmer — one 
 Who, by his uncouth look and gait, 
 Appeared expressly meant by fate 
 
 For being quizzed and played upon. 
 
 So having tipped the wink to those 
 
 In the back rows, 
 Who kept their laughter bottled down, 
 
 Until our wag should draw the cork — 
 He smiled jocosely on the clown, 
 
 And went to work. 
 
 11 Well, Farmer Numskull, how go calves at York? * 
 "Why — not, sir, as they do wi' you; 
 But on four legs instead of iwo." 
 "Officer," cried the legal elf, 
 Piqued at the laugh against himself, 
 
THE PUGILISTS. 135 
 
 " Do pray keep silence down below there ! 
 Now look at me, clown, and attend, 
 Have I not seen you somewhere, friend ? " 
 
 " Yees, very like, I often go there." 
 
 " Oar rustic's waggish — quite laconic," 
 (The counsel cried, with grin sardonic,) 
 
 " I wish I'd known this prodigy, 
 This genius of the clods, when I 
 
 On circuit was at York residing. 
 Now, farmer, do for once speak true, 
 Mind, you're on oath, so tell me, you 
 Who doubtless think yourself so clever, 
 Are there as many fools as ever 
 
 In the West Riding i " 
 
 " Why no, sir, no ! we've got our share, 
 But not so many as when you were there." 
 
 THE PUGILISTS. 
 
 A STRIKING TALE. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Two boxers long enrolled by fame, 
 
 In honors such as bruisers claim, 
 
 Who having often sparred and fought, 
 
 And many a hardy victory bought, 
 
 By thumps, black eyes, and knock-down blows, 
 
 Eke broken head and bloody nose, 
 
 At length, like other heroes great, 
 
 That can control eacli humble state, 
 
 And keep the peaceful rogues in awe, 
 
 By what the vulgar call club-late, 
 
 Agreed, though friends, they should contest, 
 
 Which of themselves could figlu the best, 
 
 Ambassadors went forth to treat, 
 
 Each Champion's council sage to g eet; 
 
136 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Not with intent to offer peace, 
 And bid the sanguine passions cease ; 
 No ; — they the bruising art admired, 
 Were with the glorious contest fired : 
 Therefore they wider made the breach, 
 Conveyed in threats, from each to each. 
 
 At length these sage Ambassadors 
 Arranged all matters by the laws — 
 By pugilistic laws I mean ; 
 Such as apply to fighting men ; 
 For war, in every various scene, 
 Where blood and slaughter intervene, 
 Pays, or at least, appears to pay, 
 Respect to what it does away. 
 Thus, when a tyrant conq'ror seizes 
 Some state his fell ambition pleases, 
 He says they had infringed the law. 
 And holds them bound by right of war. 
 The Dutch, the Italians, and the Swiss, 
 Severely feel the truth of this. 
 Heaven guard our happy Isle ! may we 
 From Conquerors 5 laws be ever free ! 
 
 At length all matters are agreed, 
 The combatants, in form, proceed 
 To fam'd Olympus or Eleusis, 
 Whichever name the hearer chooses ; 
 Yet think not they such ninnies prove, 
 Merely to fight for downright love ; 
 No ; — money, money is the prize, 
 To pay for bruises and black eyes. 
 The scientific gulls profound, 
 In close cabal are plac'd around. 
 Now hands they shake, and now set to, 
 To please the motley, mongrel crew. 
 A round is fought, and then another, 
 The odds run high on this and t'other ; 
 Murmurs and shouts, and loud huzzas, 
 
THE PUGILISTS. ] 37 
 
 Sound forth each battered hero's praise ; 
 But still, obedient to the laws, 
 'Twixt ev'ry round there is a pause. 
 " Time ! " cries a voice — again they fight, 
 Besmear'd and bruis'd, a hideous sight ! 
 Round after round with mix'd applause 
 Goes on, and " Time " ends every pause. 
 
 Time, call'd so oft, at length appears, 
 
 A goodly sage, thou worn in years ; 
 
 At sight of him each savage started, 
 
 And, growling, would have thence departed : 
 
 Enchantment fixes them — they stand, 
 
 And trembling, view the glass in's hand ; 
 
 While prostrate, panting on the ground, 
 
 The boxers by the spell are bound. 
 
 He speaks : " What would ye, knaves and fools, 
 
 Who thus disturb my peaceful rules 7 
 
 Say, titled idlers, what have you 
 
 Among this motley group to do 1 
 
 Within St. Stephen's echoing walls, 
 
 The Senate for your service calls ; • . 
 
 Your country, too, demands your aid, 
 
 There let your prowess be display'd ; 
 
 And let the foes of Britain know, 
 
 What to your native land you owe ! — 
 
 For you, ye sots, that mingled round, 
 
 In murm'ring laziness are found — 
 
 Go to your several homes, and there 
 
 Let your starv'd offspring be your care ; 
 
 Work — show your industry and love, 
 
 And thus to Time your value prove ! 
 
 You, bleeding mastiffs, who have now 
 
 No power to urge the angry blow ; 
 
 Yet whose hard hearts still burn with rage, 
 
 In the fierce conflict to engage ; 
 
 On you is vainly spent my breath — 
 
 Behold, how near the victor — Death ! 
 
 See ready his uplifted dart, 
 
138 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 To pierce each bleeding bravo's heart." 
 This said — his garment opening wide, 
 Discover'd Death close at his side ; 
 Their fear he saw — the spell unbound, 
 And each prepar'd to quit the ground j 
 In haste, the late exulting crew, 
 Peers, boxers, mob and all withdrew. 
 
 HOW PAT SAVED HIS BACON, 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Early one fine morning, as Terence O'Fleary was hard 
 at work in his potato-garden, he was accosted by his gossip, 
 Mick Casey, who he perceived had his Sunday clothes on. 
 
 " God's 'bud ! Terry, man, what would you be afther 
 doing there wid them praties, an Phelim O'Loughlin's berrin' 
 goin' to take place ? Come along, ma bochel ! sure the 
 praties will wait. " 
 
 " Och ! no," sis Terry, " I must dig on this ridge for the 
 childer's breakfast, an' thin I'm goin' to confession to Father 
 O'Higgins, who holds a stashin bey on t there at his own 
 house." 
 
 " Bother take the stashin ! " sis Mick, " sure that 'ud wait 
 too." But Terence was not to be persuaded. 
 
 Away went Mick to the berrin' ; and Terence, having fin- 
 ished "wid the praties," as he said, went down to Father 
 O'Higgins, where he was shown into the kitchen, to wait his 
 turn for confession. He had not been long standing there, 
 before the kitchen fire, when his attention was attracted by 
 a nice piece of bacon, which hung in the chimney-corner. 
 Terry looked at it again and again, and wished the childer 
 " had it at home wid the praties." 
 
 " Murther alive ! " says he, " will I take it ? Sure the 
 priest can spare it ; an' it would be a rare thrate to Judy an' 
 the gossoons at home, to say nothin' iv myself, who hasn't 
 {lasted the likes thi3 many's the day." Terry looked at it 
 
HOW PAT SAVED HIS BACON. 139 
 
 again, and then turned away, saying — " I won't take it — 
 why would I, an' it not mine, but the priest's ? an' I'd have 
 the sin iv it, sure ! I won't take it," replied he, " an' it's 
 nothin' but the Ould Boy himself that's timptin' me ! But 
 sure it's no harm to feel it, any way," said he, taking it into 
 his hand, and looking earnestly at it. " Och ! it's a beauty ; 
 and why wouldn't I carry it home to Judy and the childer ? 
 An' sure it won't be a sin afther I confesses it ! " 
 
 Well, into his great coat pocket he thrust it ; and he had 
 scarcely done so, when the maid came in and told him that 
 it was his turn for confession. 
 
 " Murther alive ! I'm kilt and ruin'd, horse and foot, now, 
 joy, Terry ; what'll I do in this quandary, at all, at all ? 
 By gannies ! I must thry an' make the best of it, any how," 
 says he to himself, and in he went. 
 
 He knelt to the priest, told his sins, and was about to receive 
 absolution, when all at once he seemed to recollect himself, 
 and cried out — 
 
 " Oh ! stop — stop, Father O'Higgins, dear ! for goodness' 
 sake, stop ! I have one great big sin to tell yit ; only sir, I'm 
 frightened to tell id, in the regard of never having done the 
 like afore, sur, niver ! " 
 
 " Come," said Father O'Higgins. " you must tell it to me." 
 
 " Why, then, your Eiverince, I will tell id ; but, sir, I'm 
 ashamed like ? " 
 
 " Oh, never mind ! tell it," said the priest. 
 
 " Why, then, your Eiverince, I went out one day to a,gin- 
 tleman's house, upon a little bit of business, an' he bein' in- 
 gaged, I was showed into the kitchen to wait. Well, sur, 
 there I saw a beautiful bit iv bacon hanging in the chimbly- 
 corner. I looked at id, your Eiverince, an' my teeth began 
 to wather. I don't know how it was, sur, but I suppose the 
 Divil timpted me, for I put it into my pocket ; but, if you 
 plaize, sur, I'll give it to you," and he put his hand into his 
 pocket. 
 
 " Give it to me ! " said Father O'Higgins ; " no, certainly 
 nofc ; give it back to the owner of it." 
 
140 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 " Why, then your Riverince, sur, I offered id to him, and 
 he wouldn't take id." 
 
 " Oh ! he wouldn't, wouldn't he ? " said the priest ; " then 
 take it home, and eat it yourself, with your family." 
 
 " Thank your Biverince kindly ! " says Terence, " an' I'll 
 do that same immediately, plaize God ;. but first and fore- 
 most, I'll have the absolution, if you plaize, sir." 
 
 Terence received absolution, and went home rejoicing that 
 he had been able to save his soul and his bacon at the same 
 time. 
 
 THE IBISH DBUMMEB. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 A soldier, so at least the story goes, 
 
 It was in Ireland I believe, 
 
 Upon his back was sentenced to receive 
 Five hundred cat-o'-nine-tail blows ; 
 Most sagely military law providing, 
 The back alone shall suffer for backsliding. 
 Whether his crime was great or small, 
 Or whether there was any crime at. all, 
 
 Are facts which this deponent never knew; 
 But though uncertain whether justly tried, 
 The man he knows was to the halbert tied, 
 
 And hopes his readers will belies so too. 
 Suppose him, then, fast to the halberts bound, 
 His poor companions standing silent round, 
 
 Anticipating evry dreadful smack ; 
 While Patrick Donovan, from Wicklow county, 
 Is just preparing to bestow his bounty, 
 
 Or beat quick time upon his comrade's back. 
 Of stoics much we read in tales of yore, 
 
 Of Zeno, Possidonious, Epictetus, 
 Who, unconcerned, the greatest torments bore, 
 
 Or else these ancient stories strangely cheat us. 
 My hero was no stoic, it is plain : 
 
 He could not suffer torments and be dumb, 
 
MIKE HOOTER'S BEAR STORY. 141 
 
 But roared, before he felt the smallest pain, 
 
 As though a rusty nail had pierc'd his thumb. 
 Not louder is the terror spreading note, 
 Which issues from the hungry lion's throat, 
 When o'er Numidian plains in search of prey, 
 He takes his cruel, his destroying way. 
 The first two strokes, which made my hero bleat, 
 Fell right across the confines of his seat, 
 On which he piteously began to cry, 
 
 " Strike high ! strike high ! for mercy's sake strike high ! " 
 Pat, of a mild, obliging disposition, 
 Could not refuse to grant his friend's petition ; 
 An Irishman has got a tender heart, 
 And never likes to act a cruel part ; 
 Pat gave a good example to beholders, 
 And the next stroke fell on his comrade's shoulders ! 
 Our suffering hero now began to roar 
 As loud, if not much louder, than before ; 
 At which Pat lost all patience, and exclaim'd, 
 While his Hibernian face with anger flam'd, 
 " Perdition catch you !— can't your tongue be still 7 
 There is no plasing you, strike where one will % " 
 
 MIKE HOOTEB'S BEAE STOEY. 
 
 HALL. 
 
 "It's no use talkin'," said Mike, "'bout your Polar Bar, 
 and you Grizly Bar, and all that sorter varmint what yon 
 read about. They ain't nowhar, for the big black customer 
 that circumlocutes down in our neck o' woods, beats 'em all 
 hollow. I've heard of some naonsus explites kicked np by 
 the brown bars, sich as totein' off a yoke o' oxen, and eatin' 
 humans raw, and all that kind o' thing ; and Capten Parry 
 tells us a yarn 'bout a big white bar, what 'muses hisself 
 climin' up the North Pole and slides down to keep his hide 
 warm ; but all that ain't a circumstance to what I've saw. 
 
142 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 " You see," continued Mike, " there's no countin' on 
 them varniints as I'se been usened to, for they conies as near 
 bein' human critters as anything I ever see what doesn't 
 talk. Why, if you was to hear anybody else tell 'bout the 
 bar -fights I've had, you wouldn't b'leeve 'em, and if I 
 wasn't a preacher, and could not lie none, I'd keep my fly- 
 trap shot 'tell the day of judgment. 
 
 '* I've heard folks say as how bars cannot think like other 
 human critters, and that they does all the sly tricks what 
 they does, from instink. Golly ! what a lie ! You tell me 
 one of 'em don't know when you've got a gun, and when 
 you ain't ? Just wait a minit, an' my privit 'pinion is, when 
 you've hearn me thro', you'll talk t'other side of your 
 mouth. 
 
 " You see, one day, long time ago, 'fore britches come in 
 fashion, I made a 'pointment with Ike Hamberlin, the steam 
 doctor, to go out next Sunday to see whether we couldn't 
 kill a bar, for you know bacon was skace, and so was money, 
 and them fellows down in Mechanicsburg wouldn't sell on 
 tick, so we had to 'pend on the varmints for a livin'. 
 
 " Speakin' of Mechanicsburg, the people down in that ar 
 mud-hole ain't to be beat, nowhere this side o' Christmas. 
 I've hearn o' mean folks in my time, an' I've preached 'bout 
 'em a few ; but ever sense that feller, Bonnel, sold me a pint 
 of red-eye whiskey — an' half ov it backer juice — for a coon- 
 skin, an' then guv me a brass picayune fur change, I've 
 stopped talkin'. Why, that chap was closer than the bark 
 on a hickory tree ; an' ef I hadn't hearn Parson Dilly say 
 so, I'd av swore it wasn't er fac, he was cotch one day steal- 
 in' acorns from a blind hog. Did you ever hear how that 
 hoss-fly died ? Well, never mind. It was too bad to talk 
 'bout, but heap too good for him. 
 
 "But that ain't what I was spoutin' 'bout. As I was 
 sayin' afore, we had to 'pend on the varmints fur a livin'. 
 Well, Ike Hamberlin, you see, was always sorter jubious o' 
 me, kase I kilt more bar nor he did ; an', as I was sayin', I 
 made a 'pointment with Ike to go out huntin'. Then, Ike, 
 
MIKE HOOTER'S BEAR STORY. 143 
 
 lie thought he'd be kinder smart, and beat ' Old Preach ' (as 
 them Cole boys usen to call me), so, as soon as day crack, 
 he hollered up his puppies, an' put ! I spied what he was 
 'bout, for I hearn him lamn' to one o' his niggers 'bout it 
 the night afore — so, I told my gal Sal to fill my private 
 tickler full o' the old ' raw,' an' then fixed up an' tramped 
 on arter him, but didn't take none o' my dogs. Ike hadn't 
 got fur into the cane, 'fore the dogs they 'gan to whine an' 
 turn up the har on ther backs ; an', bimeby, they all tucked 
 tail, an' sorter sidled back to whar he was standin'. 'Sick 
 him ! ' says Ike, but the critters wouldn't hunt a lick. I 
 soon diskivered what was the matter, for I kalkilated them 
 curs o' his'n wasn't worth shucks in a bar fight — so, I 
 know'd thar was bar 'bout, if I didn't see no sine. 
 
 " Well, Ike he coaxed the dogs, an' the more he coaxed, 
 the more they wouldn't go, an' when helround coaxin' 
 wouldn't do, then he scolded and called 'em some of the 
 hardest names ever you hearn, but the tarnation critters 
 wouldn't budge a peg. When he found they wouldn't hunt 
 no how he could fix it, he began cussin'. He didn't know I 
 was thar. If he had er suspicioned it, he'd no more swore 
 than he'd dar'd to kiss my Sal on er washin' day ; for you 
 see both on us belonged to the same church, and Ike was 
 class-leader. I thought I should er flummuxed ! The dogs 
 they sidled back, an' Ike he cussed ; an' I lay down an' rolled 
 an' laughed sorter easy to myself, 'till I was so full I thort 
 I should er bust my biler ! I never see ennything so 
 funny in all my life ! There was I layin' down behind 
 er log, fit to split, an' there was the dogs with their tails 
 the wrong eend down, an' there was Ike a rarin' an' er 
 pitchin' — er rippin 5 an' er tarin' — an' er cussin' wus nor a 
 steamboat cap'n ! I tell you it fairly made my har' stan' on 
 eend ! I never see er customer so riled afore in all my born 
 days ! The dogs, they smelt bar sine, an' wouldn't budge a 
 peg, an' arter Ike had a'most cussed the bark ofPn a dog- 
 wood saplin' by, he lent his old flint-lock rifle up agin it, 
 and then he peeled off his old blanket an' laid her down, 
 
144 COMIC KECITATIONS. 
 
 too. I diskivered mischief was er cumin', fur I never see a 
 critter show rathy like he did. Torectly I see him walk 
 down to the creek bottom, 'bout fifty yards from where his 
 gun was, and then he 'gin pickin' up rocks an' slingin' um 
 at the dogs like bringer ! Cracky ! didn't he link it into 
 um ? It minded me of David whalin' Groliah, it did ! If 
 you'd er seed him, and hearn 'em holler, you'd er thought 
 he'd er knocked the nigh sites off' n every mother's son of 
 'em ! 
 
 " But that ain't the fun yet. While Ike was er lammin' 
 the dogs, I hearn the alfiredest crackin' in the cane, an' I 
 looked up, an' thar was one of the eternalest whollopin' 
 bars cummin' crack, crack, through the cane an' kerslesh 
 over the creek, and stopped right plumb slap up whar Ike's 
 gun was. Torectly he tuck hold er the old shooter, an' I 
 thought I see him tinkerin' 'bout the lock, un' kinder whis- 
 lin', and blowin' into it. I was 'stonished, I tell you, but I 
 wanted to see Ike outdone so bad that I lay low and kep' 
 dark, an' in about a minit Ike got done lickin' the dogs, an' 
 went to git his gun. Jeemeny, criminy ! if you'd only bin 
 whar I was ! I do think Ike was the maddest man that 
 ever stuk an axe into a tree, for his har stuck right strait 
 up, and his eyes glared like two dog- wood blossoms ! But 
 the bar didn't seem to care shucks for him, for he jist sot 
 the old rifle rite back agin the saplin', and walked on his 
 hind legs jist like any human. Then, you see, I gin to git 
 sorter jelus, and sez I to myself, ' Mister Bar,' sez I, * the place 
 whar you's er stanin' ain't prezactly healthy, an' if you 
 don't wabble off from that purty soon, Missis Bar will be a 
 widder, by gum ! ' With that, Ike grabbed up old Missis 
 Rifle, and tuk most perticular aim at him, and, by hokey, 
 she snapped ! ' Now,' sez I, < Mister Bar, go it, or he'll make 
 bacon of you ! ' But the varmint didn't wink, but stood 
 still as a post, with the thumb of his right paw on the ecnd 
 of his smeller, and wiglin' his t'other finger, thus: — (Mike 
 went through with the gyration.) All this time, Ike, ho stood 
 thar like a fool, er snappin' and er snapping an' the bar, he 
 
THE CRITIC. 145 
 
 looking kinder quare like, out er the corner o' his eye, an' 
 sorter lafiin' at him. Torectly I see Ike take down the ole 
 shooter, and kinder kersamine the lock, an' when he done 
 that, he laid her on his shoulder, and shook his fist at the 
 bar, and walked toward home, an' the bar, he shuk his fist, 
 an' went into the canebrake, and then I cum off." 
 
 Here all the Yazoo boys expressed great anxiety to know 
 the reason why Ike's gun didn't fire. 
 
 " Let's liker fust," said Mike, " an' if you don't caterpillar, 
 you can shoot me. Why you see," concluded he, "the long 
 and short of it is this, that the bar in our neck o' woods has 
 a little human in um, an' this feller know'd as much about 
 a gun as I do 'bout preachin', so when Ike was lickin' the 
 dogs, he jest bio wed all the powder outen the pan, an' to 
 make all safe, he tuk the flint out too, and that's the way 
 he warn't skeered when Ike was snappin' at him." 
 
 THE CELTIC. 
 
 SARGENT. 
 
 Once on a time, the nightingale, whose singing 
 Had with her praises set the forest ringing, 
 Consented at a concert to appear : 
 Of course her friends all nocked to hear, 
 And with them many a critic, wide awake 
 To pick a flaw, or carp at a mistake. 
 
 She sang as only nightingales can sing ; 
 And when she'd ended, 
 
 There was a general cry of " Bravo ! splendid ! " 
 While she, poor thing, 
 
 Abashed and fluttering, to her nest retreated, 
 
 Quite terrified to be so warmly greeted. 
 
 The turkeys gobbled their delight ; the geese, 
 Who had been known to hiss at many a trial, 
 That this was perfect, ventured no denial : 
 
 It seemed as if the applause would never cease. 
 
146 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 But 'mong the critics on the ground, 
 
 An ass was present, pompous and profound, 
 
 Who said, — " My friends, I'll not dispute the honor 
 
 That you would do our little prima donna : 
 
 Although her upper notes are very shrill, 
 
 And she defies all method in her trill, 
 
 She has some talent, and, upon the whole, 
 
 With study, may some cleverness attain. 
 
 Then, her friends tell me, she's a virtuous soul ; 
 
 But—but—" 
 
 " But " — growled the lion, " by my mane, 
 I never knew an ass, who did not strain 
 To qualify a good thing with a but ! " 
 "Nay," said the goose, approaching with a strut, 
 " Don't interrupt him, sire ; pray let it pass ; 
 The ass is honest, if he is an ass ! " 
 
 "I was about," said Long Ear, "to remark, 
 That there is something lacking in her whistle ; 
 
 Something magnetic, 
 
 To waken cords and feelings sympathetic, 
 And kindle in the breast a spark 
 Like — like, for instance, a good juicy thistle. 1 ' 
 
 The assembly tittered, but the fox, with gravity 
 
 Said, at the lion winking, 
 "Our learned friend, with his accustomed suavity, 
 
 Has given his opinion without shrinking ; 
 But, to do justice to the nightingale, 
 
 He should inform us, as no doubt he will, 
 What sort of music 'tis, that does not fail 
 
 His sensibilities to rouse and thrill." 
 
 "Why," said the critic, with a look potential, 
 And pricking up his ears, delighted much 
 
 At Reynard's tone and manner deferential, — 
 " Why, sir, there's nothing can so deeply touch 
 
 My feelings, and so carry me away, 
 As a fine, mellow, ear-inspiring bray." 
 
MR. CAUDLE WANTS A LATCH-KEY. 147 
 
 "I thought so," said the fox, without a pause , 
 
 "As far as you're concerned, your judgment's true ; 
 
 You do not like the nightingale, because 
 The nightingale is not an ass like you ! ' : 
 
 ME. CAUDLE WANTS A " LATCH-KEY." 
 
 JERROI.D. 
 
 Om my word, Mr. Caudle, I think it a waste of time to 
 come to bed at all now ! The cocks will be crowing in a 
 minute. Keeping people up till past twelve. Oh yes ! 
 you're thought a man of very fine feelings out of doors, I 
 dare say ! It's a pity you haven't a little feeling for those 
 belonging to you at home. A nice hour to keep people out 
 of their beds ! "Why did I sit up, then ? Because I chose 
 to sit up — but that's my thanks. No, it's no use your talk- 
 ing, Caudle ; I never will let the girl sit up for you, and 
 there's an end. What do you say? Why does she sit up 
 with me, then ? That's quite a different matter : you don't 
 suppose I'm going to sit up alone, do you ? What do you 
 say ? What's the use of two sitting up ? That's my busi- 
 ness. No, Caudle, it's no such thing. I donH sit up because 
 I may have the pleasure of talking about it ; and you're an 
 ungrateful, unfeeling creature, to say so. I sit up because I 
 choose it ; and if you don't come home all the night long — 
 and 'twill soon come to that, I've no doubt — still, I'll never 
 go to bed, so don't think it. 
 
 Oh, yes ! the time runs away very pleasantly with you 
 men at your clubs — selfish creatures ! You can laugh and 
 sing, and tell stories, and never think of the clock ; never 
 think there's such a person as a wife belonging to you. It's 
 nothing to you that a poor woman's sitting up, and telling 
 the minutes, and seeing all sorts of things in the fire ; and 
 sometimes thinking that something dreadful has happened 
 to you ; more fool she to care a straw about you ! This is 
 
148 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 all nothing. Oh, no ! when a woman's once married, she's 
 a slave, worse than a slave, and must bear it all ! 
 
 And what you men can find to talk about I can't think ! 
 Instead of a man sitting every night at home with his wife, 
 and going to bed at a Christian hour, going to a club, to 
 meet a set of people who don't care a fig about him ; it's 
 monstrous ! "What do you say ? You only go once a week ? 
 That's nothing at all to do with it ; you might as well go 
 every night ; and I dare say you will soon. But if you do, 
 you may get in as you can ; I won't sit up for you, I can 
 tell you. 
 
 My health's being destroyed night after night, and — oh, 
 don't say it's only once a week ; I tell you, that's nothing 
 to do with it — if you had any eyes, you would see how ill I 
 am ; but you've no eyes for anybody belonging to you : oh, 
 no ; your eyes are for people out of doors. It's very well 
 for you to call me a foolish, aggravating woman ! I should 
 like to see the woman who'd sit up for you as I do. You 
 don't want me to sit up ? Yes, yes, that's your thanks ; 
 that's your gratitude ; I'm to ruin my health, and to be 
 abused for it. Nice principles you've got at that club, Mr. 
 Caudle ! 
 
 But there's one comfort — one great comfort ; it can't last 
 long : I'm sinking ; I feel it, though I never say anything 
 about it ; but I know my own feelings, and I say it can't 
 last long. And then I should like to know who'll sit up for 
 you ! Then I should like to know how your second wife — 
 what do you say ? You'll never be troubled with another ? 
 Troubled, indeed ! I never troubled you, Caudle. No ; it's 
 you who've troubled me ; and you know it ; though like a 
 foolish woman, I've borne it all, and never said a word about 
 it. But it canH last — that's one blessing . 
 
 Oh, if a woman could only know what she'd have to suf- 
 fer, before she was married ! Don't tell me you want to go 
 to sleep ! If you want to go to sleep, you should come 
 home at proper hours ! It's time to get up, for what I 
 know, now. Shouldn't wonder if you hear the.milk in five 
 
MR. CAUDLE WANTS A LATCH-KEY. 149 
 
 minutes — there's the sparrows up already ; yes, I say the 
 sparrows ; and, Caudle, you ought to blush to hear 'em. 
 No, Mr. Caudle : it isn't the wind whistling in the key-hole ; 
 I'm not quite foolish, though you may think so. I know 
 wind from a sparrow ! 
 
 Ha ! when I think what a man you were before we were 
 married ! But you're now another person, quite an altered 
 creature. But I suppose you're all alike ; I dare say, every 
 poor woman's troubled and put upon, though I should hope 
 not so much as I am. Indeed, I should hope not ! Groing 
 and staying out, and — 
 
 What! You'll have a key? "Will you? Not while I'm 
 alive, Mr. Caudle ! I'm not going to bed with the door 
 upon the latch, for you or the best man breathing. You 
 won't have a latch ; you'll have a Chubb's lock ? Will you? 
 I'll have no Chubb here, I can tell you. What do you say ? 
 You will have the lock put on to-morrow ? Well, try it ; 
 that's all I say, Caudle, try it. I won't let you put me in a 
 passion ; but all I say is, try it. 
 
 A respectable thing, that, for a married man to carry 
 about with him — a street-door-key ! That tells a tale, I 
 think. A nice thing for the father of a family ! A key ! 
 What ! to let yourself in and out when you please ! To 
 come in, like a thief in the middle of the night, instead of 
 knocking at the door like a decent person ! Oh, don't tell 
 me that you only want to prevent my sitting up. If I 
 choose to sit up, what's that to you ? Some wives indeed, 
 would make a noise about sitting up, but you've no reason 
 to complain, goodness knows ! 
 
 Well, upon my word, I've lived to hear something. Carry 
 the street-door key about with you! I've heard of such 
 things with young good-for-nothing bachelors, with nobody 
 to care what became of 'em ; but for a married man to leave 
 his wife and children in a house with the door upon the 
 latch — don't talk to me about the Chubb — a great deal you 
 must care for us. Yes, it's very well for you to say, that you 
 only want the key for peace and quietness — what's it to you, 
 
150 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 if I like to sit up P You've no business to complain ; it can't 
 distress you. Now, it's no use your talking ; all I say is this, 
 Caudle ; if you send a man to put on any lock here, I'll call 
 . in a policeman ; as I'm your married wife, I will. 
 
 No, I think when a man comes to have the street-door 
 key, the sooner he turns bachelor again the better. I'm sure 
 Caudle, I don't want to be any clog upon you. Now, it's 
 no use your telling me to hold my tongue, for I — What ? I 
 give you the headache, do I ? No, I don't, Caudle ; it's your 
 club that gwes you the headache; its your smoke, and 
 your — well! if ever I knew such a man in all my life! 
 there's no saying a word to you ! You go out, and treat 
 yourself like an emperor, and come home at twelve at 
 night, or any hour, for what I know, and then you threaten 
 to have & key, and — and — and — 
 
 " I did get to sleep at last," says Caudle, " amid the falling 
 sentences of * take children into a lodging' — * separate main- 
 tenance' — ' won't be made a slave of — and so forth." 
 
 HUMBUGGING A TOURIST. 
 
 PAULDING. 
 
 Phil. Peters, a New Yorker, personating Mr. Bragg from Ticks- 
 
 burg. 
 Sam. Markham, a Philadelphian. 
 Huskisson Hodgson, a Brummagem Beau and a Tourist. 
 
 Phil. Tell me who is this pompous signor, swelling and 
 strutting through the street. By his port and majesty, I 
 should judge him to be the British Lion. 
 
 Sam. Ay, that's his figure looming up the street. Shall 
 we call him in as he comes this way, and bait the bull ? 
 
 Phil. By all manner of means. 
 
HUMBUGGING A TOURIST. 151 
 
 SAM. Well, first let me give you a hint or too. I have 
 told you what he is — he has forced his way into good society, 
 nobody can tell how — can see nothing admirable in this 
 country or its institutions, of course — but is eloquent on 
 oysters. And now, Phil, you must play the "half-horse, 
 half-alligator," f^r the nonce. Mind you give it to him in 
 strong doses, and fear not overacting your part ; for the poor 
 simpleton has such extraordinary notions of the Western 
 country, that he will swallow anything, however prepos- 
 terous ; and it is a pity he should be disabused, he is so in- 
 nocent in his belief. {Knocks at the window.) Ho, Hodgson, 
 come in, and have a chat with us. {Turning to Phil.) You 
 are now Mr. Bragg, and lo ! the victim comes. [Enter Hodg- 
 son.) Mr. Hodgson, how are you, this morning ? Allow me 
 to introduce my friend, Mr. Bragg, of Vicksburg. (Phil 
 turns away, with his hands in his pockets, and whistles " Old Dan 
 Tucker y Aside to Hodgson.) He is, I assure you, a very 
 pleasant fellow — an excellent specimen of the frank Western 
 man — and will be delighted to give you any information 
 respecting the country, habits of the people, and so on. 
 
 Hodgson. {In a cautious tchisper.) But are you sure he is 
 not dangerous ? Has he no Bowie-knives, pistols, or any- 
 thing of the kind about him ? 
 
 Sam. {In the same tone.) Well — not more then the usual 
 allowance — a "Planter's Protector," or so, perhaps or a 
 sword-cane — nothing more. But how were you pleased, 
 last night, at Mrs. !N"ogood's ? . 
 
 Hodg. Oh — Miss Garafeliaw was pausitively divoine ; she 
 hung upon my aurm, and while I entertained her with the 
 description of my ancestral halls — 
 
 Sam. {Aside.) Conceited ass ! 
 
 Phil. {Aside.) Pheugh ! ancestral haUs ! his paternal 
 cotton mills. Heaven save the mark ! 
 
 Hodg. The words of love and mutual affection rising to 
 our lips — 
 
 Phil. {Aside hurriedly.) I must stop this, or Sam will be 
 frantic. ( Walking quickly to Vie wi7ulow.) 
 
152 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Sam. Why, Phil — (excuse me, Mr. Bragg, for being so 
 familiar) — what on earth is the row ? 
 
 Hodg. (Aside.) What is — auh — the savage going to do 
 now ? 
 
 Phil. Why, may my boiler be eternally busted, if there 
 isn't that are young lady I was keepin' company with yes- 
 terday, a travelling along with another feller. But I'll be 
 down upon him like an Arkansaw flood — I'll be into him 
 like a Mississippi sawyer. Where are my pistols ? Whoo-oo- 
 oo-oop ! 
 
 Hodg. Oh, Mr. Bragg, for Heaven's sake ! in the name of 
 mercy, don't, don't ! 
 
 Sam. Oh pshaw, Bragg, for our sakes now, stay and take 
 a quiet julep, and defer your performances till afterwards. 
 
 Phil. Waal, I suppose I mought as well, specially as I 
 reckon he ain't of no account, any how. I will if you'll give 
 us a chaw tobacca. 
 
 Sam. (Rings the bell — Waiter, comes.) John, go across the 
 way, and bring us some juleps, and a paper of tobacco. 
 Don't stand there staring at me, but go — quick — fly — and 
 be back in a theatrical minute. 
 
 Phil. (To Servant.) Mind — pigtail! \_Exii Servant. 
 
 Hodg. (Aside to Sam.) But don't you think! — (He draws 
 his hand across his throat.) 
 
 Sam. (In a whisper to Hodg.) Oh, no. I assure you we are 
 perfectly safe ; he does not mean anything by it. (Juleps are 
 brought ; each helps himself. Sam beckons to his Servant and 
 whispers.) Now, John, whatever I order you to do when 
 that stout gentleman is here, do it as if it were the com- 
 monest thing in the world. You understand me ! 
 
 John. (Grinning.) Yes, sir ! [Exit John. 
 
 Hodg. (Sipping julep.) By Gemini, that's good. Are you 
 aware, gents, that this is the finest thing in your country ? 
 People talk about you rivers, and all that sort of thing, and 
 they call cotton your staple production, but for my pawt, I 
 consider your juleps and your oysters to be the only things 
 worthy of imitation. Fact is, 'pon honor, I have some idea 
 
HUMBUGGING A TOURIST. 153 
 
 of taking a few oysters out to improve the breed in England. 
 Oyster, gents, I may say — oysters are the only things which 
 redeem your country. 
 
 Phil. Do you mean, Mr. What's-your-nanie, to insinuate 
 that this here country, called the United States of Ameriky, 
 requires anything to redeem its character, or any thing else ? 
 If you do, may be I won't be into your eyes in less then no 
 time, like a real Kaintucky poker a-rooting in the woods 
 
 Hodg. {Covering his eyes with his hands.) Oh, no, no no ! 
 
 Phil. Oh, waal, if you didn't mean nothin', Socrates 
 Bragg is not the man to take offence at a trifle ; and I reck- 
 on, besides, you ain't no great shakes. 
 
 Hodg. (Aside.) " ISTo great shakes " ! I must inquiawrif he 
 means to insult me. (Aloud.) But Mr. Markham, I see no 
 spit-boxes about your parlor here — auh — as I have been led 
 to expect ! 
 
 Sam. Oh, we have given them up, and expectorate in the 
 French style into our pocket-handkerchiefs — those, at least, 
 who have enjoyed the advantages of travelling in Europe. 
 
 Hodg. Indeed! (Aside to Sam.) I would like to ask him 
 (Pointing to Phil) about Bowie-knives and such things. 
 
 Sam. (Aside to Hodg.) Well, do it. These Western fellows 
 like to talk big. 
 
 Hodg. ( Turning to Phil.) May I inquiawr, Mr. Bragg, 
 whethaw Bowie-knives are as common now in Cincinnati 
 and the other frontier towns as they used to be ? 
 
 Phil. May you inquire ? Do you mean to insult me, Mr. 
 Hodgkins ? Are we not among gentlemen here ? Ain't we 
 all plain spoken ? 
 
 Hodg. I mean no offence, 'pon honor. 
 
 Phil. 'Nuff said. Waal, as to Bowie-knives, sir, they're 
 going out — 
 
 Hodg. (Piously.) Thank Heaven! 
 
 Phil. {Pretending not to notice his exclamation.) And now, 
 most use Bolen's six-barrelled revolving, self-cocking pistols, 
 with a small sprinkle of a Bowie-knife on the end of them, 
 in case of emergency ; though some prefer Colt's repeaters, 
 
154 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 just for the sake, I calculate, of being singular and uncom- 
 monlike. 
 
 Hodg. Good Lord, have mercy upon us ! What a state 
 of society ! But are these weapons publicly carried ? 
 
 Phil. Oh, yes. We occasionally practise in the streets ; and 
 if a little boy, or a stranger is once in a while found dead, 
 why it's nobody's business, and the coroner's inquest brings 
 in a verdict of " accidental death." 
 
 Hodg. The infernal spirit of democracy ! Heaven defend 
 me from such a country. But are rifles still in common 
 use ? 
 
 Phil. Rifles ? Why, what else should we use ? 
 
 Hodg. Auh — I thought perhaps there might be a market 
 there for double-barrelled guns ; and — auh — indeed, that is 
 pawt — auh — of my business out here — to dispose of. Hum 
 — hum — (Aside.) By Gemini, I came within an ace letting 
 the cat out of the bag. 
 
 Phil. Mr. Hodg — podge — 
 
 Hodg. (Interrupting him.) Hodgson, sir, if you please. 
 
 Phil. Mr. Hodgson, then, take my advice, and, if you hope 
 to escape with anything left of you, speak not in our Wes- 
 tern country of a double-barrelled gun. We don't tolerate 
 'em, sir. 
 
 Hodg. Is it pawsible ? 
 
 Phil. Yes, sir ; I ventured once to purchase one out of 
 curiosity, and the excitement against it, sir, was so intense 
 in my neighborhood, that I had to throw it into the Missis- 
 sippi. I tried the infernal big-mouthed cretur once, and 
 may I be eternally split up into firewood, sir, if the shot 
 didn't come out just like a fog, and when it disappeared, all 
 that I could find of my bird was the end of his bill. No> 
 sir, the rifle is our weapon ; with that we can shoot anything* 
 from buffalo down to an Englishman, or a sandpiper. 
 
 Hodg. (Aside.) How he makes one shiver! Sandpipers 
 with rifles ! Good Heavens ! the extravagance of these 
 Western people is really awful. No wonder they are obliged 
 to repudiate ; and there, by the way, is a hint for my book. 
 
HUMBUGGING A TOURIST. 155 
 
 {Aloud.) But, Mr. Bragg, is tarring and feathering com- 
 mon ? 
 
 Phil. Law bless you, yes ! "Why I myself was tarred and 
 feathered once, and just becoss my bank bust up, and I 
 couJd not pay my creditors. 
 
 Sam. [Aside.) That's right, Phil; smite him on the hip, 
 and spare not. 
 
 Hodg. (In agitation.) What a land! what a land! But, 
 Mr. Bragg, were you ever blown up ? 
 
 Phil. Blown up, sir ! Warn't I raised on the Mississippi, 
 and lived on steam since I was a babby ? Why, you might 
 as well ask me if I've been weaned. It's the commonest 
 thing in natur. Blown up ? — more times than I can count 
 up, sir? 
 
 Hodg. What, Mr. Bragg, were your sensations ? 
 
 Phil. Why, sir, it is the pleasantest and most elevating 
 feeling you can imagine. May I be scalped, sir, if it is not 
 just like being kicked into chaos. ~No man, sir, knows 
 what the sublimity of life is until he has had a biler bust 
 under him. You may take my word for that, sir. And 
 now, good morning, gentleman. (Phil rises to depart.) But 
 before I go, I will tell you, sir {turns to Hodg.), a true and 
 interesting story — if it isn't, may I be — well — about a burst 
 up. 
 
 Waal, sir, I was going up stream, one day, to St. Louis, 
 and I had a horse on board — (a finer horse, by the way, sir, 
 never trod turf. His name was Roanoke — my ancestors 
 come from the Old Dominion, sir), and I sees that something 
 was the matter with him, and a knowing hoss he was to 
 smell out mischief. So I goes up, and says I, "Boanoke, 
 what snag ha' you run against now ? Do you want some 
 feed, old boy \ " says I. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " Are you cold ? " says I. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " Is the biler going to bust F " says L 
 
 He nods his head. 
 
en- 
 
 156 COMIC KECITATIONS. 
 
 " Eight straight? " says I. 
 
 He nods liis head again. 
 
 I unties the halter as fast as I can, and I sings out " Gen- 
 tlemen, I'll bet ten to one this boat's biler busts before sun- 
 set." " Done," and "done," shouts a dozen, when hang goes 
 both bilers like a clap of thunder run mad. May I be scalped, 
 sir, if I and my horse weren't the only creatures that escaped. 
 - So. I lost all my bets, and was obliged to resolve myself 
 into a committee, sir, in a cypress swamp, to exonerate the 
 captain, engineer, hands, and biler from all blame, collect- 
 ively and individually. I tell you what, sir, may I never 
 taste Monongahela again, if I didn't get aboard the next 
 up boat in a mighty thick rile. Good morning, gentlemen ! 
 
 Sam. ( Winks to Phil.) Don't go yet, Bragg, sit down again, 
 now, and tell us a little more about your parts. Mr. Hodgson 
 is very much interested in that section of the country, and 
 a stranger — 
 
 Phil. Oh, waal, I'm always ready cocked to go off for a 
 strangers information. 
 
 Hodg. Thank you — auh — what sort of people have you 
 out there ? 
 
 Phil. "Waal, we've got some a'most all kinds : Pukes 
 Wolverines, Snags, Hoosiers, Griddle-greasers, Buckeyes, 
 Corn-crackers, Pot-soppers, Hard-heads, Hawkeyes, Rack- 
 ensacks, Linsey-woolsey s, Red-horses, Mud-heads, Green- 
 horns, Canada-patriots, Loafers, Masons, Anti-masons, Mor- 
 mons, and some few from the Jerseys, and other outside 
 places of creation. 
 
 Hodg. Heavens ! All savage tribes, I presume ; but I 
 thought your government — auh — had removed all the In- 
 dians beyond the Mississippi. 
 
 Phil. No, sir ; there are still many savages this side the 
 river. 
 
 Hodg. What is the average product of your lands, per 
 acre, Mr. Bragg, in a good season ? 
 
 Phil. Oh — of snakes, ten cords is considered a very fair 
 yield, making two bushels of rattles, or more when threshed 
 
HUMBUGGING A TOUPwIST. 157 
 
 out; but that's according to the age of the reptiles — of 
 mosquitoes, four bushels — of other vermin, six bushels is 
 called a tolerable crop. 
 
 Hodg. Good Lord ! Snakes by the cord ! But I mean 
 corn and other grain. 
 
 Phil. Stranger, in the "West we never keep account of 
 sich things, "We save enough to eat, and feed our hogs, and 
 send the rest to market ; and if the rivers ain't dry, and 
 the steamboats don't get snagged, run into, blown up, or 
 seized by the sheriff, it gets there in the course of time and 
 we presume is sold ; for that's the last we hear of it. 
 
 Hodg. And you have no agents to attend to it when it 
 arrives ? 
 
 Phil. Oh — yes — we hires agents o' course. 
 Hodg. And you never call on them to give account of 
 their sales and receipts ? 
 
 Phil. "No, sir, no — it would be as much as a man's life is 
 worth to do so unpopular a thing. It's an unheard of no- 
 tion, stranger — an obsolete idea. Nobody thinks of such a 
 thing, except once in a while a mean feller, and he has to cut 
 stick — quit our parts, sir, in short order, I reckon. Tramp's 
 the word, and he emigrates, sir. 'Sides, there's the chance 
 o' your agent's drawin' on you." 
 
 Hodg. Drawing on you ? With funds of yours in his 
 hands, auh ? 
 
 Phil. Yes, sir — click ! And may be you find half an 
 ounce o' lead lodged in your phrenological developments. 
 Hodg. Shocking ! 
 
 Phil. Waal, jist to show you the workin' of the thing : 
 you see we made Bill Toddy our agent — good fellow — fust 
 rate chap — great on liquor. Kow supposin' I goes to New 
 Orleans, and says I to Bill, " Look here, young 'un, jist fork 
 over that are change, will you ? " WTiat do you think Bill 
 does ? 
 
 Hodg. Why, he takes out his ledger, balances his account, 
 and pays you what he owes on your sales. 
 
 Phil. That jist shows how much you know of human 
 
158 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 natur, Mr. Hodgeskin. Now I should calkerlate that Bill 
 would naterally get his back up at that, and say — " Soc 
 Bragg, you're a poor devil " — or, " Soc Bragg, you're a 
 durned dropsical water-drinker " — or, " Soc Bragg, you're 
 everlastingly beneath iny notice." And then, we'd have 
 one of the awfulest musses that ever did take place in New 
 Orleans. 
 
 Hodg. Mr. Bragg, the state of society in your country is 
 even more disorganized than I had supposed, 
 
 Phil. Yes, sir-r-r, it can't be beat, as you say. Most 
 people in furrin parts have every kind of amphibious ideas 
 of our diggins. You don't know what a glorious place it is 
 out West. It is of an entire different stripe from foggy 
 England, where you have to drink port, and ale, and beer, 
 and sich like onnateral tipple. It's another kind of streak, 
 sir-r-r. 
 
 Hodg. Auh — Mr. Bragg — auh — do you drink much malt 
 liquor in your pawts ? auh — I have a brothow — auh — that 
 is — yes — yaas — 
 
 Phil. Look here, stranger, why don't you speak as if you 
 warn't afraid o' what you were sayin' instead of coughin' 
 like an old steamboat — puff — auh — puff — auh ? Speak out 
 like a ringed pig. 
 
 Hodg. I merely ausked if you drank much malt liquor in 
 your pawts. 
 
 Phil. Do we drink spring water ? No sir ! we drink 
 Tom and Jerry some — gin-cocktails putty considerably — 
 but mostly stone fence bare-footed ! 
 
 Hodg. Eh ! what ! bare-footed ! I had no idea, I must 
 confess, of the misery of this country. Dear me, I'll write 
 a communication, when I get home, to some of the charit- 
 able societies. No shoes ! — not even moccasins ! ( Aside.) It's 
 a judgment on them for their oppression of their colored 
 brethren. 
 
 Phil. No shoes ? What does the man mean, Mr. Mark- 
 ham ? 
 
 Sam. I fancy Mr. Hodgson doesn't take your meaning. 
 
HUMBUGGING A TOURIST. 159 
 
 Phil. That's it, eh. ? I was afaid the stranger was pokin' 
 fun at me — and then I'm dangerous. 
 
 Hodg. Oh, no, no, no ! I assure you. 
 
 Phil. Well, stranger, whar teas you raised ? I thought 
 even a Yankee knew that " stone fence bare-footed " is the 
 polite English for whiskey uncontaminated — pure, sir. 
 
 Hodg. {Aside.) What — auh — a frightful patois they speak. 
 
 Phil. {Aside to Sam.) Keep him on that track, Sam, and 
 I'll astonish him. 
 
 Sam. I believe, however, Mr. Bragg, that some parts of 
 the country are very poor indeed. 
 
 Phil. Poor, sir ! It's considerably the richest country 
 that ever was created. Why, I've seen many a tree it took 
 a man and a boy to look to the top of. 
 
 Hodg. That's a very singular circumstance. 
 
 Phil. Pact, sir. 
 
 Sam. But I mean, Mr. Bragg, that meat is sometimes 
 very scarce. 
 
 Phil. Oh, meat J — yes. I was out one year in a log cabin, 
 a little out of the common trail, and sometimes we didn't 
 see a piece of meat for three months at a time, and lived 
 perty much on sweet punkins. 
 
 Hodg. Punkins ! Good Heavens ! This goes beyond 
 anything I ever heard or read of before. They may talk 
 about famine in India, and poverty in Ireland, but never can 
 there be greater misery than this. But did you not become 
 very weak under such a diet, Mr. Bragg ? 
 
 Phil. Waal, sir, we fell off some, but were pretty nigh 
 as strong as a ten-horse steam ingyne for all that. Why, 
 stranger, my father that spring swum across the Big Satan, 
 in a freshet, with a dead painter in his mouth, and a live alli- 
 gator full splurge after him. It was a tight race, I tell you, 
 and I did laugh, and no mistake, to see the old man puttin' 
 out. The crittur just bit off the heel of his boot as he got 
 ashore. He did ! 
 
 Hodg . Horrible ! A dead painter between hi* teeth ! 
 And how did he come by this untimely end ? 
 
160 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Phil. What, the painter? how should he? My father 
 shot him, sir, and a most almighty good shot it was, or Tm 
 no judge. He took him sitting, sir, but — 
 
 Hodg. [Trembling.) And — and — what was the provocation, 
 sir ? 
 
 Phil. Why, I rayther allow the animal was just takin' a 
 sketch of him, and would have had him, sir. 
 
 Hodg. Good Heavens ! Shoot a gentleman — an innocent, 
 unoffending artist — 
 
 Phil. Shoot a what ? I'm speakin' of a painter, sir. 
 
 Hodg. And isn't a painter a fellow- Christian — a man as 
 well as you ? hasn't he a soul to be saved ? 
 
 Phil. Well, that ar' beats — a painter a Christian ! Why, 
 sir, we consider them in our parts the worst kind o' heathen ! 
 
 Sam. {Stifling a laugh.) I apprehend, Mr. Bragg, that 
 Mr. Hodgson lies under an error ; he thinks you mean a 
 man that paints — signs, you know, and portraits. 
 
 Phil. ISTo, now ? does he ? Well, I'm dirned if he ain't a 
 greenhorn ! Why, mister, a painter's a wild animal — a 
 catamount, sir — an exaggerated kind o' Bengal tiger ! 
 
 Sam. I fancy, too, that Mr. Hodgson misapprehends your 
 account of the lack of meat. I dare say you had plenty of 
 venison. 
 
 Phil. Oh, yes — plenty of venison — no lack of vittels. 
 
 Hodg. Venison ! 
 
 Sam. And wild turkeys, perhaps ? 
 
 Phil Wild turkeys ! oh, yes — all out doors are fall of 
 them ; 'sides 'coons, squirrels, beavers' tails, 'chucks, bear- 
 meat, skunks, and other varmints. Lots of fodder we had, 
 that are a fact — but no meal ! Tell you what, sir, it's pad- 
 dling right up the stream in a canoe, to live without meat. 
 The old man did grumble some, I tell you ! 
 
 Hodg. What does the man mean ? — Wild turkeys and 
 venison — and no meat ? 
 
 SAM. I believe I must explain for you, Mr. Hodgson. 
 The term meat in the West is understood to apply solely to 
 salt ])ork. 
 
HUMBUGGING A TOURIST. 161 
 
 HoDG (Aside.) What a monstrous slang these savages 
 speak ! It's impossible to understand it. (Aloud.) Have you 
 any Englishmen out there ? 
 
 Phil. Britishers ? — I tell you, sir, we have the scum of all 
 creation in our parts. 
 
 Hodg. Auh, auh ! auh — auh — what is the usual currency 
 of that part of the country F Auh — what do you pay your 
 debts with ? 
 
 Phil. Ha ! ha ! ha ! (Laughs.) Pay our debts with ? — that's 
 a good joke — may be I won't tell that when I get home. 
 "We slope, sir, absquatulate ! 
 
 Hodg. (To Sam.) What does he mean? 
 
 Sam. (To Hodg.) Hush! — don't press him on that point — 
 it's dangerous ! 
 
 Phil. As for our currency, it's rayther promiscuous, as I 
 may say, jest now — mostly 'coon skins, howsomever. You see 
 the Owl Creek, and the Wild Cat, and Sore Bear, and the 
 Salt River, and the Alligator banks all went slam bang to 
 eternal smash, and since then, it's ben very mixed. 
 
 Sam. Didn't a certain bank, called the Big Riley Bubble, 
 explode also ? 
 
 Phil. Take care, Mr. Markham, I don't stand that, sir-r-r 
 —I have a mighty pisen feelin' about that concern. 
 
 Hodg. Why, Mr. Bragg, had you any interest — 
 
 Phil. Stranger, if you don't shet your mouth a little closer 
 than a Gulf clam, I'll fix your flint in short order. 
 
 Hodg. Excuse me, Mr. er-Bragg ; didn't mean to offend, 
 'pon honor. 
 
 Phil. Sir-r-r, / was President of the Big Riley Bubble 
 Bank. / was rode on a sharp rail — and if you allude to it 
 again, may I be eternally condemned to be fireman to the 
 slowest boat in all creation, if I don't scalp you in several 
 seconds less than no time. We can do that, sir, whar I was 
 raised. 
 
 Hodg. I'm dumb— auh ! 
 
 SAM. Lethe shall be with me another name for the Big 
 Riley. 
 
162 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Hodg. Have you any knowledge of the State of Arkansas, 
 Mr. Bragg? 
 
 Phil. I've uen thar, I reckon — I have hunted all over 
 them parts, almost clean out to the jumping off place of 
 creation. 
 
 Hodg. Auh — auh — do you know anything of Pamdown 
 County ? Ah, auh — my fauther took some lands there for a 
 debt about ten years ago, and I have some idea of — of going 
 out there to examine the property. There are several flour- 
 ishing villages upon it, as I perceive by the map I have 
 of it. 
 
 Phil. Do I know Eamdown County ? I'd like to see the 
 man would tell me I don't, tha^s all. I'm getting tired of 
 a peaceful life. It makes me bilious! — (Hodg. edges away 
 from him.) Eamdown County, sir, is an eternal bog — one of 
 the ugliest, dirtiest, deepest, nastiest, cussedest swamps that 
 ever was created. {Solemnly.) Mr. Hodgkins, you had better 
 venture into New Orleans in yeller fever time than show 
 your face there. Why, sir, the only dry locations in it are 
 taken up by the wust kind o' squatters — and if you escape, 
 sir, the alligators, rattlesnakes, moccasins, bears, painters, 
 quagmires, hurricanes, highwaymen, freshets, Inguns, and 
 bilious fevers, you will be murdered by the settlers, and no 
 mistake ! 
 
 Sam. (Aside to Phil.) Phil, that is too bad ! 
 
 Hodg What a dreadful picture ! But the towns — Oxford, 
 Babylon, Sodom, Nineveh, Moscow? 
 
 Phil. Towns, sir ! There isn't but one log cabin in the lot 
 — at Sodom, sir — and that's a place even the boatmen didn't 
 like to stop at. (In a solemn whisper.) It's a mortal unhealthy 
 place for strangers — several have disappeared there ? 
 
 Hodg. Dear ! dear ! dear ! catch me there ! But Moscow 
 and the others ? 
 
 Phil. Moscow is fifty feet above ordinary water mark, 
 and only accessible in wet seasons — and has no inhabitants. 
 Oxford is fifteen feet under water at all times, and death for 
 fever and ague, besides being dreadfully infested with nios- 
 
HUMBUGGING A TOURIST. 163 
 
 quitoes, alligators, and howling savages. Babylon was 
 swallowed up some years ago by an earthquake ; and Nineveh 
 was washed away by the Red River last spring, and it de- 
 served to be swept off, sir, for I am credibly informed, there 
 was nothing to drink in the place. What's the use of such 
 poor places, but to be washed away ? Any more inquiries, 
 stranger ? happy to give you information. 
 
 Hodg. No, I thank you, sir — auh — I believe I won't go 
 there. 
 
 Phil. Stranger, I wouldn't. It's a powerful sickly country 
 for people who ask too many questions, and ain't satisfied 
 with what they get there — it goes against one's grain when 
 we see a man stuck up, I tell you, and we let him know it 
 quick. And now I'll cut dirt ! 
 
 Hodg. {Producing a note boolc.) Allow me one — auh — mo- 
 ment, Mr. Bragg — Have you any objection to my taking a 
 note of this conversation for a — auh — a work I have in con- 
 templation ? 
 
 Sam. {Aside.) He bites, by all that is incredible. 
 
 Phil. Why — Mr. Hodgson, it doesn't strike me as exactly 
 the thing to take down a man's words in this way, but if 
 you particularly desire it, durn me if I can refuse such a 
 trine. 
 
 Hodg. I should, sir — auh — esteem it as a particular 
 favaw. 
 
 Phil. Then, sir, you have my permission. Good morn- 
 ing, again. (Aside to Sam, who folloios him to the door.) Didn't 
 I throw a pretty good broadside into the Cockney ? 
 
 Sam. Faith, you gave it to him like Stephen Decatur. 
 And what do you think of the beast ? 
 
 Phil. That you may safely warrant him at any cattle show 
 as a genuine imported bull. {Exit Phil. 
 
 Hodg. {Aside, writing in his note loolc.) All the Americans 
 are shockingly profane. (Rising to talce his leave.) An extraor- 
 dinary man that, Mr. Markham. 
 
 Sam. Yery, in his way. There are many such beyond the 
 mountains. 
 
164 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Hodo. "Well — auh — Mr. Markham, good day. I must go 
 and commit this conversation to writing. [Exit Hodgson. 
 
 Sam. There goes the model of a Cockney tourist in 
 America. [Exit Sam. 
 
 THE WIDOW'S VICTIM. 
 
 An Ethiopian Interlude. 
 
 Jenny — Tommy — Johnny. 
 
 (For Complete Stage Directions see page 64.) 
 
 Enter Jenny, c. 
 
 Jenny. There now, my missus is gone out, the cook is 
 busy, and the laundress is ironing, and I, Jenny the cham- 
 bermaid, having finished my day's work, can employ my 
 time as I please ; and, as the old saying is, " When the cat's 
 away the mice will play." 
 
 I was to the theatre last night with my Tommy ; he be- 
 longs to one of those Dramatic Associations, and he acts ; he 
 says he's going to make an actress of me. My missus is 
 greatly troubled by a countryman hangin' around here, and 
 so she told me to send for my Tommy, to dress himself up 
 and frighten the countryman away. I sent for him some 
 time go, and I wonder what keeps him so long ? 
 
 Tommy. (Outside, c, stumbles.) Curse that pail! 
 
 Jenny, (l. ii. c.) That's his voice. This way, Tommy ! 
 
 Tommy. (Outside, c.) Lead me, lead me, ye virgins, to that 
 kind voice. (Enters, c, and embraces Iter.) Camille ! 
 
 Jenny. Arm and ! 
 
 Tommy. Camille! Camille! Camille! 
 
 JENNY. {Throws him off.) Armand, I've sworn to hate, to 
 despise you ; bat no, no ! I cannot ! (They embrace and walk 
 to Q.) 
 
 Tommy. Angels were painted fair to look like thee. Con- 
 found it, I've almost broke my shin stumbling over that pail. 
 
 
the widow's victim. 165 
 
 Why is it, Jenny, you will leave pails standing around for 
 people to fall over ; but — 
 
 My love, my life, my Yiolante. 
 
 Have you got anything nice to eat in the pantry ! 
 
 JENNY. I've got some co-l-d goo-se. 
 
 Tommy. Aha ! ill-omened bird ! name it not, or I shall go 
 into Mss-terics ; but what did you send for me for ? 
 
 JENNY. Oh ! I almost forgot, I'm so stage-struck. There's 
 a countryman coming around here, bothering my mistress a 
 great deal, and she can't get rid of him ; so she wants you 
 to frighten him away. 
 
 Tommy. Oh ! she wants me to get up a little play to 
 frighten him away, does she ? 
 
 Jenny. Yes. 
 
 Tommy. I'm the very boy to do it ; don't you remember 
 how nicely I played Claude Melnotte last Thursday night ? 
 
 Jenny. Yes ; and how I wished I had been Pauline, for I 
 know every word of the part ! 
 
 Tommy. You do ! 
 
 Jenny. Yes, sir, I do. 
 
 Tommy. Then suppose while we're waiting for this old 
 countryman we have a little bit of it. 
 
 Jenny. All right ! 
 
 Tommy. Do you recollect the last part of the third act ? 
 
 Jenny. Yes. 
 
 Tommy. All right ; get your posish. (Jenny goes to L. H. C. 
 and fixes dress.) What are you doing that for ? 
 
 JENNY. That's my trail. 
 
 Tommy. Oh ! Are you ready ? 
 
 Jenny. Yes. 
 
 Tommy. Then go it. 
 
 Jenny. (Imitating some actress.) Claude, take me; thou 
 canst not give me wealth, station, titles, but thou canst 
 give me a true and loving heart I will work for thee, toil 
 for thee, bear with thee ; and never, never shall these lips 
 reproach thee for the past. (They embrace.) How's that, 
 Tommy ? 
 
166 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Tommy. That's bully; that's a great deal better than 
 Miss Fish done it the last time we saw her. 
 
 Jenny. You don't mean Miss Fish, Tommy ; you mean 
 Miss Heron. 
 
 Tommy. Miss Heron ! well ain't herrin' fish ? of course 
 they are — Yankee sardines. Now then, Jenny, it's my turn. 
 Are you ready ? 
 
 Jenny. Yes. 
 
 Tommy. Then look out. This is the heaviest blow of 
 all— 
 
 Jenny. What blow ? 
 
 Tommy. Why what you've jest bin blowin' about. What 
 a heart I've wronged ! Farewell, mother ; I'll see thee again 
 a better man than a prince. And thou — thou so fondly 
 loved, so guiltily betrayed, all is not yet lost ; for if I live, the 
 name of him thou hast once loved shall not rest dishonored ; 
 but if I fall midst the roar and carnage of battle, my soul 
 shall fly back to thee ; more — more would I speak to thee : 
 to bless, to pray — but no, no ; farewell, farewell, farewell. 
 
 As Tommy is going off c, Johnny enters and Tommy treads on his 
 
 toe. 
 
 Johnny. Oh ! oh ! right on my favorite corn ! 
 
 Tommy. Peace, old man, I have a prior claim ! 
 
 Johnny. I didn't know that, sir. 
 
 Tommy. I outbid you, sordid huckster, for this priceless 
 jewel. There ! there's the sum twice told ; blush not to 
 take it. ( Throws purse. ) 
 
 Johnny. Nary a blush. (Pats purse in pocket.) 
 
 Tommy. There's not a coin but which has been bought in 
 a nation's cause and with a soldier's blood. 
 
 Jenny. Ah ! that voice ! it is — it is — 
 
 TOMMY. Thy husband. (They embrace.') 
 
 Johnny. I've made a mistake, and got into a lunatic asy- 
 lum. (Pulls out slocking for a handkerchief.) 
 
 Jkxny. (Aside to Tommy.) That's him. 
 
 Tommy. Is it \ what's the matter ? 
 
 
THE widow's victim. 167 
 
 Jenny. He's like Othello when Iago's been stuffin' him 
 up. I'll frighten him. 
 
 Tommy. Go it. 
 
 Jenny. H-u-s-h — sh ! the handkerchief — the handkerchief. 
 [Snatches stocking from Johnny.) — the handkerchief! [Goes 
 off K. H.) 
 
 Johnny. Here, young woman, you've got my handker- 
 fitch ! 
 
 Tommy. [Pulls Johnny to c.) Come here. "Were you ever 
 on the stage ? 
 
 Johnny. Yes, I drove on de Knickerbocker once. 
 
 Tommy. No, no ! I mean the stage Shakespeare speaks of 
 as holding the mirror up to nature. 
 
 Johnny. Yes ; I've got one in my room seven by nine. 
 
 Tommy. No, no ! I mean the same kind of a stage as you 
 will find in a theatre. 
 
 Johnny. Oh ! like the play actors have. 
 
 Tommy. Yes. What kind of a voice have you got for 
 tragedy ? 
 
 Johnny. Oh, I've got scrougin' ole voice fur tragedy. 
 
 Tommy. Well, supposing I should step up to you, slap you 
 on the shoulder, and call you a villain and a traitor to the 
 State, what reply would you make ? 
 
 Johnny. I should say that was very ungentlemanly lan- 
 guage. 
 
 Tommy. No, no ! you should say — Liar ! Now get over- 
 on that side. Are you ready ? 
 
 Johnny. Yes, sir. 
 
 Tommy. [Slapping Mm on the bach.) Thou art a villain and 
 a traitor to the State. 
 
 Johnny. [Very low.) Liar! 
 
 Tommy. Oh ! that is the weakest lie I ever did hear ; come 
 over here and call me a villain. 
 
 Johnny. You're a willain and a traitor to de State. 
 
 Tommy. L-i-a-r! 
 
 Johnny, (r. h. c. frightened.) I didn't mean it. 
 
 Tommy. That's the way I wanted you to speak to me. 
 
168 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Come here. (Goes to c.) Did you ever see any plays per- 
 formed ? 
 
 Johnny Yes, sir. 
 
 Tommy. What were they ? 
 
 Johnny. Macbeth, Toodles, and all dem fellers. 
 
 Tommy. What do you think you could play in Macbeth ? 
 
 Johnny. Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Tommy. No ! that's a lady's part. We must play some- 
 thing ; what'll it be ? 
 
 Johnny. Let's play tag. 
 
 Tommy. No, no ! we must play some piece. 
 
 Johnny. Let's play on a piece of pie. 
 
 Tommy. No, no ! we must play some play as they do in a 
 theatre. 
 
 Johnny. Oh ! I see. 
 
 Tommy. Let me see ; there's the Drunkard, a good moral 
 drama. 
 
 Johnny. You wouldn't have to make up, your nose is so 
 red. 
 
 Tommy. No ; that won't do. I have it ; we'll play Damon 
 and Pythias. I'll play Damon and you play Lucimicus. 
 
 Johnny. All right. 
 
 Tommy. What's the first word you say when you comes 
 on the stage ? 
 
 Johnny. Come on, Macduff T 
 
 Tommy. I see you don't know anything about the piece. 
 You see I am Damon, and I've been arrested for knocking over 
 a peanut stand, and put in the calaboose. I have a friend 
 named Pythias, he says that he'll stop in jail while I go into 
 the country and see my wife and child. 
 
 Johnny. Yes, but you ain't got no wife ! 
 
 Tommy. I only play that I've got a wife. 
 
 Johnny. You'd better not, fur dey'll take you up for 
 bugle-ary. 
 
 Tommy. It's in the piece. I go into the country and take 
 you with me, but if I don't return at a certain hour, Pythias 
 is excuted in my stead ; and while I am in the house, bid- 
 
the widow's victim. 169 
 
 ding my wife and child farewell, you are in the barn-yard, 
 where you kill my hoss ! 
 
 Johnny. But you ain't got any hoss ! 
 
 Tommy. It's in the play ! 
 
 Johnny. OK ! I see. 
 
 Tommy. I come from the house and ask you for my horse, 
 and you say, " Forgive me, master, I slew your horse ! " 
 
 Johnny. That's my part, is it ? 
 
 Tommy. Yes ; get over there ! 
 
 Johnny. (Repeats his fart a number of times.) Forgive me, 
 massa, I slew your hoss ! 
 
 Tommy. Is that the way to stand? you ought to tremble. 
 .(Johnny trembles.) That's it; keep that shake up. (Tommy 
 goes off L., and rushes on again.) 'Tis o'er, Lucimicus : bring 
 thou forth my horse ! I've staid too long, and speed must 
 leave the winds behind me. By all the gods, the sun is 
 rushing down the West — 
 
 Johnny. Let her rush. 
 
 Tommy. Why dost thou stand there? bring thou forth 
 my horse. _ 
 
 Johnny. Golly, I've forgot my part ! 
 
 Tommy. Slave ! 
 
 Johnny. You call me a slave agin, and I'll bust you in 
 the horn ! 
 
 Tommy. Why didn't you say, " Forgive me, master, I slew 
 your horse ! " 
 
 Johnny. I forgot all about it. 
 
 Tommy. Try it once more. Where's that shake ? ( Goes off 
 as before.) Be swift of speech, as my heart is my horse, I 
 say! 
 
 Johnny. Forgive me, massa, I slew your donkey ! 
 
 Tommy. Aha ! I'm standing here — 
 
 Johnny. So am I. 
 
 Tommy. To see if the great gods will with their lightnings 
 execute my prayer upon thee ! But be thy punishment 
 mine. I'll tear thee all to pieces ! Come ! 
 
 Johnny. Where? 
 
170 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Tom^IY. To the eternal river of the dead ; the way is 
 shorter than to Syracuse or Utica. With one swing I'll throw 
 thee to Tartarus, and follow after thee ! Come, Pythias' red 
 ghost beckons me on. Come, craven ! come ! come ! ( Exit, 
 dragging Johnny off L. H. E.) 
 
 JOSH BILLINGS ON THE MULE. 
 
 The mule is half hoss, and half jackass, and then kums 
 tu a full stop, natur diskovering her mistake. Tha weigh 
 more, akordin tu their heft, than enny other kreetur, except 
 a crowbar. Tha kant hear enny quicker, nor further than 
 the hoss, yet their ears are big enuff for snow shoes. You 
 ken trust them with enny one whose life ain't worth enny 
 more than the--TQ.ule's. The only wa tu keep them into a 
 paster, is tu turn them into a medder jineing, and let them 
 jump out. Tha are reddy for use, just as soon as they will 
 du tu abuse. Tha haint got enny friends, and will live on 
 huckel-berry brush, with an ockasional chanse at Kanada 
 thissels. Tha are a modern invenshun, i dont think the Bible 
 deludes tu them at tall. Tha sel for more mony than enny 
 other domestik animile. Yu kant tell their age by looking 
 into their mouth, enny more than you kould a Mexican 
 cannon's. Tha never hav no disease that a good club wont 
 heal. If tha ever die tha must kum rite tu life agin, for i 
 never herd nobody sa " ded mule." Tha are like sum men, 
 very korrupt at harte ; ive known them tu be good mules for 
 G months, just tu git a good chanse to kick sombody. I never 
 owned one, nor never mean to, unless there is a United 
 Staits law passed, requiring it. The only reason why tha 
 are pashunt, is bekause tha are ashamed ov themselfs. I 
 have seen eddikated mules in a sirkus. Tha kould kick, and 
 bite, tremenjis. I would not sa what I am forced tu sa again 
 the mule, if his birth want an outrage, and man want tu 
 blame for it. Enny man who is willing tu drive a mule, 
 
THE TINKER AND THE GLAZIER. 171 
 
 ought to be exempt by law from running for the legislatur. 
 Tha are the strangest creeturs on earth, and heaviest, ac- 
 kording tu their sise ; I herd tell ov one who fell oph from 
 the tow path, on the Eri kanawl, and sunk as soon as he 
 touched bottom, but he kept rite on towing the boat tu the 
 nex stashun, breathing thru his ears, which stuck out ov the 
 water about 2 feet 6 inches ; i didn't see this did, but an 
 auctioneer told me ov it, and i never knew an auctioneer tu 
 lie unless it was absolutely convenient. 
 
 THE TINKEK AND THE GLAZIER. 
 
 HARBISON. 
 
 Since gratitude, 'tis said, is not o'er common, 
 
 And friendly acts are pretty near as few, 
 With high and low, with man, and eke with woman, 
 
 With Turk, with Pagan, Christian, and with Jew ; 
 We ought, at least, when'er we chance to find 
 
 Of these rare qualities a slender sample, 
 To show they may possess the human mind, 
 And try the boasted influence of example. 
 Who knows how far the novelty may charm'? 
 At all events it cannot do much harm. 
 The tale we give, then, and we need not fear, 
 The moral, if there be one, will appear. 
 
 Two thirsty souls met on a sultry day, 
 
 One glazier Dick, the other Tom the tinker ; 
 Both with light purses, but with spirits gay, 
 And hard it were to name the sturdiest drinker. 
 Their ale they quafF'd ; 
 And as they svvigg'd the nappy, 
 They both agreed, 'tis said, 
 That tra^.e was wondrous dead, 
 They joked, sung, laughed, 
 And were completely happy. 
 
 The landlord's eye, bright as his sparkling ale, 
 Glisten'd to see them the brown pitcher hug ; 
 
172 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 For ev ; ry jest, and song, and merry tale, 
 
 Had this blithe ending — " Bring us t'other mug ! " 
 Now Dick the glazier feels his bosom burn, 
 To do his friend Tom Tinker a good turn ; 
 And where the heart to friendship feels inclin'd, 
 Occasion seldom loiters long behind. 
 The kettle, gayly singing on the fire, 
 Gives Dick a hint just to his heart's desire; 
 And, while to draw more ale the landlord goes, 
 Dick in the ashes all the water throws ; 
 
 Then puts the kettle on the fire again, 
 And at the tinker winks, 
 As " Trade success ! " he drinks, 
 
 Nor doubts the wish'd success Tom will obtain. 
 Our landlord ne'er could such a toast withstand ; 
 So giving each kind customer a hand, 
 His friendship too display'd, 
 And drank — " Success to trade !" 
 But, oh ! how pleasure vanish'd from his eye, 
 
 How long and rueful his round visage grew, 
 Soon as he saw the kettle bottom fly, 
 
 Solder the only fluid he could view t 
 He raved, he caper'd, and be. swore, 
 And damn'd the kettle's body o'er and o'er. 
 " Come, come," says Dick, " fetch us, my friend, more ale 7 
 
 All trade you know must live ; 
 Let's drink — ' May trade with none of us e'er fail ! 
 
 The job to Tom then give ; 
 And, for the ale he drinks, my lad of metal, 
 Take my word for it, soon will mend your kettle." 
 The landlord yields; but hopes 'tis no offence 
 To curse the trade that thrives at his expense. 
 Tom undertakes the job ; to work he goes, 
 And just concludes it with the evening's close. 
 Souls so congenial had friends Tom and Dick, 
 
 They might be fairly called brother and brother. 
 Thought Tom, "To serve my friend 1 know a trick, 
 
 And one good turn always deserves another." 
 Out now he slily slips, 
 
THE TINKER AND THE GLAZIER. 173 
 
 But not a word he said, 
 The plot was in his head, 
 And off he nimbly trips, 
 Swift to the neighboring church his way he takes ; 
 Nor in the dark, 
 Misses his mark, 
 But ev'ry pane of glass he quickly breaks 
 But as he goes, 
 His bosom glows, 
 To think how great will be his friend Dick's joy 
 At getting so much excellent employ. 
 Return'd, he beckoning draws his friend aside, 
 
 Importance in his face, 
 And, to Dick's ear his mouth applied, 
 
 Thus briefly states the case : 
 " Dick, I may give you joy ; you're a made man ; 
 
 I've done your business most complete, my friend : 
 I'm off — the devil catch me, if he can — 
 
 Each window of the church you've got to mend ; 
 Ingratitude's worst curse on my head fall. 
 If for your sake I have not broke them all." 
 Tom, with surprise, sees Dick turn pale; 
 Who deeply sighs — " Oh, la i " 
 Then drops his under jaw, 
 And all his powers of utterance fail; 
 While horror in his ghastly face, 
 And bursting eye-balls, Tom can trace; 
 Whose sympathetic muscles, just and true, 
 Share, with his heart, 
 Dick's unknown smart, 
 And two such phizzes ne'er met mortal view. 
 At length friend Dick his speech regain'd, 
 And soon the mystery explain'd — 
 " You have indeed my business done ! 
 And I, as well as you, must run ; 
 For, let me act the best I can, 
 Tom, Tom, I am a ruined man! 
 
 Zounds, zounds! this piece of friendship costs me dear; 
 I always mend church windows by the year ! " 
 
174 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 A 
 
 WONDERFUL DEEAM. 
 
 A NEGRO DIALOGUE. 
 
 Julius. Sam, did you eber go huntin' in the winter time 
 way out "West ? 
 
 Sam. No, Julius. 
 
 Julius. Well, I have, Sam. 
 
 Sam. You enjoyed yourself, I suppose ? 
 
 Julius. Oh, yes. Ebery time I went I had lots ob fun, 
 until de last time I went — den I had bad luck. 
 
 Sam. How happened that ? 
 
 Julius. Well, you see dar was two ob my neighbors 
 come to me an' axed me fur to go huntin' wid ems, an' I said 
 I would go. So we all got our tings ready to start, and I 
 noticed de oder fellers had an extra game bag all filled wid 
 somefin, and says I, " Fellers, what you got dar ? " Dey 
 said " Eatments ! " and would you believe it, Sam, I had 
 forgot to get anyting ready fur to take wid me for to eat. 
 
 Sam. That was a great oversight on your part. 
 
 Julius. Yes ; but dey stopt to a hotel till I went' back 
 to my dwelling and got some provender, and I didn't know 
 how much dey had, so I bought a loaf of bread extra, and 
 hid it under my arm, and buttoned my coat ober it. 
 
 Sam. Why, Julius, dey must have discovered it. 
 
 Julius. Oh, no, Sam ; de place where my heart iised to 
 bo before I got dis'pointed in lab, was big enuff to hide de 
 bread. Well, Sam, we got way out in de wild wilderness, 
 and arter we'd bin dar for free or four weeks, we found out 
 dat our eatments wouldn't last. 
 
 Sam. Then you was in a perdicament. 
 
 Julius. No, we was in de woods. 
 
 Sam. Well, what did you do? 
 
 Julius. I couldn't do nofiri ; but I had my loaf ob bread, 
 and, somehow or oder, desc fellers found out dat I had it, 
 and dey was jealous. 
 
 I | 
 
A NEW OCCASIONAL ADDRESS. 175 
 
 SAM. How did you manage ? did you divide it ? 
 
 Julius. What, Sam ! divide a tree cent loaf twixt tree 
 ob us ? — no sir. Any one ob us felt as if we could eat it 
 widout chawin'. So I proposed dat we should all go to sleep, 
 and de one dat dream de biggest dream should hab de loaf 
 ob bread. 
 
 Sam. What were the dreams ? ' 
 
 Julius. One dreampt dat he seen a kettle dat was so big 
 dat dey had to git a ladder seventeen thousand feet long fur 
 to git into it. 
 
 Sam. That was a large dream. 
 
 Julius. Yes, but de oder feller beat him. 
 
 Sam. What was his dream ? 
 
 Julius. He got up and dreampt — 
 
 Sam. No, no ; he dreamed — got up and told his dream. 
 
 Julius. Yes ; dat's what I said ; he dreamed dat he seen 
 a cabbage so big, dat it covered four thousand acres ob 
 ground. 
 
 Sam. That did beat the other dream, truly. 
 
 Julius Yes, it did, Sam. 
 
 Sam. What was your dream ? 
 
 Julius. Well, Sam, I dreamed dat in de middle ob de 
 night I got hungry, and eat up de bread, and my dream 
 come true. 
 
 K 
 
 A NEW OCCASIONAL ADDEESS. 
 
 FOR A LADY'S FIRST APPEARANCE. 
 
 SPOKEN BY MRS. JOHNSTONE. 
 
 When the bleak winds in winter's hoary reign, 
 Bind up the waters in his icy chain ; 
 When round the pool village the youngsters meet, 
 And try the frozen edge with tim'rous feet, 
 The surface trembles and the crackling noise 
 Cows with wide-spreading fear faint-hearted boys ; 
 Whilst one more vent'rous than the rest appears, 
 Glides to the centre, and assur'd it bears, 
 
176 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 Rais'd on his skates, the polish'd mirror skims, 
 
 Nor dreads immersion deep, bruis'd bones, or broken limbs. 
 
 Just such a vent'rer, trembling near the shore, 
 
 Was I, when first I tried this surface o'er. 
 
 With doubtful step, new to the slippery stage, 
 
 I anxious wished, yet dreaded, to engage. 
 
 Hope smiled auspicious, and assurance gave — 
 
 I should not meet a cold, o'erwhelming grave ; 
 
 Then from the shore my puny bark I push'd, 
 
 Whilst your applause my loudest terrors hush'd, 
 
 And to your candor trusting, still I glide, 
 
 Safely my bark 'long the unruffled tide ; 
 
 Your kind protection is the prosp'rous gale 
 
 That speeds its voyage and extends its sail ; 
 
 And whilst such fav'ring breezes happy blow, 
 
 With all the aid indulgence can bestow, 
 
 Be this her wished-for course — her grateful name, 
 
 The Endeavor brig, bound for the port of Fame. 
 
 AN OCCASIONAL PEOLOGUE. 
 
 TO BE SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF PERFORMANCE. 
 
 The stoic's plan is futile, which requires 
 
 Our wants supplied by lopping our desires. 
 
 As well by this vague scheme might we propose, 
 
 Cut off your feet, 'twill save the price of shoes. 
 
 As well might we thus courting public favor, 
 
 To gain your plaudits, lop off all endeavor. 
 
 The thought we spurn : be it our constant aim 
 
 By assiduity to gain a name, 
 
 Your approbation points the road to fame ; 
 
 Each effort use, nor e'er a moment pause, 
 
 To reap that golden harvest — your applause. 
 
 Sweet is the balm which hope's kind aid bestows, 
 
 To lighten grief, or mitigate our woes ; 
 
 To raise desponding merit, banish fear ; 
 
 And from the trembler wipe the falling tear ; 
 
PROLOGUE. 177 
 
 To diffidence inspire, it's dread beguile, 
 
 And doubt extinguish with a cheering smile ; 
 
 That task be yours. My co-mates with some dread, 
 
 Depute me here, their willing cause to plead ; 
 
 Your fiat must our future fates control, 
 
 For here, our chief has " garner'd up his soul ;" 
 
 Eager to please, his throbbing heart beats high, 
 
 By you depress'd, or swelled to ecstacy ; 
 
 Then bid the phantom Fear at once depart, 
 
 And rapture revel in his anxious heart. 
 
 ADDEESS ON CLOSING- A PEEFOEMANCE. 
 
 As when on closing of a well-spent life, 
 
 The parting husband views his faithful wife 
 
 (For life itself is but a gaudy play, 
 
 The flutt'ring phantom of a summer's day), 
 
 With pleasing terror and with trembling haste, 
 
 He recollects a thousand raptures past ; 
 
 And though resign'd, and conscious that he must 
 
 Delay to mingle with his kindred dust ; 
 
 So T, while round these seats my sight I bend, 
 
 And in each cordial eye behold a friend, 
 
 From the fond flowings of a grateful heart, 
 
 Cannot refrain to cry — Ah ! must we part 1 
 
 Your minds, where conscious worth and goodness live, 
 
 May paint the boundless thanks we wish to give, 
 
 But it's beyond the power of words to tell, 
 
 The debt we owe — the gratitude we feel. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 FOR A PERFORMANCE BY BOYS. 
 
 Dear friends, we thank you for your condescension, 
 
 In deigning thus to lend us your attention ; 
 
 And hope the various pieces we recite 
 
 (Boys though we are) will yield you some delight. 
 
178 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 From wisdom and from knowledge, pleasure springs, 
 Surpassing far the glaring pomp of kings : 
 All outward splendor quickly dies away, 
 But wisdom's honors never can decay. 
 
 Blest is the man who treads her paths in youth, 
 
 They lead to virtue, happiness and truth ; — 
 
 Sages and patriots in these ways have trod, 
 
 Saints have walked in them till they reached their God. 
 
 The powers of eloquence can charm the soul, 
 Inspire the virtuous, and the bad control ; 
 Can rouse the passions, or their rage can still, 
 And mould a stubborn mob to one man's will. 
 
 Such powers the great Demosthenes attained, 
 Who haughty Philip's conquering course restrained; 
 Indignant thundering at his country's shame, 
 Till every breast in Athens caught the flame. 
 
 Such powers were Cicero's : — with patriot might 
 He dragged the lurking treason forth to light, 
 Which long had festered in the heart of Rome, 
 And saved his country from her threatened doom. 
 
 Nor to the senate or the bar confined, 
 The pulpit shows its influence o'er the mind ; 
 Such glorious deeds can eloquence achieve ; 
 Such fame, such deathless laurels, it can give. 
 
 Then say not this our weak attempt is vain, 
 For frequent practice will perfection gain, 
 The fear to speak in public it destroys, 
 And drives away the bashfulness of boys. 
 
 Various the pieces we to-night repeat, 
 
 And in them various excellences meet, 
 
 Some rouse the soul — some gently soothe the ear, 
 
 "From grave to gay, from lively to severe." 
 
EPILOGUE. 179 
 
 We would your kind indulgence then bespeak, 
 For awkward manner, and for utterance weak, 
 Our powers, indeed, are feeble ; but our aim 
 Is not to rival Greek or Roman fame. 
 
 Our sole ambition aims at your applause, 
 
 We are but young — let youth, then, plead our cause. 
 
 And if your approbation be obtained, 
 
 Our wish is answered, and our end is gained. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 FOR A SCHOOL PERFORMANCE. 
 
 Our parts are perform'd and our speeches are ended, — 
 We are monarchs, courtiers, and heroes no more ; 
 
 To a much humbler station again we've descended, 
 
 And are now but the school-boys you've known us before. 
 
 Farewell then our greatness — 'tis gone like a dream, 
 'Tis gone — but remembrance will often retrace 
 
 The indulgent applause which rewarded each theme, 
 And the heart-cheering smiles that enliven' d each face. 
 
 We thank you ! — Our gratitude words cannot tell, 
 
 But deeply we feel it — to ) t ou it belongs ; 
 With heartfelt emotion we bid you farewell, 
 
 And our feelings now thank you much more than our tongues. 
 
 We will strive to improve, since applauses thus cheer us, 
 That our juvenile efforts may gain your kind looks ; ' 
 
 And we hope to convince you the next time you hear us, 
 That praise has but sharpened our relish for books. 
 
180 COMIC RECITATIONS. 
 
 FINALE. 
 
 The pages that in Humor's train 
 
 Have well performed their jolly function, 
 Should not be parted with, 'tis plain, 
 
 Without a little comic unction. 
 And so our book, in which they've passed 
 
 The reader's eye, in gay succession, 
 Shall wind up with a joke, at last, 
 
 In honor of the quaint procession : 
 Why is this work like regions wild 
 
 Of which our fox hunters are lovers? 
 Because there is — to draw it mild — 
 
 Most glorious sport within the covers! 
 
SPENCER'S 
 
 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES 
 
 AM> 
 
 HUMOEOITS RECITATIONS. 
 
 A COLLECTION OF COMIC SPEECHES AND DIALOGUES, HUMOROUS 
 
 PROSE AND POETICAL RECITATIONS, LAUGHABLE DRAMATIC 
 
 SCENES AND BURLESQUES, AND ECCENTRIC CHARACTERISTIC 
 
 SOLILOQUIES AND STORIES, SUITABLE FOR SCHOOL 
 
 EXHIBITIONS AND EVENING ENTERTAINMENTS. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 ALBEET J. SPENCEE. 
 
 NEW YOKE: 
 
 DICK & FITZGERALD, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 I ?7|. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1367. by 
 
 DICK & FITZGERALD. 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States lor the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 1/ 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Introduction 5 
 
 Prologue 7 
 
 The Yankee Landlord 9 
 
 His Eye was Stern and Wlld 10 
 
 The Goddess of Slang 11 
 
 Dick, the Apothecary's Apprentice 12 
 
 Courting in French Hollow 13 
 
 The Case Altered 18 
 
 The Fox and the Banger 20 
 
 The Declaration ; 24 
 
 The Warrantee Deed 25 
 
 A Night's Adventure 27 
 
 Julia 28 
 
 Saying not meaning 29 
 
 16,000 Years Ago 31 
 
 The Nlmmers 39 
 
 gucom, and the back log 40 
 
 The Widow's Mist ak e 42 
 
 Categorical Courtship 46 
 
 Mr. Artemus Ward Crossing Dixie's Land 47 
 
 My Last Shirt 49 
 
 The Three Black Crows 50 
 
 The Barber's Shop 51 
 
 Paddy O'Baether 53 
 
 Decidedly Cool 55 
 
 The Frenchman and the Bats 61 
 
 The Jester Condemned to Death * * * * 62 
 
 Kindred Quacks 63 
 
 Hans Breitmann's Party 65 
 
 The Generous Frenchman QQ 
 
 Saint Jonathan 70 
 
 Stump Speech 72 
 
IV * CONTENTS. 
 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Rival Lodgers 74 
 
 The Frenchman and the Mosquitoes 82 
 
 The Maiden's Mishap. . . ? 83 
 
 The Removal 84 
 
 Talking Latin 85 
 
 Praying for Rain 87 
 
 The Darkey Photographer 89 
 
 Paddy and his Musket 97 
 
 Hezekeah Bedott 98 
 
 Uncle Reuben's Tale 101 
 
 Mr. Caudle has been to Greenwich Fair 106 
 
 The Chemist and his Loye 109 
 
 The Disgusted Dutchman 110 
 
 The Frightened Traveler 119 
 
 Economy 120 
 
 The Jewess and her Son 121 
 
 Clerical Wit 122 
 
 The School-house 123 
 
 Daniel versus Dishclout 124 
 
 Spectacles, or helps to Read 127 
 
 The Pig 128 
 
 A Stray Parrot 130 
 
 Dame Fredegonde 142 
 
 Toby Tosspot 145 
 
 Courtship and Matrimony 146 
 
 Pat and the Gridiron 150 
 
 The Barmecide's Feast 157 
 
 Hints for Acting 171 
 
 The Mlddle.aged Man and the two Widows 174 
 
 The Country Pedagogue 175 
 
 The Saratoga Waiter 178 
 
 Prologue 180 
 
 The Wrangling Pair 183 
 
 A Connubial Eclogue 185 
 
 The Italian from Cork 187 
 
 Gaspar Schnapps' Exploit 189 
 
 Epilogue 190 
 
 L'Envoi 192 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Man is a "laughing animal/ ' 'tis said, 
 
 And so on "food for laughter " should be fed— 
 
 An olio rare of epigrams and jokes, . 
 
 Satires, burlesques, bon-mots, and equivoques, . 
 
 That cause vest buttons from their bonds to break, 
 
 And pad with fat the jovial sides they shake. 
 
 Dished in these covers, Humor's spicy fare 
 Awaits the traveller through a world of care, 
 A banquet spread all palates to delight, 
 However dull the mental appetite : 
 Where even Gravity — by Sterne proclaimed 
 An " arrant scoundrel" — of his mood ashamed, 
 Draughts of inspiring nectar as he quaffs, 
 Will cease to "talk of graves and epitaphs." 
 Guests, take your seats, glance on the tempting carte. 
 And at the feast prepare to play your part. 
 Outside, with steam up, stands Life's business train, 
 Lunch at Wit's Station, and then mount again. 
 
 The Gods, inspired by Momus, King of Mimes, 
 Shook their ethereal ribs, we learn, sometimes ; 
 The Earth, beam-tickled, laughs gay-tinted flowers, 
 Each starry world winks knowingly at ours : 
 Surely such hints 'twere folly to despise, 
 The merry, only, are the truly wise. 
 
 If o'er this page one tristful reader bends, 
 The leaves that follow let him make his friends. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Blithe boon companions are they, every one, 
 
 Agog with all the elements of fun. 
 
 His face, if long, shall -widen as he reads ; 
 
 His eyes, if dull, shall dance as he proceeds ; 
 
 His heart, if full of heaviness, become 
 
 Light as the foam-beads on a glass of " Mumm," 
 
 And, like Job's charger, he shall "laugh, ha ! ha ! ,! 
 
 Till shake the rafters with his loud guffaw ; 
 
 For sober thoughts at Humor's touch take flight, 
 
 As bogeys vanish, bothered by the light. 
 
 
 Con o'er each piece — to memory's care commit 
 The mintage bright of mirth-provoking Wit, 
 And when at eve the social group you join, 
 Tell out, with graceful art, the flashing coin. 
 "Young's Night Thoughts " solemn, for old mopes were 
 
 sung, 
 But here are sprightlier Night Thoughts for the Young ! 
 
 If with good emphasis and unction read, 
 Tears, o'er each passage, will be freely shed — 
 Not such as fell in whimpering Werter's lap, 
 But drops of mirth by Laughter set a-tap. 
 
 Hits at odd foibles, puns to make you shout, 
 
 "With each word's meaning twisted inside out ; 
 
 Amusing dialogues, and speeches terse, 
 
 That scarce a sexton gravely could rehearse ; 
 
 Quips that a saint might tickle at his prayers, 
 
 If entertained, like angels, unawares — 
 
 In short, the spoils of many a jolly raid 
 
 Through Jokedom's realm, are here an offering made. 
 
 A group of gems, of lustre rich and rare, 
 
 Grouped in a casket for the world to wear. 
 
 The casket ope — the sparklers in it hid 
 
 Will shame this crude inscription on the lid. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 Friends of the Muse of Comedy 
 
 In merry conclave gathered, 
 To shoot at Care the arrows keen 
 
 By Wit and Satire feathered, 
 This Yolume to each archer true 
 
 Presents a well-filled quiver ; 
 "We've only to select our shafts, 
 
 And at the mark deliver. 
 
 Short, therefore, should the prologue be, 
 
 The pastime that prefaces, 
 For "brevity's the Soul of Wit"— 
 
 Long stories cause long faces. 
 So, as good subjects of King Fun, 
 
 And foes to phizzes solemn, 
 We'll make the words of greeting brief, 
 
 And push along the column. 
 
 Some hearts may " funeral marches beat,'* 
 
 But hang all tunes unjolly ! 
 Hearts that are wise strike up instead, 
 
 "Away with melancholy." 
 Away with melancholy, then, 
 
 Mirth's budget lies before us, 
 And laughter, to its every hit, 
 
 Shall improvise a chorus. 
 
BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES 
 
 AND 
 
 HUMOKOUS EECITATIONS. 
 
 THE YANKEE LANDLOED. 
 
 ATLANTIC MONTHLY. 
 
 "When first I chanced the Eagle to explore, 
 Ezra sat listless by the open door ; 
 One chair careened him at an angle meet, 
 Another nursed his hugely-slippered feet ; 
 Upon a third reposed a shirt-sleeved arm, 
 And the whole man diffused tobacco's charm. 
 ' Are you the landlord ?' * Wahl, I guess I be,' 
 Watching the smoke, he answered leisurely. 
 He was a stoutish man, and through the breast 
 Of his loose shirt there showed a brambiy chest ; 
 Streaked redly as a wind-foreboding morn, 
 His tanned cheeks curved to temples closely shorn ; 
 Clean-shaved he was, save where a hedge of gray 
 Upon his brawny throat leaned every way 
 About an Adam's-apple that beneath 
 Bulged like a bowlder from a furzy heath. 
 1 Can I have lodging here ?' once more I said. 
 He blew a whiff, and, leaning back his head, 
 1 You come a piece through Bailey's woods, I s'pose, 
 
10 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Acrost a bridge where a big swamp-oak grows ? 
 
 It don't grow neither ; it's been dead ten year, 
 
 Nor th' ain't a livin' creetur, far nor near, 
 
 Can tell wut killed it ; but I some misdoubt 
 
 'Twas borers, there's sech heaps on 'em about ; 
 
 You didn't chance to run ag'inst my son, 
 
 A long, slab-sided youngster with a gun ? 
 
 He'd oughto ben back more 'n an hour ago, 
 
 An' brought some birds to dress for supper — Sho ! 
 
 There he comes now. 'Say, Obed, wut ye got ? 
 
 (He'll hev some upland plover like as not.) 
 
 Wal, them's real nice uns an '11 eat A i, 
 
 Ef I can stop their bein' over-done ; 
 
 Nothin' riles me, (I pledge my fastin word,) 
 
 Like cookin' out the natur' of a bird ; 
 
 (Obed, you pick 'em out o' sight an' sound, 
 
 Your ma'am don't love no feathers cluttrin' round ;) 
 
 Jes' scare 'em with the coals ; thet's my idee. ' 
 
 Then, turning suddenly about on me, 
 
 * Wal, Square, I guess so. Calkilate to stay ? 
 
 I'll ask Miss Weeks; 'bout thet it's hern to say.' " 
 
 HIS EYE WAS STEEN AND WILD. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 His eye was stern and wild, — his cheek was pale and cold as clay; 
 
 Upon his tightened lip a smile of fearful meaning lay ; 
 
 He mused awhile — but not in doubt — no trace of doubt was there ; 
 
 It was the steady solemn pause of resolute despair. 
 
 Once more he looked upon the scroll — once more its words he 
 
 read — 
 Then calmly, with unflinching hand, its folds before him spread. 
 I saw him bare his throat, and seize the blue cold-gleaming steel, 
 And grimly try the tempered edge he was so soon to feel ! 
 A sickness crept upon my heart, and dizzy swam my head, — 
 I could not stir — I could not cry — I felt benumb'd and dead ; 
 
THE GODDESS OE SLANG. 11 
 
 Black icy horrors struck me dumb, and froze my senses o'er ; 
 I closed my eyes in utter fear, and strove to think no more. 
 *********** 
 
 Again I looked, — a fearful change across his face had passed — 
 He seem'd to rave , — on cheek and lip a flaky foam was cast ; 
 He raised on high the glittering blade — then first I found a 
 
 tongue — 
 "Hold, madman! stay thy frantic deed!" I cried, and forth I 
 
 sprung ; 
 He heard me, but he heeded not ; one glance around he gave ; 
 And ere I could arrest his hand, he had begun to shave ! 
 
 THE GODDESS OE SLANG. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 I was courting a beautiful girl one night, 
 
 Whom I worshipped as almost divine, 
 And longed to hear breathed the sweet little word 
 
 That told me that she would be mine. 
 I was praising the wealth of her chestnut hair, 
 
 And her eyes of matchless blue, 
 When she laid her dear cheek on my shoulder, and said, 
 
 ' ' Hurrah ! that's bully for you. " 
 
 I started in terror, but managed to keep 
 
 From showing my intense surprise, 
 And pressed my lips lightly on brow and on cheek, 
 
 And then on her meekly closed eyes. 
 I told her my love was as deep as the sea, 
 
 As I felt her heart go pit patter, 
 I would worship her always if she would be mine ; 
 
 And she whispered, " Oh ! that's what's the matter. * 
 
 I told her her cheek would the rose put to shame ; 
 
 Her teeth, the famed Orient pearl ; 
 And the ocean's rich coral could never compare 
 
 With the lips of my beautiful girl ; 
 
12 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 That her voice was like music that comes to the ear 
 In the night-time ; and what was her smile ? 
 
 As that of an angel. And softly she breathed, 
 " On that you can just bet your pile." 
 
 In the hush of the starlight I still whispered on, 
 
 And pressed her more close to my breast ; 
 Talked sweeter than Romeo, dearer than Claude, 
 
 And told her how true love was blest ; 
 Of bliss in a cottage, of flowers and birds, 
 
 (Though I felt times strange out of joint ;) 
 When she looked with a smile, and daintily lisped 
 
 In my ear, " I can't quite see the point." 
 
 I still pressed her closely, I talked still more sweet, 
 
 Called the stars to look down on our love ; 
 Made "love" rhyme to "dove," and "kiss" rhyme to bliss ;" 
 
 And vowed, by the heavens above, 
 I'd be constant and true if she'd only be mine ; 
 
 Pressed her lips, and caressed her brown locks ; 
 When she answered me back, with a rich, saucy laugh, 
 
 " Look 'e here ! a'in't you after the rocks ?" 
 
 DICK, THE APOTHECABY'S APPBENTICE. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Thus far we have run before the wind. An apothecary ! 
 Make an apothecary of me ! What ! cramp my genius 
 over a pestle and mortar ! or mew me up in a shop, with 
 an alligator stuffed, and a beggarly account of empty boxes ! 
 To be culling simples, and constantly adding to the bills of 
 mortality ! No ! no ! it will be much better to be pasted 
 up in capitals — " The part of Romeo by a young gentle- 
 man, who never appeared on any stage before !" My am- 
 bition fires at the thought. But hold ! Mayn't I run some 
 
COUBTING IN FRENCH HOLLOW. 13 
 
 chance of failing in my attempt ? Hissed — pelted — laughed 
 at — not admitted into the green-room ! That will never 
 do. Down, busy Fancy — down, down ! Try it again — « 
 loved by the women — envied by the men — applauded by 
 the pit — clapped by the galleries — admired by the boxes I 
 " Dear Colonel, isn't he a charming creature ?" " My lord, 
 don't you like him of all things ? Makes love like an angel ! 
 What an eye he has ! Fine legs ! I shall certainly go to 
 his benefit." Celestial sounds ! And then I'll get in with 
 all the painters, and have myself put up in every print 
 shop. In the character of Macbeth — "This is a sorry 
 sight !" [Stands in an attitude.) In the character of 
 pichard — ( ' Give me another horse ! Bind up my wounds I" 
 This will do rarely. And then I have a chance of getting 
 well married. Oh, glorious thought ! I will enjoy it, 
 though but in fancy. But what's o'clock ? It must be al- 
 most nine. I'll away at once. This is club night — the 
 spouters are all met. Little think they I'm in town — they'll 
 be surprised to see me. OfT I go ; and then for my mar- 
 riage with my master Gargle's daughter ! 
 
 Limbs, do your office, and support me well ; 
 Bear me to her, then fail me if you can. 
 
 COUKTING IN FBENCH HOLLOW. 
 
 EOBB. 
 
 " That gal of old Fecho's wur about the pootyest creatur, 
 fur a foreigner, I ever took a shute arter ; her eyes jest 
 floated about in her head like a star's shadow on a Massis- 
 sippi wave, and her model was as trim as the steamer 
 Eagle; 'sides, her paddles wur the cleanest shaped fixins 
 that ever propelled anythin' human, and her laugh rung 
 like a challenge bell on a ' fast trip ' — it couldn't be beat. 
 She run into my aftecshuns, and I couldn't help it. I 
 
14 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 danced with her at some on the balls in Frenchtown, and 
 thar I gin to edge up and talk tender at her, but she ony 
 laughed at my sweet'nin'. Arter a spell, when I cum it 
 strong about affecshun, and the needcessity of towin' side 
 and side together, she told me that her old daddy wouldn't 
 let her marry an American ! Ef I warn't snagged at this, 
 I wouldn't say so. The old fellar wur a sittin' on a bench 
 smokin' and lookin' on at the dance, and I jest wished him 
 a hot berth for a short spell. ' Well, Marie/ said I, ' ef I 
 melt the old man down will you gin in ?' 
 
 " ' Oh,' says she, 'you so vair strong at de vat you call 
 coax, I shall not know how to say von leetel no. ' 
 
 " So havin' fixed it all with her smooth as a full freight 
 and a June rise, I drew up alongside of the old fellar, jest 
 as he had cleared his chimley for a fresh draw of his pipe. 
 Old Fecho had been a mountain trader, was strong tim- 
 bered, not much the worse fur wear, and looked wicked as 
 a tree'd bear. I fired up and generated an inch or two 
 more steam, and then blew off at him. ' That's an oncon- 
 scionable slick gal of your'n, Mounseer,' says I, to begin 
 with, and it did tickle his fancy to have her cracked up, 
 'cause he thought her creation's nnishin' touch, — so did I ! 
 'Oui, sair,' says old Fecho, 'she vair fine leetel gal, von 
 angel wizout de ving, she is, sair, mine only von fille. ' 
 
 " 'Well, she is a scrouger,' answered I, 'a parfect high 
 pressure, and no dispute !' 
 
 " ' Vat you mean by him, eh ? vat you call s-c-r-r-r-ouge, 
 eh ? vat is he, sair, my leetel gal no vat you call von s-c-r- 
 r-r-ouge, sair !' and here old Fecho went off into a mad fit, 
 jest as if I'd called her bad names. I tried to put down 
 his 'safety valve,' but he would blow off his wrath, and 
 workin' himself into a parfect freshet of rage, he swore he 
 would take the little gal off home ; and I'm blessed ef lie 
 didn't. As soon as I eyed the old fellar startin' I got in 
 his wake and follered him, detarmined to find out whar lie 
 located, and arter an eternal long windin' through one 
 
COUETING IN FRENCH HOLLOW. 15 
 
 street arter another, down he dived into French Hollow. 
 Jest as he war about to enter a house built agin the side of 
 the hill, the old fellar heered my footsteps, and turnin' 
 round in the darkness, he shouted — 
 
 " 'Ah, ha ! von sneak Yankee doodel, vat call my leetel 
 gall von s-c-r-r-r-ouger, I shall cut you all up into von leetel 
 piece, vidout von whole. ' 
 
 " You know, boys, I aint easy skeer'd, but I own up that 
 old fellar did kind a make me skeery; they told sich 
 stories about the way he used to skin Ingins, that I gin to 
 think it was about best to let liim have both sides of the 
 channel ef he wanted it, so I didn't darr go to see Marie 
 fur a long spell. One day I felt a strong hankerin', and 
 jest strolled along the holler to git a glimpse on her, and 
 sure enough thar she wur, a leanin' out the winder, smilin' 
 like the mornin' sun on a sleepin' bayou. I sidled up to 
 the house, and asked her ef I darr cum and sit up with her 
 that evenin'. I told her I was jest fritterin' away all to 
 nothin' thinkin' on her, and a small mite of courtin' would 
 spur me up amazin', and then I gin her sich a look, that 
 she fluttered into consent as easy as a mockin' bird 
 whistles. 
 
 " ' Oh, out, you shall come sometime dis night, when 
 mon pere is gone to de cabaret ; but you must be vair quiet 
 as von leetel rat, vat dey call de mouse, and go vay before 
 he come back to de maison. 
 
 " In course I promised to do jest as she said. I kissed 
 my hand to her, and said aur ravoir, as the French say for 
 good-by, and then paddled off to wait for night. I felt 
 wuss than oneasy until the time arriv, and when it did git 
 round I gin to crawl all over — I swar I was a leetel skeered. 
 Hows'ever, it warn't manly to back out now when the gal 
 was expectin' me, so I started for the Hollow. I think a 
 darker night was never mixed up and spread over this 
 yearth — you remember, Bill, the night you steered the old 
 Eagle square into the bank at Milliken's bend ? well, it wur 
 
16 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 jest a mite darker than that ! A muddy run winds through 
 along the ravine whar the house stands, and I wur particular- 
 ly near floppin' into it several times. A piece of candle in 
 the winder lighted me to whar the little gal was a-waitin', and 
 when I tapped at the door below, she pattered down 
 and piloted me up to the sittin' room, whar we sot down 
 and took a good look at each other. She looked pooty 
 enough to tempt a fellar to bite a piece out on her. I had 
 all sorts of good things made up to say when a chance of- 
 fered, and here the chance wur, but cuss me ef I could get 
 out the fust mutter. Whether it wur skeer at the idee of 
 the old Frenchman, or a bilin' up of affecshun fur his dar- 
 ter that stuck my throat so tight, I'm unable to swar, 
 but thar I wur, like a boat fast on a sand-bar, blowin' some, 
 but makin' mity little headway. 
 
 "'Vat is de mattair wiz you, Mounseer ?' said Marie, 
 6 you look vair much like de leaf in von grand storm, all 
 ovair wiz de shake !' 
 
 " ' Well,' said I, ' I do feel as ef I wur about to collapse a 
 flue, or bust my biler, for the fact of the marter is, Marie, 
 they say your old daddy's a tiger, and ef I git caught here 
 thar'll be suthin' broke — a buryirj' instead of a weddin' ; — 
 not that I'm the least mite skeered fur myself, but the old 
 man might git hurt, and I should be fretted to do any sech 
 a thing. 
 
 u ' Oh, mon ami, nevair be fear fur him, he is von, 
 great, strong as vat you call de gentleman cow? — von bull, 
 — but, mon Dieu ! what shall I do wiz you, suppose he 
 come, eh ? He vill cut you into bits all ovair !' 
 
 " 'Bat, my angel,' ses I, 'he shant ketch me, fur I'll 
 streak it like a fast boat, the moment I hear steam from his 
 scape- pipe — the old man might as well try to catch a Mas- 
 ippi catty with a thread line, as to git his fingers on me'. 
 I had no sooner said so, than hang J went the door below, 
 and old Fccho, juicy as a melon, came f eelin' his way up stairs, 
 miifcterin' like a small jnece of fat thunder, and swarm' in 
 
COURTING IN FRENCH HOLLOW. 17 
 
 French, orfully. I know'd tliar warn't much time to spare, 
 so I histed the winder and backed out. Jest as I was about to 
 drop, Marie says to me — ' Oh, mon Dieu ! don't drop into 
 de vellf and instanter shut the winder. My liar riz on eend 
 in a moment — r 6 dorCt drop into the wellP I'll tell you what, 
 boys, a souse into the Massissippi in ice time warn't half as 
 cold as her last warnin' made me. It was so etarnal dark 
 that I couldn't begin to tell which side of the buildin' I 
 wur on, and that wur an all important perticuler, fur it wur 
 jest three stories high on one side, towards the Hollow, 
 and it warn't only one on the side next the hill — in course, 
 all the chances wur in favor of the well bein' on the low side. 
 I'd gin all I had then to know which side was waitin' below 
 fur me. I looked up, as I hung on, to see ef thar warn't a 
 star shinin' somewhare, jest to give a hint of what was be- 
 low, but they'd all put on thar nightcaps, and wouldn't be 
 coaxed from under the kiver ; then I'd look below, and lis- 
 ten, until I made sartin in my mind that I could hear the 
 droppin' of water, somewhare about fifty feet below me ! 
 Old Fecho was a tearin' through the room, and a rippin' 
 out French oaths, in an uncommon rapid manner, and de- 
 clarin' that he knew some one had bin thar, fur he'd bin 
 told so. Two or three times he appeared to be a rushin' for 
 the winder, and the little gal would coax him back agin, 
 and then he'd talk the hardest kind of de Yankee doodels, 
 and grit his teeth most owdaciously. Well, ef I warn't in 
 an oneasy situation all this time, then I'm more than hu- 
 man — my arms jest stretched out to about a yard and a half 
 in length, and gin to cramp and git orful weak. I couldn't 
 fur the life of me think on cny prayer I'd ever heerd — I sot 
 my teeth together, drew a long breath, shut my eyes, and 
 let go ! — whiz I — r-r-r-ip ! — bang ! I went — as I supposed — 
 about fifty feet ; and didn't I holler, when I lit and rolled 
 over, and the water soused all round me ! ' Murder ! oh, 
 git me out, oh-o-o-o, murder I The people came a-rushin' 
 out of their houses, with lights, and sich another jargon of 
 
18 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 questions as they showered at me — askin', all together, 
 who'd bin a stabbin' me ? what wur the marter ? and who'd 
 hit me ? I opened my eyes to tell 'em I'd fell from the 
 third story, and broke every bone in my body, when, on 
 lookin' up, thar wur the old Frenchman and his darter, 
 grinnin' out of the top winder, about ten feet above me ! 
 The fact wur, boys, I'd dropped out on the hill side of the 
 house, and jumped down jest four feet from whar my toes 
 reached, — I had lit on the edge of a water pail, and it flowed 
 about me when I fell over ! Arter old Fecho told them the 
 joke, they pretty nigh busted a larfln' at me, and from that 
 day to this I han't gone a courtin' in French Hollow !" 
 
 THE CASE ALTERED. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Hodge held a farm, and smiled content 
 While one year paid another's rent ; 
 But, if he ran the least behind, 
 Vexation stung his anxious mind ; 
 For not an hour would landlord stay. 
 But seize the very quarter-day. 
 How cheap soe'er or scant the grain, 
 Though urged with truth, was urged in vain. 
 The same to him, if false or true ; 
 For rent must come when rent was due. 
 Yet that same landlord's cows and steeds 
 Broke Hodge's fence, and cropped his meads. 
 In hunting, that same landlord's hounds — 
 See ! how they spread his new-sown grounds 
 Dog, horse, and man, alike o'erjoyed, 
 "While half the rising crop's destroyed ; 
 Yet tamely was the loss snstain'd. 
 'Tis said the sufferer once complain'd : 
 The Squire laugh'd loudly while he spoke, 
 And paid the bumpkin --with a joke* 
 
THE CASE ALTERED. l9 
 
 But luckless still poor Hodge's fate ; 
 
 His worship's bull had forced a gate, 
 
 And gored his cow, the last and best ; 
 
 By sickness he had lost the rest. 
 
 Hodge felt at heart resentment strong — 
 
 The heart will feel that suffers long. 
 
 A thought that instant took his head 
 
 And thus within himself he said : 
 
 " If Hodge, for once, don't sting the Squire. 
 
 May people post him for a liar !" 
 
 He said — across his shoulder throws 
 
 His fork, and to his landlord goes. 
 
 "I come, an't please you, to unfold 
 
 What, soon or late you must be told. 
 
 My bull — a creature tame till now — 
 
 My bull has gored your worship's cow. 
 
 'Tis known what shifts I make to live : 
 
 Perhaps your honor may forgive." 
 
 " Forgive !" the Squire replied, and swore : 
 
 * ' Pray cant to me, forgive, no more ; 
 
 The law my damage shaH decide ; 
 
 And know that I'll be satisfied" 
 
 1 « Think, sir, I'm poor — poor as a rat !" 
 
 "Think I'm a Justice, think of that!" 
 
 Hodge bow'd again, and scratch'd his head ; 
 
 And, recollecting, archly said, 
 
 " Sir, I'm so struck when here before ye, 
 
 I fear I've blunder'd in the story. 
 
 'Pore George ! but I'll not blunder now : 
 
 Yours was the bull, sir ; mine, the cow !" 
 
 His worship found his rage subside, 
 And with calm accents thus replied : 
 "I'll think upon your case to-night ; 
 But I perceive 'tis altered quite !" 
 Hodge shrugg'd, and made another bow : 
 " An please ye, where's the justice now?" 
 
20 BOOK OP COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 THE FOX AND THE EANGEE. 
 
 LOVEB. 
 
 Charters. 
 
 De Welskin — A French Smuggler. 
 Roet — An Irishman, his Prisoner. 
 
 De Welskin. Ha! ha! you fonnee feylow! by gar you are 
 de von great rog, Monsieur Bory. 
 
 Boey. Do you think so, Munseer ? 
 
 De Welskin. Ah, ah ! von great rog, rascal, by gar. 
 
 Boey. Well, then, there's a pair of us, Divilskin, and if 
 you're ever hanged for being an honest man, it'll be a mur- 
 dher. 
 
 De Welskin. Tank you, Bory, tank you, my boy ; [Shakes 
 hands.] but, by gar, you are de big rog. So cunning you 
 are, ma foi, you are so cunning as dat litel animal vot runs 
 about ; vot you call 'im ? 
 
 Boey. Magpies, is it ? 
 
 De Welskin. No, no, no ! 
 
 Boey. Magpies is the cunningest bastes in the world. 
 
 De Welskin. No, no, no, not dat ! Bah ! vot you call 
 de littel ting vot runs about vid a broshe. 
 
 Boey. Sweeps, is it ? 
 
 De Welskin. I say dat animal vot de gentlemen runs af- 
 tere. 
 
 Boey. That's an heiress. 
 
 De Walsikin. No, no, no ! — dat animal vot ve call le rey- 
 nard. 
 
 Boey. Oh ! sly reynard, the fox, you mane. 
 
 De Welskin. De faux — de faux — dat is him ; you be cun- 
 ning as von faux, Mistair Bory. 
 
 Boey. Oh, the fox is a cunnin' baste, in fchroth ; an' will 
 you tell me, Munseer, have yiz got foxes in France ? 
 
THE FOX AND THE RANGER. 21 
 
 De Welskin. Oh, yais, sairtanlee ; faux very moshe. 
 
 Roey. I'll howld you a quart o' portlier, that they're not 
 to compare with the Irish foxes in the regard o' cunnin'. 
 
 De Welskin. Yer moshe cunning, French faux. 
 
 Roey. Why, an Irish fox would sthrip a French fox of 
 his skin, and sell it before his face, and th' other not know 
 it. 
 
 De Welsexn". Bah ! bah ! bah ! 
 
 Roey. Tut, man, you don't know what devils them Irish 
 foxes is. Did you ever hear of the fox of Ballybothrum ? 
 
 De Welskjn. Ballabot — bosh — vaut you call him ? 
 
 Roet. Ballybothrum ; oh ! that was the fox in airnest ! 
 devil such a fox ever was before or sense, as that same fox ; 
 and the thing I'm going to tell you happened to a relation 
 of my own, one Mickee Rooney, that was a ranger in the 
 sarvice of the Lord knows who. 
 
 De WEiiSKix. Lord Whaat ? 
 
 Roey. Lord knows who ; a great lord in them parts. But 
 as I was tellin' you, Munseer, the ranger lived in a small 
 taste of a cabin, beside the wood, all alone by himself, bar- 
 rin' the dogs that was his companions. 
 
 De WeijSkjn. De daugs ? 
 
 Roey. Yes ; himself and the dogs was the only Chris- 
 tians in the place, and one night, when he kem home, wet 
 and wairy wid the day's sport, he sot down beside the fire, 
 just as we're sittin' here, and begun smoking his pipe to 
 warm himself, and when he tuk an air o' the fire, he thought 
 he'd go to bed — not to sleep, you persaive, but to rest him- 
 self like ; so he took off his clothes, and hung them to 
 dhry forninst the fire, and then he went to bed, and an illi- 
 gant bed it was ; the finest shafe o' sthraw you ever seen, 
 lyin' over in the corner, as it might be there, and as he was 
 lyin' in bed, thinking o ? nothin' at all, and divartin' him- 
 self with lookin' at the smoke curlin' up out o' the fire, what 
 should he see but the door open, and a fox march into the 
 place, just as bowld as if the house was his own; an' he 
 
22 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 went oyer and sot down on his hunkers forninst the fire, 
 and begun to warm his hands like a Christian ; it's truth 
 I'm tellin' you. 
 
 Db Welskin. Staup, sair — staup ! vere vas de daugs all dis 
 time ? 
 
 Koey. The dogs ; oh, the dogs it is ? Oh, I didn't tell 
 you that ! Oh, sure the dogs was runnin' about the wood at 
 the time, ketchin' rabbits— for the fox was listenin', you see, 
 outside the door, and heer'd the ranger tell the dogs to go 
 and ketch him a brace o' rabbits for his supper — for I go 
 bail if the fox didn't know the dogs was out o' the place, 
 the divil a toe he' pat inside the ranger's house ; and that 
 shows you the cunnin' o' the baste. Well, as he was sittin at 
 the fire, what do you think, but he tuk the ranger's pipe off 
 the hob, an' lights it in the fire, and begins to smoke, as 
 nath'ral as any other man you ever seen. 
 
 De Weeskxn. Smoke ! de faux smoke ? 
 
 Roey. Oh, yes ! all the Irish foxes smoke when they can get 
 'bakky ; and they are mighty fond o' short cut when the 
 dogs is afther them ! Well, Munseer, the ranger could 
 hardly keep his timper at all, when he seen the baste smok- 
 in' his pipe, and with that, says he, it's fire and smoke of 
 another kind I'll give you, my buck, says he, takin' up 
 his gun to shoot him ; but the fox had put the gun into a 
 pail o' wather, and, of coorse, the divil a fire the gun would 
 fire for the ranger. 
 
 De Welskin. Ha, ha, ha ! sacre ! 
 
 Roky. And the fox put his finger on his nose, just that-a- 
 way, and laughed at him. Wow ! wow ! says the fox, put- 
 tin' out his hand, and takin' up the newspaper to read. 
 
 De Welskin. Sacre ! de newspaper ? no, no, my boy. 
 
 Roey. Why, man alive, how would the fox know where 
 the hounds was to meet, next'mornin' if he didn't read the 
 paper ? — sure that shows you the cunnin' o' the baste ! Well, 
 with that, the ranger puts his fingers to his mouth, and 
 gives a blast of a fwistle you'd hear a mile off, for to call 
 
THE FOX AND THE RANGER. 23 
 
 the dogs. Oli ! is it for fwistlin' you are, says the fox, then 
 it is time for nie to leave the place, says he, for 'twould 
 not be good for my health to be here when the dogs come 
 back. So he lays down the pipe in the hob ; but before 
 he did, I must tell you, he wiped it with the end of his 
 tail— for he was a dacent baste, and used his tail as natk- 
 'ral as a Christian would use the sleeve of his coat for a 
 cowld in his nose — and then he was goin' to start ; but the 
 ranger, seein' him goin' to escape, jumps out o' the bed, 
 and gets betune him and the door, and divil a start you'll 
 start, says he, till the dogs comes back, you red rascal, and 
 I'll have your head in my fist before long, says he, and 
 that's worth a pound to me. I'll howld you a quart of por- 
 ther, says the fox, I'll make you lave that. Divil a lave, 
 says the ranger. "Wow, wow ! says the fox, I'm a match 
 for you yet ; and what do you think, but he whips the ran- 
 ger's breeches off the back o' the chair, and throws them 
 into the fire, and he knew the divil another pair the ranger 
 had to his back. 
 
 De Welskin. Ha, ha, ha, by gar i 
 
 Bokt. That'll make you start, says the fox. Divil a start, 
 says the ranger ; my breeches is worth half-a-crown, and 
 your head's worth a pound, so I'll make seventeen and six- 
 pence by the exchange. Well, you are the stupidest vag- 
 abone I ever met, says the fox, and I'll make you sensible 
 at last, that you must let me go. for I'll burn you out o' 
 house and home, and with that, what do you think the fox 
 done ? By all that's good — and the ranger himself told me 
 out iv his own mouth, and said he wud niver have b'lieved 
 it, ownly he seen it — the fox tuk a lighted piece iv a log 
 out o' the blazin' fire, and run over wid it to the ranger's 
 bed, and was going to throw it into the sthraw, and burn 
 
 I him out of house and home ; so when the ranger seen that, 
 he gev a shout out iv him — Hillo ! hillo ! you murtherin 
 
 i villain, says he, you're worse nor Captain Rock ; is it going 
 to burn me out, you are, you red rogue iv a Ribboninan, 
 
24 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 and he made a dart betune liim and the bed, to save the 
 house from bein' burnt — but, my jewel, that was all the 
 fox wanted — and as soon as the ranger quitted the hole in 
 the door, that he was standing f oreninst, the fox let go the 
 blazin' faggit, and made one jump through the door and 
 escaped. But before he wint, the ranger gev me his oath, 
 that the fox turned round and gev him the most contempt- 
 ible look he ever got in his life, and shewed ivery tooth 
 in his head with laughin', and at last he put out his 
 tongue at him, as much as to say, You've missed me, like 
 your mammy's blessin', and off wid him, like a flash of 
 lightning. [Escapes by running across the stage.] 
 
 Db "Welskin. [Astonished.] Ah ! Eory, you vun funnee 
 Ireesh faux. [Follows Eory.] 
 
 THE DECLARATION. 
 
 WILLIS. 
 
 'Twas late, and the gay company was gone, 
 And light lay soft on the deserted room 
 From alabaster vases, and a scent 
 Of orange-leaves, and sweet verbena came 
 Through the unshutter'd window on the air. 
 
 And the rich pictures with their dark old tints, 
 Hung like a twilight landscape, and all things 
 Seenrd hush'd into a slumber. Isabel, 
 The dark-eyed, spiritual Isabel 
 Was leaning on her harp, and I had staid 
 To whisper what I could not when the crowd 
 Hung on her look like worshippers. I knelt. 
 And with the fervor of a lip unused 
 To the cold breath of reason, told my love. 
 There was no answer, and I took the hand 
 That rested on the strings, and press'd a kiss 
 Upon it unforbidden— and again 
 
THE WARRANTEE DEED. 25 
 
 Besought her, that this silent evidence 
 That I was not indifferent to her heart, 
 Might have the seal of one sweet syllable. 
 I kissed the small white fingers as I spoke, 
 And she withdrew them gently, and upraised 
 Her forehead from its resting-place, and look'd 
 Earnestly on me — She had been asleep ! 
 
 THE WARRANTEE DEED. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Ant — " VilWeins and Ms Dinah." 
 
 A lawyer there was, whom I'll call Mr. Clay, 
 He had but few clients, and those didn't pay ; 
 At length, of starvation he grew so afraid, 
 That he courted and married a wealthy old maid. 
 
 Chorus. — Ei tu ral li, tu ral li, tu ral li, day. 
 
 At the wedding this lawyer made one great mistake ; 
 'Twas not in omitting the cards or the cake ; 
 The ring was well chosen, the parson well feed 
 But the groom did not ask for a warrantee deed. 
 
 Chorus, bewailing this sad mistake. — Bi tu, etc. 
 
 One night, in their chamber, the lady arose, 
 
 And began to prepare to retire to repose : 
 
 While her husband sat near her, admiring the charms 
 
 Which it gave him such pleasure to clasp in his arms. 
 
 Enraptured Chorus, appropriate to the feelings of the 
 joyous bridegroom. — Ki tu, etc. 
 
 She went to the wash-stand to bathe her fair face, 
 But the process destroyed all its beauty and grace ; 
 The rose on her cheek, whether ruddy or faint, 
 When displayed on the towel was nothing but paint ! 
 
 Amazed Chorus, on witnessing the materials of the 
 
 lady's countenance displayed upon the towel. — Bi 
 
 tu, etc. 
 
26 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 She went to the mirror, to take down her hair, 
 But when she had done so, her cranium was bare ! 
 Said she, " Don't be frightened to see my poor head, 
 I shall put on my cap when I get into bed." 
 
 Chorus : to be sung as smooth as the lady's head. — 
 Ri tu, etc. 
 
 Her husband next saw, with amazement and grief, 
 A curious performance of hers with her teeth ; 
 She took them all out with her fingers and thumbs, 
 Said she, ' ' I'm accustomed to sleep in my gums. " 
 
 Toothless Chorus : to be sung by Dr. Cotton's laughing- 
 gas patients. — Ritu, etc. 
 
 Then she loosened the robes which enveloped her waist, 
 And took something out which within them was placed ; 
 Said she, ' ' When I'm dead, let it not be forgotten, 
 You can make a small fortune, my love, on this cotton." 
 
 Chorus : exhibiting the sudden change in the feelings 
 
 of the widower, produced by receiving the price oj 
 
 the cotton.- — Ri tu, etc. 
 
 The groom had been sitting in stupid surprise 
 To see such strange doings before his own eyes ; 
 But now he leaped up, and rushed out at the door, 
 And poor Mrs. Clay never saw him no more ! 
 
 Slam bang Chorus : showing how the departing hus* 
 band shut the door after him. — Hi tu, etc. 
 
 Young man, when you go to agree for a wife, 
 'Tis the gravest agreement you'll make in your life ; 
 Don't trust to good looks — of my counsel take heed ; 
 But be sure and insist on a warrantee deed. 
 
 Grand final Chorus, by twenty four resolute young 
 
 men, each determined to exact a warrantee deed. — 
 
 Ri tu, etc. 
 
a night's adventure. 27 
 
 A NIGHT'S ADVENTUEE. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 It was a fearful night ; pale lightning quivered at inter- 
 vals through the clouds, and the wind rose through the 
 neighboring wood in strange fitful blasts, which were fol- 
 lowed only by a mysterious stillness augmenting the terrors 
 of the hour. I knew not how I got there ; enough — I 
 found myself in a dark gloomy dungeon, a torch burning 
 at the farther end was the only thing visible. In the cen- 
 tre of this scene of desolation, methought I saw a young 
 female of exquisite beauty, whose luxurious hair hung in 
 natural ringlets over a graceful and well moulded shoulder. 
 Her form, too, was such as a statuary might have chosen 
 for a model. In her hand was a wand, with which she 
 beckoned me ; I had scarcely advanced a few steps, when 
 an icy coldness seized me, and by the livid effulgence of the 
 torch, I beheld skulls scattered over the floor, and heads, 
 savered from their bodies, laughing with grim insensibility. 
 Claps of distant thunder now^hook the building, but my 
 own beating heart soon overpowered every other sound. 
 A thrill of horror seized me, all the frightful recollections 
 of my youth flashed across my brain, and I fell senseless 
 on the ground. 
 
 *** ****** 
 
 When my senses returned, the morn had burst forth in 
 all its splendor of fullness, and the chequered rays of the 
 sun penetrated through a small aperture into this dismal 
 abyss. The same loathsome objects were around me, look- 
 ing more hideous than before ; in the place of the lovely 
 and beauteous creature, was an old withered hag, whose 
 hollow cheeks and bloodshot eyes presented an appearance 
 truly horrible. She held a dagger which she brandished 
 with a ghastly smile. Her black brows were knitted to- 
 gether, and anger darted from her eyes as she pro- 
 nounced, like the croaking of the raven, " Child of guilt 
 
28 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 thy hour is come." By a supernatural effort, I sprang 
 upon my legs, and seized a skull as a weapon of defence, 
 But her bony hand had already encircled my throat ; I felt 
 a choking thirst come over me ! I was paralyzed with fear ; 
 a preternatural giddiness took possession of my head, large 
 drops of perspiration rolled down my forehead ; I uttered 
 a shrill and piercing cry, the noise of which startled me. 
 I awoke, and found I was grasping — the bed-post 
 
 JULIA. 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 Julia was blest with beauty, wit and grace : 
 
 Small poets loved to sing her blooming face, 
 
 Before her altars, lo ! a numerous train 
 
 Preferr'd their vows ; yet all preferr'd in vain : 
 
 Till charming Elorio, borne to conquer, came, 
 
 And touch' d the fair one with an equal flame. 
 
 The flame she felt, and ill could she conceal 
 
 "What every look and action would reveal. 
 
 With boldness then, which seldom fails to move, 
 
 He pleads the cause of marriage and of love ; 
 
 The course of hymeneal joys he rounds, 
 
 The fair one's eyes dance pleasure at the sounds. 
 
 Naught now remain'd but "Noes" — how little meant — 
 
 And the sweet coyness that endears consent. 
 
 The youth upon his knees enraptured fell : — 
 
 The strange misfortune, oh ! what words can tell i 
 
 Tell ! ye neglected sylphs ! who lap-dogs guard, 
 
 Why snatch' d ye not away your precious ward ? 
 
 Why suffer' d ye the lover's weight to fall 
 
 On the ill-fated neck of much-loved Ball ? 
 
 The favorite on his mistress casts his eyes, 
 
 Gives a melancholy howl, and — dies ! 
 
 Sacred his ashes lie, and long his rest ! 
 
 Anger and grief divide poor Julia's breast 
 
 Her eyes she fix'd on guilty Florio first, 
 
SAYING NOT MEANING. 29 
 
 On him the storm of angry grief must burst. 
 That storm he fled : — he woos a kinder fair, 
 Whose fond affections no dear puppies share. 
 'Twere vain to tell how Julia pined away ; — 
 Unhappy fair, that in one luckless day 
 (From future almanacs the day be cross'd !) 
 At once her lover and her lap-dog lost ! 
 
 SATING NOT MEANING. 
 
 WAKE. 
 
 Two gentlemen their appetite had fed, 
 
 When, opening his toothpick-case, one said, 
 
 " It was not until lately that I knew 
 
 That anchovies on terra firma grew. 
 
 "Grow !" cried the other, "yes they grow, indeed, 
 
 Like other fish, but not upon the land ; 
 You might as well say grapes grow on a reed, 
 
 Or in the Strand !" 
 
 * * Why, sir, " returned the irritated other, 
 ' ' My brother, 
 When at Calcutta 
 Beheld them bona fide growing ; 
 
 He would n't utter 
 A lie for love or money, sir ; so in 
 
 This matter you are thoroughly mistaken. " 
 "Nonsense, sir ! nonsense ! I can give no credit 
 To the assertion — none e'er saw or read it ; 
 
 Your brother, like his evidence, should be shaken. * 
 
 * * Be shaken, sir ! let me observe you are 
 
 Perverse — in short — " 
 "Sir," said the other, sucking his cigar, 
 
 And then his port — 
 ' ' If you will say impossibles are true, 
 
 You may affirm just any thing you please — 
 That swans are quadrupeds, and lions blue, 
 
30 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 And elephants inhabit Stilton cheese ! 
 Only you must not force me to believe 
 What's propagated merely to deceive. " 
 
 "Then you force me to say, sir, you are a fool," 
 
 Eeturn'd the bragger. 
 
 Language like this no man can suffer cool : 
 
 It made the listener stagger ; 
 So, thunder-stricken, he at once replied, 
 " The traveller lied, 
 Who had the impudence to tell it you ;" 
 " Zounds ! then d'ye mean to swear before my face 
 That anchovies don't grow like cloves and mace ?" 
 
 "i dor 
 
 Disputants often after hot debates 
 Leave the contention as they found it — bone, 
 
 And take to duelling or thumping tetes ; 
 Thinking by strength of artery to atone 
 
 Tor strength of argument ; and he who winces 
 
 Erom force of words, with force of arms convinces ! 
 
 With pistols, powder, bullets, surgeons, lint, 
 
 Seconds, and smelling bottles, and foreboding, 
 
 Our friends advanced ; and now portentous loading. 
 (Their hearts already loaded) serv'd to show 
 It might be better they shook hands — but no ; 
 
 When each opines himself, though frighten'd, right. 
 
 Each is, in courtesy, oblig'd to fight ! 
 And they did fight : from six full measured paces 
 
 The unbeliever pulled his trigger first ; 
 And fearing, from, the braggart's ugly faces, 
 
 The whizzing lead had whizz'd its very worst, 
 Ban up, and with a duellisiic fear 
 
 (His ire evanishing like morning vapors, ) 
 Eound him possess'd of one remaining ear, 
 
 Who in a manner sudden and uncouth, 
 
 Had given, not lent, the other ear to truth ; 
 For while the surgeon was applying lint, 
 He, wriggling, cried — "The deuce is in t — 
 
 " Sir ! I meant — cafees !" 
 
16,000 YEAES AGO. 31 
 
 16,000 YEAES AGO. 
 
 A NEGRO BURLESQUE. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 €\mt\m. 
 
 Me. Dismay — of Dreadful Swamp, an antique traveller. 
 
 Joe Beown — a youthful villager. 
 
 Mudge — (most foul in the piece) wiih a fowling piece. 
 
 Scene and Pbopeeties. — A wood or garden. Trees for icings. 
 Entrances left and right open. Large purse, pocket-book, carpet-bag 
 for Dismal. A long-barrelled gun for Mudge. 
 
 As curtain rises, J or crosses slowly to upper end. Enter, Mudge, 
 with gun, he calls 
 
 Hay ! hi ! tliere ! (Joe looks over his shoulders but is about to 
 exit. — Mudge lifts his gun. Joe stops short front.) 
 
 Mudge. Boy ! come y'ere, boy ! (Joe faces round and 
 comes to centre.) 
 
 Mudge. Why didn't you come when I called ? I been 
 follerin' you for de las' haff hour and you on'y now big- 
 gun to apprehend. 
 
 Joe. What does you want wid me ? 
 
 Mudge. I want to question yer about dat stranger what's 
 stoppin' at de willage hotel. What does yer know about 
 him? 
 
 Joe. Is you de head-eater on some noospaper ? 
 
 Mudge. No ! dis is for my private information. 
 
 Joe. I don't know nuffin' about him. Nobody knows. 
 
 Mudge. Has he got much ob a trabelling furniture ? 
 
 Joe. Oh, a pooty good deal. He drinks port wine san- 
 garee when he's angery ! he mus' be an extinguished char- 
 acter. 
 
 Mudge (slaps lock of gun.) He will be an extinguished 
 character ! 
 
32 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Joe (jumps.) Don't do dat — it might go oif. 
 
 Mudge. What's his name ? 
 
 Joe. It's painted on his walise — you know President 
 Johnsum ? 
 
 Mudge. Yaas. 
 
 Joe. "Well, it — ain't him ! (Mudge, enraged, trips up Joe, 
 who falls, and goes off left) 
 
 Joe {sitting up.) Dis is de t'anks a feller gits for bein' 
 civil ! (Hses. ) I would like to know what dis ole chap is 
 doin' round heyah. Can't be de Wandering Jew, 'cause 
 I saw him dewour a ham sandwich. Oh ! here he comes ! 
 {runs about stage and hides left front.) 
 
 Voice of Dismal singing dolefully — 
 
 " In dem days when I was hard up, 
 In want ob food an' fire, 
 I used to tie my shoes up 
 "Wid little bits ob wire!" 
 
 Joe {aside. ) Dat's a werry cheerful sort of a ditty. 
 
 Dismal enters, right upper end, shuffling to centre strikes disconso- 
 late attitude. 
 
 'Tis sixteen thousand years since I leff de home ob my fore- 
 faders 
 
 Joe (aside.) Here's a man wid four faders ! 
 
 Dismal. Welcome, my native place, so long unseen by 
 my ear-sight ! 
 
 Joe {aside. ) So long ! Sixteen thousand ! It mus' be ole 
 Mathooselum ! 
 
 Dismal. Dese am de same green hills on which I gam- 
 bolled ! 
 
 Joe (aside.) Oh he's a gam-be-lier ! 
 
 Dismal (sleeve to eyes.) De child-mates ob myplayhood— 
 whar am dey ? 
 
 Joe (aside.) Is he axing me, I wonder! 
 
 Dismal. All — all — my all has gone ! 
 
 
16,000 YEARS AGO. 33 
 
 Job (aside. ) Poor feller ! he's a cobbler what's lost his 
 tools. 
 
 Dismal. " Dey have gone from my gaze like a beautiful 
 dream !" (shivers.) 
 Job (aside. ) He shakes like a tremor ! 
 Dismal. Ah! (paviour's sigh,) Dat won't do — it ain't 
 haff loogluebrious enuff. (louder and more dreadful sigh. ) 
 Ah ! 
 
 Joe (aside, shuddering. ) "Wouldn't like to be shut up in 
 room wid him all night. 
 
 Dismal (waves his bag and rug.) Dough rugged my 
 manners, wealth gives me a newer lease (new valise) ob 
 life — I have riches beyond count. 
 
 Joe (aside, interested.) Dar's somenn' pleasant about de 
 ole man arter all ! 
 
 Dismal (takes purse from bag and pocket-book from coat 
 pocket.) Alas! No one to share my joys — no one to share my 
 coin 
 
 Joe [aside.) Don't coin-sider so ! (goes up left and tries to 
 cross to right upper end, wlien r in excess of caution, his foot 
 slips and he falls centre.) 
 
 Dismal (quickly turns, puts purse and book in his pocket, 
 seizes Joe, and drags him down front.) Ha ! whom have we 
 here ? 
 
 Joe. Leff me go ! I wan't doin' nunin. 
 
 Dismal. What was you up to on de groun' ? 
 
 Joe. I fell from my high estate — 'about five foot eight. 
 
 Dismal (releases him.) You are of yon willage. (Points 
 off-) 
 
 Joe. I are. 
 
 Dismal. Den, if thou knowest him, tell me, I prithee 
 gentle stranger, whar am a youth ob tender years called 
 Parr 
 
 Joe (reflecting.) A youth ob ten dear years. — Dar ain't no 
 ten years olders dat are pa's. 
 
 Dismal. I mean a boy 
 
34 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Job. Oil ! dar ain't no boys now. De moment dey can 
 go inside ob gloves an' tail coats, dey is men. 
 
 Dismal (impatient.) Boy, or man, named Parr 
 
 Joe. Eh ? oh ! Ole "life-pill Parr !" De ole feller whose 
 sands ob life have werry nearly all run out ! ha, ha ! He 
 was sent to repose dese free hundred years, and den he was 
 a century old. 
 
 Dismal [claps his hands in clasping them.) Thus fade 
 they! 
 
 Joe (aside.) Dey fade pooty slow ! 
 
 Dismal. I remember him a tiny juvenile. 
 
 Joe. I never knew he was a Jew in de ile or any oder sich 
 business. 
 
 Dismal, 'Twas eberdus (wiping eyes.) 
 
 Joe. Dust in yer eye ? 
 
 Dismal. 'Twas eber dus, in childhood's hour, I neber 
 lub'd a bright gazelle 
 
 Joe (right centre.) He wasn't a galzelle — he was a boy- 
 zelle. 
 
 Dismal. But it wanished and left me deserted — deserted 
 (sob.) 
 
 Joe (jumps.) Did dis hurt you much ? (looking steadily at 
 Dismal. ) 
 
 Dismal. Oh ! leff me in distress ! 
 
 Joe. I don't want dat dress ob your'n ! (going to right.) 
 
 Dismal. Stay ! 
 
 Joe (stops, turns.) 
 
 Dismal. Come hither. (Joe to him.) You have been kind 
 o'kind to de ole man. (takes out purse, with business of going 
 to give Joe a handful of coin, but only gives him one.) 
 
 Joe (bites coin, &c. , a la disappointed cabman. ) Sixpence ! 
 sixpence ! Dey can't say dis is a sixpensive man J 
 
 Dismal (waving his hand.) Adoo J 
 
 Joe. It is a do. 
 
 Dismal. Bye-bye 
 
16,000 YEARS AGO. 35 
 
 Joe. It's more ob a sell-sell. I'll remember you for dis ! 
 
 Dismal (about to put up his purse.) An honest lad ! oh ! de 
 superior -honesty ob de country swains — deyare neber seen 
 swayin' "wid temptation 
 
 Mudge (enters right upper end with gun — aside. ) De mill- 
 yonary wid de long purse what I hab so long pursued. 
 (comes down right, melodramatically.) 
 
 Dismal. Why, I might hold out my boff han's wid dis 
 money in it (purse and pocket-booh in hands) and not one 
 would offer to say 
 
 Mudge (right centre, pointing gun.) Drop dat money, or dis 
 gun so early will leave you dis -gun-so-late I (business with 
 gun.) 
 
 Dismal (recedes to front.) Does you mean to take dis puss 
 so coolly ? 
 
 Mudge. Puss-icely so. Drop it ! -(Dismal excessively 
 frightened.) Be quick ! Dis is a musket which mus' get no 
 trifling ! 
 
 Dismal drops purse and pocket-book, and goes off left end in great 
 alarm, his knees knocking together. 
 
 Mudge (bursts into laughter.) Yah ! yah! dis flint fixed 
 him ! I'll go sit under dese trees yere, and reckon up de 
 treasure. (Kneels down left front, laying gun right side of him, 
 and unties purse-strings.) 
 
 Dismal (enters left upper end cautiously — aside.) I wonder 
 whar I kin fin' a perlice-man ? Oh ! (sees Mudge) why, 
 dar's de scandalous rogue wid my plunder ! If I on'y— oh, 
 golly, let's try ! (Comes clown left side carefully.) 
 
 Mudge (rings a coin.) Tin ! yes, it am a tin shillin' ! 
 Here's depravity for you — de werry footpads is jobbed off 
 with bad money ! 
 
 (Dismal goes to right side of Mudge, and takes up the gun ; then 
 to left front.) 
 
 Mudge (rising.) Well, now, I'd like to know what we'll 
 do next ? 
 
36 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Dismal (loudly, as he points gun at Mudge.) I tink you'd 
 best put down dat dar blunt ! 
 
 Mudge (alarmed, business of shaking from head to foot) 
 Oh ! de millyonary ! 
 
 Dismal. You don't " down wid de dust !" 
 Mudge very slowly lays down bag. 
 
 Dismal. Quick time ! (gun business.) 
 
 Mudge more quickly drops rug on bag. 
 
 Dismal. Faster, or de slugs in dis will go hard wid you, 
 sluggard. 
 
 Mudge (drops purse and pocket-book on the rug. About to 
 go up left sulkily.) Dar dey is. 
 
 Dismal. Hold yer hosses ! I isn't done wid you yet. 
 (ferocious slap of the hand to the gun-stock. ) 
 
 Mudge (stops, crying.) I neber did you no harm ! My 
 lilly sister is crying for me ! Boohoo ! 
 
 Dismal. Stop your nonsense ! your hat's struck my 
 fancy ! Pat down dat 'ar hat ! 
 
 Mudge (knocks his hat off and kicks it to centre.) Hope 
 you're sassagefried now ! 
 
 Dismal. No remarks ! (grounds the gun, and assumes a 
 haughty attitude. ) And de werry next time you come gunnin' 
 roun' a man, look out dat he hain't got a Sharp ! G'out ! 
 (furious gesture.) 
 
 Mudge jumps and runs off left upper end. 
 
 Dismal, (laugh) Ker-yah ! yah ! dis is a big scare on dat 
 n'g ! (holding gun in right hand, he picks up Mudge's hat 
 and, removing his, puts it on, and his on top of it.) Dis is de 
 way to make hat-ditions to de wardrobe ! (picks up rug and 
 lays it on right arm) De way ob de transgressor a m rugged. 
 [takes up bag and stuffs into it, then hangs bag on gun-barrel.) 
 Howlubly ! dar's dis gun wid a bag-on-it now ! hee-hee ! 
 (takes up pocket-book, but finds that he has so loaded himself 
 that, to put it away, he must lay down the gum — does so, and 
 puts pocket-book in coat pocket.) 
 
16,000 YEARS AGO. 37 
 
 Joe [has entered, steps up stage left, and points to Dismal — 
 aside. ) Heyah's de ole man ag'in. What's he up to now ? 
 What's he up to now ? Why — yah ! he's got two wide-awakes 
 on ! he wasn't a bit too wide awake afore ! Jimmy neddy ! 
 Look at him stowin' away de cash ! Oh ! [comes down centre) 
 dis sort ob ting can't go on so. [rushes at gun, seizes it, and, 
 in his hurry, points the stock at Dismal. ) 
 
 Dismal [starts, drops the rug, which unrolls, and gets 
 twisted round his feet, and is alarmed) Who's dat ? 
 
 Joe. On'y me ; I — I forgot somefin' ! 
 
 Dismal, [laughs, half-reassured) Oh ! it's on'y dat good 
 
 lilly honest boy Why, Bobby, did you forget to tell me 
 
 somefin' ? 
 
 Joe. I forgot to tell you somefin.' Put down dem 'ar 
 t'ings ! [reverses gun, and levels it at Dismal.) 
 
 Dismal. Dis is conterary to de statutes — hayve a care, 
 boy ! 
 
 Joe. Dar'll be some stat-shoots in dis neighborhood if 
 you don't drop dem t'ings. [exaggerated pantomime of taking 
 deadly aim. ) 
 
 Dismal drops purse, pocket-book and bag. 
 
 Joe. Put down dem 'ar hats ! 
 
 Dismal. What a cap-tiwaiting way dis youth has ! {drops 
 hats. ) 
 
 Joe. Stop ! Take of dat 'ar coat . 
 
 Dismal. What ! remove my wrapper ! Oh ! dis ain't a 
 nice way to undress an old man. (coat off. ) 
 
 Joe. Put down that 'ar coat ! 
 
 Dismal [drops coat, tearing it.) "Dis was de rent the 
 envious cask-o'-bear made !" [rubs his eyes, going right.) 
 Mudge enters left, making signs to Joe. 
 Joe. Dismal. Mulge. 
 
 Eight. Centre. Left. 
 
 Joe [starts. Aside. ) I thought it was a perliceman. 
 
 Mudge [unseen by Dismal, comes to centre. Mysteriously 
 aside to Joe.) I say ! 'sh ! I say! (Joe is embarrassed.) 
 
38 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Hush ! [motions not to let Dismal know) 'tain't capped ! 
 (holds out Ms finger and thumb as if he had a cap between 
 them. I'll go you halves ! 
 
 Joe. Comic business of his not understanding gunnery, passes the 
 gun to Mudge, centre. 
 
 Mudge levels gun at Joe, who recedes to right front, and 
 then at Dismal, ivho recedes to left front. Then, to Joe) 
 Take off dat ar' hat ! (Joe removes hat) Put down dat 'ar 
 hat ! (J oe flings hat to centime.) Take off dat 'ar coat ! (Joe 
 does so) Put down dat ar' coat ! (Joe flings coat to centre.) 
 Now (pointing gun alternately at Joe and Dismal) Boff of 
 you get— — 
 
 Joe runs off right side. Dismal runs off left side. 
 
 Mudge (laughs. ) Poor martyrs ob dis clothes-mart ! (Half 
 kneels, the gun between his legs, and picks up the coats, hats, 
 &c.) If dis old clothes business continues, I'll be able to 
 hab a dash among de colored fokes. Heyah's a dressing- 
 gown for de million ! (holds up coat), (piles up the articles on 
 his arms, and the bag and pocket-book and hats in his hands.) 
 
 Enter left upper end, Dismal, coming down and across to centre 
 front. Enter right upper end, Joe, to centre front 
 
 Mudge (rises.) "Well, guess I'll go home to de ole woman ! 
 I'm pooty well perwided for de winter ! 
 
 Joe and Dismal (reach centre from front together^ grasp 
 gun, and level it at Mudge, crying together) Drop dem 'ar 
 t'ings ! 
 
 Mudge lets all fall. 
 
 Joe and Dismal lay down gun and pick up hats, &c, 
 
 Mudge is going to pick up gun. 
 
 Joe and Dismal drop articles and rush for gun. All three, each 
 afraid the other will get it, start back. Great confusion, the coats, cC'c, 
 flying about on all sides, while Assistants in the icings throw up hats 
 and coats. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
THE NIMMERS. 39 
 
 THE NIMMERS. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Two foot companions once in deep discourse, 
 
 "Tom," says the one — " let's go and steal a horse." 
 
 " Steal !" says the other, in a huge surprise, 
 
 " He that says I'm a thief — I say he lies. " 
 
 " Well, well," replies his friend — "no such affront, 
 
 I did but ask ye — if you won't, you won't. " 
 
 So they jogg'd on — till, in another strain, 
 
 The querist moved to honest Tom again ; 
 
 "Suppose," says he, "for supposition's sake— 
 
 'Tis but a supposition that I make — 
 
 Suppose that we should filch a horse, I say ?" 
 
 "Filch ! filch !" quoth Tom, demurring by the way, 
 
 ' ' That's not so bad as downright theft — I own — 
 
 But. — yet — methinks — 'twere better let alone : 
 
 It soundeth something pitiful and low ; 
 
 Shall we go filch a horse? you say, — why, no — 
 
 I'll filch no filching ; — and I'll tell no lie ; 
 
 Honesty's the best policy — say I. " 
 
 Struck with such vast integrity quite dumb, 
 
 His comrade paus'd — at last, says he — " Come, come, 
 
 Thou art an honest fellow — I agree — 
 
 Honest and poor : — alas ! that should not be : 
 
 And dry into the bargain — and no drink ! 
 
 Shall we go nim a horse, Tom — what dost think ?" 
 
 How clear things are when liquor's in the case ! 
 
 Tom answers quick, with casuistic grace, 
 
 1 ' Nim ! yes, yes, yes, let's nim with all my heart, 
 
 I see no harm in nimming, for my part ; 
 
 Hard is the case, now I look sharp into't, 
 
 That honesty should trudge i'th' dirt a-foot ; 
 
 So many empty horses round about. 
 
 That honesty should wear its bottom out ; 
 
 Besides — shall honesty be choked with thirst ? 
 
 Were it my lord-mayor's horse— I'd nim it first. 
 
 And by-the-by, my lad — no scrubby tit — 
 
 There is the best that ever wore a bit 
 
40 A BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Not far from hence" — "I take ye," quoth his friend, 
 
 "Is not yon stable, Tom, our journey's end ?" 
 
 Good wits will jump — both meant the very steed ; 
 
 The top o' th' country both for shape and speed : 
 
 So to't they went — and, with an halter round 
 
 His feather'd neck, they nimm'd him off the ground. 
 
 And now, good people, we shall next relate 
 
 Of these adventurers the luckless fate : 
 
 Poor Tom ! — but here the sequel is to seek, 
 
 Not being yet translated from the Greek : 
 
 Some say that Tom would honestly have peach' d, 
 
 But by his babbling friend was overreach'd ; 
 
 Others insist upon't that both the elves 
 
 Were, in like manner, halter nimm'd themselves, 
 
 It matters not — the moral is the thing. 
 
 For which our purpose, neighbors, was to sing. 
 
 If it should hit some few amongst the throng, 
 
 Let 'em not lay the fault upon the song. 
 
 Fair warning all ; he that has got a cap 
 
 Now put it on — or else beware a rap : 
 
 'Tis but a short one, it is true, but yet 
 
 'T has a long reach with it — videlicet, 
 
 'Twixt right and wrong, how many gentle trimmers 
 
 Will neither steal, nor filch, but will be plaguy nimmers J 
 
 GITCOM, AND THE BACK-LOG. 
 
 HALIBURTON. 
 
 'Squire Peleg Sandford and all his family were all of 
 them the most awful passionate folks that ever lived, when 
 they chose ; and then they could keep in their temper, and 
 be as cool as cucumbers. One night old Peleg, as he was 
 called, told his son Gucom, a boy of fourteen years old, to 
 go and bring in a back-log for the fire. Back-log, you 
 know, 'Squire, in a wood-fire, is always the biggest stick 
 that one can find or carry. It takes a stout junk of a boy 
 to lift one. 
 
GUCO^j AND THE BACK-LOG. 41 
 
 Well, as soon as Gucom goes to fetch the log, the old 
 'Squire drags forward the coals, and fixes the fire so as to 
 leave a bed for it, and stands by, ready to fit it in its place. 
 Presently in comes Gucom with a little cut-stick, no bigger 
 than his leg, and throws it on. Uncle Peleg got so mad, he 
 never said a word, but j List seized his riding-whip, and gave 
 him an awful whippin'. He tanned his hide properly for 
 him, you may depend. 
 
 " Now, " says he, " go, sir, and bring in a proper back-log. " 
 Gucom w T as clear grit as well as the old man, for he was a 
 chip of the old block, and no mistake ; so out he goes with- 
 out so much as sayin' a word, but instead of goin' to the 
 wood-pile, he walks off altogether, and stayed away eight 
 years, till he was one-and-twenty and his own master. 
 "Well, as soon as he was a man grown, and lawfully on his 
 own hook, he took it in his head one day he'd go home and 
 see his father and mother agin, and show them that he was 
 alive and kicking ; for they didn't know whether he was 
 dead or not, never havin' heard of or from him one blessed 
 word all that time. When he arrived at the old house, day- 
 light was down, and the lights lit, and as he passed the 
 keepin' room winder, he looked in, and there was the old 
 'Squire sittin' in the chair he was in eight years afore, when 
 he ordered in the back-log, and gave him such an unmerciful 
 whippin'. So what does Gucom do but stop at the wood- 
 pile, and pick up a most hugaceous log, (for he had grow'd 
 to be a whappin' big fellow then,) and openin' the door, 
 marches in and lays it down upon the hearth, and then 
 , lookin' up, says he — 
 
 " Father, I've brought you in the back-log." 
 Uncle Peleg was struck up all of a heap ; he couldn't be- 
 lieve his own eyes, that the six-footer was the boy he had 
 cowhided, and he couldn't believe his own ears when he 
 heard him call him father ; a man from the grave wouldn't 
 have surprised him more ; he was quite onfakalized and be- 
 dumbed for a minute. But he came too right off, and iced 
 down to a freezin' point in no time. 
 
42 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 1 ' What did you say ?" said lie. 
 
 " That I have brought you in the back-log, sir, you sent 
 me out for." 
 
 ' ' Well then, you've been an arnazin' long time a fetchin' 
 it," said he, " that's all I can say. Draw the coals forward, 
 put it on, and then go to bed." 
 
 Now that's a fact, Squire ; I know the parties myself, and 
 that's what I do call coolness, and no mistake ! 
 
 THE WIDOW'S MISTAKE. 
 
 1VTQTCHEK. 
 
 ADAPTED FEOM "THE WIDOW BEEOTT PAYEES. 
 
 Cjjaraiew. 
 
 Me. Ceane — A Widower. 
 
 Widow Bedott — A Village Gossip, anxious to get married. 
 
 *Meelissy — Her Daughter. 
 
 Scene — Parlor in a Country House. The icidow and Mr. Crane 
 seated at a table. Crane's hat on the table. 
 
 Widow. " O' no. Mr. Crane, by no manner o' means 
 t' ain't a minnit tew soon for you to begin to talk about git- 
 tin' married agin. I am amazed you should be afeerd I'd 
 think so. See — how long's Miss Crane ben dead ? Six 
 months ! — land o' Goshen ! — why I've know'd a number of 
 individdiwals get married in less time than that. 
 
 There's Phil Bennett's widder t' I was a talkin' about jest 
 now — she't was Louisy Perce — her husband hadn't been 
 dead but three months, you know. I don't think it looks 
 well for "a woman to be in such, a hurry — but for a man it's 
 a different thing — circumstances alters cases, you know. 
 And then, sittiwated as you be, Mr. Crane, it's a tumble 
 thing for your family to be without a head to superintend 
 the domestic consarns and tend to the children — to say noth- 
 
 * The character of Mellissy can easily, by a liltlo arrangement, be left out. 
 
the widow's mistake. 43 
 
 in' o' yerself, Mr. Crane. You dew need a companion, and 
 no mistake. Six months ! Good grievous ! Why Squire 
 Titus dident wait but six weeks arter he buried his fust wife 
 afore he married his second. I thought ther wa'n't no par- 
 tickler need o' his hurryin' so, seein' his family was all 
 growed up. Such a critter as he juckt out, tew ! t'was very 
 onsuitable — but every man to his taste. I hain't no dis- 
 persition to meddle with nobody's consarns. There's old 
 farmer Dawson, tew — his pardner hain't been dead but tew 
 months. To be sure he ain't married yet — but he would a 
 ben long enough ago if somebody I know on'd gin him any 
 incurridgement. But tain't for me to speak o' that matter. 
 He's a clever old critter, and as rich as a Jew — but — lawful 
 sakes ! he's old enough to be my father. And " 
 
 Mr. Crane. "Well widder — I've been thinking about 
 taking a companion — and I thought I'd ask you " 
 
 Widow. " O, Mr. Crane, egscuse my commotion — it's so 
 onexpected. Jest hand me that are bottle o' camfire off the 
 mantletry shelf — I'm ruther faint — dew put a little mite on 
 my handkercher and hold it to my nuz. There — that'll 
 dew — I'm obleeged tew ye — now I'm rather more composed 
 — -you may pereeed, Mr. Crane. " 
 
 Mr. Crane. "Well widder, I was agoing to ask you 
 whether — whether " 
 
 Widow. " Continner, Mr. Crane — dew — I know it's tur- 
 ribie embarrisin'. I remember when my dezeased husband 
 made his suppositions to me, he stammered and stuttered, 
 and was so awfully flustered it did seem as if he'd never git 
 it out in the world, and I s'pose it's ginerally the case, at 
 least it has been with all them that's made suppositions to 
 me — you see they're ginerally oncerting about what kind 
 of an anser they're agwine to git, and it kind o' makes 'em 
 narvous. But when an andividdiwal has reason to s'pose 
 his 'tachment's reciperated, I don't see what need there is o J 
 his bein' nustratecl — tho' I must say it's quite embarrassin' 
 to me — pray continner. " 
 
44 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Mr. Crane. " "Well then, I want to know if you're will- 
 ing I should have Mellissy." 
 
 Widow ( starting with dismay and disappointment.) " The 
 Dragon !" 
 
 Mr. Crane [without noticing the widow 's excitement.) "I 
 hain't said anything to her about it yet — thought the 
 proper way was to get your consent first. I remember when 
 I courted Trypheny we were engaged some time before 
 mother Kenipe knew anything about it, and when she 
 found it out, she was quite put out because I dident go to 
 her first. So when I made up my mind about Mellissy, 
 thinks I, I'll dew it right this time, and speak to the old 
 woman first." 
 
 Widow, [jumping up, unable to contain her passion.) 
 " Old woman, hey ! that's a purty name to call me ! — 
 amazing perlite tew ! Want Mellissy, hey ! Tribbleation ! 
 Gracious sakes alive ! Well, I'll give it up now ! I always 
 know'd you was a simpleton, Tim Crane, but I must confess 
 (sneering very spitefully) I dident think you was quite so big 
 a full — want Mellissy, dew ye ? If that don't beat all ! 
 What an everlasting old calf you must be to s'pose she'd 
 loolc at you. Why you're old enough to be her father, and 
 more tew — Mellissy ain't only in her twenty oneth year — 
 (laughing derisively). What a reedickilous idee for a man 
 o' your age ! as gray as a rat tew ! I wonder what this 
 world is a comin' tew ! 'tis astonishin' what fools old wid- 
 diwers will make of themselves !— Have Mellissy! — Melissy !" 
 
 Mr. Crane (deprecatingly. ) ' ' Why, Widder, you surprise 
 me ; I'd no idee of being treated in this way after you'd bin 
 so polite to me, and made such a fuss over me and the girls." 
 
 Widow. " Shet yer head, Tim Crane ; nun o' yer sass to 
 me. Tliere's yer hat on that are table, and here's the door 
 — and the sooner you put on one and march out o' t' other, 
 the better it'll be for you — and I advise you, afore you try 
 to git married agin, to go out West and see 'f your wife's 
 cold — an d arter ye're satisfied on that point, jest put a little 
 
THE widow's mistake. 45 
 
 lampblack on yer hair — 'twould add to yer appearance on- 
 doubtedly, and "be of service tew you when you want to flour- 
 ish round among the gals — and when ye've got yer hair fixt, 
 jest splinter the spine o' yer back — 'twouldent hurt yer 
 looks a mite — you'd be intirely unresistible if you was a 
 leeile grain straiter." 
 
 Mr. Crane (almost speechless with astonishment.) "Well, 
 I never ! — 
 
 Widow [with increased anger.) "Hold yer tongue — you 
 consarned old coot you ! I tell ye there's yer hat and there's 
 the door — be off with yerself , quick metre — or I'll give ye a 
 hyst with the broomstick." 
 
 Mr. Crane. " Gimmeni S" 
 
 Widow. "Git out, I say — I ain't a gwine to stan here and 
 be insulted under my own ruff— git along — and if ever you 
 darken my door agin, or say a word to Mellissy, it'll be the 
 wuss for you — that's all." 
 
 Mr. Crane {rising and backing out.) " Treemenjious ! 
 What a buster !" 
 
 Widow. Go 'long — go 'long — go 'long, you everlastin' old 
 gum. I won't hear another word (stops her ears and stamps 
 
 with rage.) "I won't, I won't, I won't" {Exit Mr. Crane 
 
 — enter Mellissy.) 
 
 MEUSsr. Why mother ! what's the matter ? 
 
 Widow. Matter! — Pity yer didn't stay till mornin' ! 
 Purty bizness keepin' me up here so late waitin' for you — 
 when I'm eny most tired to death iornin' and workin' like 
 a slave all day — ought to ben abed an hour ago. 
 
 Meeissy (slyly.) Well ! I guess you can't have been 
 waitin' very long for me. I saw Mr. Crane leave just as I 
 came in, and I s'jDOse you don't think his company very dis- 
 agreeable, do you — mother ? 
 
 Wedow. Thought you found me with agreeable company, 
 hey ? I should like to know what arthly reason you had to 
 s'pose old Crane's was agreeable to me. I always dispised 
 the critter — always thought he was a tumble fool — and now 
 
46 A BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 I'm convinced on't. I'm completely dizgusted with him—* 
 and I let him know it to-night. I gin him a piece o' my 
 mind 't I guess he'll be apt to remember for a spell. I 
 ruther think he went off with a flea in his ear. "Why — did 
 ye ever hear o' such a piece of audacity in all yer born days ? 
 — for him, — Tim Crane — to durst to 'spire to my hand — me 
 — the widder o' deacon Bedott ! jest as if Td condescend to 
 look at him — the old numskull ! He don't know B from a 
 broomstick ; but if he'd stayed much longer, I'd a teach' t 
 him the difference, I guess. He's got his walkirt ticket now 
 — I hope he'll lemme alone in futur. And now, Mellissy 
 Bedott, you ain't to have nothin' more to dew with them 
 Crane gals, — d'ye hear ? you ain't to 'sociatewith 'em at all 
 arter this — 't' would only be'ncurridgin' the old man to 
 come a pesterin' me agin — and I won't have him round — » 
 d'ye hear ! [indignantly) — him, indeed ! 
 
 Mellissy. Well ! mother, let's go to bed, I'm sleepy—' 
 {yawns and exit.) 
 
 CATEGORICAL COURTSHIP. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Thus I sat one night by a blue-eyed girl, 
 The fire was out, and so, too, was her mother : 
 
 A feeble flame around the lamp did curl, 
 
 Making faint shadows, blending in each other : 
 
 'Twas nearly twelve o'clock, too, in November ; 
 She had a shawl on, also, I remember. 
 
 Well, I had been to see her every night 
 
 For thirteen days, and had a sneaking notion 
 
 To pop the question, thinking all was right, 
 
 And once or twice had made an awkward motion 
 
 To take her hand, and stammer'd cough'd and, stutter'd ; 
 But somehow, nothing to the point had utter d. 
 
THE THREE BLACK CROWS. 47 
 
 I thought this chance too good now to be lost •, 
 I hitch'd my chair up pretty close beside her, 
 
 Drew a long breath, and then ray legs I cross'd, 
 Bent over, sighed and for five minutes eyed her ; 
 
 She look'd as if she knew what next was coming, 
 And with her feet upon the floor was drumming. 
 
 I didn't know how to begin, or where — 
 
 I couldn't speak — the words were always choking ; 
 
 I scarce could move — I seem'd tied to the chair— 
 I hardly breathed — 'twas awfully provoking ! 
 
 The perspiration from each pore came oozing, 
 
 My heart, and brain, and limbs their power seem'd losing. 
 
 At length I saw a brindle tabby cat 
 
 "Walk purring up, inviting me to pat her *, 
 An idea came, electric-like, at that — 
 
 My doubts, like summer clouds began to scatter 
 I seized on tabby, though a scratch she gave me, 
 
 And said, " Come, Puss, ask Mary if she'll have me." 
 
 'Twas done at once — the murder now was out ! 
 
 The thing was all explained in half a minute ; 
 She blush' d, and turning pussy-cat about, 
 
 Said, " Pussy, tell him ' yes ;' " her foot was in it. 
 The cat had thus saved me my category, 
 
 And here's the catastrophe of my story. 
 
 ME. ARTEMUS WARD CROSSING DIXIE'S 
 LINE. 
 
 BROWNE. 
 
 The train of cars in which I was to trust my walerable 
 life was the scaliest, rickytiest lookin lot of consarns that I 
 ever saw on wheels afore. " What time does this string of 
 second-hand coffins leave ?" I inquired of the depot mas- 
 ter. He said direckly, and I went in and sot down. I 
 hadn't more'n fairly squattered afore a dark-lookin man 
 
48 BOOK OF COMIO SPEECHES. 
 
 ■with a swinister expression on his countenance entered the 
 cars, and lookin very sharp at me, he axed me what was my 
 principles ? 
 
 " Sesesh ! " I answered, " I'm a Dissoluter. I'm in fa- 
 vor of Jeff. Davis, Bowregard, Pickens, Capt, Kidd, Bloo- 
 beard, Monro Edwards, the devil, Mrs. Cunningham, and 
 all the rest of 'em." 
 
 " You're in favor of the war ?" 
 
 " Certingly. By all means. I'm in favor of this war, 
 and also of the next war. I've been in favor of the next 
 war for over sixteen years." 
 
 At the first station a troop of sojers entered the cars and 
 inquired if " Old Wax Works " was on board. That was 
 the disrespective stile in which they referred to me. " Be- 
 cawze if ' Old Wax Works is on board, ' sez a man with a 
 face like a double-brested lobster, 6 we're going to hang Old 
 Wax Works !" 
 
 " My illustrious and patriotic Bummers !" sez I, agittin 
 up and takin orf my shappo, "if you allude to A. Ward, 
 it's my pleasin dooty to inform you that he's ded. 
 He saw the error of his ways at 15 minits past two yester- 
 day, and stabbed hisself with a sled-stake, dying in five 
 beautiful tabloos to slow music." 
 
 " And who be you ?" 
 
 " I'm a stoodent in Senator Benjamin's law-oms. I'm 
 going up North to steal some spoons and things for the 
 Southern army. " This was satisfactory, and the intossicat- 
 ed troopers went orf. 
 
 At the next station I didn't get orf so easy, I was dragged 
 out of the cars, and rolled in the mud for several minits, 
 for the purpose of " taking the conseet oat of me," as Se- 
 sesher kindly stated. 
 
 I was let up finally, when a powerful largo Scsesher came 
 up and embraced me, and to show that he had no hard feel- 
 in's agin me, put his nose into my mouth. I returned the 
 compliment by placin' my stummick suddenly agin his 
 

 MY LAST SHIRT. 49 
 
 right foot, when he kindly made a spittoon of his able- 
 bodied face. Actooated by a desire to see whether the 
 Sesesher had been vaxinated, I then fastened my teeth 
 onto his left sleeve, and tore it to the shoulder. We then 
 vilently bunted our heads together for a few minits, danced 
 round a little, and sot down in a mud-puddle. We riz to 
 our feet agin, and by a sudden and adroit movement I 
 placed my left eye agin the Sesesher's fist. We then 
 rushed into each other's arms, and fell under a two-hoss 
 wagon. I riz, and we embraced agin. We then careered 
 madly to a steep bank, when I got the upper hands of my 
 antagonist, and threw him into the raveen. He fell about 
 40 ft., striking a grindstone pretty hard. I understood he 
 was injured. I havn't heard from the grindstone. A man 
 in a cockt hat then cum up, and sed he felt as though an 
 apology was due to me. The crowd had taken me for an- 
 other man. 
 
 I was rid on a rale the next day, a bunch of blazin fire 
 crackers bein tied to my coat tales. It was a fine specty- 
 cal in a dramatic pint of view, but I didn't enjoy it. I had 
 other adventurs of a startlin kind, but why continuer? 
 why lasserate the public boozum with these here things ? 
 Suffysit to say I got across Mason and Dixie's line safe at 
 Inst 
 
 MY LAST SHIET. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 I have watch'd thee with rapture, and dwelt on thy charms, 
 As link'd in Love's fetters, we wandered each day ; 
 
 And each night I have sought a new life in thy arms, 
 And sigh'd that our union could last not for aye. 
 
 But thy life now depends on a frail silken thread, 
 Which I even by kindness may cruelly sever, 
 
 And I look to the moment of parting with dread, 
 For I feel that in parting I lose thee forever. 
 
50 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Sole being that cherish'd my poor troubled heart ! 
 
 Thou know'st all its secrets — each joy and each grief ; 
 And in sharing them all thou did'st ever impart 
 
 To its sorrows a gentle and soothing relief. 
 
 The last of a long and affectionate race, 
 
 As thy days are declining I love thee the more, 
 
 For I feel that thy loss I can never replace — 
 
 That thy death will but leave me to weep and deplore. 
 
 Unchanged, thou shalt live in the mem'ry of years, 
 I cannot — I will not — forget what thou wert ! 
 
 While the thoughts of thy love as they call forth my tear*. 
 In fancy will wash thee once more — my last sklrt. 
 
 THE THKEE BLACK CROWS. 
 
 Two honest tradesmen meeting in the Strand, 
 One took the other briskly by the hand ; 
 " Hark ye," said he, " 'tis an odd story this, 
 About the crows !" — "I don't know what it is," 
 Eeplied his friend — "No ! I'm surprised at that ; 
 "Where I come from, it is the common chat : 
 But you shall hear : an odd affair indeed ! - 
 And that it happened, they are all agreed : ' 
 Not to detain you from a thing so strange, 
 A gentleman, that lives not far from 'Change, 
 This week, in short, as all the alley knows, 
 Taking a puke, has thrown up three black crows." 
 "Impossible !" — "Nay, but it's really true 
 I had it from good hands, and so may you. ,r 
 " From whose, I pray ?" So having named the man, 
 Straight to inquire his curious comrade ran. 
 " Sir, did you tell" — relating the affair — 
 "Yes, sir, I did ; and if it's worth your care 
 Ask Mr. Such-a-one, he told it me ; 
 But, by the by, 'twas two black crows, not three.*' 
 
THE BAKBEH'S SHOP. 51 
 
 Kesolved to trace so wondrous an event, 
 
 Whip to the third, the virtuoso went. 
 
 "Sir," — and so forth — " Why, yes ; the thing is fact, 
 
 Though in regard to number not exact ; 
 
 It was not two black crows, 'twas only one ; 
 
 The truth of that you may depend upon. 
 
 The gentleman himself told me the case. " 
 
 "Where may I find him ?" " Why, — in such a place." 
 
 Away he goes, and having found him out, — 
 
 "Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt." 
 
 Then to his last informant he referred, 
 
 And begged to know if true what he had heard. 
 
 " Did you, sir, throw up a black crow ?" "Not I !" 
 
 * ' Bless me ! how people propagate a lie ! 
 
 Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and one, 
 
 And here I find at last all comes to none ! 
 
 Did you say nothing of a crow at all ?" 
 
 "Crow — crow — perhaps I might, now I recall 
 
 The matter over." "And pray, sir, what was't ?" 
 
 "Why, I was horrid sick, and at the last, 
 
 I did throw up, and told my neighbor so, 
 
 Something that was as black, sir, as a crow." 
 
 THE BABBEE'S SHOP. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 CImnttex 
 
 Jones, a respectable middle aged gentleman. 
 Oily, a fashionable barber. 
 Scene. — A Barber's Shop. Barber's men engaged in cutting hair, 
 making wigs, and other barberesque operations. 
 
 Enter Jones, meeting Ozlt, the barber. 
 Jones. I wish my hair cut. 
 Oily. Pray, sir, take a seat. 
 
 Oily puts a chair for Jones, who sits. During the following dio~ 
 logue Oily continues cutting Jones's hair. 
 
 Oily. "We've had much wet, sir. 
 
52 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Jones. Very much, indeed. 
 Oily. And yet November's early days were fine. 
 Jones. They were. 
 
 Oily. I hoped fair weather might have lasted us 
 Until the end. 
 Jones. At one time — so did I. 
 Oily. But we have had it very wet. 
 
 Jones. We have. 
 
 [A pause of some minutes. 
 
 Oily. I know not, sir, who cut your hair last time : 
 But this I say, sir, it was badly cut : 
 No doubt 'twas in the country. 
 
 Jones. No ; in town ! 
 
 Oily. Indeed ! I should have fancied otherwise. 
 
 Jones. 'Twas cut in town — and in this very room. 
 
 Oily. Amazement ! — but I now remember well. 
 We had an awkward, new, unpracticed hand, 
 A fellow from the country. Sir, he did 
 More damage to my business in a week 
 Than all my skill can in a year repair. 
 He must have cut your hair. 
 
 Jones (looking at him). No — ' twas yourself. 
 
 Oily. Myself ! Impossible ! You must mistake. 
 
 Jones. I don't mistake — 'twas you that cut my hair. 
 A long pause, interrupted only by the clipping of the scissors. 
 
 Oily. Your hair is very dry, sir. 
 
 Jones. Oh ! indeed. 
 
 Oily. Our Vegetable Extract moistens it. 
 
 Jones. I like it dry. 
 
 Oily. But sir, the hair when dry 
 Turns quickly gray. 
 
 Jones. That color I prefer. 
 
 Oily. But hair, when gray, will rapidly fall off, 
 And baldness will ensue. 
 
 Jones. I would be bald. 
 
 Oily. Perhaps you mean to say you'd like a wig. — 
 
PADDY O'EAFTHER. 53 
 
 We've wigs so natural they can't be told 
 
 From real hair. 
 
 Jones. Deception I detest. 
 
 Another pause ensues, during ichich Oily blows down Jones's neck, 
 and relieves him from the linen wrapper in which he has been en- 
 veloped during the process of hair-cutting. 
 
 Oily. We've brushes, soaps, and scent, of every kind. 
 
 Jones. I see you have. {Pays 25 cents.) I think you'll 
 find that right. 
 
 Oily. II there is nothing I can show you, sir? 
 
 Jones. No : nothing. Yet, there maybe something, too, 
 That you may show me. 
 
 Oily. Name it, sir. 
 
 Jones. The door. (Exit Jones. 
 
 Oily (to his man.) That's a queer customer at any rate. 
 Had I cut him as short as he cut me, 
 How little hair upon his head would be ! 
 But if kind friends will all our pains requite, 
 We'll hope for better luck another night. 
 
 (Shop-bell rings and curtain falls. 
 
 PADDY O'EAFTHEE, 
 
 LOVES. 
 
 Paddy, in want of a dinner one day, 
 Credit all gone, and no money to pay, 
 Stole from the priest a fat pallet, they say, 
 
 And went to confession just afther ; 
 " Your riv'rince," says Paddy, "I stole this fat hen. 
 ""What, what !" says the priest, "at your owld thricks again? 
 Faith, you'd rather be stealin' than sayin' amen, 
 
 Paddy O'Eafther !" 
 
 " Sure you wouldn't be angry," says Pat, "if you knew 
 That the best of intintions I had in my view, 
 For I stole it to make it a present to you, 
 
 And you can absolve me afther. " 
 "Do you think," says the priest, "I'd partake of your theft ? 
 

 54 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Of your seven small senses you must be bereft — 
 You're the biggest blackguard that I know, right or left, 
 
 Paddy O'Rafther P 
 
 " Then what shall I do with the pullet," says Pat, 
 "If your riv'rince won't take it? — By this and by that 
 I don't know no more than a dog nor a cat 
 
 What your riv'rince would have me be afther." 
 " Why then," says his rev'rence, " you sin-blinded owl, 
 Give back to the man that you stole from, his fowl, 
 For if you do not, 'twill be worse for your sowl, 
 
 Paddy O'Rafther !" 
 
 Says Paddy, " I asked him to take it — 'tis thrue 
 As this mindt I'm talkin', your riv'rince, to you ; 
 But he wouldn't resaive it— so what can I do ?" 
 
 Says Paddy, nigh chokin' with laughter. 
 " By my throth," says the priest, " but the case is absthruse ; 
 If he won't take his hen, why the man is a goose — 
 Tis not the first time my advice was no use, 
 
 Paddy O'Rafther!" 
 
 " But for the sake of your sowl, I would sthrongly advise 
 To some one in want you would give your supplies, 
 Some widow, or orphan, with tears in their eyes, 
 
 And then you may come to me afther." 
 So Paddy went off to the brisk Widow Hoy, 
 And the pullet, between them, was eaten with joy, 
 And, says she, " Ton my word you're the cleverest boy, 
 
 Paddy O'Rafther 1" 
 
 Then Paddy went back to the priest, the next day, 
 And told him the fowl he had given away 
 To a poor lonely widow, in want and dismay, 
 
 The loss of her spouse weeping after. 
 " Well, now," says the priest, " I'll absolve you, my lad, 
 For repentantly making the best of the bad, 
 In feeding the hungry and cheering the sad, 
 
 Paddy O'Rafther !" 
 
DECIDEDLY COOL. 55 
 
 DECIDEDLY COOL. 
 
 Cfymtttos. 
 
 Mb. Babklns — an elderly gentleman. 
 Plumper — a man about town. 
 Wiggins — a chambermaid. 
 
 Scene — Drawing Room in Mr. Babkins's House ; portrait over fire- 
 place ; pictures hanging on walls ; sofa, card tables, decanter and 
 two wine glasses upon a small table ; arm chair ; four chairs ; fire- 
 stand with shovel and poker ; carpet down; room elegantly furnished; 
 knock heard without. 
 
 Enter Wiggins, followed by Plumper. 
 
 Wig. What name shall I say, please, sir ? 
 
 Plum. My name, did you say ? O, your master doesn't 
 know my name. I say, you don't keep the stairs very clean 
 in this establishment, Susan ; your name is Susan, of 
 course ? Yes, you look like a Susan — deused ugly name ! 
 (Puts his hat up on the table.) 
 
 Wig. La, sir ! my name's Mary Wiggins. 
 
 Plum. No, it isn't ! I know better, I tell you, and there's 
 no deceiving me — it's Susan ! Pugh ! how close this house 
 smells ! — hang it, let's open the window ! (Opens window.) 
 
 Wig. (aside.) Well, he makes himself at home; I sup- 
 pose he's a poor relation. 
 
 Plum, (throws himself on sofa, and casts away the anti- 
 macassar that covered the head of it.) Hang these rags! 
 Why the deuse does Mrs. Barkins put these stupid things 
 here ? It's a very bad compliment to the heads of your 
 friends, or the heads of the family. By the by, speaking 
 of the heads of the family, how is Mrs. Barkins ? 
 
 Wig. There is no Mrs. Barkins, sir ; my missis is Miss 
 Honiton. (wosses.) 
 
 Plum. Barkins senior ! — Barkins senior ! 
 
 Wig. O sir ! she's master's niece, I assure you. 
 
 Plum. Who said she wasn't ? Hang it, how sharp the 
 women are getting ! Well, Susan — for I know it is Susan- 
 tell your master a gentleman wishes to see him. 
 
56 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Wig. Very well, sir ! — {aside.) Say, a gentleman ! — a 
 gentleman — well, I hope I may be forgiven ! [Exit 
 
 Plum. Humph ! I wonder what old Barkins is like ! * Let 
 me see, what can I tell the old boy about Barkins junior ? 
 for of course they're relations — yes, they must be — happily 
 the name's not common. I only saw young Barkins for 
 about a couple of hours on board the Rhine boat — that was 
 quite enough — only got at his name by catching it on his 
 cigar case, when he offered me a weed. Well, I suppose I 
 must flatter the old boy. I think my old governor will be 
 pleased to see me. He sent me abroad to get rid of an in- 
 veterate modesty that threatened to ruin mv prospects in 
 life, and I flatter myself I have benefited by my journey, 
 though I think I'm still a little spoony — a little bashful at 
 times ; but I'll shake it all off, I'm determined. [Looks 
 round the room.) Well, I can't compliment old Barkins 
 upon having an eye for the picturesque, certainly not ; for 
 the arrangement of this room is most offensively tasteless. 
 Hang it ! those card tables should be vis-a-vis (moves them,) 
 and this sofa shouldn't be here. [Moves it across stage.) 
 There, there, that's a little better ! And these pictures, 
 too — Barkins ! Barkins ! you are sadly wanting in artistic 
 feeling ! [Transposes pictures.) Ah! that's Barkins, of 
 course, over the mantel-piece ! Poor fellow ! how plain ! — 
 in pity, we must put him in a less conspicuous position. 
 [WJieels table to fireplace, and gets upon table, reaches picture 
 down, and has it in his hands, when) 
 Enter Barkins, who stands looking at him with amazement for some 
 
 moments; Plumper silently compares the portrait he holds in his 
 
 hand with the original. 
 It's very like — exceedingly like. The hair is handled with 
 a dexterity worthy of Truefit, and the hands have a delicacy 
 of tint — it's a pity they're so large — that sets the very best 
 almond soap at defiance. Beally, Mr. Barkins, you have a 
 masterpiece here. I should say, by the cloudy background, 
 and the artistic light thrown upon the buttons — a master- 
 piece by — Buggins. 
 
DECIDEDLY COOL. 0/ 
 
 Bab. Sir, I am lost in astonishment at the marvellous 
 coolness of this intrusion. 
 
 Plum, (aside.) I'm thankful for that — he doesn't think 
 me bashful. 
 
 Bar. Come down, sir ; 
 
 Plum. You don't suppose I'm going to stop here all day. 
 (gets down and advances.) Don't be in a hurry — first let 
 me put this table in its place. 
 
 Bab. Sir! 
 
 Plum. Let's proceed in the usual way. Mr. Barkins, I 
 believe ? {bowing.) 
 
 Bar. Sir, I am 
 
 Plum. Don't irritate yourself , old Barkins ; that is to say, 
 Mr. Barkins senior. 
 
 Bar. Sir, I am a man of business ! 
 
 Plum. That's a pity ; they wouldn't admit you into my 
 club, if I were to propose you. 
 
 Bar. How dare you, sir, meddle with the arrangement 
 of my rooms — misplace my pictures ? 
 
 Plum, (throwing himself into arm chair.) Precisely so — 
 I thought as much — just the way of the world again ! Now, 
 attend to me for one moment, Barkins — we're not old 
 friends ; but we intend to be. 
 
 Bar. (aside. ) Cool, upon my word ! (sits. ) 
 
 Plum. So I'll speak to you plainly : there's nothing like 
 beginning as we mean to go on. Well, it's very clear, 
 though, for aught I know to the contrary, you may, I say 
 may be an honest man. 
 
 Bar: Sir ! 
 
 Plum. It's very plain you've not the remotest pretension 
 to taste. 
 
 Bar. Upon my word, sir ! 
 
 Plum, (coolly.) It's no fault of yours. Some people are 
 born idiots ; others with an extraordinary amount of intel- 
 lect ; others, again, with very limited capacities ; whilst 
 some few are gifted from their birth with talents and per- 
 ceptions which must ever remain a mystery to meaner 
 
4 
 
 58 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 mortals. Now are we beginning to understand one another, 
 Barkins senior ? 
 
 Bar. Sir, I've told yon before, and I must repeat it now, 
 that I am a man of the world, and 
 
 Plum. I beg your pardon ; but you never said anything 
 of the kind. 
 
 Bar. When I first came in, I told you I was a man of 
 the world. 
 
 Plum. I beg pardon ; I have a most retentive memory, 
 and I'll take my oath you never said anything of the kind. 
 
 Bar. I said I was a man of business. 
 
 Plum. That's a different thing altogether. 
 
 Bar. Well, sir, a man of business, or a man of the world ; 
 it's all the same. 
 
 Plum. No, sir! a man of business is not a man of the 
 world ; how many men of the world are not men of busi- 
 ness ! It won't do; it won't hold water. 
 
 Bar. W T ell, then, I'm a man of the world, and 
 
 Plum. Very well. Now, then I'll remark upon it. Sorry 
 to hear it, Barkins, sorry to hear it ! What is your man of 
 the world ? A fellow who has got a list of its weaknesses 
 and vices at his tongue's end, who looks askant at his neigh- 
 bor, and thinks everybody, with the single exception of 
 himself, either a flourishing pickpocket or a returned con- 
 vict. ! you're a man of the world, are you ? You know 
 all its dirty corners and dark alleys — you think everybody 
 and everything bad, and I dare be sworn, won't allow there's 
 a bright side to the moon ! I'm sorry for you, Barkins 
 senior ; but we must reform you. 
 
 Bar. Thank you, Mr. . May I, since you are so 
 
 communicative and complimentary, beg the favor of your 
 name ? 
 
 Plum. With great pleasure! My name is Horatio, 
 George, Brummel, William, Wolfgang, Thomas Plumper, 
 of Howqua Park, near Tee Green, Yorkshire. 
 
 Bar. Your godfathers were fertile in names, Mr. Plum- 
 per. 
 
DECIDEDLY COOL. 59 
 
 Plum. Yes, I mnst confess they did the handsome thing. 
 You see, when I was a child, only a few weeks old, I gave 
 signs of great genius ; and as it was difficult to determine 
 the particular bent of it, my friends, with a foresight that 
 cannot be too keenly admired, called me Horatio, thinking 
 that I might rival Nelson in personal courage — George, in 
 the hope that I might be the second finest gentleman in 
 Europe — Brummel, in the belief that I should display un- 
 equalled taste in adorning a not insignificant person — "Wil- 
 liam, in the hope that I might one day stand side by side 
 with Shakspeare — Wolfgang, from my unmistakable pro- 
 mise of becoming a second Mozart — and, finally, Thomas, 
 after the immortal Lawrence ; and, as you will have per- 
 ceived by my criticism on your excellent portrait, and the 
 artistic arrangement of your apartment, my final cognomen 
 is not altogether inappropriate. But I am a modest man, 
 sir; and setting aside George, Brummel, William, Wolfgang, 
 and Thomas, as something to fall back upon, I content my- 
 self with Horatio G. B. W. W. T. Plumper, Esquire, at 
 your service ! 
 
 Bab. Well, sir, having learned — that is to say, heard, for 
 it would take a fortnight's study to learn — your name — — 
 
 Plum. Ha, ha, ha ! — that's very neat ! 
 
 Bah. May I be so bold 
 
 Plum. Ha, ha, ha ! — very good I 
 
 Bar. Don't interrupt me, sir ! 
 
 Plum. Well, if you will say good things, I must laugh at 
 them. 
 
 Bar. May I be so bold, in my own house and on my own 
 Brussels, as to ask the purpose of your visit ? 
 
 Plum. Brussels ? I thought it was Kidderminster ! No 
 —a bad Brussels ! {Examining it. ) I could get you a good 
 serviceable one of this description, at about three shillings 
 per yard. 
 
 Bak. This is impertinence, sir, which 
 
 Plum. Impertinence ? Nonsense ! — aren't you a man of 
 the world ? Besides, everything is so new to me here in 
 
GO BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 England, since I've been away on the Rhine, and through 
 Germany 
 
 Bab. [interrupting him.) I am charmed, sir, with your 
 amiable condescension, and refreshing modesty, but per- 
 mit me to observe that your cheerful society is a luxury 
 "which I feel I neither deserve nor desire, and must there- 
 fore dispense with, (showing him the door.) Mr. Horatio, 
 George, Brummel, William, Wolfgang, Thomas Plumper, 
 of Howqua Park, you will confer an especial favor upon 
 the humble proprietor of these premises by putting your- 
 self and your foreign airs upon the outside of this house as 
 soon as you can make it convenient. 
 
 Plum. Ah, yes ; ha, ha, ha ! I see. Well, if you don't 
 know when you have a good thing, I pity you. A man at 
 you time of life 
 
 Bab. My time of lif e, sir ! 
 
 Plum. I didn't say what time of life, whether twenty, or 
 forty, or sixty — I simply said, "your time of life." If age 
 be a weak point with you, let's drop the subject. Come, 
 Barkins senior, we musn't quarrel ; we're not old friends. 
 
 Bab. (in a rage.) Leave my house, sir, or I will call for 
 the Police. 
 
 Plum. Well, old boy, I forgive you, and to show that I 
 bear you no malice, I will drink your health. (Pjlumpeb 
 goes to table, pours out a glass of wine, and tosses it off. ) 
 Ha ! that's by no means a bad glass of wine ; a little doc- 
 tored, perhaps, but as sherries go, a very passable wine ! 
 Come, take a glass, Barkins; it won't hurt you. (Offers 
 glass. ) 
 
 Bae. This fellow will drive me mad. (Bushes to the win- 
 dow.) Police! Police! 
 
 Plum, (taking up his hat. ) Good-by, my highly respected, 
 elderly friend, I have already wasted too much of my sweet- 
 ness upon the desert air. If you are insensible to the fas- 
 cinations of my society, I pity you, that's all. Good-by, 
 old boy. Give my love to Susan. (Exit, followed by Bab- 
 kins, in a towering passion. ) 
 
THE FRENCHMAN AND THE RATS. 6x 
 
 THE FRENCHMAN AND THE RATS. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 A Fkenchman once, who was a merry wight, 
 
 Passing to town from Dover in the night, 
 
 Near the road-side an ale-house chanced to spy ; 
 
 And being rather tired as well as dry, 
 
 Resolved to enter ; but first he took a peep, 
 
 In hopes a supper he might get, and cheap. 
 
 He enters : " Hallo ! Garcon, if you please, 
 
 Bring me a leetle bread and cheese. 
 
 And hallo ! Garcon, a pot of portar, too !" he said, 
 
 "Vich I shall take, and den myself to bed." 
 
 His supper done, some scraps of cheese were left, 
 Which our poor Frenchman, thinking it no theft, 
 Into his pocket put ; then slowly crept 
 To wished-for bed ; but not a wink he slept — 
 For, on the floor some sacks of flour were laid, 
 To which the rats a nightly visit paid. 
 
 Our hero, now undressed, popped out the light, 
 Put on his cap, and bade the world good-night ; 
 But first his breeches, which contained the fare, 
 Under his pillow he had placed with care. 
 
 Sans ce're'monie soon the rats all ran, 
 And on the flour-sacks greedily began ; 
 At which they gorged themselves ; then smelling round, 
 Under the pillow soon the cheese they found ; 
 And while at this they regaling sat, 
 Their happy jaws disturbed the Frenchman's nap ; 
 "Who, half awake, cries out, " Hallo! hallo! 
 Vat is dat nibbel at my pillow so ? 
 Ah ! 'tis one big huge rat ! 
 Vat de diable is it he nibbel, nibbel at ?" 
 
 In vain our little hero sought repose ; 
 ' Sometimes the vermin galloped o'er his nose ; 
 And such the pranks they kept up all the night 
 That he, on end antipodes upright, 
 Bawling aloud, called stoutly for a light. 
 "Hallo ! Maison ! Garcon, I say ! 
 Bring me the bill for vat I have to pay T 
 
62 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 The bill was brought, and to his great surprise, 
 
 Ten shillings was the charge, he scarce believes his eyes j 
 
 With eager haste he runs it o'er, 
 
 And every time he viewed it thought it more. 
 
 Vy zounds, and zounds !" he cries, "I sail no pay ; 
 
 Yat, charge ten shelangs for vat I have mange ? 
 
 A leetle sup of portar, dis vile bed 
 
 Yare all de rats do run about my head ?" 
 
 "Plague on those rats !" the landlord muttered out : 
 
 " I wish, upon my word, that I could make 'em scout ; 
 
 I'll pay him well that can." " Yat's dat you say ?" 
 
 "I'll pay him well that can." "Attend to me, I pray ; 
 
 YiU you dis charge forego, vat I am at, 
 
 If from your house I drive away de rat ?" 
 
 With all my heart," the jolly host replies, 
 
 "Ecoutez done, ami ;" the Frenchman cries. 
 
 "First, den — Eegardez, if you please, 
 
 Bring to this spot a leetal bread and cheese 
 
 Eh bien ! a pot of portar, too ; 
 
 And den invite de rats to sup vid you. 
 
 And after dat — no matter dey be viiling — 
 
 For vat dey eat, you charge dem just ten shelang. 
 
 And I am sure, ven dey behold de score, 
 
 Dey'll quit your house, and never come no more." 
 
 THE JESTER CONDEMNED TO DEATH. 
 
 smii 
 One of the kings of Scanderoon, 
 
 A Koyal Jester, 
 Had in his train a gross buffoon, 
 
 Who used to pester 
 The Court with tricks inopportune, 
 Yenting on the highest folks his 
 Scurvy pleasantries and hoaxes. 
 
 It needs some sense to play the fool, 
 
 Which wholesome rule 
 Occurred not to our jackanapes, 
 
 
KINDRED QUACKS. 63 
 
 Who consequently found his freaks 
 Lead to innumerable scrapes, 
 
 And quite as many kicks and tweaks, 
 Which only seemed to make him faster 
 Try the patience of his master. 
 
 Some sin, at last, beyond all measure, 
 Incurr'd the desperate displeasure 
 
 Of his serene and raging Highnes3 : 
 Whether he twitch'd his most revered 
 
 And sacred beard, 
 Or had intruded on the shyness 
 Of the Seraglio, or let fly 
 An epigram at royalty, 
 None knows : — his sin was an occult one ; 
 But records tell us that the Sultan, 
 Meaning to terrify the knave, 
 
 Exclaim'd : ' ' Tis time to stop that breath. 
 Thy doom is seal'd :— presumptuous slave ! 
 
 Thou stand'st condemn'd to certain death. 
 
 Silence, base rebel ! — no replying ! — 
 
 But such is my indulgence still, 
 
 That, of my own free grace and will, 
 I leave to thee the mode of dying. " 
 
 "Thy royal will be done — 'tis just," 
 Keplied the wretch, and kissed the dust ; 
 
 "Since, my last moments to assuage, 
 Your majesty's humane decree 
 Has deign'd to leave the choice to me, 
 
 I'll die, so please you, of old age !" 
 
 KINDEED QUACKS. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 I oveeheabd two matrons grave, allied by close affinity 
 (The name of one was Physic, and the other's was Divinity,) 
 As they put their groans together, both so doleful and lugubrious : 
 Says Physic, "To unload the heart of grief, ma'am, is salubrious : 
 
64 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Here am I, at my time of life, in this year of our deliverance ; 
 My age gives me a right to look for some esteem and reverence. 
 But ma'am, I feel it is too true what everybody says to me, — 
 Too many of my children are a shame and a disgrace to me." 
 
 " Ah?" says Divinity, "my heart can suffer with another, ma'am ; 
 t am sure I can well understand your feelings as a mother, ma'am. 
 I've some, as well, — no doubt but what you're perfectly aware 
 
 on't, ma'm." 
 Whose doings bring derision and discredit on their parent, 
 
 ma'am. " 
 
 "There are boys of mine," says Physic, "ma'am, such silly fan- 
 cies nourishing 
 As curing gout and stomach-ache by pawing and by nourishing. " 
 
 "Well," says Divinity, "I've those that teach that Heaven's be- 
 atitudes. 
 Are to be earned by postures, genuflexions, bows, and attitudes. " 
 
 "My good-for-nothing sons," says Physic, "some have turned 
 
 hydropathists, 
 Some taken up with mesmerism, or joined the homceopathists." 
 
 " Mine," says Divinity, " pursue a system of gimcrackery, 
 Called Puseyism, a pack of stuff, and quite as arrant quackery." 
 
 Says Physic, "Mine have sleep-walkers, pretending through the 
 
 hide of you, 
 To look, although their eyes are shut, and tell you what's inside 
 
 of you." 
 
 1 ' Ah," says Divinity, "so mine, with quibbling and with cavilling, 
 Would have you, ma'am, to blind yourself, to see the road to 
 travel in." 
 
 " Mine," Physic says, " have quite renounced their good old pills 
 
 and potions, ma'am, 
 For doses of a billionth of a grain, and such wild notions, ma'am. " 
 
 3i So," says Divinity, "have mine left wholesome exhortation, 
 
 ma'am, 
 For credence-tables, reredoses, rood-lofts, and maceration, 
 
 ma'am. " 
 
HANS BBEITMANN'S PARTY. 65 
 
 "But hospitals," says Physic, "my misguided boys are founding, 
 ma'am." 
 
 "Well," says Divinity, "of mine, the chapels are abounding. 
 
 ma'am, " 
 *<Mine are trifling with diseases, ma'am," says Physic, "not at-' 
 
 tacking them." 
 
 "Mine," says Divinity, "instead of curing souls, are quacking 
 them." 
 
 "Ah, ma'am," says Physic, "I'm to blame, I fear, for these ab- 
 surdities." 
 
 "That's my fear too," Divinity says; "ma'am, upon my word it is." 
 
 Says Physic, "Fees, not science, have been far too much my 
 wishes, ma'am." 
 
 "Truth," says Divinity, " I've loved much less than loaves and 
 fishes, ma'am." 
 
 Says each to each, " We're simpletons, or sad deceivers, some of 
 
 us ; 
 And I am sure ma'am, I don't know whatever will become of us." 
 
 HANS BBEITMANN'S PABTY. 
 
 LELAND. 
 
 Hans Bkeitmann gife a party — dey had piano playin'. 
 I fell'd in lofe mit a Merican frau ; her name vos Matilda Yane. 
 She had haar as prown as a pretzel bun, her eyes were himmel- 
 j blue, 
 
 And ven she looket into mine she shplit mine heart into two. 
 
 Hans Breitmann gife a party — I vent dar, you'll pe pound. 
 I valzt mit der Matilda Yane, and vent shpinnin' round and round 
 De pootiest fraulein in de house ; she weighed two hoondert 
 pound ! 
 
 Hans Breitmann gife a party — I tells you it cost him dear. 
 Dey rollt in more as seven kegs of foost-rate lager bier, 
 And fenefer dey knocks de shpickets in de Deutschers gife a cheer, 
 j I dinks so fine a party not come to a hend dis year. 
 
66 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Hans Breitmann gife a party : dere all vas Sans and Brans. 
 Ven de sooper cooni in, de gompany did make demselfs to house. 
 Dey eat das Brod und Gaensebrnst, Bratwurst nnd Broten fine, 
 And vash deir Abendessen down rnit four barrels of Neckar wein« 
 
 Hans Breitmann gife a party — ve all cot trunk as pigs. 
 
 I put mine mout' to a parrel of bier and schwallowed up mit a 
 
 schwigs. 
 And den I kissed Matilda Yane and she schlog me on de kop, 
 And de gompany fight mit taple legs till de conshtoble made us 
 
 shtop. 
 
 Hans Breitmann gife a party — vere is dat party now ? 
 Vere is de lofely golten cloud dat float on de mountain's prow? 
 Vere is de Himmelstrahlende Stern, de star of de spirits' light ? 
 All goned afay mit de lager bier, afay in de Ewigkeit. 
 
 THE GENEBOTJS FRENCHMAN. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 " When I was in Londres, I go vun day into wat ze 
 Anglais call ze cafe, an I give ze order to ros me von docke ; 
 ze Anglais ros ze docke ver well ; ven de docke was place 
 before me I find him von very fine docke, and very well 
 ros ; he was ver brown, ver full of ze stuff aux ognons, an 
 ze flaveur was ver fine. I put ze fork into ze docke and I 
 commence to cut ze docke, mais when I have begin to cut 
 ze docke I hear some person make loud strong noise comme 
 
 ga — Oh ! as if ze heart was break. I put down ze 
 
 knife on ze plate, an I look roun to see who make ze noise 
 comme ca — Oh ! Ven I look roun I see right oppo- 
 site to me von gentlman, who was ver well dress ; he ave 
 ver good cote, ver good pantalon, and ver good boot, but 
 he have dam leetle hat wiz a hole in ze top ; I no like dat, 
 mais he was a gentlman ; ze noise could not be make by 
 him, an I proceed to cut ze docke, mais, ven I ave proceed 
 to cut ze docke ze second time, I hear une autre fois ze 
 same noise, comme ca — Oh ! plus forte, grate deal 
 
THE GENEROUS FRENCHMAN. 07 
 
 loudaire zan ze first time. I look roun, mais I see nobody 
 but ze gentlman ; I look at ze genthnan, an ze gentlman 
 look at me. He vas gentlman, for lie ave ver good cote, ver 
 good pantalon, and ver good boot, mais he ave leetle bat on 
 ze bead wiz a bole in ze top, an ze bair come out ; / no like 
 dot, mais be vas gentlman. Eb bien ! I ave say to ze 
 gentlman— l Monsieur, pour quoi you make comme ca — 
 
 Ob ! V and ze gentlman ave make me answer an say, 
 
 ' Sare, I ave eat nosing for tree day, an I am ver bungry. ' 
 Mon Dieu, I say to myself, ze gentlman ave reason, be ave 
 eat nosing for tree day. Sacre-bleu be must ave ver grate 
 hungaire ? an ven I ave say dis to myself I look at ze docke, 
 he was ver fine docke, an ver well ros. Zen I say to myself 
 ze seconde time, I sball give ze balf of ze docke to ze gentl- 
 man, an zen I give ze invitation to ze gentlman, to partage 
 ze docke wiz me. r Yen ze gentlman ave receive ze invita- 
 tion be rite way place bimself vis a vis to me, an ma fois ! 
 aussi quick as ze ligbtninbeave eat ze hole of my docke, quel 
 faim ! Ze gentlman ave speak ze truf, be was ver bungry [ 
 En verite, I sbould like to eat piece of my docke, mais ven 
 I zink ze gentlman ave eat nosing for tree day, an as for 
 me I ave dejeuner tres forte, I ring ze bell an I give ze order 
 for a noser docke ; in ze mean time, bowever, ze gentlman 
 ave drink ze bole of my wine. Eb bien, I deman ze oder 
 bouteille, an zen ze oser docke come ; ver fine docke, mais 
 not so good as ze last, — n'importe, ze docke was ver good, 
 mais dis time I ave cut ze docke for me, an ze gentlman ave 
 got ze oser piece, be was so hungry, quel dommage, so 
 mooch a gentlman, so well be dress. He ave ver good cote, 
 ver good pantalon, an ver good boot, mais ze dam leetle bat 
 wiz ze hole in ze top ; i" no like dat, but he was gentlman. 
 Eb bien, apres ca ze gentlman was satisfy be ave eat nearly 
 ze two docke, an I was satisfy, an ven I ave settle ze conte 
 ze lanlor was satisfy aussi ; an zen I ave say to ze gentlman, 
 ' Monsieur, I sail ave ze plaisir to see you some oser time, 
 demain cbez vous, at your house,' and ze gentlman he make 
 grate noise, un autre fois for ze zurd time, comme £a— 
 
68 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Oh. ! an lie say to me, ' Sare, I ave no house. ' Eli 
 
 bien ! I reply to him, vare do you slip ? an he say to me, 
 ' Sare, I slip in ze street. ' I say to myself, wat grate pi tie 
 such hansome gentlman slip in ze street ; an zen I look at 
 him again, an I know he is gentlman, he ave suchver good 
 cote, such ver good pantalon, an such ver good boot, but 
 zen I see ze dam leetle hat wiz zehole in ze top, I no like dot! 
 but he was gentlman. Nevare min, I shall take ze gentlman 
 chez moi to my house ! he shall not slip in ze street ! So 
 I give him ze invitation to go to my house, which he ave 
 accept with great plaisir. Ten I ave take him chez moi I 
 make in ze corner what ze Anglais call ze shake-down, — 
 shake-up ! an ze gentlman commence already to take off ze 
 close. Pour la premiere he ave put ze dam leetle hat wiz 
 ze hole in ze top on ze chair, I no like dat, so when he ave 
 turn his back, I give it von leetle kick under ze bed and 
 nevare say nosing ; ze gentleman zen take off ze cote, ver 
 good cote — ver good cote indeed ! an he take off ze panta- 
 lon, ver fine pantalon ver good pantalon — oui, ver good ! 
 an zen he take off ze boot, ah ma foi, zey were good boot, 
 ver fine boot indeed, an ze gentlman he go to slip. Eh 
 bien, c'est fine, I ave nosing else to do, I go to slip aussi, 
 an I nevaire hear nosing at alltoute la nuit; I mus have slip 
 ver well. In ze morning, ver early, a la bonne heure, I rub 
 my eyes an fine myself wake up ; I put ze head out cf ze 
 bed an I look for my compagnon, mais ze gentlman I no see 
 him, no doute he slip very mooch hard, he have grand 
 fatigue, he slip all ze time in ze street, I ave grate com- 
 passion for him ; so I turn on ze oser side an I make ze 
 second time wat ze Anglais call ze leetle nappe, not ze 
 'nappe Erangaise,' mais ze 'nappe Anglaise ;' chose tres 
 differente je vous assure. Eh bien, ven I ave rub ze eye ze 
 aecond time, I fin it was ten o'clock of ze watch, an I say to 
 ze gentleman who have slip in ze corner all ze nite, ' Mon- 
 sieur, lcvez vous ! it is time to get up,' an ze gentlman ave 
 make no response, an zin I get up myself an I look in ze 
 comer, mais I fin nosing; ze. 4 gentlman was gone. Ah ha ! 
 
THE GENEROUS FRENCHMAN. 69 
 
 I say to myself, ze gentlman was tres reconnaissant, lie ave 
 ver mooch gratitude, he mus ave wake up an he fin me slip 
 ver good, he no like to make ze noise to disturb me ; I ave 
 no dout he will come back yen he zink I ave wake up, an he 
 will make me grate zank for my kindness to him zat he did 
 not slip in ze street. Oh he is such gentleman, he ave such 
 ver good cote, such fine pantalon, and such ver good boot. 
 Yen I say zis to myself I zink make my toilette, an I put 
 on my boot, ver good boot, — mais, wat it is — zey are not my 
 hoot ! ver good boot indeed — ver good boot ! mais zey are 
 not my boot. Ah nevaire min, it is mistake, ze gentlman 
 ave made mistake, he get up so early in ze morning an ave 
 make ze mistake in ze dark. Eh bien, he will soon return 
 and make ze grand apologie, for he is so mooch gentlman — 
 oh oui, he is gentlman, he ave ver good cote, ver good pan" 
 talon, an ze boot are ver good aussi — not so good as mine, 
 mais zey are ver good. In ze mean time I zink comme §a to 
 myself, an I look roun for my pantalon ; oh zey are zere. 
 I put on ze pantalon, mais — que diable ! Ifeelinzepoches, 
 oui, bigar zey are not my pantalon — ver fine/ oui, ver 
 fine pantalon, mais zey are not my pantalon. Ah 'tis ver 
 plain, ze gentlman ave make anoser mistake, an ave take 
 my pantalon, an zink zey are his pantalon; nevaire min ! 
 nevaire min ! he will fine out ze mistake bomby when he 
 fine ze monnaie in ze poche, he will be ver sorry, for he is 
 gentlman, he ave such ver good cote, ver good pantalon, an 
 ver good boot ; oh oui, he is gentlman, j'en suis sure. Tile 
 I zink so to myself I look at ze watch, an I fine him leven 
 o'clock of ze mornin ; I fink it is time to break ze faste, I 
 am ver hungry, so I put on my— ze debil ! what I have 
 here ? — ver fine coat, mais, oui, it is not my cote — no it is 
 not, my cote! Ze gentlman ave make iin autre fois, a noser 
 gran mistake, he ave take my cote an lef me his cote, it was 
 ver £ood cote — ver good cote indeed ! mais it was not my 
 cote. J'en suis fache ; ven ze gentlman ave fine it out he will 
 be mooch mortify zat he ave take my cofce. Ah mon Dieu ! 
 I ave grate pitie for him, he was such gentlman, I am sure 
 
70 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 lie was gentlman, lie ave such ver good cote, such fine pan- 
 talon, and such ver good boot ! Oh certainement he was 
 gentlman, I nevaire make ze mistake, I know ze gentlman 
 an he was gentlman, I know he will come back ; an zen I 
 wait for him von hour by ze clock, an I zink to myself, 
 bigar I ave ze gran rumble in ze stomac, an I feel ver 
 hungere as if I ave eat nosing for tree day like ze gentlman, 
 who I ave no doubt ave wait all zis time at ze cafe for me. 
 Ah quel stupide ! I nevaire zink of zat before, an I look for 
 
 my hat. It is not on ze table, — no ! it is not on ze — 
 
 restez ! qu'avons nous ici ? Who put my hat under ze bed ? 
 my new hat ! I ave jus buy him, an ave just pay von guinea 
 for him. Yenez ! I go on ze knee. Ah ha ! I ave got him 
 by ze ear. Venez ici done, rodeur ! — Wat ze debil I got 
 here ! Hein ? Sacre-bleu ! mille tonnerres ! ze leetle hat 
 wiz ze hole in ze top, bigar ! I no like dat, ze gentlman 
 ave make von gran mistake dis time, an I no Wee dat. Mais 
 he was gentlman, he ave such ver good cote, such ver fine 
 pantalon, and such good boot, mais I no like ze dam leetle 
 hat wiz ze hole in ze top. — No ! Mais he was gentlman.' ' 
 
 SAINT JONATHAN. 
 
 There's many an excellent Saint, — 
 
 St. George, with his dragon and lance ; 
 St. Patrick, so jolly and quaint ; 
 
 St. Vitus, the saint of the dance : 
 St. Denis, the saint of the Gaul ; 
 
 St. Andrew, the saint of the Scot ; 
 But Jonathan, youngest of all, 
 
 Is the mightiest saint of the lot! 
 
 He wears a most serious face, 
 
 Well worthy a martyr's possessing ; 
 
 But it isn't all owing to e^raoo, 
 But partly to thinking and guessing ; 
 
SAINT JONATHAN. 71 
 
 In sooth, our American Saint , 
 
 Has rather a secular bias, 
 And I never have heard a complaint 
 
 Of his being excessively pious ! 
 
 He's fond of financial improvement, 
 
 And is always extremely inclined 
 To be starting some practical movement 
 
 For mending the morals and mind. 
 Do you ask me what wonderful labors 
 
 St. Jonathan ever has done 
 To rank vdth his Calendar neighbors ? 
 Just listen, a moment, to one : 
 
 One day when a flash in the air 
 
 Split his meeting-house fairly asunder, 
 Quoth Jonathan, ' ' Now, I declare — 
 
 They're dreadfully careless with thunder!" 
 So he fastened a rod to the steeple ; 
 
 And now, when the lightning comes round, 
 He keeps it from building and people, 
 
 By running it into the ground ! 
 
 Reflecting, with pleasant emotion, 
 
 On the capital job he had done, 
 Quoth Jonathan, ' ' I have a notion 
 
 Improvements have barely begun ; 
 If nothing's created in vain, — 
 
 As ministers often inform us, — 
 The lightning that's wasted 'tis plain, 
 
 Is really something enormous ! " 
 
 "While ciphering over the thing, 
 
 At length he discovered a plan 
 To catch the Electrical King, 
 
 And make him the servant of man j 
 And now, in an orderly way, 
 
 He flies on the fleetest of pinions, 
 And carries the news of the day 
 
 All over his master's dominions ! 
 
72 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 One morning, while taking a stroll, 
 
 He heard a lugubrious cry — 
 Like the shriek of a suffering soul — 
 
 In a hospital standing near by ; 
 Anon, such a terrible groan 
 
 Saluted St. Jonathan's ear, 
 That his bosom — which wasn't of stone-^ 
 
 Was melted with pity to hear. 
 
 That night he invented a charm 
 
 So potent that folks who employ it, 
 In losing a leg or an arm, 
 
 Don't suffer, but rather enjoy it ! 
 A miracle, you must allow. 
 
 As good as the best of his brothers, '-v. 
 And blessed St. Jonathan now. 
 
 Is patron of cripples and mothers ! 
 
 There's many an excellent Saint, — 
 
 St. George, with his dragon and lance, 
 St. Patrick, so jolly and quaint ; 
 
 St. Vitus, the saint of the dance ; 
 St. Denis, the saint of the Gaul ; 
 
 St. Andrew, the saint of the Scot , 
 But Jonathan, youngest of all, 
 
 Is the mightiest saint of the lot ! 
 
 STUMP SPEECH. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Fellow Citizens: I join in this argumentation as the 
 lion with his mate. I appear before you as the lightning 
 leaps and pours down in lambent streams from the black, 
 impervious, humid, storm cloud. As the artillery of Jove 
 rattles and clashes about his eternal adamantine throne, as- 
 tonishing the heavens, and, as the poets say, desolating the 
 earth. As the cascade leaps from the precipice ; yes, fel- 
 low-citizens. I appear before you as the avalanche rushes 
 
STUMP SPEECH. 78 
 
 from the hen-roost. Bright as the glaciers from the Alpine 
 summit of Popocatax^etl, which leap, and twine, and curl, 
 and cling, in smoky fires about its up-lit apex, will I expa- 
 tiate inordinantly on this all-absorbing question, pugnibus 
 calabus. I am as strong an anti-bonder, as the rock of 
 Chimborasian Gibraltar, and will stand to my track though 
 the earthquake should tremble me, or the wild sea strike 
 me abroad across. This question is boiling, is fuming in 
 me like the bowels of Etna and Vesuvius, and I will not 
 have it quenched. I came here to-night as the mighty 
 Mississippi, as it beats and foams, and frets at the rock of 
 Gibraltar. I am as firmly planted on this floor as the Peak 
 of Teneriffe begirt by the surgings of a thousand seas. My 
 mind is lumid as this flashing of fiery volcanoes ; and I 
 fancy I can see the bond question in all its bearings, with 
 the unshackled eye with which the eagle meets the sun, 
 from this humble temple of the votaries of justice, to Chim- 
 borazo's most superior brow. 
 
 The morning sun rises on the eastern hill; is she to go 
 down before the night comes on ? No, no, no ! this is the 
 most philosophical view of the question that the human 
 mind can present or the human intellect can comprehend. 
 I am, therefore, teeth and toe nails, opposed to the pay- 
 ment of those Mississippi bonds. Men may talk of this 
 matter as they please ; but as long as the Mediterranean 
 lashes her mountain surges at the foot of the Gibralterian 
 rock, there will be found in the Mississippi staunch men. 
 
 Gibraltar, Teneriffe, and Chimborazo, may bathe their 
 heads in the ocean's crimson foam, but the broad spread- 
 eagle sons of our state will never cower to their beacons or 
 their talons. Careless of their beacons and talons, like the 
 whale in the mighty deep, I swallow my own Jonahs, and 
 when my stomach can't bear them, I can throw them up. 
 
 Are the ends of justice to be impeded thus ? No sir-ee. 
 
 Let the curs bark. Her course is on the mountain wave ; 
 
 her home is on the deep. Could any spectator gaze on this 
 
 view without being convinced ? No, sir, no. Bonaparte, 
 
 4 
 
74 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 in all his conquering splendor, might march to Chimborazo, 
 Gibraltar and Teneriffe, with all his opposing armies, and 
 if a repudiator stood on the top, he'd march them down 
 again. 
 
 Lightnings may scathe, and the ocean surges beat against 
 me ; earthquakes may tumble me from the sunny summit 
 of Mount Sinai. I may be blown to atoms, and I will be 
 still unmoved, unchanged. 
 
 As nature, unassisted, created the universe, human na- 
 ture must take care of it himself. As nature blew the 
 breath of life into the nostrils of man : let man look out to 
 keep it there, and breathe it purely while it is there. As 
 the vast expanse sprung from chaos into form and shape, 
 and symmetry, as the mighty earth rolls its seasons, pre- 
 senting its rich benefits to man, so do I, with feelings as 
 tranquil as the mighty deep in its rage tempestuous, so do 
 I appear before you, and so I take my leave of you all, my 
 everlasting repudiates, my unquenchable water-horses. 
 
 THE EIVAL LODGEKS. 
 
 MORTON. 
 
 CIraracto. 
 
 John Box — a Journeyman Printer. 
 
 James Cox — a Journeyman Hatter. 
 
 Mrs. Bouncer — a lady who lets lodgings. 
 Scene — A Room, decently furnished. A bed, with curtains closed, a 
 chest of drawers, a window, a fireplace with mantel-piece, table and 
 chairs, a few common ornaments on chimney-piece. Cox, dressed, 
 with the exception of his coat, is looking at himself in a small look- 
 ing-glass, which is in his hand. 
 
 Cox. I've half a mind to register an oath that I'll never 
 have my hair cut again ! (His hair is very short.) I look 
 as if I had just been cropped for the militia I And I was 
 particularly emphatic in my instructions to the hair-dresser, 
 only to cut the ends off. He must have thought I meant 
 the other ends ! Never mind — I shan't meet anybody to 
 
THE EIYAL LODGERS. 75 
 
 care about so early. Eight o'clock, I declare ! I haven't 
 a moment to lose. Fate has placed me with the most punc- 
 tual, particular, and peremptory of hatters, and I must ful- 
 fil my destiny. [Knock at the door.) Open locks, whoever 
 
 knocks ! 
 
 Enter Mes. Bouncer. 
 
 Mrs. B. Good morning, Mr. Cox. I hope you slept com- 
 fortably, Mr. Cox ? 
 
 Cox. I can't say I did, Mrs. B. I should feel obliged to 
 you, if you could accommodate me with a more protuberant 
 bolster, Mrs. B. The one I've got now seems to me to have 
 about a handful and a half of feathers at each end, and* 
 nothing whatever in the middle. 
 
 Mrs. B. Anything to accommodate you, Mr. Cox. 
 
 Cox. Thank you. Then, perhaps, you'll be good enough 
 to hold this glass, while I finish my toilet. 
 
 Mrs. B. Certainly. [Holding glass before Cox, who ties his 
 cravat.) "Why, I do declare, you've had your hair cut. 
 
 Cox. Cut ? It strikes me IVe had it mowed ! It's very- 
 kind of you to mention it, but I'm sufficiently conscious of 
 the absurdity of my personal appearance already. [Puts on 
 ids coat.) Now for my hat. [Puts on his hat, which comes 
 over his eyes. That's the effect of having one's hair cut. 
 This hat fitted me quite tight before. Luckily I've got two 
 or three more. [Goes in and returns with three hats of differ- 
 ent shapes, and puts them on, one after the other — all of which 
 are too big for him,) This is pleasant I Never mind. This 
 one appears to me to wabble about rather less than the 
 others — [Puts on hat) — and now I'm off! By the by, Mrs. 
 Bouncer, I wish to call your attention to a fact that has 
 been evident to me for some time j)ast — and that is, that my 
 coals go remarkably fast — 
 
 Mrs. B. Lor, Mr. Cox ! 
 
 Cox. It is not the case only with the coals, Mrs. Bouncer, 
 but I've lately observed a gradual and steady increase of 
 evaporation among my candles, wood, sugar, and matches. 
 
 Mrs. B. Lor, Mr. Cox ! you surely don't suspect me ! 
 
76 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Cox. I don't say I do, Mrs. B. ; only I wish you dis- 
 tinctly to understand, that I don't believe it's the cat. 
 
 Mrs. B. Is there anything else you've got to grumble 
 about, sir? 
 
 Cox. Grumble ! Mrs. Bouncer, do you possess such a 
 thing as a dictionary ? 
 
 Mrs. B. No, sir. 
 
 Cox. Then I'll lend you one — and if you turn to the letter 
 G., you'll find ' 'Grumble, verb neuter — to complain without 
 a cause." Now that's not my case, Mrs. B., and now that 
 we are upon the subject, I wish to know how it is that I 
 frequently find my apartment full of smoke ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Why — I suppose the chimney — 
 
 Cox. The chimney doesn't smoke tobacco. I'm speaking 
 of tobacco smoke, Mrs. B. I hope, Mrs. Bouncer, you're 
 not guilty of cheroots or Cubas ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Not I, indeed, Mr. Cox. 
 
 Cox. Nor partial to a pipe ? 
 
 Mrs. B. No, sir. 
 
 Cox. Then, how is that — 
 
 Mrs. B. Why — I suppose — yes — that must be it — 
 
 Cox. At present I am entirely of your opinion — because 
 I haven't the most distant particle of an idea what you mean. 
 
 Mrs. B. Why the gentleman who has got the attics, is 
 hardly ever without a pipe in his mouth — and there he sits, 
 with his feet upon the mantel-piece — 
 
 Cox. The mantel-piece ! That strikes me as being a con- 
 siderable stretch, either of your imagination, Mrs. B., or 
 the gentleman's legs. I presume you mean the fender or 
 the hob. 
 
 Mrs. B. Sometimes one, sometimes t'other. Well, there 
 he sits for hours, and puffs away into the fire-place. 
 
 Cox. Ah, then you mean to say, that this gentleman's 
 smoke, instead of emulating the example of all other sorts 
 of smoke, and going up the chimney, thinks proper to affect 
 a singularity by taking the contrary direction ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Why— 
 
THE RIYAL LODGERS. 77 
 
 Cox. Then, I suppose, the gentleman you are speaking 
 of is the same individual that I invariably meet coming up 
 stairs when I'm going down, and going down stairs when 
 I'm coming up ! 
 
 Mrs. B. Why— yes— I— 
 
 Cox. From the appearance of his outward man, I should 
 unhesitatingly set him down as a gentleman connected with 
 the printing interest. 
 
 Mes. B. Yes, sir — and a very respectable young gentle- 
 man he is. 
 
 Cox. Well, good morning, Mrs. Bouncer ! 
 
 Mrs. B. You'll be back at your usual time, I suppose, 
 sir? 
 
 Cox. Yes — nine o'clock. You needn't light my fire in 
 future, Mrs. B. — I'll do it myself. Don't forget the bol- 
 ster ! [Going, stops.) A halfpenny worth of milk, Mrs. 
 Bouncer — and be good enough to let it stand — I wish the 
 cream to accumulate. [Exit. 
 
 Mrs. B. He's gone at last ! I declare I was all in a 
 tremble for fear Mr. Box would come in before Mr. Cox 
 went out. Lucidly, they've never met yet — and what's 
 more, they're not very likely to do so ; for Mr. Box is 
 hard at work at a newspaper onice all night, and doesn't 
 come home till the morning, and Mr. Cox is busy making 
 hats all day long, and doesn't come home till night ; so 
 that I'm getting double rent for my room, and neither of 
 my lodgers are any the wiser for it. It was a capital idea 
 of mine — that it was ! But I haven't an instant to lose. 
 First of all, let me put Mr. Cox's things out of Mr. Box's 
 way. I really must beg Mr. Box not to smoke so much. I 
 was so dreadfully puzzled to know what to say when Mr. 
 Cox spoke about it. Now, then, to make the bed — and 
 don't let me forget that what's the head of the bed for Mr. 
 Cox becomes the foot of the bed for Mr. Box — people's 
 tastes do differ so. 
 
 Box [without) Pooh — pooh ! Why don't you keep 
 your own side of the staircase, sir ? [Enters, 
 
78 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, Mr. Box! (Going. 
 
 Box. Stop ! Can you inform me who the individual is 
 that I invariably encounter going down stairs when I'm 
 coming up, and coming up stairs when I'm going down ? 
 
 Mrs. B. (confused.) Oh — yes — the gentleman in the 
 attic, sir. 
 
 Box. Oh ! There's nothing particularly remarkable about 
 him, except his hats. I meet him in all sorts of hats — white 
 hats and black hats — hats with broad brims, and hats with 
 narrow brims, — hats with naps, and hats without naps — in 
 short, I have come to the conclusion, that he must be indi- 
 vidually and professionally associated with the hatting 
 interest. 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, sir. And, by the by, Mr. Box, he begged 
 me to request of you, as a particular favor, that you would 
 not smoke quite so much. 
 
 Box. Did he ? Then you may tell the gentle hatter, with 
 my compliments, that if he objects to the effluvia of tobacco, 
 he had better domesticate himself in some adjoining parish. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, Mr. Box ! You surely wouldn't deprive me 
 of a lodger ? (Pathetically. 
 
 Box. It would come to precisely the same thing, Bouncer, 
 because if I detect the slightest attempt to put my pipe out, 
 I at once give you warning that I shall give you warning at 
 once. 
 
 Mrs. B. "Well, Mr. Box — do you want anything more of 
 me ? 
 
 Box. On the contrary — I've had quite enough of you ! 
 
 Mrs. B. Well, if ever ! What next, I wonder ! 
 
 (Going out, slamming door after her. 
 
 Box. It's quite extraordinary, the trouble I always have 
 to get rid of that venerable female ! She knows I'm up 
 all night, and yet she seems to set her face against my in- 
 dulging in a horizontal position by day. Now, let me see , 
 — shall I take my nap before I swallow my breakfast, or 
 shall I take my breakfast before I swallow my nap — I mean, 
 shall I swallow my nap before — no — never mind ! I've got 
 
THE KIYAL LODGERS. 79 
 
 a rasher of bacon somewhere — (Feeling in his pockets. ) — I've 
 the most distinct and vivid recollection of having purchased 
 a rasher of bacon — Oh, here it is — (Produces it, wrapped in 
 paper, and places it on the table.) — and a penny roll. The 
 next thing is to light the fixe. Where are my matches ? 
 (Looking on mantel-piece, and taking box, opens it.) Now 
 'pon my life, this is too bad of Bouncer — this is, by several 
 degrees, too bad ! I had a whole box full, three days ago, 
 and now there's only one ! I'm perfectly aware that she 
 purloins my coals, and my candles, and my sugar — but I 
 did think — oh, yes, I did think that my matches would be 
 sacred ! (Lights the fire — -then takes down a gridiron, which is 
 hanging over the fireplace.) Mrs. Bouncer has been using 
 my gridiron ! The last article of consumption that I 
 cooked upon it was a pork chop, and now it is powerfully 
 impregnated with the odor of red herrings ! (Places grid- 
 iron on fire, and then, with fork, lays rasher of bacon on the 
 gridiron.) How sleepy I am, to be sure ! I'd indulge my- 
 self with a nap, if there was anybody here to superintend 
 the turning of my bacon. (Yaivning again.) Perhaps it 
 will turn itself. I must lie down — so, here goes. (Lies on 
 the bed, closing the curtains round him — after a short pause — 
 Enter Cox, hurriedly. 
 Cox. Well wonders will never cease ! Conscious of be- 
 ing eleven minutes and a half behind time, I was sneaking 
 into the shop, in a state of considerable excitement, when 
 my venerable employer, with a smile of extreme benevo- 
 lence on his aged countenance, said to me — " Cox, I shan't 
 want you to-day — you can have a holiday." — Thoughts of 
 " Gravesend and back — fare, One Shilling," instantly sug- 
 gested themselves, intermingled with visions of " Green- 
 wich for Fourpence !" Then came the Two-penny Omni- 
 buses, and the Halfpenny boats — in short, I'm quite be- 
 wildered ! However, I must have my breakfast first — that'll 
 give me time to reflect. I've bought a mutton chop, so I 
 shan't want any dinner. (Puis chop on table.) Good gra- 
 cious ! I've forgot the bread. Halloa ! what's this ? A 
 
80 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 roll, I declare ! Come, that's lucky ! Now then, to light 
 the lire. Holloa — {seeing the match-box on the table.) — who 
 presumes to touch my box of matches ? "Why, it's empty ! 
 I left one in it — I'll take my oath I did. Hey-dey ! why 
 the fire is lighted ! Where's the gridiron ? On the fire, I 
 declare ! And what's that on it ? Bacon ? Bacon it is ! 
 Well, now, 'pon my life, there's a quiet coolness about Mrs. 
 Bouncer's proceedings that's almost amusing. She takes 
 my last match- — my coals, and my gridiron, to cook her 
 breakfast by ! No, no — I can't stand this ! Come out of 
 that ! (Pokes fork into bacon, and puts it on a plate on the 
 table, then places his chop on the gridiron, which he puts on the 
 fire.) Now, then, for my breakfast things. (Goes out, 
 slamming the door after him, with a loud noise. 
 
 Box. (Suddenly showing his head from behind the curtain.) 
 Come in ! if it's you, Mrs. Bouncer — you needn't be afraid. 
 I wonder how long I've been asleep ? (Suddenly recollect- 
 ing.) Goodness gracious — my bacon ! (Leaps off bed, and 
 runs to the fireplace. ) Halloa ! what's this ? A chop ! Whose 
 chop ? Mrs. Bouncer's I'll be bound. — She thought to 
 cook her breakfast while I was asleep — with my coals, too — 
 and my gridiron ! Ha, ha ! But where's my bacon ? (See- 
 ing it on the table.) Here it is. Well, pon my life, Bouncer's 
 going it ! And shall I curb my indignation ? Shall I falter 
 in my vengeance ? No ! (Digs his fork into the chop, opens 
 window, and throws chop out — shuts window again.) So 
 much for Bouncer's breakfast, and now for my own ! ( With 
 the fork he puts the bacon on the gridiron again.) I may as 
 well lay my breakfast things. 
 
 Cox. (putting his head in quickly.) Come in — come in! 
 ( Opens door. Enters with- a small tray, on which are tea things, 
 and suddenly recollects.) Oh, goodness! my chop ! (Run- 
 ning to fireplace. Holloa — what's? The bacon again ! Oh, 
 pooh ! Zounds — I can't stand this ! (Pokes fork into ba- 
 con, opens window, and flings it out, shuts window again, re- 
 turns to drawers for tea things, and encounters Box — they walk 
 down the stage together.) Who arc you, sir ? 
 
THE EIYAL LODGERS. 81 
 
 Box. If you come to that — who are you ? 
 
 Cox. What do you want here, sir ? 
 
 Box. If you come to that — what do you want ? 
 
 Cox {aside.) .It's the printer ! 
 
 Box {aside,) It's the hatter ! 
 
 Cox. Go to your attic, sir. 
 
 Box. My attic, sir ? Your attic, sir ! 
 
 Cox. Printer, I shall do you a frightful injury, if you 
 don't instantly leave my apartment. 
 
 Box. Your apartment ? You mean my apartment, you 
 contemptible hatter, you 1 
 
 Cox. Your apartment ? Ha ! ha ! — come, I like that \ 
 Look here, sir — (Produces a paper out of his pocket.) Mrs. 
 Bouncer's receipt for the last week's rent, sir. 
 
 Box {produces a paper, and holds it close to Cox's face.) 
 Ditto, sir ! 
 
 Cox {suddenly shouting.) Thieves! 
 
 Box. Murder ! 
 
 Both. Mrs. Bouncer ! {Each runs to the door, calling. 
 
 Mrs. Bouncer runs in at the door. 
 
 Mes. B. What is*the matter ? {Cox and Box seize Mrs. 
 Bouncer by the arm, and drag her forward. 
 
 Box. Instantly remove that hatter ! 
 
 Cox. Immediately turn out that printer ! 
 
 Mes. B. Well — but, gentlemen — 
 
 Cox. Explain ! (P idling her round to him. 
 
 Box. Explain ! [Pulling her round to him.) Whose 
 room is this ? 
 
 Cox. Yes, woman — whose room is this ? 
 
 Box. Doesn't it belong to me ? 
 
 Mes. B. No ! 
 
 Cox. There ! You hear, sir — it belongs to me ! 
 
 Mes. B. No — it belongs to both of you ! {Sobbing. 
 
 Cox. t Box. Both of us ? 
 
 Mes. B. Oh, dear, gentlemen, don't be angry — but you 
 see. this gentleman — (pointing to Box) — only being at 
 
82 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 home in the day time, and that gentleman — {pointing to 
 Cox) — at night, I thought I might venture, until my little 
 back second floor room was ready — 
 
 Box & Cox (eagwty.) When will your little back seconc' 
 floor room be ready ? 
 
 Mbs. B. Why, to-morrow. 
 
 Cox. I'll take it ! 
 
 Box. So will I! 
 
 Mks. B. Excuse me — but if you both take it, you may 
 just as well stop where you are, 
 
 Cox & Box. True. 
 
 Cox. I spoke first, sir. 
 
 Box. With all my heart, sir. The little back second floor 
 room is yours, sir — now, go. 
 
 Cox. Go ? Pooh — pooh ! 
 
 Mes. B. Now don't quarrel, gentlemen. Promise me 
 you will keep your temper. 
 
 Both. We wilL ( They shake hands and embrace. Exit. 
 
 THE FEENCHMAN AND THE MOSQUITOES. 
 
 4 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Petite moskeetare, your time it have come ! 
 Ze frost he have call for you — go you now home. 
 All of your buz-ze-buz into my ear — 
 Now I am rid of it ; skeetare, my dear ! 
 
 Yen to bed in my garret I go, 
 Zen viz your moosic you bozaire me so, 
 Viz your tin trompit you sing all ze night ; 
 Mr. Jack Frost now he freeze-a you tight. 
 
 Ah ! vat a blessing ze cole vintar be, 
 
 Ven he kill all of ze skeetare and flea ! 
 
 Zen till ze spring time varm vedder sail bring, 
 
 Monsieur Moskeetare, no more you vill sing ! 
 
THE MAIDEN'S MISHAP. 83 
 
 THE MAIDEN'S MISHAP. 
 
 ANC*JY2XOUS. 
 
 Evening beamed upon the Highlands, 
 
 Sunbeams, barefoot, softly crept 
 Where the snow-drop's timid blossom 
 
 Smiled and nodded while it slept— 
 
 Nodded sweetly while it slept. 
 
 In the valley stood a dwelling ; 
 Stout and oaken was the door, 
 
 But the beams, the windows forcing, 
 Played about the sanded floor- 
 Romped and quivered on the floor. 
 
 None may know for whom they waited, 
 
 Why he tarried none may tell ; 
 Yet we thought we heard among them 
 
 Lispings, such as these — Ah ! well, 
 
 May be 'twould not do to tell. 
 
 Soon the door swung on its hinges, 
 
 Slowly, with a drawling creak, 
 And a maid stood on the threshold ; 
 
 Fair was she as Powers' Greek. 
 
 Fair as Powers' marble, Greek. 
 
 Oh ! that form was rarer, sweeter 
 
 Than a dream of Raphael's ; 
 And her voice in echoes lingered 
 
 Like the mellow talk of bells — 
 
 Like the dreamy talk of bells. 
 
 Up the valley and the hill-side 
 
 Fled she, like a frightened fawn ; 
 None may know, and none need ask me 
 
 Why she fled bareheaded on — ■ 
 
 Why at all she hurried on. 
 
 Look ! dost see her dark hair streaming ? 
 
 Note her cheek — its crimson glow ! 
 Is she — nay, she can't be dreaming — 
 
 Is she mad ? why flies she so ? 
 
 Madness only hurries so ! 
 
84 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Lo ! she stays ; athwart her features 
 Signs of bitter anguish roll ; 
 
 Pale she seems to sink, exhausted, 
 On a soft and mossy knoll — 
 Sinks she softly on the knoll. 
 
 Then a squeaky voice is lifted, 
 
 Neither sweet, nor soft, nor low— 
 * ' Gracious goodness ! Sister Sally, 
 Trying to head off that heifer, 
 I have been and stubbed my toe — 
 The infernal critter ! Oh-o-o /" 
 
 THE EEMOVAL. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 A nervous old gentleman, tired of trade, — 
 By which, though, it seems he a fortune had made, — 
 Took a house 'twixt two sheds, at the skirts of the town, 
 Which he meant, at his leisure, to buy and pull down. 
 
 This thought struck his mind when he viewed the estate, 
 But, alas ! when he entered he found it too late ; 
 For in each dwelt a smith : — a more hard-working two 
 Never doctored a patient, or put on a shoe. 
 
 At six in the morning, their anvils, at work, 
 Awoke our good squire, who raged like a Turk : 
 ,l These fellows," he cried, "such a clattering keep, 
 That I never can get above eight hours of sleep." 
 
 From morning till night they keep thumping away,— 
 No sound but the anvil the whole of the day : 
 His afternoon's nap, and his daughter's new song, 
 Were banished and spoiled by their hammers' ding-dong. 
 
 He offered each Vulcan to purchase his shop ; 
 But, no ! they were stubborn, determined to stop : 
 At length (both his spirits and health to improve) 
 He cried, " I'll give each fifty guineas to move." 
 

 TALKING LATIN. 85 
 
 "Agreed !" said the pair ; " that will make us amends." 
 4 * Then come to my house, and let us part friends : 
 You shall dine ; and we'll drink on this joyful occasion, 
 That each may live long in his new habitation." 
 
 He gave the two blacksmiths a sumptuous regale, — 
 He spared not provisions, his wine, nor his ale ; 
 So much was he pleased with the thought that each guest 
 Would take from him noise, and restore him to rest. 
 
 " And now," said he, " tell me, where mean you to move — 
 
 I hope to some spot where your trade will improve ?" 
 "Why, sir," replied one, with a grin on his phiz, 
 " Tom Forge moves to my shop, and I move to his !" 
 
 . TALKING LATINV 
 
 HALIBURTON. 
 
 Feelin' a hand on my arm, I turns round; and who 
 should I see but Marm Green ! Dear me, said she, is that 
 you, Mr. Slick ? I've been looking all about for you for 
 ever so long. How do you do ? I hope I see you quite well. 
 Hearty as .brandy, marm, says I, tho' not quite as strong, 
 and a great deal heartier for a-seein' of you. How be you ? 
 [Reasonable well, and stirrin', says she : I try to keep amov- 
 in' ; but I shall give the charge of things soon to Arabella. 
 Have you seen her yet ? No, says I ; I havn't had the 
 pleasure since her return ; but I hear folks say she is a most 
 splendid fine gal. "Well, come, then, said she, a-takin' o' 
 my arm ; let me introduce you to her. She is a fine gal, 
 Mr. Slick — that's a fact ; and tho' I say it, that shouldn't 
 say it, she's a considerable of an accomplished gal too. 
 Now, I take some credit to myself, Mr. Slick, for that. 
 She is throwed away here ; but I was determined to have 
 her educated, and so I sent her to bordin' school ; and you 
 see the effect of her five quarters. Afore she went, she was 
 three years to the combined school in this district — that in- 
 cludes both Dalhousie and Sherbrooke. You have com- 
 
86 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 bined schools in the States, havn't you, Mr. Slick ? I 
 guess we have, said I ; boys and gals combined ; was to one 
 on 'em, when I was considerable well grown up. Dear me, 
 what fun we had ! It's a grand place to larn the multiplica- 
 tion table at, ain't it ? I recollect once — Oh; fie ! Mr. 
 Slick, I mean a siminary for young gentlemen and ladies, 
 where they larn Latin and English combined. Oh, latten ! 
 said I ; they larn latten there, do they ? Well, come, there 
 is some sense in that : I didn't know there was a factory of 
 it in all Nova Scotia. I know how to make latten. Father 
 sent me clean away to New York to larn it. You mix up 
 calamine and copper, and it makes a brass as near like gold 
 as one pea Is like another ; and then there is another kind 
 o' latten workin — tin over iron — it makes a most complete 
 imitation of silver. Oh ! a knowledge of latten has been of 
 great sarvice to me in the clock trade, you may depend. It 
 has helped me to a nation sight of the genu wine metals — 
 that's a fact. 
 
 "Why, what on airth are you a-talkin' about ? said Mrs. 
 Green. I don't mean that latten at all ; I mean the Latin 
 they larn at schools. Well, I don't know, said 1:1 never 
 seed any other kind o' latten, nor ever heerd tell of any. 
 
 What is it? Why, it's a , it's a . Oh, you know well 
 
 enough said she ; only you make as if you didn't, to poke fun 
 at me. I believe, on my soul, you've been abammin of me the 
 whoJe blessed time. I hope I be shot if I do, said I ; so do 
 tell me what it is. Is it anything in the silk factory line, or 
 the straw-plat, or the cotton-warp way ? Y r our head, said 
 she, considerable miffy, is always a-runnin' on a factory. 
 
 Latin is a . Nabal, said she, do tell me what Latin is. 
 
 Latin ? says he, — why, Latin is ahem, it's what they 
 
 teach at the combined school. Well, says she, we all know 
 that as well as you do, Mr. Wisehead ; but what is it ? 
 Come here, Arabella dear, and tell me what Latin is ? Why, 
 Latin, ma, said Arabella, is — am-o, I love ; am-at, he loves ; 
 am-amus, we love ; — that's Latin. Well, it does sound 
 dreadful pretty, tho', don't it ? says I ; and yet, if Latin is 
 
PRAYING FOR RAIN. 87 
 
 love, and love is Latin, you hadn't no occasion — and I got 
 up, and slipt my hand into hers — you hadn't no occasion to 
 go to the combined school to larn it ; for natur', says I, 
 
 teaches that a and I was whisperin' of the rest o' the 
 
 sentence in her ear, when her mother said, Come, come, Mr. 
 Slick, what's that you are a-saying of ? Talkin : Latin, says 
 I, smiling at Arabella ; — ain't we, miss ? Oh yes, said she, 
 returning my glance and larnn' ; — oh yes, mother ; arter all, 
 he understands it complete. Then take my seat here, says 
 the old lady, and both on you sit down and talk it ; for it 
 will be a good practice for you ; — and away she sailed to the 
 end of the room, and left us a — talking Latin. 
 
 PKAYING POK EAIN. 
 
 How difficult, alas ! to please mankind ! 
 
 One or the other every moment mutters ; 
 This wants an eastern, that a western wind : 
 
 A third, petition for a southern, utters. 
 Some pray for rain, and some for frost and snow : 
 How can Heaven suit all palates ? — I don't know. 
 
 Good Lamb, the curate, much approved, 
 Indeed by all his nock beloved, 
 
 "Was one dry summer begged to pray for rain : 
 The parson most devoutly prayed — 
 The powers of prayer were soon displayed ; 
 
 Immediately a torrent drenched the plain. 
 
 It chanced that the church warden, Robin Jay, 
 Had of his meadow not yet saved the hay : 
 
 Thus was his hay to health quite past restoring. 
 It happened, too, that Robin was from home ; 
 But when he heard the story, in a foam 
 
 He sought the parson, like a lion roaring. 
 
 " Zounds ! Parson Lamb, why, what have you been doing ? 
 A pretty storm, indeed, ye have been brewing ! 
 
88 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 What ! pray for rain before I saved my hay ! 
 Oh ! you're a cruel and ungrateful man ! 
 I that forever help you all I can ; 
 
 Ask you to dine with me and Mistress Jay, 
 Whenever we have something on the spit, 
 Or in the pot a nice and dainty bit ; 
 
 "Send you a goose, a pair of chicken, 
 Whose bones you are so fond of picking ; 
 
 And often too a cag of brandy ! 
 You that were welcome to a treat, 
 To smoke and chat, and drink and eat ; 
 
 Making my house so very handy ! 
 
 " You, parson, serve one such a scurvy trick! 
 Zounds ! you must have the bowels of Old Nick. 
 What ! bring the flood of Noah from the skies, 
 With my fine field of hay before your eyes ! 
 A numskull, that I wern't of this aware. — 
 Curse me, but I had stopped your pretty prayer!" 
 "Dear Mister Jay !" quoth Lamb, " alas ! alas ! 
 I never thought upon your field of grass. " 
 
 "Lord ! parson, you're a fool, one might suppose — 
 Was not the field just underneath your nose ? 
 This is a very pretty losing job !" — ■ 
 "Sir," quoth the curate, "know that Harry Cobb 
 
 Your brother warden joined, to have the prayer." — ■ 
 1 * Cobb ! Cobb ! why this for Cobb was only sport : 
 What doth Cobb own that any rain can hurt ?" 
 
 Boared furious Jay, as broad as he could stare. 
 
 " The fellow owns, as far as I can lam, 
 
 A few old houses only, and a barn ; 
 
 As that's the case, zounds ! what are showers to him ? 
 
 Not Noah's flood could make his trumpery swim. 
 
 "Besides — why could you not for drizzle pray ? 
 Why force it down in buckets on the hay ? 
 Would 1 have played with your hay such a freak ? 
 No! I'd have stopped the weather for a week." 
 
THE DARKEY PHOTOGRAPHED 89 
 
 "Dear Mister Jay, I do protest, 
 I acted solely for the best ; 
 
 I do affirm it, Mister Jay, indeed. 
 Your anger for this once restrain, 
 I'll never bring a drop again 
 
 Till you and all the parish are agreed.' 
 
 THE DAEKEY PHOTOGRAPHER 
 
 A NEGEO BUEEESQUE 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 C|rattta 
 
 Mr. Feux Gumbo— -from the country. 
 Mr. Collodion—- a photographer. 
 Ado:lphus — a boy up at-all-fuss. 
 
 Scene and Peopeetees. — An Interior, rather nice parlor, carpet 
 down, pictures on the walls, statues in the corners, painted or nat- 
 ural, with doors each side. Large table with fancy cloth, with pho- 
 tographs of all sizes — chairs — carpet-bag and umbrella for Gumbo. 
 Long-handled broom in corner — exaggerated, apparatus, consisting 
 of tripod of man's height, with camera, i. e., a plain, neat box, 
 2X2X3) (fa feet, ) placed the long way horizontally, circular hole in 
 front for a tin tube one foot long and ten inches in diameter, to which 
 is fitted a lid, with handle to remove and replace it on the outer end, 
 a slide-opening made at same end of the box to admit a frame being 
 passed into and across it. Black or dark blue baize cloth tacked to 
 other open end of box, to hang in loose folds from the top edge. 
 A shelf is fitted to the tripod on the side facing the audience, to hold 
 a large pantomime watch, with dog-chain to match. A frame to fii 
 the slide-opening in camera, on which is pasted for each perform- 
 ance a paper on which are rudely outlined two faces of the same 
 size, one upright, the other a little transversely, as large as may be. 
 A handful of flour in cup on table for Adolphus. 
 
 Adoephus [discovered dusting the tables, etc.) What's de 
 use ob keepin' de place so liice-lookin' when it's more dan 
 
90 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 a fortnight since a customer came in, an J such a fort'nit 
 thing won't hapj^en ag'in in a hurry. Oh ! here's niassa. 
 (dusts a chair very briskly.) 
 
 Col. (enters. ) Don't make de dust fly about so, Adolphus I 
 We've too much diffukilty as it is in raising the wind and 
 bringing down de dust. Any one called ? 
 
 Adol. Yes ! 
 
 Col. Den dar is hopef ullessness ! 
 
 Adol. Maybe dar is, but it was de landlord, who said dat 
 dis studjoe stood yo' in too little for him to let you be left 
 tenant anoder free quarters. 
 
 Col. Nobody else ? 
 
 Adol. Not a else. 
 
 Col. Den dare is no use a-strivin', I've sold ebberyting 
 in de house 'cept de contents ob dis room. I tell you what, 
 boy ! as de public won't appreciate high art — on de sixth 
 story ! — we mus' descen' to dem, and make dem gib us a 
 chance. 
 
 Adol. 'Drather dey'd gib us some change. 
 
 Con. Boy, if you want to know what a dinner looks like 
 dis week, you must go down in de street and fotch up de 
 berry fust man what you can handle ! 
 
 Adol. S'pose he won't be fotched ? 
 
 Col. Leff go an' lay by for a smaller one ! 
 
 Adol. I'll do it ! {shakes his broom.) 
 
 Col. I'll raise your cellary 
 
 Adol. I can't raise any myself. 
 
 Col. You shall sleep on top ob de table, instid ob under 
 it! 
 
 Adol. I'll fasten on de fust man ! (puis broom in corner. 
 Attitude a la highwayman.) Your likeness or your life ! 
 
 (Exit. 
 
 Col. Can't say I wanted any urging to display my en- 
 ergy. If an artist like me can't get customers dis way, I'll 
 get up a raffle, all de prizes blanks ! and gamble off de 
 tings, from de baths to do cam-e-ra obscura, (and likely to 
 go away still more obscurerly.) Hark! (trampling left.) 
 
 
THE DARKE? PHOTOGRAPHER. 91 
 
 Col. (Jiand on right breast.) Be still, my heart ! De boy's 
 bailed somebody ! I mus' give him sixpence more a monf 
 from dis out. Here dey come ! Now to exchange my suit 
 for more artistic habiliments. (Exit — great noise. 
 
 Adolphus enters, other side, pulling Gumbo in, pushes him to the 
 centre — Gumbo, umbrella in one hand, bag in other, falls over chair, 
 spreading the bag and umbrella in his fall. Sits up aghast. 
 
 Adol. Dar y'are ! 
 
 Gumbo (rises staring. Aside.) Dare I are ! Well, dat's 
 much is truff ! (picks up his bag and umbrella, aside. ) It's 
 kinder scurious ! I heerd dey was werry frien'ly in de big 
 city, but I neber fought dis was de style dat dey took 'em 
 in ! Is dis a hotel, boy ? 
 
 Adol. Dis is a photomagraphic studjoe ! (proudly.) 
 
 Gumbo. Eh ? 
 
 Adol, (repeats.) 
 
 Gumbo. Yes. I used to know him. Is he well ? 
 
 Adol. Who ? 
 
 Gumbo. Ole Stew Joe 1 
 
 Adol. I said a photomagraphic stud- joe — a gallery ! 
 
 Gumbo. And so dis is a gallery ! I wonder dey leff you 
 behave so boy-stir-us here, den. Why! (looking up.) De 
 roof is a winder ! Dat's kinder scurious 1 
 
 Adol. Dey take pictures here ! 
 
 Gumbo. Do dey ! (hugs his bag.) I got an ile painting in 
 my ridicule, an' I'd like to behold de fust man take dat ! 
 (flourishes umbrella.) 
 
 Adol. We don't take pictures dat way. You kin have 
 yourself delineated in any style. 
 
 Gumbo. I wouldn't have myself de-linen-ated in any tile 
 but dis (touching his hat.) 
 
 Adol. And at all prices. Hold on a bit till I tell master. 
 (Exit crying,) Oh, master! here's a customer ! 
 
 Gumbo (stares around, keeping tight hold of bag and um- 
 brella, a point in his general business throughout the piece.) 
 Dis is kinder scurious ! (goes around the room.) points his um- 
 brella at statuettes, is frightened by the camera.) Hullo I 
 
92 300K OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 what's dis niacliine, I wonder — looks like a new-fangled 
 hash-cutter, on'y don't see no crank, [examines camera.) 
 It's kinder scurious ! (goes up to table.) Hullo ! heyah's lots 
 o' pictures ! Geerusaleminy ! ain't dey pooty ! Whew ! 
 here's a man wid two crowns to his head ! why — ha, ha ! 
 here's his name on it. De Emperum Lewis Napoleum I 
 Did he come heyah to hab his figger drew ? It's kinder 
 scurious ! Oh ! here's a lady ! Latest news. Dresses 
 made lower dan eber ! My ! heyah's a pootier gal ! I 
 rader tink I'll keep dis one ! All de young fellers does dat 
 now, an' says — de gals gub it 'um ! (puts photograph in his 
 hat, puts hat on.) 
 
 Col (enters. ) Ah, oh, hum ! (with assumed French accent ) 
 
 Gumbo (starts.) Oh ! ah ! hum ! 
 
 Col (bowing.) Good — ah — morning ! 
 
 Gumbo. Good arternoon dis ebernin' ! (in lifting hat pho- 
 tograph falls out and increases his confusion.) 
 
 Col. I see you was examining some of my speciments. 
 
 Gumbo. I wasn't touching none ob yer peppermints ! 
 
 Col. Dey're quite at your service. I persume you've 
 come for de purpuses of — dat is — a — um 
 
 Gumbo (hastily.) Yes, dat's what brought me 
 
 Col. In a word, your likeness ? 
 
 Gumbo. Who's like-en-ess ! or any oder letter ob de al- 
 fredbet ! 
 
 Col. I mean, you desire a portrait ■ 
 
 Gumbo. A poor-Trayt — ain't dat what you call a curica- 
 ture? 
 
 Col. Shall it be a photograph by a vivid light ? I can 
 lucify de room by a coil of magnesium wire ! 
 
 Gumbo. No ! no ! I don't want no lucifying round me ! 
 'Sides, my nuss gub me enuff magnesia in my earliest days 
 for to last all froo my time. 
 
 Col. I don't recommend it, dough dar's a quack dog- 
 gertypist t'oder side de way,^dio does. Only las' week, 
 he lighted up some ob de wire "for a sitter — all at once de 
 flame shot up and illuminated de stud-joe till it was one 
 
THE DARKEY PHOTOGRAPHER. 93 
 
 broad glare of light ! De sitter had just had absence ob 
 mind enuff to spring to his feet and reach de door be- 
 fore * 
 
 Gumbo. Before — yes — yes ! 
 
 Col. Before de wire burnt itself out ! 
 
 Gumbo. Dat's kinder scurious ! I don't tink I'll hab any 
 ob de coil lit ! 
 
 Col. (aside.) Dat's lucky — not an inch in de house. 
 (Aloud.) Which do you prefer — half-length or full-length ? 
 
 Gumbo. Say dat ag'in ! (swinging his umbrella.) 
 
 Col. Half-length or full-length ? 
 
 Gumbo. Fool-length ! (aside) I gib fair warning ! dar'll 
 be a fight on dis spot if he goes on talking so much longer. 
 
 Gol. Or, a vignette ? 
 
 Gumbo. A fig-net ! I fought dey come ober in boxes ! 
 
 Col. We could do you some nice ovals 
 
 Gumbo. Thankee ! I don't want none of your orful 
 t'ings ! 
 
 Col. Dar's de medallions, werry fashionable — five heads 
 on a single sheet ! 
 
 Gumbo. Five heads on a single sheet ! Bress us ! de 
 double-bedded room is nowhar' ! 
 
 Col. Or, a bust ! now, dat',;. de ticket ! 
 
 Gumbo. No ! I'm temperu >3e, and I neber go on busts 
 now ! 
 
 Col. I have it ! You desire a carte de wisite ! 
 
 Gumbo. A cart to wisit ? Dat's de werry t'ing we does 
 want ! 
 
 Col. You shall have your picture. Be so good as to take 
 a chair. 
 
 Gumbo. Which one ? 
 
 Col. They're all the same. 
 
 Gumbo. Werry well ! (takes up chair and goes to left side. ) 
 
 Adol, [enters and slops Gumbo. ) Look heyah, massa ! 
 
 Col. What do you mean by walking off with dat chair ? 
 
 Gumbo (of ended tone. ) X ou gub it me ! 
 
 Col. I tole you to take a chair and sot down ! 
 
94 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Gumbo sits down in chair, with the other chair in his lap. Adol. 
 pulls it from him. — Gumbo springs to his feet, and dances wildly a 
 few steps around Adolphus to frighten him, returns to front 
 
 Col. (at c tmera.) Adolphus, pose de gembleraan. 
 Gumbo. Keep your pose off ! (guarding himself with 
 umbrella. ) 
 
 Adol. gets broom from corner, comes down to centre. Combat. — 
 He beats down Gumbo's guard, runs ir, disarms him of umbrella, 
 pushes him to a chair, forces him into seat. — Col. at camera. 
 
 Gumbo suddenly perceives that the camera tube is levelled at Jim, 
 and holds up his bag before his face. 
 
 Adol. pulls bag from him, and flings it up, kicks umbrella, and, 
 behind Gumbo, holds him down in chair by shoulders. — Gumbo acts 
 very nervously. 
 
 Col. Go way boy, and leff de gembleman alone ! 
 
 Adol. knocks Gumbo's hat off, and goes off chased by Gumbo. 
 
 Col. Will you get into the focus ? 
 
 Gumbo. It's dat boy of your'n ! 
 
 Col. Get into de focus ! 
 
 Gumbo. Whar's de work'us ? 
 
 Col. crosses to him, and brings him to front — Adol. enters. — Col. 
 forces Gumbo into chair when Adol. pulls it awiy, and Gumbo is 
 left on floor as Collodion turns away. Gumbo, seated on the floor, 
 tries to strike Adolphus, who runs out. 
 
 Col. (at earner a looks over the box. ) Wharever is dat man ! 
 I leff him in de cha'r dis berry moment ! 
 
 Gumbo resumes seat. — Col. waves his hand to him to move. — - 
 Gumbo's business, still seated, of carrying chair ■with him up stage 
 and down, in obedience to Collodion's gestures. — Col. beckons him. 
 — Gumbo comes to centre. — Col. waves him back. 
 
 Gumbo, (hitches chair back till his head strikes the side-set- 
 flat. ) Dis is kinder scurious ! 
 
 Col. beckons to him, having his head in the camera all the ichile.—^ 
 Gumbo leaves his chair, and goes straight to the camera's front, 
 when he looks i t. Sees Collodion's right hand waving up 
 
 and down, and takes hold of it — They shake hands for a moment. 
 
THE DARKEY PHOTOGRAPHER. 95 
 
 Col. draws his head oxd of the camera, angrily, collars Gumbo, and 
 drives him back. 
 
 Gumbo remonstrates in pantomime. 
 
 Col. Sit down, sir ! and don't move ag'in ! [crosses to 
 camera, as before.) 
 
 Gumbo, quiet for a brief space-, has his attention directed to his bag 
 and' umbrella. Leaves his chair cautiously for umbrella, and, by 
 means of it, rakes the bag to him. He resumes his seat just as Col- 
 lodion looks over top of camera to see where he had gone. 
 
 Con. "Will you keep quiet, sir ! or shall I light de magne- 
 sium ? 
 
 Gumbo puts bag on chair, and sits on it, and assumes king-on- 
 throne attitude, the umbrella open over his head. 
 
 Col. (discovers tills.) How dare you, sir, when I had you 
 in position ! 
 
 Gumbo. It's an imposition altogether ! Ain't you cooked 
 de portrait yet ? 
 
 Col. Don't budge ! I'm goin' to get de plate ! 
 
 Gumbo. Fotch a tumbler an' some water ; I'd rader drink 
 dan eat. 
 
 Col. I'll be back in one second. {Exit 
 
 Gumbo. I'm kinder scurious what he's gone for {about to 
 rise. ) 
 
 Col. (enters, with frame, which he puis into camera.) If you 
 move, you'll spile all ! I ? m goin' to fix de bath. (Exit. 
 
 Gumbo. "Who is dey gw'ine to wash now ? 
 
 Adol. enters silently, spies Gumbo, chuckles, gets feather, and 
 tickles Gumbo. 
 
 Gumbo (imagines that all his sensations are caused by the 
 camera. Very restless; sneezes.) Ain't it drefful, dough 1 
 Pins and needles all ober ! Oh ! I feel kinder scurious ! 
 
 Adol. climbs on back of chair, and, leaning forward, looks down 
 into GuMBo's/ace. 
 
 • Gumbo (terrified.) Massy sakes ! what dat ! (jumps up, 
 but, recollecting, resumes his seat. — A pause. — Adol. stands on 
 his head, and walks on his hands around in front of Gumbo. 
 Gumbo is staring at camera, and sees Adolphus's/c^ sud- 
 
96 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 denly intervene. (Starts up.) Murder ! Oh, it's dat awful 
 boy again. (Chases Adolphus all around the stage, Adol- 
 phus kicking Gumbo's hat and bag, and running off. — Gum- 
 bo rushes back to chair, and sits as before. 
 
 Collodion enters quickly, looks at watch, slaps the cover on 
 the end of the tube, draws out the frame) You kin move now ! 
 (rushes out.) 
 
 Gumbo. Dat's one comfort ! (looks around) It's werry 
 scurious ! (examines camera) Pooh ! I don't b'lieve it's 
 much to do, arter all ! Oh ! (sees watch) Here's a maglorious 
 ticker ! If it wasn't for dat boy bein' on de sta'rs, I t'ink 
 I'd play de Take-it-and-Leave-Man! (scratches his head.) I'd 
 juss like to know wedder any man couldn't do it. S'pose I 
 try my hand. In de words of de prophet Bui wig, " Dar's 
 no si ch word as fail !" (puts his umbrella through bag handle, 
 to prop it upright on vrcair, sticks his hat on top of umbrella, 
 laughs. Goes to camera, puts head in) I can't see nuffin' ! 
 It don't seem to work ! (looks at watch, hammers it on the 
 camera, shakes it, looks into camera again, waves his hand tc 
 the dummy on chair) No go ! It's kinder scu-ri — oh ! (dis- 
 covers thai the tube is covered) I forgot to take off de sasspan 
 lid! (takes off cover; business with wiich, etc., like Collo- 
 dion's, only still more extravagant.) — Adolphus enters stealth- 
 ily, goes to strike hat in chair, when he dsicovers disappear- 
 ance of Gumbo. — Spies him, gels umbrella, crosses to right, and 
 strikes Gumbo, who, with his head in box, can ofer no defence. 
 Gumbo cannot extricate himself. — Adolphus runs. — Collo- 
 dion enters with picture.) 
 
 Collodion. Gumbo. Adolphus. 
 
 Right. Centre. Left. 
 
 Col. You moved ! (holds up picture.) 
 Gumbo. Dat's kinder scurious ! I neber so much as 
 winked ! 
 
 Col. I shall charge you double. It's a binograph 1 
 
 Gumbo. I'll buy no graphs of you ! 
 
 Col. fifty cents single — double, one dollar. 
 
PADDY AND HIS MUSKET. 97 
 
 GroiBO. Ouly ten if dar was but de one head dar ? 
 Col. Yes 
 
 (Gumbo smashes the framed paper over his head. — Adolphtjs flours 
 his face.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 PADDY AND HIS MUSKET. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 I've heard a good joke of an Emerald Pat, 
 
 "Who kept a few brains and a brick in his hat. 
 
 He was bound to go hunting ; so, taking his gun, 
 
 He rammed down a charge — this was load number one ; 
 
 Then put in the priming, and when all was done, 
 
 By way of experiment, thought he would try 
 
 And see if perchance he might hit the "bull's eye," 
 
 He straightened himself till he made a good figure, 
 
 Took deliberate aim, and then pulled the trigger. 
 
 Click ! went the hammer, but nothing exploded ; 
 
 "And sure," muttered Paddy, "the gun isn't loaded*" 
 
 So down went another charge, just as before. 
 
 Unless this contained just a grain or two more ; 
 
 " I wonder can this be still shootin ?" said Pat ; 
 
 " I'll put down a load now, I'm certain of that ; 
 
 I'll try it again, and then we shall see ! " 
 
 So down went the cartridge of load number three ! 
 
 Then trying again, with a confident air, 
 
 And succeeding no better, gave up in despair. 
 
 Just at that moment, he happened to spy 
 
 His friend, Michael Milligan, hurrying by. 
 
 "Hollo, Mike ! come here, and just try on my gun ; 
 
 I've been tryin' to shoot till I'm tired and done !" 
 
 So Mike took the gun, and pricked up the powder, 
 
 Remarking to Pat, "It would make it go louder ;" 
 
 Then placing it firmly against his right arm, 
 
 And never suspecting it might do him harm, 
 
 He pointed the piece in the proper direction, 
 
 And pulled on the trigger without more reflection — 
 
98 book of come SPEECHES. 
 
 When, off went the gun ! like a country election, 
 
 Where whiskey and gin have exclusive selection 
 
 Of those who are chosen to guard the inspection, 
 
 (There's a great deal of noise — and some little inspection), 
 
 And Michael "went off" in another direction ! 
 
 " Hold on !" shouted Pat, "hold on to the gun ! 
 
 I put in three loads, and you've fired off but one ! 
 
 Get up, and be careful — don't hold it so level. 
 
 Or else we are both of us gone to the devil !" 
 
 " I'm going," says Michael, "it's time that I wint, 
 
 I've got myself kicked, and it's time for the hint." 
 
 HEZEKIAH BEDOTT. 
 
 {From the Widow Bedott Papers. ) 
 
 He was a wonderful hand to moralize, husband was, 
 'specially after he begun to enjoy poor health. He made 
 an observation once, when he was in one of his poor turns, 
 that I shall never forget the longest day I live. He says to 
 me, one winter evenin', as we was a settin' by the fire ; I 
 was a knittin', (I was always a wonderful great knitter,) and 
 he was a smokin', (he was a master hand to smoke, though 
 the doctor used to tell him he'd be better off to let tobacker 
 alone ; when he was well, used to take his pipe and smoke 
 a spell after he'd got the chores done up, and when he 
 wa' n't well, used to smoke the biggest part o' the time.) 
 Well, he took his pipe out o' his mouth, and turned toward 
 me, and I knowed something was comin', for he had a per- 
 tikkeler way of lookin' round when he was gwine to say 
 anything oncommon. Well, he says to me, says he : 
 " Silly," (my name wos Prissilly naturally, but he most 
 generally always called me "Silly," cause 'twas handier, 
 you know.) Well, he says to me, says he, " Silly," and ho 
 looked pretty sollem. I toll you, he had a sollem counte- 
 nance naterally — and afore he got to be deacon 'twas more 
 
HEZEKIAH BEDOTT. 99 
 
 so, but since he'd lost his health he looked solemer than 
 ever, and certingly you wouldent wonder at it if you knowed 
 how much he underwent. He was troubled with a wonder- 
 ful pain in his chest, and ainazin' weakness in the spine of 
 his back, besides the pleurissy in the side, and having the 
 ager a considerable part of the time, and bein' broke of 
 his rest o' nights, 'cause he was so put to't for breath when 
 he laid down. 
 
 Why, it's an onaccountable fact that when that man died 
 he hadent seen a well day in fifteen year, though when he 
 was married, and for five or six year after, I shouldent de- 
 sire to see a ruggeder man than what he was. But the time 
 I'm speakin' of he'd been out o' health nigh upon ten year, 
 and O dear sakes ! how he had altered since the first time 
 I ever see him ! That was to a quiltin' to Squire Smith's, 
 a spell afore Sally was married. 
 
 I'd no idee then that Sal Smith was a-gwine to be mar- 
 ried to Sam Pendergrass. She'd ben keepin' company 
 with Mose Hewlitt for better'n a year, and everybody said 
 that was a settled thing, and lo and behold ! all of a sudding 
 she up and took Sam Pendergrass. Well, that was the first 
 time I ever see my husband, and if anybody'd a-told me 
 then that I should ever marry him, I should a-said — but 
 lawful sakes ! I most forgot. I was gwine to tell you what 
 he said to me that evenin', and when a body begins to tell 
 a thiug, I believe in finishin' on't some time or other. 
 Some folks have a way of talkin' round and round and 
 round for evermore, and never coming to the pint. Now 
 there's Miss Jinkins, she that was Poll Bingham afore she 
 was married, she is the tejusest incliwidooal to tell a story 
 that ever I see in all my born days. But I was gwine to tell 
 you what husband said. He says to me, says he, " Silly ;" 
 says I, " What ?" I dident say " What Hezekier ?" for I 
 clident like his name. The first time I ever heard it I near 
 killed myself a laughing. " Hezekier Bedott ;" says I. 
 " Well, I would give up if I had such a name," but then 
 you know I had no more idee o' marryin' the feller than 
 
100 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 you have this minit o' marryin' the governor. I s'pose you 
 think it's curus we should a named our oldest son Hezekier. 
 Well, we done it to please father and mother Bedott ; it v s 
 father Bedott's name, and lie and mother Bedott both used 
 to think that names had ought to go down from gineration 
 to gineration. But we always called him Kier, you know. 
 Speaking o' Kier, he is a blessin', ain't he ? and I ain't the 
 only one that thinks so, I guess. Now don't you never tell 
 nobody that I said so, but between you and me, I rather 
 guess that if Kezier Winkle thinks she's a-gwine to ketch 
 Kier Bedott, she's a leetle out o' her reckoning. But I was 
 gwine to tell what husband said. He says to me, says he, 
 "Silly"— I says, says I, "What?" If I dident say 
 "What, "when he said "Silly," he'd a-kept on sayin' 
 " Silly," from time to eternity. He always did, because, 
 you know, he wanted me to pay pertikkeler attention, and 
 I ginerally did ; no woman was ever more attentive to her 
 husband than what I was. 
 
 Well, he says to me, says he, " Silly." Says I "What ?" 
 though I'd no idee what he was gwine to say ; dident know 
 but what 'twas something about his sufferings, though he 
 wan't apt to complain, but he frequently used to remark 
 that he wouldent wish his worst enemy to suffer one minnit 
 as he did all the time, but that can't be called grumblin' — 
 think it can ? Why, I've seen him in sitivations when 
 you'd a-thought no mortal could a-helped grumblin', but 
 lie dident. He and me went once in the dead o' winter in 
 a one-hoss shay out to Boonville to see a sister o' hizen. 
 You know the snow is amazin' deep in that section o' the 
 kentry. Well, the hoss got stuck in one o' them are flam- 
 bergasted snow-banks, and there we sot, onable to stir, and 
 to cap all, while we was a-sittin' there, husband was took 
 with a dretf ul crick in his back. Now that was what I call 
 a perdickerment, don't you ? Most men would a-swore, but 
 husband dident. He only said, says he, " Consarn it !" 
 How did wo get out, did you ask ? Why, we might a-been 
 sittin' there to this day, fur as I know, if there hadent a- 
 
UNCLE REUBEN'S TALE. 101 
 
 happened to come along a mess o' men in a double team, 
 and they hysted us out. 
 
 But I was gwine to tell you that observation o' hisen. 
 Says he to me, says he, " Silly." I could see by the light 
 of the fire, (there dident happen to be no candle burnin', if 
 I don't disremember, though my memory is sometimes 
 ruther forgetful, but I know we wan't apt to burn candles 
 'ceptin' when we had company.) I could see by the light 
 of the fire that his mind was oncommonly solemnized. 
 Says he to me, says he, " Silly" — I says to him, says I, 
 " What ?" He says to me, says he, " We're all poor crit- 
 ters/" 
 
 UNCLE REUBEN'S TALE. 
 
 ATLANTIC MONTHLY. 
 
 Quompegan is a town some ten miles south 
 
 From Jethro, at Nagumscot river-mouth, — 
 
 A seaport town, and makes its title good 
 
 "With lumber, and dried fish, and eastern wood. 
 
 Here Deacon Bitters dwelt, and kept the store, 
 
 The richest man for many a mile of shore ; 
 
 In little less than everything dealt he, 
 
 From meeting-houses to a chest of tea, 
 
 So dextrous therewithal a flint to skin, 
 
 He could make profit on a single pin ; 
 
 In business strict, to bring the balance true, 
 
 He had been known to cut a fig in two 
 
 And change a board-nail for a shingle-nail. 
 
 All that he had he ready held for sale, — 
 
 His house, his tomb, whate'er the law allows, 
 
 And he had gladly parted with his spouse. 
 
 His one ambition still to get and get, 
 
 He would arrest your very ghost for debt. 
 
 His store looked righteous, should the parson come, 
 
 But in a dark back-room he peddled rum, 
 
 And eased Ma'am Conscience, if she e'er would scold, 
 
 By christening it with water ere he sold. 
 
102 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 A small, dry man lie was, who wore a queiie, 
 
 And one white neck-cloth all the week-clays through, 
 
 On Monday white, by Saturday as dun 
 
 As that worn homeward by the prodigal son ; 
 
 His earlocks gray, striped with a foxy brown, 
 
 Were braided up to hide a desert crown ; 
 
 His coat was brownish, black perhaps of yore ; 
 
 In summer-time a banyan loose he wore ; 
 
 His trousers short, through many a season true, 
 
 Made no pretence to hide his stockings blue ; 
 
 A waistcoat buff his chief adornment was, 
 
 Its porcelain buttons rimmed with dusky brass. 
 
 A deacon he, you saw it in each limb, 
 
 And well he knew to deacon-off a hymn, 
 
 Or lead a choir through all its wandering woes, 
 
 "With voice that gathered unction from his nose, 
 
 Wherein a constant snuffle you might hear, 
 
 As if with him 'twere winter all the year. 
 
 At his pew-head he sat with decorous pains, 
 
 In sermon-time could foot his weekly gains, 
 
 Or with closed eyes and heaven-abstracted air, 
 
 Could plan a new investment in long-prayer ; 
 
 A pious man, and thrifty, too, he made 
 
 The psalms and prophets partners in his trade, 
 
 And in his orthodoxy straightened more 
 
 As it enlarged the business at his store ; 
 
 He honored Moses, but, when gain he planned, 
 
 Had his own notion of the Promised Land. 
 
 "Soon as the winter made the sledding good, 
 From far around, the farmers hauled him wood, 
 For all the trade had gathered 'neath his thumb ; 
 He paid in groceries and New England rum, 
 Making two profits with a conscience clear, 
 Cheap all he bought, and all he paid with dear ; 
 With his own mete-wand measuring every load, 
 Each somehow had diminished on the road ; 
 An honest cord in Jethro still would fail 
 By a good foot upon the Deacon's scale, 
 And, more to abate the price, his gimlet eye 
 
UNCLE EEUBEN'S TALE. 103 
 
 Would pierce to catsticks that none else could spy ; 
 Yet none dared grumble, for no farmer yet 
 But New Year found him in the Deacon's debt. 
 
 ' ' While the first snow was mealy under feet, 
 A team crawled creaking down Quompegan street ; 
 Two cords of oak weighed down the grinding sled, 
 And cornstalk fodder rustled overhead ; 
 The oxen's muzzles, as they shouldered through, 
 Were silver-fringed ; the driver's ow 1 was blue 
 As the coarse frock that swung below his knee. 
 Behind his load for shelter waded he ; 
 His mittened hands now on his chest he beat, 
 Now stamped the stiffened cowhides of his feet 
 Hushed as a ghost's ; his armpits scarce could noid 
 The walnut whipstock, slippery-bright with cold. 
 What wonder if, the tavern as he past, 
 He looked and longed, and stayed his beasts at last, 
 Who patient stood and veiled themselves in steam 
 While he explored the bar-room's ruddy gleam ? 
 
 " Before the fire, in want of thought profound, 
 There sat a brother-townsman, weather-bound ; 
 A sturdy churl, crisp-headed, bristly-eared, 
 Bed as a pepper ; 'twixt coarse brows and beard, 
 His eyes lay ambushed on the watch for fools, 
 Clear, gray, and glittering, like two bay-edged pools ; 
 A shifty creature, with a turn for fun, 
 Could swap a poor horse for a better one, — 
 He'd a high-stepper always in his stall ; 
 Liked far and near, and dreaded therewithal. 
 To him the in-comer, * Perez, how d'ye do ?' 
 'Jest as I'm mind to, Obed ; how do you?' 
 Then his eyes twinkling such swift gleams as run 
 A-long the levelled barrel of a gun 
 Brought to his shoulder by a man you know 
 Will bring his game down, he continued, ' So, 
 I s'pose you're hauling wood ? But you're too late ; 
 The Deacon's off ; old Splitfoot couldn't wait ; 
 He made a bee-line last night in the storm 
 
104 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 To where lie won't need wood to keep him warm. 
 Tore this he's treasurer of a fund to train 
 Young imps as missionaries ; hopes to gain 
 That way a contract that he has in view 
 For fire proof pitchforks of a pattern new. 
 It must have tickled him, all drawbacks weighed, 
 To think he stuck the Old One in a trade ; 
 His soul, to start with, wasn't worth a carrot, 
 And all he'd left would hardly serve to swear at.* 
 
 ' ' By this time Obed had his wits thawed out, 
 And, looking at the other half in doubt, 
 Took off his fox-skin cap to scratch his head, 
 Donned it again, and drawled forth, ' Mean he's dead T 
 1 Jes' so ; he's dead, and tother d that follers 
 With folks that never love a thing but dollars ; 
 He pulled up stakes last evening, fair and square, 
 And ever since there's been a row Down There ■ 
 The minute the old chap arrived, you see, 
 Comes the Boss-devil to him, and says he, 
 " What are you good at? Little enough, I fear ; 
 We calculate to make folks useful here. " 
 " Well," says old Bitters, " I expect I can 
 Scale a fair load of wood with e'er a man." 
 "Wood we don't deal in ; but perhaps you'll suit, 
 Because we buy our brimstone by the foot ; 
 Here, take this measuring-rod, as smooth as sin, 
 And keep a reckoning of what loads come in ; 
 You'll not want business, for we need a lot 
 To keep the Yankees that you send us hot ; 
 At firing up they're barely half as spry 
 As Spaniards or Italians, though they're dry ; 
 At first we have to let the draught on stronger, 
 But, heat 'em through, they seem to hold it longer." 
 
 " * Bitters he took the rod, and pretty soon 
 A teamster comes, whistling an ex-psalm tune. 
 A likelier chap you wouldn't ask to see, 
 No different, but bis limp, from you or me — ' 
 * No different, Perez ! Don't your memory fail ? 
 
uncle Reuben's tale. 105 
 
 Why, where in thunder were his horns and tail ?' 
 * They're only worn by some old-fashioned pokes ; 
 They mostly aim at looking just like folks. 
 Such things are scarce as queues and topboots here ; 
 'Twould spoil their usefulness to look too queer. 
 If you could always know 'em when they come, 
 They'd get no purchase on you : now be mum. 
 On came the teamster, smart as Davy Crockett, 
 Jingling the red-hot coppers in his pocket, 
 ('Twas gold-dust you'd ha' sworn, ) 
 A load of sulphur yellower than seed-corn, - 
 To see it wasted as it is Down There, 
 "Would make a Friction Match Co. tear its hair ! 
 " Hold on !" says Bitters, ' ' stop right where you be ; 
 You can't go in without a pass from me." 
 " All right," says t'other, "only step round smart, 
 I must be home by noon-time with the cart. " 
 Bitters goes round it sharp-eyed as a rat, 
 Then with a scrap of paper on his hat 
 Pretends to cipher. ' ' By the public staff 
 That load scarce rises twelve foot and a half." 
 "There's fourteen foot and over," says the driver, 
 "Worth twenty dollars, if its worth a stiver, — 
 Good fourth-proof brimstone that'll make 'em squirm, 
 I leave it to the Headman of the Firm ; 
 After we measure it, we always lay 
 Some on to allow for settling on the way ; 
 Imp and full-grown, I've carted sulphur here, 
 And given fair satisfaction, thirty year. " 
 With that they fell to quarrelling so loud 
 That in five minutes they had drawn a crowd, 
 And before long the Boss, who heard the row, 
 Comes elbowing in with " What's to pay here now?" 
 Both parties heard, the measuring-rod he takes, 
 And of the load a careful survey makes. 
 Since I have bossed the business here, " says he, 
 No fairer load was ever seen by me ;" 
 Then turning to the Deacon, ' ' You mean cus, 
 None of your old Quompegan tricks with us ! 
 They won't do here : we're plain old-fashioned folks, 
 
106 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 And don't quite understand that kind of jokes. 
 I know this teamster, and his pa before him ; 
 And the hard-working Mrs. D. that bore him; 
 He would not soil his conscience with a lie, 
 Though he might get the custom-house thereby. 
 Here, constable, take Bitters by the queue, 
 And clap him into furnace ninety-two, 
 And try this brimstone on him ; if he's bright, 
 He'll find the measure honest before night. 
 He isn't worth his fuel, and I'll bet 
 The parish poor-house has to take him yet F" 
 
 MR. CAUDLE HAS BEEN TO GREENWICH 
 
 FAIR. 
 
 JERROLD. 
 
 Hem ! — So, Mr. Caudle : I hope you have enjoyed your- 
 self at Greenwich. How do I know you have been at 
 Greenwich ? I know it very well, sir ; know all about it : 
 know more than you think I know. I thought there was 
 something in the wind. Yes, I was sure of it, when you 
 went out of the house to-day. I knew it by the looks of 
 you, though I didn't say anything. Upon my word ! And 
 you call yourself a respectable man, and a father of a fam- 
 ily ! Going to a fair among all sorts of people, at your 
 time of life. Yes : and never think of taking your wife 
 with you. Oh no ! you can go and enjoy yourself out, with 
 I don't know who ; go out and make yourself very pleas- 
 ant, I dare say. Don't tell me, I hear what a nice compan- 
 ion Mr. Caudle is ; what a good tempered person. Ha ! I 
 only wish that people could see you at home, that's all. 
 But so it is with the men. They can keep all their good 
 temper for out-of-doors ; their wives never see any of it- 
 Oli dear ! I'm sure I don't know who'd be a poor woman. 
 
 Now, Mr. Caudle, I'm not in an ill temper ; not at all. 
 I know I used to be a fool, when we were first married ; I 
 
MR. CAUDLE HAS BEEN TO GREENWICH FAIR. 107 
 
 used to worry and fret myself to death when you went out ; 
 but I've got over that. I wouldn't put myself out of the 
 way for the best man that ever trod. For what thanks 
 does a poor woman get ? None at alL No : it's those who 
 do not care for their families who are the best thought of. 
 I only wish I could bring myself not to care about mine. 
 
 And why couldn't you say, like a man, you were going to 
 Greenwich Pair, when you went out ? It's no use your say- 
 ing that, Mr. Caudle : don't tell me that you didn't think 
 of going ; you'd made up your mind to it. Pretty games 
 you've had, no doubt 1 I should like to have been behind 
 you, that's all. A man at your time of life ! 
 
 And, of course, I never want to go out. Oh no ! I may 
 stay at home with the eat. You couldn't think of taking 
 your wife and children, like any other decent man, to a 
 fair. Oh no ; you never care to be seen with us. I'm sure, 
 many people don't know you're married ; how can they ? 
 Your wife's never seen with you. Oh no ; anybody but 
 those belonging to you. 
 
 Greenwich Pair, indeed ! Yes, and of course you went 
 up and down the hill, running and racing with nobody 
 knows who. Don't tell me ; I know what you are when 
 you're out. You don't suppose, Mr. Caudle, IVe forgotten 
 that pink bonnet, do you ? No, I won't hold my tongue, and 
 I'm not a foolish woman. It's no matter, sir, if the pink 
 bonnet was fifty years ago, it's all the same for that. No ; 
 and if I live fifty years to come, I will never leave off talk- 
 ing of it. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Cau- 
 dle, Ha ! few wives would have been what I've been to 
 you. I only wish my time was to come over again, that's 
 all ; I wouldn't be the fool I have been. 
 
 Going to a fair ! and I suppose you had your fortune 
 told by the gypsies ! You needn't have wasted your 
 money. I'm sure I can tell your fortune, if you go on as 
 you do. Yes, the jail will be your fortune, Mr. Caudle. 
 And it would be no matter — none at all — if your wife and 
 children didn't suffer with you. 
 
108 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 And then you must go riding upon donkeys — yon didn't 
 go riding upon donkeys ? Yes ; it's very well for you to 
 say so ; but I dare say you did. I tell you, Caudle, I know 
 ■what you men are when you're out. I wouldn't trust any of 
 you — you, especially, Caudle. 
 
 Then you must go in the thick of the fair, and have the 
 girls scratching your coat with rattles ! You couldn't help 
 it, if they did scratch your coat ? Don't tell me ; people 
 don't scratch coats unless they're encouraged to do it. 
 And then you must go in a swing, too. You didn't go in 
 a swing ? And I'm a foolish woman to think so, am I ? Well, 
 if you didn't it was no fault of yours; you wished to go, I've 
 no doubt. 
 
 And then you must go into the shows ! — There, you 
 don't deny that. You did go into a show. 
 
 What of it, Mr. Caudle ? A good deal of it, sir. 
 
 Nice crowding and squeezing in these shows, I know. 
 Pretty places ! And you a married man and the father of a 
 family. No, I won't hold my tongue. 
 
 It's very well for you to threaten to get up. You're to 
 go to Greenwich Fair, and race up and down the hill, and 
 play at kiss in the ring. Pah ! it's disgusting, Mr. Cau- 
 dle. Oh, 1 dare say you did play at it ; if you didn't, you'd 
 have liked, and that's just as bad : and you can go into 
 swings and shows and roundabouts. If I was you, I should 
 hide my head under the clothes, and be ashamed of myself. 
 
 And what is more selfish — most mean of you Caudle — 
 you can go and enjoy yourself, and never so much as bring 
 home for the children a ginger nut. 
 
 Don't tell me that your pocket was picked of a pound of 
 nuts. Nice company you must have been in to have your 
 pocket picked. 
 
 But I dare say I shall hear all about it to-morrow. 
 
 I've no doubt, sir, you were dancing at the Crown and 
 Anchor. I should like to have seen you. No ; I'm not 
 making myself ridiculous. It's you that's making yourself 
 ridiculous ; and everybody that knows you says so f 
 
THE CHEMIST TO HIS LOVE. 109 
 
 Everybody knows what I have to put up with from 
 
 you. 
 
 Going to a fair, indeed ! At your time 
 
 Caudle are you asleep ? Well ! I never did see such a 
 
 man, in all my life. 
 
 THE CHEMIST TO HIS LOVE. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 I love thee, Mary, and thou lovest me — 
 
 Our mutual flame is like th' affinity 
 
 That doth exist between two simple bodies : 
 
 I am Potassium to thine Oxygen. 
 
 'Tis little that the holy marriage vow 
 
 Shall shortly make us one. That unity 
 
 Is, after all, but metaphysical. 
 
 O, would that I, my Mary, were an acid, 
 
 A living acid ; thou an alkali 
 
 Endow'd with human sense, that, brought together, 
 
 We both might coalesce into one salt, 
 
 One homogeneous crystal. Oh ! that thou 
 
 Wert Carbon, and myself were Hydrogen ; 
 
 We would unite to form defiant gas, 
 
 Or common coal, or naphtha — would to heaven 
 
 That I were Phosphorus, and thou wert Lime ! 
 
 And we of Lime composed a Phosphuret. 
 
 I'd be content to be Sulphuric Acid, 
 
 So that thou might be Soda. In that case 
 
 We should be Glauber's Salt. Wert thou Magnesia 
 
 Instead, we'd form that's named from Epsom. 
 
 Couldst thou Potassa be, I Aquafortis, 
 
 Our happy union should that compound form, 
 
 Nitrate of Potash — otherwise Saltpetre. 
 
 And thus our several natures sweetly blent, 
 
 We'd live and love together, until death 
 
 Should decompose the fleshy iertium quid, 
 
 Leaving our souls to all eternity 
 
 Amalgamated. Sweet, thy name is Briggs 
 
110 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 And mine is Johnson. "Wherefore should not we 
 Agree to form a Johnsonate of Briggs ? 
 "We will. The day, the happy day, is nigh, 
 When Johnson shall with beauteous Briggs combine. 
 
 THE DISGUSTED DUTCHMAN. 
 
 [This amusing scene is adapted from the drama of " The White Horse of 
 the Peppers," and is admirably calculated to display a certain kind of talent. 
 The time in which the scene is laid is just after the Battle of the Boyne. - 
 Gerald Pepper, an adherent of King James, has his estates confiscated by 
 King William, who bestows them upon the foreign mercenary, Major Mans- 
 feldt. Gerald manages to keep the Dutchman out of possession of the estates 
 until he obtains a pardon through the influence of powerful friends. The 
 stratagem by which he recovers his confiscated lands is humorously carried 
 out in the drama.] 
 
 €\mdm. 
 
 Gerald — an Irish Gentleman disguised as a Peasant. 
 Major Hans Mansfeldt — a Dutch office?* in the service 
 of the King of England. 
 
 Agatha — an Irish Peasant disguised as an Old Woman. 
 
 Scene. — Dusk. — A ruined House, greater part of the roof gone—- 
 the windows broken — part of the walls fallen. — A table and rushlight 
 upon it. 
 
 Enter Gerald and Hans. 
 Ger. There's an illigant place for you. 
 Hans (horrified.) Vaut a blace ! 
 Gek. I thought you'd be astonished I 
 Hans. Zo I am ! 
 
 
THE DISGUSTED DUTCHMAN. Ill 
 
 Gee. Isn't that an illigant castle ? and you see they have 
 been expecting you, for they've got up an illumination. 
 
 [Points to rushlight. 
 Hans [abstractedly.) Midout a vail, midout a roof, mi- 
 doubt a vindher ! Zappermint ! 
 
 Ger. It's a fine airy house, and nothing to interrupt the 
 view from it. 
 
 Hans. Splut ! noting inteet. Vy, you vool, you tell me 
 dis vas build in a vaurest. 
 
 Ger. And so it was built in a forest, but that's a long 
 time ago, for this is a fine, ould, anshint place, as you may 
 see ; none o' your dirty, little upstart places, but the rale re- 
 spectable antiquity. 
 
 Hans. But you tell me der vas voots. 
 Ger. And so there was — but woods won't last for ever. 
 Hans. Splut ! I dought I voot gut down de dimbers. 
 Ger. Ay, and that was very cute of you, but there was a 
 janius in the family who thought of that before you, and 
 that's the way, in my own beautiful art of poethry, that the 
 janiuses who goes before us, is taking dirty advantages of 
 us, and sayin' the things we wor goin' to say, only they 
 said them before ; in short, takin' the bread out of our 
 mouths. 
 
 Hans. Not in dis gountry. 
 Ger. Why not ? 
 
 Hans. Because I never see no pread in nopoty's mout 
 here ; in dis gountry dey have notin' but botatoes! 
 
 Ger. And the finest thing under heaven is the same pra- 
 ties, exceptin' only the people that ates them ! 
 Hans. I vouldn't lif in dis ouse for notin'. 
 Ger. But remember, there is land along wid the house. 
 Hans. Ya ! verhaf tig ! and de lands is goot— eh ? 
 Ger. Oh, beautiful ! there is nigh hand two hundred 
 acres of bog— that was a part of it I brought you over to- 
 day. 
 
 Hans. Blitzen, I vis it vas burnt. 
 
 Ger. That's the use of it— it makes beautiful fire ; and 
 
112 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 there's some wild rocks up beyent, where the goats get verv 
 nice pickin' if they're not particular. 
 
 Hans. Rocks and goats — bah ? 
 
 Gee. Oh, that's what the lamb says — bah ; not the goat 
 — it wouldn't feed lambs, supposing you had them ! 
 Hans. Donderskind ! de ouse is empty. 
 
 Gee. "Well, an empty house is better than a bad tenant, 
 any day in the year ! 
 
 Hans. De shimbleys be all grooked. 
 
 Gee. No wondher — you'll be crooked yourself when 
 you're half as ould as they are. Hallo, there ! 
 
 Hans. Dat is a vine voice vor atin rost bif. 
 
 Gee. Hallo ! are you comin' here to-day at all ? 
 
 Enter Agatha. 
 
 Aga. Aye, aye, I'm coming. 
 
 Gee. Young woman ! 
 
 Hans (astonished.) Young voomans ? 
 
 Gee. Whist ! to be sure — always say young woman to an 
 ould one, and she'll be plazed with you, 
 
 Hans. Young voomans, how is all de vamily ? 
 
 Aga. There were two killed this morning. 
 
 Hans (aside.) All de better vor me! — (aloud.) Taut is 
 begone of de roof of de ouse. 
 
 Aga. We boiled it down for broth ! 
 
 Gee. And picked the rafthers after ; don't you see she's 
 bothered, and it's the pigs they killed she's speaking of. 
 
 Hans. Bodder — vat is dat ? 
 
 Gee. (points to his ears.) Deaf — can't hear! 
 
 Aga. You're right enough ; yes, yes. (Points to her ears.) 
 I remember, you mean the last fellows we found trespassing 
 on the grounds ? Wo cut off their ears. Ha, ha, ha ! that 
 was a good joke. 
 
 Hans. Vat a orrid voomans. 
 
 Gee. Yes, ma'am ; don't mind her, yer honor, they are 
 very polite to strangers, though they do sometimes have a 
 little sport among themselves. 
 
THE DISGUSTED DUTCHMAN. 113 
 
 Hans. Sport to gut off a man's ears ? 
 
 Ger. Do you know, then, I knew a man that had his ears 
 cut off, and he said it was rather pleasant. 
 
 Hans. Bleasant ? 
 
 Ger. Yes, indeed ; he was a bad character, you see, and 
 when his ears was cut off, he couldn't hear anything bad of 
 himself. 
 
 Hans (aside.) Gut off his ears — I don't like dis gountry ! 
 
 Ger. The ould woman says she'll give us something to 
 ate. 
 
 Hans. I vould loike something to ate, vor I am ztarving. 
 
 Aga. What would you like to eat ? 
 
 Hans. You can vry a beit o' big ! 
 
 Aga. They were all planted last spring. 
 
 Ger. You forget she's deaf. (Speaks loud.) Have you a 
 rasher of beacon ? 
 
 Aga. Bacon ? Oh, no — no — no — we can't be extravagant 
 now, since the last lord died. But I'll examine the larder, 
 and see what I can do for you. (Exit. 
 
 Ger. I thought there was no pig, any how. 
 
 Hans. Yy don't dej kill depigs ? 
 
 Ger. Kill them, indeed ? Why, man, would you be 
 committin' suicide ! Kil l, indeed ! no, no, they keep the 
 pigs. 
 
 Hans. Yor vaut dey geep dem ? 
 
 Ger. For ornament, to be sure ! 
 
 Hans. But she vas talkin' about kiUin' de big dis morn- 
 ing. 
 
 Ger. That was braggin' only ; she's an ould sarvant, and 
 wishes to support the pride of the house. 
 
 Hans. If she could zupport de ouse itself, it vould be 
 petters. 
 
 Ger. Indeed, the house might be betther : — I own that 
 it's rather out of repair. 
 
 Hans. Yaut a blace to vail into mine ands. 
 
 Ger. You're just in time to catch it, I think — this would 
 be a nice room for studying astronomy, for you might see 
 
114 BOOK OF COMIC .SPEECHES. 
 
 the lovely luminaries without goin' out into the could at 
 aU. 
 
 He-enter Agatha, with a dish of boiled potatoes and a herring. 
 
 Aga. Here's something for your supper, and a seat. 
 
 Gee. My blessins on you ! Could you lend us the loan 
 of another stool ? 
 
 Aga. Yes—yes. I'll bring it to you. 
 
 Gee. No, my darlin', I'll step down and bring it myself. 
 
 (Exeunt Agatha and Gerald. 
 
 Hans (Draws up the table, lifts the dish upon it, and seats 
 himself.) Splut ! noting but veesh — salt errin ! Veil, bat as 
 dis is — I viil begin to eat, vor I'm ztarvin'. 
 He is going to cut the herring, when Gerald comes in and stops him. 
 
 Gee. Murther ! Murther ! What are you going to do, 
 man? 
 
 Hans. To ate mine zupper ! 
 
 Gee. Goin' to cut that fish ? why, it is ruinin' the family 
 entirely you'd be. 
 
 Hans, Ruin de vamily to ate von errin ? 
 
 Gee. That herring has supported this family for the last 
 six months. 
 
 Hans. Pooh ! I'm not such a vool as dat. 
 
 Gee. It's thruth I'm tellin' you. The herrins was throu- 
 bled with a scarceness last sayson, and so we must be savin' 
 of the few we have of them, and only use them to give the 
 praties a flavor. 
 
 Hans. A vlavor ! — vaut is dat ? 
 
 Gee. I'll show you — here, (peels a potato, and Hans fol- 
 lows Ids example,) take the eye out of the potato, and then 
 it can't see what you're doing. (Points a potato at the 
 herring, and then eats.) That's as fine a herring as ever I 
 ate. Oh, that's nourishing, that's what we call potatoes and 
 point, here ! 
 
 Hans. Yy, vat goot is in pointin at de veesh ? 
 
 Gee. Why, you imagine you're eating it all the lime, and 
 the herring never grows loss for pointing at it. 
 
THE DISGUSTED DUTCHMAN. 115 
 
 Hans. Oh, dat is vera goot vor a boet ! But I have naut 
 imaginations ! 
 
 Gee. Well, if you're a glutton, you may rub the pratie to 
 it ; but I warn you not to put your knife in that herrin', or 
 it may be there will be a knife in you before long. 
 
 Hans [rubs his potato to herring, and eats. ) Bah ! I 
 daste notin ! 
 
 Gee. That shows you haven't a delicate taste, but when 
 your palate becomes refined you'll enjoy it, and you'll never 
 have the nightmare after it, for it's a nice light supper. 
 
 (Hands a bottle. 
 
 Hans [drinks. ) Dat is goot. 
 
 Gee. To be sure it is ; for this is the house above all 
 others, you ought to get good clhrink in ; for it was through 
 the dhrink the family went to decay. You see, the anshient 
 owner of this place was a knight arriant. 
 
 Hans. Knight Arriant — vaut is dat ? 
 
 Gee. Why, then, don't you know what a knight arriant 
 is? 
 
 Hans. Nein ! 
 
 Gee. That's no ! — I know that much Dutch. I'd grow 
 quite accomplished in your company. Well, I must tell 
 you that a knight arriant is a man that goes about the 
 world for sport, with a sword by his side, takin' whatever 
 he likes for himself ; and that's a knight arriant — like 
 yourself, indeed, sir. Well, he improved his property, by 
 takin' everybody else's that he could, and left a great heap 
 o' land to his son ; and a fine property it was ; but, some- 
 how or other, they never could live fast enough, and wor 
 gettin' in debt ever more — and so the property got worse 
 and woive, till the last owner found that he was heir only to 
 a thousand a-year. 
 
 Hans. A tousand a-year — eh ! dat is goot. 
 
 Gee. Yes, but yon see it was a thousand a-year, that was 
 spint. 
 
 Hans. Oh, it vas spend ! 
 
 Gee. Yes, and that made the man that owned it take to 
 
116 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 dhrink. I'd throuble you for that bottle, {drinks,) and so 
 the more he dhrank the better he liked it, which is only 
 natural ; and it made him forget his losses — for how could 
 he remember anything bad, when he forgot himself ? And 
 so, to supply the dhrink, he began to cut down the timber. 
 
 Hans. I vish he did naut. 
 
 Ger. Indeed, it was a shame, seem' you wanted to do it 
 yourself. But, as I was tellin' you, he grew fonder and 
 fonder of the dhrop — and indeed it's a complaint common 
 in Ireland yet ; I'll take another gurlouge, if you please — 
 (drinks) — and dhrank to that degree that he was forever 
 dhry ; and the dhryer he got, the fasther went the timber, 
 and at last all the woods was sowld for dhrink, so that, in 
 fact, the timber was lost with a sort of dry rot. 
 
 [Noise of many voices speaking, and a pistol shot is heard. 
 
 Hans. Vaut is dat ? [Jumps up. — Gee. remains composed. 
 
 Ger. Oh, it's only a parcel of the young people of the 
 family enjoyin' themselves. 
 
 Hans. But I 'ear a shot. 
 
 Gee. To be sure — how could they kill one another with- 
 out shooting— wait — I'll just step down and see what they're 
 about. ( Gerald descends stairs. 
 
 Hans. I like not moche dis. {Great noise below.) Dis 
 
 beople zeem not goot beoples — did not like de beoples I 
 
 met dis day in de pog. Sploot, dat pog ! mine orse I naut 
 
 get yet. Yish I vas upon him, and von goot roat unter 
 
 him, vouldn't I put the zpurs in him ! {Noise. ) I dink I 
 
 vill zee. vat dey are about. {Goes to the stairs.) Dey are 
 
 round de gorner, but dere zeem a great crowt. I loike not 
 
 dis moche. 
 
 Re-enter Gerald. 
 
 Gee. What are you lookin' out there for ? 
 
 Hans. I vas only admirin' de brospect — bud, I zay, as 
 dere is not much 'gomodation 'ere, I dink ve moight as veil 
 go back again. 
 
 Ger. Whist ! stay quiet a bit — don't be in a hurry, or 
 you'll rise suspicions. There's my Lord Killstranger, and 
 
THE DISGUSTED DUTCHMAN. 117 
 
 about twenty other blackguards, below, was axin' impudent 
 questions about you — and who you wor — and what you 
 came about, and so I gave them an evasive answer. 
 
 Hans. Vat call you 'vasive answer ? 
 
 Gee. I tould them to go to the divil and wait till I came 
 for them ! 
 
 Haxs (very uneasy.) I dink ve had petter go pack 
 again ! 
 
 Gee. Oh, don't be in a hurry, for these is quare people. 
 You wor wondherm' about the roof being so bad — but I'll 
 explain it to you. You see, the people about the castle 
 stole the slates for to thatch their places ; for you must 
 know they are in the habit of burning one another's houses 
 in these parts, and slates doesn't take fire so aisy as sthraw. 
 
 Haxs. Dey burn de ouses, den ? 
 
 Gee. Oh, only when they have nothing else to divart 
 them ; — but they never burn the people in them ! 
 
 Haxs. Ah ! naut de beoples ? 
 
 Gee. Oh, no — they wouldn't be so cruel as that ; besides, 
 is betther sport to shoot them flying. {Noise below. 
 
 Haxs. Ye had petter go pack again. 
 
 Gee. I'm afeard they would suspect you of something 
 bad, if you would be goin' — I wouldn't answer for your 
 throat ! 
 
 Haxs. I am deir lantlor ; dey vould not gut mine droat. 
 
 Gee. Wouldn't they ? — 'Faith they would — sooner than 
 pay you your rent, I can tell you. The last landlord of this 
 place was no favorite, and he shut himself up, accordingly, 
 and wouldn't open his door to man, woman, or child ; but 
 they were so determined to have him, that they climbed up 
 the castle walls, tore the roof off the house to get at him, 
 threw him out of the window,, and he fell upon some pitch- 
 forks which they had outside, ready for him. 
 
 Haxs [writhing in imagined agony.) Oh, murter ! 
 murter ! 
 
 Gee. You may say murdher, sure enough ! But the 
 blackguards wos thried for it. 
 
118 BOOK OF 00300 SPEECHES. 
 
 Hans. Oh, dey vos troid ! 
 
 Gee. Oh, yes. 
 
 Hans. And liangt ? 
 
 Gee. Why, they would have been — only that the jury 
 was practical men themselves, and so they brought in a 
 verdict of " accidental death." 
 
 Hans. Yill younaut gome along out of dis ? 
 
 Gee. "Why, I think you'had better be off, for fear of ac- 
 cidents ; but I must stay here to watch these blackguards. 
 
 Hans. But vaut zhall I do midout a kite ? 
 
 Gee. I have put the ould woman up to it, and she is 
 waitin' undher the window for you, and will lade you over 
 the bog to the house of a dacent man, a friend o' mine, and 
 he'll give you shelther, and I'll see you in the mornin. ' 
 
 Hans. Goot vellow ! goot vellow ! — Bote how zhall I get 
 out? 
 
 Gee. Out of the window, to be sure, for them vagabones 
 is down stairs. 
 
 JIans {looking down from window.) I shall break my 
 neg ! 
 
 Gee. Well, it's betther brake your neck than have your 
 throat cut — here — I'll make an iligant laddher for you — 
 {takes the blanket from the sheaf of straw thai serves for a bed, 
 and tears it,) — here, tie this to your belt — and here's a 
 rope — {unties his own rope girdle and joins it to blanket,) — 
 there's a nate bit o' carpenther's work for you — now, get 
 out o ? the window, and I'll slip you down as aisy as an 
 oysther ! 
 
 Hans. You are zure dere is no bitch -vorks ! 
 
 Gee. If there is you'll feci them tickle you, and then j 
 
 whistle to me, and I'll pull you up — (Hans gets out of win- 
 
 dow, and is supposed to fall. Qtzrmjd pulls in half the broken 
 
 line — Hans roars.) Bun for your life — take care of the dog ! 
 
 barking of dogs, squealing of pigs, and the roaring of Hans 
 
 and Aggy outside. Laughing.) Well, upon my conscience, 
 
 I think we have seen the Inst of my friend the Dutchman; J 
 
 he will give this part of Ireland a mighty wide berth. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
THE FRIGHTENED TRAVELLER. 119 
 
 THE FEIGHTENED TEAVELLEE. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 O'er a wild heath, at the decline of day, 
 
 A. weary traveller took his lonely way, 
 
 A barren, cheerless, doubtful dreary waste, 
 
 Which human foot-fall rarely ever pac'd. 
 
 The sun fast sinking in the murky west, 
 
 When beast and bird had sought a place of rest, 
 
 The low'ring clouds assume an angry form, 
 
 A dread prognostic of a coming storm. 
 
 All things had vanish'd from the traveller's sight, 
 
 Cloak'd in the sable mantle of the night ; 
 
 The nipping north wind's gusts swell out the breeze, 
 
 Moan'd o'er the heath, and whistl'd through the trees ; 
 
 The owl shrieks wildly in her random flight, 
 
 And adds new horrors to the fearful night ; 
 
 The distant thunder rumbles from afar, 
 
 The harbinger of elementary war. 
 
 Meantime, the storm it loud and louder grew, 
 
 The vivid lightning fierce and wilder flew. 
 
 Loud pealing thunder rattled o'er his head 
 
 Enough to wake the slumbers of the dead. 
 
 Wilder and fiercer raged the furious storm, 
 
 The trees and shrubs assume a fiendish form, 
 
 And in the glaring lightning seem to stride, 
 
 Pursue his steps, and keep pace by his side, 
 
 In wild fantastic forms — about him dwell, 
 
 And in his ears seem horribly to yell. 
 
 Yet on he urged his fearful, doubtful way, 
 
 Wherein he seem'd to lead himself astray ; 
 
 Imagination still augments his fears, 
 
 When, lo ! a glimmering distant light appears. 
 
 'Twas water to the famish'd ; soothed his care, 
 
 And brought the angel Hope to light despair. 
 
 Swift as a fawn he bounds the greensward o'er, 
 
 He knocks, and soon they ope the cottage door, 
 
 And there a gaunt grim host before him stood. 
 
 He held in hand a knife all stain'd with blood ; 
 
120 book of come speeches. 
 
 A stormy night, the grim ghost gruffly said : 
 He beckon'd, and forward the poor traveller led 
 Come, sir, sit down and warm thee by the fire. 
 Said the traveller Green, 'tis rest that I require. 
 Well, said the host, then show him up to bed ; 
 The dame obey'd, and up the stairs she led, 
 She curtsied, simper' d, bade him a good night, 
 Saying, If you please, sir, I must take the light. 
 He laid him down, but still a watch did keep. 
 Tho' worn and tired, yet he could not sleep ; 
 Doubt and suspicion still increase his cares, 
 He hears a foot-fall on the creaking stairs, 
 And a low whisper to his ear now creeps — 
 He hears the host say, "I'll do it while he sleeps. '' 
 The door slow opens — then the grim host stood 
 "With frightful knife, and hands all stained with blood, 
 The traveller panted, — a brief pray'r he said ; 
 With stealthy step, the host approach'd his bed, 
 Up starts the stranger, seizing the dread knife, 
 And shrieking wildly, Spare, O, spare my life ! 
 Good friend, said the host, I assure you you're mistaken, 
 'Tis not your throat I'd cut, but that 'ere bacon. 
 I've kiil'd a pig to-night — you see this blood — 
 And my dame says, that pig's fry's very good ; 
 You see a flitch of bacon there we keep ; 
 I wish'd not to disturb you in your sleep ; 
 I assure you, sir, I'm quite a different man — 
 But come, the pig's fry's rattling in the pan. 
 
 ECONOMY. 
 
 riNPAR. 
 
 Economy's a very useful boon, 
 
 Yet should not ceaseless hunt about the room 
 
 To catch each straggling pin to make a plumb : 
 Too oft Economy's an iron vice, 
 That squeezes even the little guts of mice, 
 
 That peep with fearful eyes, and ask a crumb. 
 
ECONOMY. 121 
 
 Proper Economy's a comely thing — 
 Good in a subject — better in a king ; 
 
 Yet pushed too far, it dulls each finer feeling — 
 Most easily inclined to make folks mean ; 
 Inclines them, too, to villainy to lean, 
 
 To over-reaching perjury and stealing. 
 
 Even when the heart should only think of grief, 
 It creeps into the bosom like a thief, 
 And swallows up th' affections all so mild — 
 Witness the Jewess and her only child : 
 
 THE JEWESS AND HEK SON. 
 
 Pooe Mistress Levi had a luckless son, 
 
 Who, rushing to obtain the foremost seat, 
 
 In imitation of th' ambitious great, 
 High from the gallery, ere the play begun, 
 
 He fell all plump into the pit, 
 
 Dead in a minute as a nit : 
 In short, he broke his pretty Hebrew neck ; 
 Indeed and very dreadful was the wreck ! 
 
 The mother was distracted, raving, wild — 
 
 Shrieked, tore her hair, embraced and kissed her child— 
 
 Afflicted every heart with grief around : 
 Soon as the shower of tears was somewhat past, 
 And moderately calm th' hysteric blast, 
 
 She cast about her eyes m thought profound, 
 And being with a saving knowledge blessed, 
 She thus the playhouse manager addressed : 
 
 "Sher, I'm de moder of de poor Chew lad, 
 Dat meet mishfortin here so bad — 
 Sher, I muss haf de shilling back, you know 
 Ass Moses haf not see de show." 
 
 But as for Avarice, 'tis the very devil ; 
 The fount, alas ! of every 'evil ; 
 
 The cancer of the heart — the worst of ills : 
 
122 A BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Wherever sown, luxuriantly it thrives ; 
 No flower of virtue near it lives : 
 
 Like aconite, where'er it spreads, it kills, 
 In every soil behold the poison spring ! 
 Can taint the beggar, and infect the king. 
 
 CLEKICAL WIT. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 A parson, who a missionary had been, 
 
 And hardships and privations oft had seen, 
 
 While wandering far on lone and desert strands, 
 
 A weary traveller in benighted lands, 
 
 \Yould often picture to his little flock 
 
 The terrors of the gibbet and the block ; 
 
 How martyrs suffer'd in the ancient times, 
 
 And what men suffer now in other climes ; 
 
 And though his words were eloquent and deep, 
 
 His hearers oft indulged themselves in sleep. 
 
 He mark'd with sorrow each unconscious nod, 
 
 Within the portals of the house of God, 
 
 And once this new expedient thought he'd take 
 
 In his discourse, to keep the rogues awake — 
 
 baid he, ' ' While travelling in a distant state, 
 
 I witnessed scenes which I will here relate. 
 
 'Twas in a deep, uncultivated wild, 
 
 Where noontide glory scarcely ever smiled ; 
 
 Where wolves in hours of midnight darkness howl'd- 
 
 Where bears frequented, and where panthers prow'' 
 
 And, on my word, mosquitoes there were found, 
 
 Many of which. I think, would weigh a pound I 
 
 More fierce and ravenous than the hungry shark— 
 
 They oft were known to climb the trees and bark!" 1 * 
 
 The audience seem'd taken by surprise — 
 
 All started up and rubb'd their wondering eyes 
 
 At such a tale they all were much amazed, 
 
 Each drooping lid was in an instant raised, 
 
 And we must say, in keeping heads erect, 
 
THE SCHOOL HOUSE. 123 
 
 It had its destined and desired effect. 
 
 But tales like this credulity appall' d ; 
 
 Next day, the deacons on the pastor call'd, 
 
 And begg'd to know how be could ever tell 
 
 The foolish falsehoods from his lips that fell. 
 
 "Why, sir," said one, "think what a monstrous weight! 
 
 "Were they as large as you were pleased to state r 
 
 You said they'd weigh a pound ! It can't be true. 
 
 "We'll not believe it, though 'tis told by you i" 
 
 "Ah, but it is !" the parson quick replied ; 
 
 "In what I stated you may well confide ; 
 
 Many, I said, sir — and the story's good — 
 
 Indeed I think that many of them would !" 
 
 The deacon saw at once that he was caught, 
 
 Yet deem'd himself relieved, on second thought. 
 
 "But then the harking — think of that, good man! 
 
 Such monstrous lies ! Explain it if yon can ! " 
 
 " Why, that, my friend, I can explain with ease — 
 
 They climbed the bark, sir, when they climbed (he trees ! 
 
 THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. 
 
 AFTER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 LOWELL. 
 
 Peopt on the marsh, a dwelling now, I see 
 
 The humble school-house of my A, B, C, 
 
 Where well-drilled urchins, each behind his tire, 
 
 Waited in ranks the wished command to fire, 
 
 Then all together, when the signal came, 
 
 Discharged their a-b abs against tie dame, 
 
 Who, 'mid the volleyed learning, firm and calm, 
 
 Patted the furloughed ferule on her palm, 
 
 And, to our wonder, could detect at once 
 
 Who flashed the pan, and who was downright dunce. 
 
 There young Devotion learned to climb with ease 
 The gnarly limbs of Scripture family-trees, 
 And he was most commended and admired 
 
124 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Who soonest to the topmost twig perspired ; 
 
 Each name was called as many various ways 
 
 As pleased the reader's ear on different days, 
 
 So that the weather, or the ferule's stings, 
 
 Colds in the head, or fifty other things, 
 
 Transformed the helpless Hebrew thrice a week 
 
 To guttural Pequot or resounding Greek 
 
 The yibrant accent skipping here and there, 
 
 Just as it pleased invention or despair ; 
 
 No controversial Hebraist was the Dame ; 
 
 With or without the points pleased her the same ; 
 
 If any tyro found a name too tough, 
 
 And looked at her, pride furnished skill enough ; 
 
 She nerved her larynx for the desperate thing, 
 
 And cleared the five-barred syllables at a spring. 
 
 Ah, dear old times! there once it was my hap, 
 Perched on a stool, to wear the long-eared cap ; 
 From books degraded, there I sat at ease, 
 A drone, the envy of compulsory bees. 
 
 
 DAJSTEEL versus DISHCLOUT. 
 
 STEVENS. 
 
 We shall now consider the law, as our laws are very con- 
 siderable, both in bulk and numbers, according as the 
 Statutes declare, " considerandi, considerando, eonsideran- 
 dum ;" and are not to be meddled with by those that don't 
 understand them. Law always expressing itself with true 
 grammatical precision, never confounding moods, cases, or 
 genders ; except, indeed, when a woman happens to be 
 slain, then the verdict is always brought in manslaughter. 
 The essence of the law is altercation, for the law can alter- 
 cate, fulminate, deprecate, irritate, and go on at any rate. 
 Now the quintessence of the law has, according to its name, 
 five parts ; — the first is the beginning, or incipiendum ; the 
 second, the uncertainty, or dubitandum ; the third, delay, 
 
DANIEL versus DISHCLOUT. 125 
 
 or puzzle-endum ; fourthly, replication without endum ; 
 and, fifthly, monstrum and horrendum. All which are 
 exemplified in the following case : 
 
 Daniel versus Dishclout. — Daniel was groom in the 
 same family wherein Dishclout was cook-maid ; and Daniel 
 returning home one day fuddled, stooped down to take 
 a sop out of the dripping-pan ; Dishclout pushed him into 
 the dripping-pan, which spoiled his clothes, and he was 
 advised to bring his action against the cook-maid, the 
 pleadings of which were as follows : The first person who 
 spoke was Mr. Snuffle ; he began by saying, " Since I have 
 the honor to be pitched upon to open this case to. your 
 honor, I shall not impertinently presume to take up any of 
 your honor's time by a round-about circumlocutory man- 
 ner of speaking or talking, quite foreign to the purpose 
 and not any way relating to the matter in hand ! I shall, I 
 will, I design to show what damages my client has sustained 
 hereupon, whereupon, and thereupon. Now may it please 
 the court, my client being a servant in the same family with 
 Dishclout, and not being at board wages, imagined he had a 
 right to the fee simple of the dripping-pan ; therefore he 
 made an attachment on the sop with his right hand, which 
 the defendant replevied with her left hand, tripped us up, 
 and tumbled us into the dripx^ing-pan. Now, in Brough- 
 ton's Keports, Slack versus Smallwood, it is said that primus 
 strocus sine jocus, absolulus estprovokus; now, who gave the 
 primus strocus ? who gave the first offence ? Why the 
 cook ; she brought the dripping-pan there ; for, though we 
 will allow, if we had not been there we could not have been 
 thrown down there ; yet your honor, if the dripping-pan 
 had not been there for us to have tumbled down into, we 
 could not have tumbled down into the dripping-pan." 
 
 The next counsel on the same side began with, "Your 
 honor, he who makes use of many words to no purpose, 
 has not much to sny for himself ; therefore I shall come to 
 the point. My client was in liquor ; the liquor in him 
 having served an ejectment upon his understanding, com- 
 
126 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 mon sense was nonsuited, and lie was a man beside himself, 
 as Dr. Biblibas declares in his Dissertation upon Bumpers. 
 In the 130th folio volume of the Abridgment of the 
 Statutes, page 128G, he says, that a drunken man is homo 
 duplicans, or a double man, not only because he sees things 
 double, but also because he is not as he should be, perfecto 
 ipse he, but is, as he should be, defecto lipse he." 
 
 The counsel on the other side rose up gracef ally, playing 
 with his ruffles prettily, and tossing the ties of his wig 
 about emphatically. He began with, "Your honor, and 
 you gentlemen of the jury, I humbly do conceive I have 
 the authority to declare, that I am counsel in in this case 
 for the defendant ; therefore, your honor, I shall not 
 flourish away in words ; words are no more than filagree 
 work. Some people may think them an embellishment, but 
 to me it is a matter of astonishment, how any one can be 
 so importinent, to the detriment of all rudiment; but, this 
 is not to be looked at through the medium of right and 
 wrong ; for the law knows no medium, and right and wrong- 
 are but its shadows. Now, in the first place, they have 
 called a kitchen my client's premises. Now, a kitchen is 
 nobody's premises ; a kitchen is not a warehouse nor a 
 storehouse ; a brewhouse nor a bakehouse ; an outhouse 
 nor an inhouse, nor a dwellinghouse, nor any house ; no, 
 your honor, 'tis absolutely and bona fide, neither more 
 nor less than a kitchen ; or as the law more classically ex- 
 presses, a kitchen is camera necessaria pro usus cookaree, 
 cum sauce-pannis, stew-pannis, scullero dressero, coalholo, 
 slovis, smoakjacko, pro roastandum, boilandum, fryandum, 
 et plum puddings mixandum, pro turtle soupes, calves' head 
 hashibus, cum calipee et calipashibus. But we shall not 
 avail ourselves of an alibi, but admit of the existence of a 
 cook-maid ; now, may it please the court, we shall take it 
 upon a new ground and beg a new trial, for as they have 
 curtailed our name, from plain Mary into Moll, I hope the 
 Court will not allow of this ; for if they were to allow of 
 
SPECTACLES, OR KELPS TO READ. 127 
 
 mistakes, what would the law do ? For when the law don't 
 find mistakes, it is the business of the law to make them." 
 Therefore the court allowed them the liberty of a new trial ; 
 for the law is our liberty, and it is happy for us that we 
 have the liberty to go to law. 
 
 SPECTACLES, OR HELPS TO READ. 
 
 BYROM. 
 
 A cektain artist, I've forgot his name, 
 
 Had got for making spectacles a fame, 
 
 Or "helps to read" — as, when they first were sold 
 
 Was writ upon his glaring sign in gold ; 
 
 And, for all uses to be had from glass, 
 
 His were allowed by readers to surpass. 
 
 There came a man into his shop one day: 
 
 4 'Are you the spectacle contriver, pray?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said he, "I can in that affair, 
 
 Contrive to please you, if you want a pair." 
 
 * ' Can you ? Pray do then. " So, at first, he chose 
 
 To place a youngish pair upon his nose ; 
 
 And book produced, to see how they would fit ; 
 
 Asked how he liked 'em ? ' ' Like 'em — not a bit. " 
 
 Then, sir, I fancy, if you please to try, 
 
 These in my hand will better suit your eye." 
 
 "No, but they don't." "Well, come, sir, if you please, 
 
 Here is another sort, we'll e'en try these ; 
 
 Still somewhat more they magnify the letter ; 
 
 Now, sir?" "Why now — I'm not a bit the better." 
 
 "No! here, take these that magnify still more ; 
 
 How do they fit?" "Like all the rest before." 
 
 In, short they tried a whole assortment through, 
 
 But all in vain, for none of 'em would do. 
 
 The operator, much surprised to find 
 
 So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind : 
 
 "What sort of eyes can you have got? ' said he, 
 
 "Why, very good ones, friend, as you may see." 
 
128 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 4 ' Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ball — 
 
 Pray let me ask yon — can you read at all ?" 
 
 * ' No, yon great blockhead ; if I conld what need 
 
 Of paying yon for any ' helps to read ?' " 
 
 And so he left the maker in a heat, 
 
 Besolved to post him for an arrant cheat. 
 
 THE PIG. 
 
 A COIiLOQUIATi POEM. 
 
 SOUTHEY 
 
 Jacob ! I do not like to see thy nose 
 Turn'd np in scornful cnrve at yonder pig, 
 It would be well, my friend, if we, like him, 
 Were perfect in our kind ! . . And why despise 
 The sow-born grunter ? . , He is obstinate, 
 Thou answerest ; ugly, and the filthiest beast 
 That banquets upon offal. . . . Nov/ I pray you 
 Hear the pig's counsel. 
 
 Is he obstinate ? 
 We must not, Jacob, be deceived by words ; 
 We must not take them as unheeding hands 
 Receive base money at the current worth , 
 But with a just suspicion try their sound, 
 And in the even balance weigh them well. 
 See now to what this obstinacy comes : 
 A poor, mistreated, democratic beast, 
 He knows that his unmerciful drivers seek 
 Their profit, and not his. He hath not learned 
 That pigs were made for man, . . born to be brawn'd 
 And baconized : that he must please to give 
 Just what his gracious masters please to take : 
 Perhaps his tusks, the weapons Nature gave 
 For self-defence, the general privilege ; 
 Perhaps, . . hark, Jacob! dost thou hear that horn? 
 Woe to the young postery of Pork ! 
 Their enemy is at hand. 
 
 Again. Thou say'st 
 The pig is ugly. Jacob, look at him ! 
 Those eyes have taught the lover flattery. 
 
THS PIGL 129 
 
 His face, . . nay, Jacob ! Jacob ! were it fair 
 
 To judge a lady in her dishabille ? 
 
 Fancy it dressed, and with saltpetre roughed. 
 
 Behold his tail, my friend ; with curls like that 
 
 The wanton hop marries her stately spouse : 
 
 So crisp in beauty Amoretta's hair 
 
 Bings round her loyer's soul the chains of love. 
 
 And what is beauty, -but the aptitude 
 
 Of parts harmonious ? Give thy fancy scope, 
 
 And thou wilt find that no imagined change 
 
 Can beautify this beast. Place at his end 
 
 The starry glories of the peacock's pride. 
 
 Give him the swan's white breast ; for his horn-hoofs 
 
 Shape such a foot and ankle as the waves 
 
 Crowded in eager rivalry to kiss 
 
 When Yenus from the enamor'd sea arose ; . . 
 
 Jacob, thou canst but make a monster of him ! 
 
 All alteration man could think, would mar 
 
 His pig perfection. 
 
 The last charge, . . he lives 
 A dirty life. Here I could shelter him 
 "With noble and right-reverend precedents, 
 And show, by sanction of authority, 
 That 'tis a very honorable thing 
 To thrive by dirty ways. But let me rest 
 On better ground the unanswerable defence. 
 The pig is a philosopher, who knows 
 No prejudice. Dirt? . . . Jacob, what is dirt? 
 If matter, . . why the delicate dish that tempts 
 An o'ergorged epicure to the last morsel 
 That stuffs him to the throat-gates, is no more. 
 If matter be not, but as sages say, 
 Spirit is all, and all things visible 
 Are one, the infinitely modified, 
 Think, Jacob, what that pig is, and the mire 
 Wherein he stands knee-deep ! 
 
 And there ! the breeze 
 Pleads with me, and has won thee to a smile 
 That speaks conviction. O'er yon blossom 'd field 
 Of beans it came, and thoughts of bacon rise. 
 
130 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 A STEAI PAEEOT. 
 
 PAUL. 
 
 A FARCE. 
 
 €\mtim. 
 
 Mr. Wyndham Norval, Miss Lucy, 
 
 Jemima Lott, A Brazilian (voice outside.) 
 
 Properties — Small sofa with cushion. Movable parrot in cage. 
 Candlestick. Boot-jack — Shaving brush — Clean towel — Two tables — 
 Two chairs — Broom — Duster — Cover for cage — Cigar — Box of 
 matches. Pair of boots — Saucer of blacklead — Brush and dustpan. 
 
 Scene — An Interior, scantily furnished ; table, chairs &c. An air of 
 
 negligence pervades the apartment. A parrot in large cage near 
 
 window. 
 
 Enter Jemima with broom, duster &c. 
 
 Jemi. Well I never, that tiresome man han't gone out yet. 
 I never did see snch a lazy person in all my born days. He 
 calls hisself a hartist, cause he paints. Well, if hartists are 
 all sich idle good for nothin' come day, go day sort of 
 people, if ever I does get married, and if I 'as any little 
 hoffsprings, none of 'em shan't be hartists. (Galls) Mr. Nor- 
 val, are you goin' out to-day or not ? cause I want to do the 
 rooms. 
 
 NoKVAii (within.) All right, Jemima — don't fidget, my 
 poppet. 
 
 Jemi. There, that's the way he gits over me. He's 
 always calling me his poppet or somethin' else jist as soft. 
 He's a good-natured young man, though he does not get up 
 till 12 o'clock, and nearly worrits my life out (looking 
 about.) How this place do smell of smoke. He's a hawful 
 one for his pipe, (clears table.) I'll not wait for him any 
 longer but shall do this room any-how. 
 
A STRAY PARROT. 131 
 
 Enter Nobval smoking, lathering his face at the same time — he has on 
 a dressing gown, slippers and smoking cap. 
 
 Norvaij. Halloa Jemima, how are you this morning ? 
 
 Jemi. It's too bad of you getting up so late, Mr. Norval. 
 
 Norvaxi. Now, then, Jemima, don't scold me as usual. 
 How would you like to enamel in this style every morning ? 
 (daubing Tier face with the brush.) 
 
 Jemi. [wiping it off with her apron.) Have done, Mr. 
 Nerval, or I'll make t'other servant do your rooms, for it's no 
 joke to come up three pairs of stairs and then be worrited 
 into the bargain. 
 
 Norval, I beg you will not constantly remind me that I 
 inhabit a third floor back. You know I never ring unless 
 I'm compelled, (not more than fifty times a day, I can hon- 
 estly say, ) and that's nothing. I'll be bound those South- 
 American swells in the drawing rooms are really a trouble 
 to you. 
 
 Jemi. They be rum'uns on the first floor. They is Burzi- 
 lians, and missis says his brother is a Hemperor in his own 
 country. Certainly they've got no hend of money and they 
 never locks hanything up [giggling. ) Missis likes that. 
 
 Norvax. She does, eh ? Well I'm like the Emperor's 
 brother. I never lock anything up [strops his razor.) 
 
 Jemi. [laughing.) No, I should think you didn't. 
 
 Norvajd. Jemima, permit me to observe that this mirth 
 is unseemly. What are you laughing at ? 
 
 Jemi. It'd make anybody laugh as know'd you — as if 
 you'd anything to lock up — I believes you buy your tea by 
 the bounce. I knows you gets your butter by the 'alf 
 quarter, and hever since you've lodged in this 'ouse, you've 
 only had two heggs or one 'errin in at a time — and they 
 didn't look fresh. Missis says she b'lieves you live on 
 smoke and beer. 
 
 Norvaij. I can bear with a great deal, but if you reflect 
 too much on my domestic economy, I shall procure other 
 lodgings — so take that. [Daubing hei* cheek with the brush.) 
 
 Jemi. I wish you'd keep your nasty lather to yourself. 
 I 'ates soap. 
 
132 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Norval. So I should think, from the appearance of your 
 face. 
 
 Jemi. [uncovering the cage wldle dusting it. ) Eh — my word, 
 I never see this afore — why you've been treatin' yourself to 
 a Poll Parrot too. 
 
 Norval. "What do you mean by a Parrot too. 
 
 Jemi. Why, Miss Lacy, the second floor, 'as a Parrot as 
 like this as two peas. [Speaking to the bird) Pretty creetur' ! 
 
 Norvae. Who ? Miss Lacy ? 
 
 Jemi. No — the Poll Parrot. Miss Lacy isn't a creetur, 
 but one of the nicest, respectablest gills I ever see — so clever 
 too — she's a dressmaker. 
 
 Norvae. Pheugh ! [lighting his pipe or cigar.) 
 
 Jemi. And industrious too — my word she do work, she 
 do ; she's a-makin' some dresses now for the young Miss, 
 the daughter of the Burzilian gent. Ah ! there's a temper — 
 that child isn't above twelve years of age, and she's got the 
 manners of a grown-up woman — which as for temper, she 
 have got a will of her own. Jane, parlor maid, was telling 
 me as 'ow she breaks ten tea-cups for breakfast every 
 mornin' ; she throw'd two yesterday at Buttons. 
 
 Norvae. Y/ho are you talking about ? Miss Lacy ? 
 
 Jemi. Miss Lacy ! no— the Burzilian Miss ; Miss Lacy 
 break tea cups, indeed ! She's too good. 
 
 Norvae [smoking.) Pheugh ! 
 
 Jemi. You needn't pooh pooh her— you don't like her 
 because she doesn't take no notice of you when you're goin' 
 up and down stairs. She isn't a forard minx like that Miss 
 Lemondrop, the confectioner's daughter over the way. 
 
 Norvae. Jemima Lott, you're very impudent this 
 morning. 
 
 Jemi. I speaks my mind, and if ever thar was a trolloping 
 bit of goods, she's one. 
 
 Norvae. Be careful what you say about that young lady, 
 for it is just possible that she may one day be Mrs. Wynd- 
 ham Norval. 
 
 Jemi. Well Pm sorry for it. If you were to ask my advice. 
 
A STRAY PARROT. 133 
 
 Norval. But I don't. 
 
 Jemi. Then I shall give it without. Miss Lemondrop is 
 a sort of person 
 
 Norvae {shakes razor strap at her.) Now then. 
 
 Jemi — who dresses too flarin' — 
 
 Norval {throws a slipper at her, which she avoids.) 
 Jemima ! 
 
 Jemi and wears too big a crinoline 
 
 Norval (another slipper.) Will you be quiet ! 
 
 Jemi. for a person in her position, and 
 
 Norval (looks around, sees boot-jack, and raises it to throw ;) 
 she dodges behind sofa and cities ah /) Now then hold your 
 tittle-tattle tongue and get out of this room ! travel ! look 
 sharp ! 
 
 Jemi. Well, I'm goin' sir, but after I've gone, don't ring 
 and say I didn't do your room, you know. 
 
 Norval. Now then — skedaddle. Be off— I've had quite 
 enough of your impudence. 
 
 Jemi. Well, I'm goin', but for all that, which I must say 
 Miss Lemondrop is — {he chases her around the room with 
 sofa pillow, and she exits left hand. ) 
 
 Norval. Good job you're out of my reach. Servants now- 
 a-days express their opinions by far too freely. 
 
 Jemi. (thrusting her head through door left hand.) She's a 
 nasty, 'orrid good for nothing trollope ! Ough ! {Making 
 a face. He throws some object at her, which misses her.) 
 
 Norval. Take that. I'd follow her, but I might meet 
 that pink of perfection, Miss Lacy, on the stairs. (Resum- 
 ing his slippers. ) If you show your face here again I'll comb 
 your hair with this bit of furniture, Miss Jemima. {A knock, 
 left hand.) Who is that, I wonder? not a creditor, I hope. 
 All ! perhaps it's Jemima, with further impertinence. {Knock 
 repeated.) If it is, I'll serve her out. (Conceals himself behind 
 the door. ) Come in if you're good looking. (As the door- 
 opens he is about to throw the sofa cushion, when he draws 
 back, seeing that it is Miss Lacy who stands at the door.) 
 
134 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES, 
 
 Miss L. I beg your pardon sir, have you got a stray 
 parrot ? 
 
 Norval {aside.) She's a jolly nice girl, this. ( Wipes off 
 the lather with the towel, which is tucked under his chin, buttons 
 up his shirt collar and adjusts his costume.) A parrot— I 
 think you said parrot. 
 
 Lacy. I did say parrot, 
 
 Norval. I thought so ; yes-no-no-yes — pray walk in. 
 
 Lacy. The servant has just told me that she thought it 
 was here. 
 
 Norval. Jemima? 
 
 Lacy. Yes {seeing cage, goes to it.) Ah ! there it is. 
 
 Norval. That's my parrot — my own private and confi- 
 dential parrot. 
 
 Lacy. I'm sure it's mine, for his beak has a peculiar 
 hook. 
 
 Norval. But parrots are like Hebrews, their noses are 
 all more or less hooked. 
 
 Lacy. But mine is more hooked than most birds. 
 
 Norval {aside.) Hookey walker. 
 
 Lacy. Besides, I know his plumage, his head, his tail, 
 his wings, his color, his — 
 
 Norval. But all birds have tails and wings and plumage 
 and color. 
 
 Lacy. I don't wish to be unpleasant, sir, but I repeat, it 
 is my parrot, and unless you restore him I shall be com- 
 pelled to appeal to the law. 
 
 Norval {aside.) Here's a lark; I'll keep this up. {Aloud.) 
 Very well, suppose we go to law, Miss Lacy. 
 
 Lacy. And pray, sir, may I inquire how you knew my 
 name was Lacy ? 
 
 Norval. Jemima told me. 
 
 Lacy. Oh did she, Mr. Norval ? 
 
 Norval. And may I inquire how you knew my name 
 was Norval ? 
 
 Lacy. Jemima was also my informant. 
 
 

 A STRAY PARROT. 135 
 
 Noeval. Ah ! Jemima mutually enlightens us, it seems. 
 Did she happen to mention my estates on the Grampian 
 Hills? 
 
 Lacy. I don't come here to listen to your feeble badin- 
 age about the Grampian or any other — 
 
 Noeval. Man ! 
 
 Lacy. Hills. I simply wish my parrot. "Will you give 
 him to me ? 
 
 Noeval. Pray be seated, Miss Lacy; for after all we are 
 neighbors; let us talk the matter over. A parrot may form 
 the subject of a cosey little chat. 
 
 Lacy. I've no time for conversation, even if I felt in- 
 clined. I'm extremely busy. (Sews. ) 
 
 Noeval (aside.) Jemima was right; she is industrious. 
 
 Lacy. Again I say, will you return him ? Yes or No. 
 
 Noeval. For the present I'm constrained to say No. 
 
 Lacy. A noble act> to rob a poor girl of her — 
 
 Noeval. Beer ? 
 
 Lacy. No, bird. What name have you for such con- 
 duct ? 
 
 Noeval. I call the denial, heroism — when the request is 
 made by such a charming girl as yourself. (Bowing.) 
 
 Lacy. Idle compliments are all very well, but will you be 
 so kind as to tell me how long you have had that parrot ? 
 
 Noeval. Since last night; when I came home, I found 
 my window wide open, and his parrot-ship picturesquely 
 perched on my best sugar basin, (I always use white sugar, 
 I beg leave to say,) pegging away ravenously. 
 
 Lacy. Oh, as for that, I can pay you for anything he has 
 eaten. 
 
 NoEVAii. Don't mention it, I beg of you; the two or three 
 pounds he may have devoured is nothing. I judge he 
 must have eaten that quantity, from the appearance of his 
 waistcoat, but the extent of his appetite only suggested one 
 sad thought. 
 
 Lacy. And what was that, may I ask ? 
 
136 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Noeval. As to how his former owner must have starved 
 him. 
 
 Lacy. I'd have you know, sir, that I was as particular 
 about his meals as my own. But we are wandering from 
 the point. You confess the bird is a fugitive: then by what 
 right do you keep him ? 
 
 Noeval. By priority of ownership. I bought that iden- 
 tical bird six months ago. I am a bachelor (sighs. ) Jemima 
 may have told you. Well, I sighed for a partner to share 
 my loneliness. I couldn't buy a wife to talk to me, so I 
 bought the next best thing, a parrot. I was prepared to 
 share my hard earnings with him. When, twenty-four 
 hours after I brought him home, the ungrateful little mon- 
 ster flew away, cruelly deserting me, and only returned last 
 night, after all these months of absence. 
 
 Lacy. Well, I assure you, I used no efforts to entrap him. 
 He certainly new in at my window. I hadn't the slightest 
 idea to whom he belonged. He insisted on remaining, and 
 I adopted him. 
 
 Noeval (placing cage on table. ) It's a clear case you were 
 simply detaining my property. ( Over the cage. ) You don't 
 wish to go back to that strange lady, do you ? 
 
 Lacy. You don't wish to stay here in these untidy rooms 
 with this ugly gentleman, do you, Jacky ? (Norval bows 
 and says "thank you" Lacy puts a lump of sugar through 
 the bars. ) 
 
 NoEVAn. Ah ! you're bribing him with sugar — isn't she, 
 Johnny ? 
 
 ( They both chirrup over the cage, when their heads nearly meet ; they 
 withdraw them, and she looks rather confused,) 
 
 What lovely eyes ! (Aside.) 
 
 L\cy. His name isn't Johnny, it's Jacky. 
 
 NoEVATi. Johnny! 
 
 Lacy. Jacky ! 
 
 NoEVAii. Johnny ! 
 
A STRAY PARROT. 137 
 
 Lacy. Jacky, Jacky, Jacky ' | 
 
 Norval. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. ) v y 
 
 (±Te returns the cage near the window, not shutting its door.) 
 
 Norval. After all, one name is as good for him as 
 another, just as one master is the same to him as another. 
 
 Lacy. Well, in that case, as I've had him six months, 
 and he's grown attached to me, isn't it better that I should 
 keep him ? Besides, in this muddle of a room he'd pine 
 away. 
 
 Norval. Not a bit of it — and besides, I'm meditating 
 matrimony, and then he'll have some one to look after him. 
 
 Lacy. I hope you'll marry some one who'll look properly 
 after my little pet. 
 
 Norval. Then I must marry for your bird's comfort. 
 
 Lacy. There ! you said your bird. 
 
 Norval. I mean my bird, or our bird if you like. 
 
 Lacy. Ah sir, if you knew how fondly I loved him, you 
 would not deprive me of him, for remember, I have nothing 
 else to love. He is my only and constant companion, and 
 when I am weary sewing and toiling at my dull labors, all 
 day long, I often turn to him for a bright moment of relaxa- 
 tion [turns away as if weeping.) 
 
 Norval. There, if you go on like that, I'll not only give 
 you the parrot, but I'll throw myself in as well — [aside) 
 I'm getting awfully in love with her. 
 
 Lacy. That is more than I came for ; besides, you know, 
 you are meditating matrimony ; what would Miss Lemon- 
 drop say ? Jemima, you see, supplies me with all the 
 gossip of the house. 
 
 Norval. That blessed Jemima ! Oh I've not made up my 
 mind about Miss Lemonclrop by a long way. 
 
 Lacy. No ? What a pity. 
 
 Norval. No, it isn't, for the truth must out ; (aside) now 
 for a bold stroke — [aloud, on his toiees) for I'm half in love 
 with you already [seizing her hand. ) Your voice is so soft 
 und tender. I know you are so good, so kind-hearted, so 
 
138 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 industrious, and '[attempts to kiss her hand ; she draws it 
 
 away.) 
 
 Lacy. O here's a nice situation ! Jump up and don't be 
 a stupid young man. What would the neighbors say if 
 they saw you on your knees ? 
 
 (Voices without — saying) "Catch him!" "There he 
 goes !" — " Now you have it !" " Ah ! he's gone !" &c. &c. 
 
 Jemi. (without — calling.) Mr. Norval! Miss Lacy ! 
 
 Norval. Halloa ! What's the row I wonder? 
 
 Jemi. (without.) The parrot ! The parrot. 
 
 Lacy (running to the cage.) Oh bless my heart, the bird 
 has flown (she goes to the window- and voices cry " Ah!") 
 
 NoRVAii. What was that ? 
 
 Lacy. What a stupid to show myself at your window ; 
 the yard is full of people, and now what will they say ? 
 
 Voices without — Not that way ! — Quick ! — Look out for 
 the cat! (a crash outside.) 
 
 Nokval. Halloa ! there's a smash for somebody ! 
 {Enter Jemima with the Parrot in a duster.) 
 
 Jemi. Wictory ! Wictory ! I've gotten him at last. 
 
 Lacy. Did you catch him ? 
 
 Norval. Hold him tight. 
 
 Jemi. Yes I did, but he leaded me a dance if ever I 'ad 
 one. I'll tell you how it were : while I was swilling the 
 yard just now, I 'appens to look up, and there I sees Poll a 
 takin' the hair on the side of the water-butt and lookin' as 
 quinchiquintial and as impetent as you please. Ses I to 
 myself, ses I — I'll b2 after you, my gentleman ; so I creeps 
 up as soft as I could, and just as I thought I 'ad him, I found 
 I 'adn't, for he was nimbler as me, and away he bounced 
 into the kitchen and lolloped hisself down in a big dish of 
 cream. Cook, like a great stupid, shouts hout, and 
 frightens 'im, and off he flops agin, and struggles on to the 
 tiles, when jist as he gets tl^ere, I'm blest if there warn't 
 next door's big torn cat. My 'art was in my mouth, as torn 
 made a spring at him — but ofT he goes and tumbles down 
 
A STRAY PARROT. 139 
 
 Lemondrop's chimney, right into your young lady's 
 room. 
 
 NoRVAii. What ! the cat ? 
 
 Jemi. No, the parrot. When she see him, all smeared 
 with soot and cream, she pretended to go off into 'stericks, 
 and when I got there, what should I see but your sweet 
 Lemondrop faintin,' or pretendin' to, in a young man's 
 arms, and a-screechm' like mad, "Oh William, love, take it 
 away — I know it will fly at me — take it away." 
 
 Norval. In a young man's arms, Jemima, are you sure 
 of what you say ? 
 
 Jemi. 'Course I is — for it was for a-looking at them that 
 I misses Poll agin, who made out of the window and then 
 into the first floor — the Burzilian gent's — who is iunchin' 
 with his daughter. I thought the little miss would ha' died 
 a-laughin' at Poll, which it did look comical with the 
 cream and stuff on her — "Oh what a nice Poll !" says the 
 child. ' ' I want it, I must have it." " It is mine, " says L 
 " I'll buy it for you," says her papa. "It isn't mine to sell, " 
 I says, ses L "But 1 will have it," says she, and then 
 stamped her feet and got so red in the face I thought she'd 
 have suffercated. Just as I grabbed Poll, and was wrappin' 
 him up in his duster, the old gent rushed after me and said 
 his daughter would have convulsions if she didn't get Poll 
 at once. I off, and he after me, and here I am ; so now you 
 know all about it, for I'm really done up after that race. 
 
 (Sinks into a chair and wipes her face with her apron, 
 which blacks it.) Ah ! my word, it's warm. (Footsteps 
 heard without, left hand.) I shouldn't be surprised if that's 
 the Burzilian gent now. 
 
 Brazilian. Are you coming ? Quick — my daughter is 
 impatient. 
 
 Jemima There, that's him — don't you hear ? name the 
 price. 
 
 Norval. But he isn't mine now, he belongs to Miss Lacy. 
 
 Lacy. No, he is yours. 
 
 Brazilian (outside.) I'll give ten dollars for him. 
 
140 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Jemima. Ten dollars ; shall I let him have him ? 
 
 Norval. I tell you he isn't mine. 
 
 Brazilian (outside.) I'll give twenty dollars. 
 
 Lacy (pantomiming across.) He's yours, he's yours. 
 
 Bkazilian. Thirty dollars. 
 
 Jemima. If one of you don't claim him soon, I'll sell him 
 on my own hook. 
 
 Brazilian. Forty dollars. 
 
 Lacy (pantomiming.) You speak. 
 
 Norval. No, no. — You. 
 
 Brazilian. My daughter is in fits. Fifty dollars. 
 
 Lacy (anxiously. ) Do one of you take it — it's a sight of 
 money. (A scream is heard, they all start. ) 
 
 Brazilian. Sixty, seventy, eighty dollars. (They all 
 walk up and down in an excited manner.) 
 
 Lacy. I don't know what to do, I'm sure. 
 
 Norval. "We are all getting precious excited about this 
 money. 
 
 Brazilian. My daughter is getting black in the face — A 
 hundred dollars (very loud.) 
 
 Jemima. Oh sir, don't let her go black in the face. We 
 shall have the house indicted for turning people into 
 niggers. 
 
 Norval. "Well there ! I'll settle it, he shall have it for a 
 hundred dollars. 
 
 Jemima (jumping with joy.) I'm so glad ! 
 
 Norval (to Lacy.) I accept it for you. 
 
 Jemima (speaking off.) The gentleman as owns the 
 parrot says as 'ow you can have it, sir, for a nunderd 
 dollars. I'll tidy him up a bit and bring him down. 
 
 Brazilian. All right. 
 
 Jemima. There's a good job, and now I'll wash his face, 
 brush his coat, black his boots, tuck up his tail feathers, put 
 him in his 'ouse and git the money. (Going with cage.) 
 
 Norval. Hi ! What are you going to do with that ? 
 
 Jemima. Well, I think for a nunderd dollars you might 
 
 
A STRAY PARROT. 141 
 
 throw in the cage. (Jemima goes to the back, puts parrot in 
 cage during the following.) 
 
 Norv.al. Come, Miss Lacy, this isn't a bad day's work 
 after all— A hundred dollars and— 
 
 Lacy. And the loss of a bird that I dearly loved. 
 
 Norval. And the gain of a poor artist that will love you 
 just as much. 
 
 Lacy. And you surely can't think me so selfish as to 
 accept the money. 
 
 Noeval. Well, I'll tell you how we will manage it. We'll 
 divide it share and share alike. Or you shall have the 
 better half, or at least you shall be my better half. I pop 
 the question now, sans ceremonie. (On his knee.) Will you 
 be mine ? 
 
 Jemima {coming in with cage.) Well, I'm sure, I'll tell 
 Lemon drop. 
 
 Lacy. Poor bird, it pains me to lose him. 
 
 Norval. So it does me; through him we are all made 
 happy, and now we are going to part with him. 
 
 Jemima. But you can buy another, and look at a nunderd 
 dollars— it's quite a pile o' money— and if you and master 
 here should ever make such stupids of yourselves as to 
 come for to go to git married, why a hundred dollars will 
 help you a good deal in furnishing, and I don't mind being 
 your bridesmaid. You never see me in a white veil. I look 
 so nice you wouldn't know me from a lady [grins.) 
 
 NoRVAn. I'm agreed — I love her, she loves me, we all love 
 each other — don't we Jemima ? (he embraces them both.) 
 
 Jemima. Why, Mr. Norval, be you a-takin' leave o' your 
 senses ? 
 
 Norval. It's all the fault of Poll, here. Henceforward I 
 shall adore all parrots for making me acquainted with the 
 sweetest girl in the whole world. If ever I get rich, I'll 
 endow an asylum for destitute and broken down parrots. 
 I'll open a college for parrots to teach them talking in all 
 languages. I'll have live parrots all over my house ; and 
 
142 
 
 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 when they die I'll stuff them with gold. Hurrah for par- 
 rots ! 
 
 FINALE. 
 {Melody from " Les Bavards.")— Offenbach. 
 
 NoRVAL. 
 
 Pretty Polly ! Pretty Polly, 
 
 
 All seems happy, bright and jolly, 
 
 
 For which, thanks we offer you, 
 
 All. 
 
 Pretty Polly 'tis your due — 
 
 Lacy, 
 
 Pretty Polly ! Pretty Polly ! 
 
 
 To regret your loss seems folly, 
 
 
 Yet I'm loth to say good-by. 
 
 All. 
 
 Pretty Polly don't you cry, 
 
 Jemima. 
 
 Though to Polly thanks are due, 
 
 
 I've a share in what's occurred. 
 
 
 Poll did all a bird could do ; 
 
 
 I did my part like a bird. 
 
 All. 
 
 Pretty PoUy ! Pretty Polly ! 
 
 
 Befrain, 
 
 DAME FBEDEGONDE. 
 
 AYTOUN. 
 
 When folks, with headstrong passion blind, 
 
 To play the fool make up their mind, 
 
 They're sure to come with phrases nice 
 
 And modest air for your advice. 
 
 But, as a truth unfailing make it, 
 
 They ask, but never mean to take it. 
 
 9 Tis not advice they want, in fact, 
 
 But confirmation in their act. 
 
 Now mark what did, in such a case, 
 
 A worthy priest wlio knew the race. 
 
 A dame more buxom, blithe and free, 
 Than Fredegonde you scarce would see. 
 So smart her dress, so trim her shape, 
 Ne'er hostess offer' d juice of grape, 
 
DAME FREDEGONDE. 143 
 
 Could for her trade wish better sign ; 
 
 Her looks gave flavor to her wine, 
 
 And each guest feels it, as he sips, 
 
 Smack of the ruby of her lips. 
 
 A smile for all, a welcome glad, — 
 
 A jovial coaxing way she had ; 
 
 And, — what was more her fate than blame, — 
 
 A nine months' widow was our dame. 
 
 But toil was hard, for trade was good, 
 
 And gallants sometimes will be rude. 
 
 * ' And what can a lone woman do ? 
 
 The nights are long and eerie too. 
 
 Now, Guillot there's a likely man, 
 
 None better draws or taps a can ; 
 
 He's just the man, I think, to suit, 
 
 If I could bring my courage to't. " 
 
 "With thoughts like these her mind is cross'd : 
 
 The dame, they say, who doubts, is lost. 
 
 * ' But then the risk ? I'll beg a slice 
 
 Of Father Eaulin's good advice." 
 
 Prankt in her best, with looks demure, 
 She seeks the priest ; and, to be sure, 
 Asks if he thinks she ought to wed : 
 " With such a business on my head, 
 I'm worried off my legs with care, 
 And need some help to keep things square. 
 I've thought of Guillot, truth to tell ! 
 He's steady, knows his business well. 
 What do you think ?" When thus he met her ; 
 " Oh, take him, dear, you can't do better !" 
 * ' But then the danger, my good pastor, 
 If of the man I make the master. 
 There Is no trusting to these men." 
 "Well, well, my dear, don't have him then!" 
 "But help I must have, there's the curse, 
 I may go further and fare worse." 
 * * Why, take him then ! " " But if he should 
 Turn out a thankless ne'er-do-good, — 
 
114 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 In drink and riot waste my all, 
 
 And rout me out of house and hall?" 
 
 " Don't have him, then ! But I've a plan 
 
 To clear your doubts, if any can. 
 
 The bells a peal are ringing, — hark! 
 
 Go straight, and what they tell you, mark. 
 
 If they say ' Yes ! ' wed, and be blest — 
 
 If ' No,' why — do as you think best." 
 
 The bells rung out a triple bob : 
 Oh, how our widow's heart did throb, 
 And thus she heard their burden go, 
 " Marry, mar-marry, mar-Guillot! 
 Bells were not then left to hang idle 
 A week, — and they rang for her bridal. 
 But, woe the while, they might as well 
 Have rung the poor dame's parting knell. 
 The rosy dimples left her cheek, 
 She lost her beauties plump and sleek ; 
 For Guillot oftener kick'd than kiss'd, 
 And back'd his orders with his fist, 
 Proving by deeds, as well as words, 
 That servants make the worst of lords. 
 
 She seeks the priest, her ire to wreak, 
 And speaks as angry women speak, 
 Y^ith tiger looks, and bosom swelling, 
 Cursing the hour she took his telling. 
 To all, his calm reply was this, — 
 ' ' I fear you've read the bells amiss. 
 If they have led you wrong in aught, 
 Your wish, not they, inspired the thought. 
 Just go, and mark well what they say." 
 Off trudged the dame upon her way, 
 And sure enough the chime went so, — 
 "Don't have that knave, that knave Guillot!" 
 
 " Too true," she cried, "there's not a doubt : 
 "What could my ears have been about!" 
 She had forgot that, as fools think, 
 The bell is ever sure to clink. 
 
TOBY TOSSPOT. 145 
 
 TOBY TOSSPOT. 
 
 Aias ! what pity 'tis that regularity, 
 
 Like Isaac Shove's is such a rarity. 
 But there are swilling wights in London town 
 
 Termed— jolly dogs, — choice spirits — alias swine, 
 Who pour, in midnight revel, bumpers down, 
 
 Making their throats a thoroughfare for wine. 
 
 These spendthrifts, who life's pleasures thus run on, 
 Dozing with headaches till the afternoon, 
 
 Lose half men's regular estate of sun, 
 By borrowing too largely of the moon. 
 
 One of this kidney, — Toby Tosspot hight 
 
 "Was coming from the Bedford late at night ; 
 And being Bacchi plenus — full of wine, 
 Although he had a tolerable notion 
 Of aiming at progressive motion, 
 
 'Twasn't direct 'twas serpentine. 
 
 He worked with sinuosities, along, 
 
 Like Monsieur Corkscrew, worming though a cork, 
 
 Not straight, like Corkscrew's prosy, stiff Don Prong — a fork 
 
 At length, with near four bottles in his pate, 
 He saw the moon shining on Shove's brass plate* 
 "When reading, "Please to ring the bell," 
 
 And being civil beyond measure, 
 "Bingit!" says Toby— "Very well ; 
 
 I'll ring it with a deal of pleasure." 
 Toby, the kindest soul in all the town, 
 Grave it a jerk that almost jerked it down. 
 
 He waited full two minutes — no one came ; 
 
 He waited full two minutes more ; — and then 
 Says Toby, " If he's deaf, I'm not to blame ; 
 
 I'll pull it for the gentleman again. " 
 
146 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 But the first peal 'woke Isaac in a fright, 
 
 Who, quick as lightning, popping up his head, 
 Sat on his head's antipodes, in bed, 
 
 Pale as a parsnip, — bolt upright. 
 
 At length, he wisely to himself doth say — calming his fears— 
 "Tush! 'tis some fool has rung and run away ;" 
 When peal the second rattled in his ears I 
 
 Shove jumped into the middle of the floor ; 
 
 And trembling at each breath of air that stirred, 
 He groped down stairs, and opened the street-door, 
 
 While Toby was performing peal the third, 
 
 Isaac eyed Toby, fearfully askant, 
 
 And saw he was a strapper, stout and tall, 
 
 Then put this question : ' 6 Pray, sir, what d'ye want T 9 
 Says Toby : "I want nothing, sir, at all." 
 
 "Want nothing! Sir, you've pulled my bell, I vow. 
 
 As if you'd jerk it off the wire." 
 Quoth Toby, gravely making him a bow, 
 
 "I pulled it sir, at your desire." 
 
 " At mine Y* " Yes, yours ; I hope I've done it well ; 
 
 High time for bed, sir ; I was hastening to it ; 
 But if you write up : * Please to ring the bell, ' 
 
 Common politeness makes me stop and do it, '* 
 
 COUETSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 A POEM IN TWO CANTOS. 
 
 CANTO THE FIEST. 
 COURTSHIP. 
 
 Fairest of earth ! if thou wilt hear my vow, 
 
 Lo ! at thy feet I swear to love thee ever ; 
 And by this kiss upon thy radiant brow, 
 
 Promise affection which no time shall sever ; 
 
KINGS AND SEALS. 147 
 
 And love which e'er shall bum as bright as now, 
 
 To be extinguished — never, dearest, never ! 
 Wilt thou that naughty, fluttering heart resign ? 
 Catherine ! roy own sweet Kate ! wilt thou be mine ? 
 
 Thou shalt have pearls to deck thy raven hair — 
 Thou shalt have all this world of ours can bring ; 
 
 And we will live in solitude, nor care 
 
 For aught save for each other. We will fling 
 
 Away all sorrow — Eden shall be there ! 
 
 And thou shall be my queen, and I thy king^. 
 
 Still coy, and still reluctant ? Sweetheart, say, 
 
 When shall we monarchs be ? and v/hich the day? 
 
 CANTO THE SECOKD. 
 MATELMONY. 
 
 Now, Mes. Peingle, once for all, I say 
 
 I will not such extravagance allow ! 
 Bills upon bills, and larger every day, 
 
 Enough to drive a man to drink, I vow ! 
 Bonnets, gloves, frippery and trash — nay, nay, 
 
 Tears, Mes. Peingle, will not gull me now — 
 I say I won't allow ten pounds a week ; 
 I can't afford it ; madam, do not speak ! 
 
 In wedding you I thought I had a treasure ; 
 
 I rind myself most miserably mistaken ! 
 You rise at ten, then spend the day in pleasure ; — 
 
 In fact my confidence is slightly shaken. 
 Ha ! what's that uproar ? This, ma'am, is my leisure ; 
 
 Sufficient noise the slumbering dead to waken ! 
 I seek retirement, and I find — a riot ; 
 
 Confound those children, but I'll make them quiet ! 
 
 KINGS AND SEALS. 
 
 MOOKE. 
 
 " Go !" said the angry weeping maid, 
 * 4 The charm is broken ! — once betray'd, 
 Oh ! never can my heart rely 
 On word or look, on oath or sigh. 
 
148 BOOK OE COMIO SPEECHES. 
 
 Take back the gifts, so sweetly given, 
 With promis'd faith and vows to heaven • 
 That little ring, which, night and morn, 
 "With wedded truth my hand hath worn ; 
 That seal which oft, in moments blest, 
 Thou hast upon my lip imprest, 
 And sworn its dewy spring should be 
 A fountain seal'd for only thee ! 
 Take, take them back, the gift and vow, 
 All sullied, lost, and hateful, now !" 
 
 I took the ring — the seal I took, 
 "While oh ! her every tear and look 
 "Were such as angels look and shed, 
 When man is by the world misled ! 
 Gently I whisper'd, ' ' Fanny, dear ! 
 Not half thy lover's gifts are here : 
 Say, where are all the seals he gave 
 To every ringlet's jetty wave, 
 And where is every one he printed 
 Upon that lip, so ruby-tinted — 
 Seals of the purest gem of bliss, 
 Oh ! richer, softer, far than this ? 
 
 "And then the ring — my love ! recall 
 How many rings, delicious all, 
 His arms around that neck hath twisted, 
 Twining warmer far than this did ! 
 Where are they all, so sweet, so many ? 
 Oh ! dearest, give back all, if any !" 
 
 While thus I murmur'd, trembling too 
 Lest all the nymph had vow'd was true, 
 I saw a smile relenting rise 
 'Mid the moist azure of her eyes, 
 Like daylight o'er a sea of blue, 
 While yet the air is dim with dew ! 
 She let her cheek repose on mine, 
 She let my arms around her twine — 
 Oh ! who can tell the bliss one feels 
 In thus exchanging rings and seals 1 
 
THE BITER BIT. 149 
 
 THE BITER BIT. 
 
 AYTOUN. 
 
 The sun is in the sky, mother, the .flowers are springing fair, 
 And the melody of woodland birds is stirring in the air ; 
 The riyer, smiling to the sky, glides onward to the sea, 
 And happiness is everywhere, oh, mother, but with me ? 
 
 They are going to the church, mother— I hear the marriage bell ; 
 It booms along the upland — oh ! it haunts me like a knell ; 
 He leads her on his arm, mother, he cheers her faltering step, 
 And closely to his side she clings — she does, the demirep ! 
 
 They're crossing by the stile, mother, where we so oft have stood, 
 The stile beside the shady thorn, at the corner of the wood ; 
 And the boughs, that wont to murmur back the words that won 
 
 my ear, 
 Wave their silver branches o'er him, as he leads his bridal fere. 
 
 He will pass beside the stream, mother, where first my hand he 
 pressed, 
 
 By the meadow where, with quivering lip, his passion he con- 
 fessed ; 
 
 And down the hedgerows where we've strayed again and yet 
 again ; 
 
 But he will not think of me, mother, his broken-hearted Jane l 
 
 He said that I was proud, mother, that I looked for rank and gold, 
 He said I did not love him— he said my words were cold ; 
 He said I kept him off and on, in hopes of higher game — 
 And it may be that I did, mother ; but who hasn't done the same? 
 
 I did not know my heart, mother — I know it now too late ; 
 I thought that I without a pang could wed some nobler mate ; 
 But no nobler suitor sought me — and he has taken wing, 
 And my heart is gone, and I am left a lone and blighted thing. 
 
150 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 You may lay me in my bed, mother — my head is throbbing sore ; 
 
 And, mother, prithee, let the sheets be duly aired before ; 
 
 And, if you'd please, my mother dear, your poor, desponding 
 
 child, 
 Draw me a pot of beer, mother, and, mother, draw it mild ! 
 
 PAT AND THE GEIDTEON. 
 
 LOVER. 
 
 It was the time I was lost in crassin' the broad Atlantic, 
 a-comin' home, whin the winds began to blow, and the 
 sae to rowl, that you'd think the Colleen dhas, (that was her 
 name,) would not have a mast left but what would rowl out 
 of her. 
 
 Well, sure enough, the masts went by the board, at last, 
 and the pumps were choak'd (divil choak them for that 
 same,) and av coorse the water gained an us ; and troth, to 
 be filled with water is neither good for man or baste ; and 
 she was sinkin' fast, settlin' down, as the sailors call ; and 
 faith I never was good at settlin' down in my life, and I 
 • liked it then less nor ever ; accordingly we prepared for the 
 worst and put out the boat, and got a sack o' bishkits and a 
 cask o' pork, and a kag o ^ wather, and a thrifle o' rum 
 aboord, and any other little matthers we could think iv in 
 the mortial hurry we wor in — and faith there was no time 
 to be lost, for my darlint, the colleen dhas went down like a 
 lump o' lead, afore we wor many sthrokes o' the oar away 
 from her. 
 
 Well, we dhrifted away all that night, and next mornin' 
 we put up a blanket an the end av a pole as well as we could, 
 and then we sailed iligant ; for we darn't show a stitch o' 
 canvas the night before, bekase it was blowin' like bloody 
 murther, savin' your presence, and sure it's the wondher of 
 the world we worn't swally'd alive by the ragin' sae. 
 
 Well, away we wint, for more nor a week, and nothin' 
 
PAT AND THE GRIDIRON. 151 
 
 before our two good-lookin' eyes but the canophy iv heaven, 
 and the wide ocean — the broad Atlantic ; not a thing was to 
 be seen but the sae and the sky : and though the sae and 
 the sky is mighty purty things in themselves, throtk they're 
 no great things when you've nothing' else to look at for a 
 week together — and the barest rock in the world, so it was 
 land, would be more welkim^ And then, soon enough, 
 throth, our provisions began to run low, the bishkits, and 
 the wather, and the rum — throth that was gone first of all — 
 God help uz — and oh ! it was thin that starvation began to 
 stai£ us in the face — "Ok, murtker, murtker, captain dar- 
 lint," says I, "I wisk we could land anywkere," says I. 
 
 " More power to your elbow, Paddy, my boy," says ke, 
 "for sitck a good wisk, and tkrotk it's myself wiskes tke 
 same." 
 
 *"Ock," says I, "tkat it may plaze you, sweet queen iv 
 keaven, supposing it was only a dissolute island," says I, " in- 
 kabited wid Turks, sure tkey wouldn't be suck bad Ckris- 
 tians as to refuse us a bit and a sup." 
 
 ^Wkiskt, whisht, Paddy," says the captain, " don't be 
 talking bad of any one, " says he ; "you don't know how 
 soon you may want a good word put in for yourself, if you 
 should be called to quarthers in th' other world all of a sud- , 
 dint, "says ke. 
 
 "Tkrue for you, captain darknt," says I — I called him 
 darlint, and made free witk kim, you see, bekase disthress 
 makes us all equal — "tkrue for you, captain jewel — I owe 
 no man any spite" — and tkrotk tkat was only tkrutk. "Well, 
 tke last biskkit was sarvecWmt, and by gor tke wather itself 
 Was all gone at last, and we passed tke nigkt migkty cowld — 
 well, at tke brake o' day tke sun riz most beautifully out to 
 fcke waves, i^it was as bright as silver and as clear as crys- 
 tal ^But itWas only the more cruel upon us, for we wor 
 beginnin' ttfieel terrible hungry ; when all at wanst I thought 
 I spied the land — by gor I thought I felt my heart up in my 
 throat in a minit, and "Thunder an' turf, captain," says I, 
 fcC look to leeward," says I. 
 
152 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 "What for?" says he. 
 
 "I think I see the land," says I. So he ups with his 
 bring-'em-near — [that's what the sailors call a spy-glass, sir,] 
 and looks out, and, sure enough, it was. 
 
 "Hurra!" says he, "we're all right now; pull away, my 
 boys," says he. 
 
 "Take care you're not Aistaken," says I; "maybe it's 
 only a fog-bank, captain darlint, " says I. 
 
 " Oh no," says he, " it's the land in airnest." 
 
 "Oh, then, whereabouts in the wide world are we, cap- 
 tain ?" says I; "maybe it id be Roosia, or Proosia, or the 
 Garman Oceant," says I. 
 
 " Tut, you fool," says he — for he had that consaited way 
 wid him — thinkin' himself cleverer nor any one else- — " tut, 
 you fool," says he, " that's France," says he. 
 
 " Tare an ouns," says I, "do you tell me so ? and how do 
 you know it's France it is, captain dear ?" says I. 
 
 " Bekase this is the Bay o' Bishky we're in now," says he. 
 
 " Throth, I was thinkin' so myself," says I, "by the rowl 
 it has ; for I often heerd av it in regard of that same ; and 
 throth the likes av it I never seen before nor since. 
 
 "Well, with that, my heart began to grow light ; and 
 when I seen my life was safe, I began to grow twice hun- 
 grier nor ever — so, says I, " Captain, jewel, I wish we had a 
 gridiron." 
 
 "Why then," says he, " thunder an turf," says he, " what 
 puts a gridiron into your head ?" 
 
 " Bekase I'm starvin' with the hunger," says I. 
 
 " And sure, bad luck to you,".fcays he, " you couldn't eat 
 a gridiron," says he, "barrin' you were & pelican o' the wild- 
 hemess," says he. 
 
 "Ate a gridiron," says I; " och, in throth I'm not such a 
 gomrnoch all out as that, anyhow. But sure, if we had a 
 gridiron, we could dress a beef-steak," says I. 
 
 " Arrah ! but where's the beef-steak," says he. 
 
 " Sure, couldn't wo cut a slice aif the pork ?" says L 
 
PAT AND THE GRIDIRON. 155 
 
 "Be gor, I never thought o' that, says the captain. 
 " You're a clever fellow, Paclcly," says he, laughing 
 
 "Oh, ther'sraany a thrue word said in joke," says I. 
 
 " Thrue for you, Paddy," says he. 
 
 ""Well, then," says I, "if you put me ashore there 
 beyant," [for we were nearin' the land all the time,] " and 
 sure I can ax them for to lind me the loan of a gridiron," 
 says I. 
 
 " Oh, by gor, the butther's comin' out o' the stirabout in 
 " airnest now," says he, "you gommoch," says he, "sure I 
 told you before that's France—and sure the're all furriners 
 there," says the captain. 
 
 " Well," says I, "and how do you know but I'm as good 
 a furriner myself as any o' thim?" 
 
 " What do you mane ?" says he. 
 
 "I mane," says I, " what I towld you, that I'm as good a 
 furriner myself as any o' thim." 
 
 " Make me sinsible," says he. 
 
 " By dad, maybe that's more nor me, or greater nor me, 
 could do," says I — and we all began to laugh at him, for I 
 thought I would pay him off for his bit o' consait about the 
 Garmant Ocean. 
 
 " Lave aff your humbuggin'," says he, " I bid you, and 
 tell me what it is you mane, at all at all." 
 
 "Parley voo frongsay ?" says I. 
 
 " Oh, your humble sarvant, " says he; "why, by gor, 
 you're a scholar, Paddy." 
 
 " Throth, you may say that," says I. 
 
 "Why, you're a clever fellow, Paddy," says the captain, 
 jeerin' like. 
 
 "You're not the first that said that," says I, "whether 
 you joke or no." 
 
 "Oh, but I'm in airnest," says the captain — "and do 
 you tell me, Paddy," says he, " that you speak Frinch ?" 
 
 ' ' Parly voo frongsay ?" says I. 
 
 "By gor, that bangs Banagher, and all the world knows 
 
154: BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Banaglier bangs the divil — I never met the likes o' you, 
 Paddy," says he — " pull away, boys, and put Paddy ashore, 
 and maybe we won't get a bellyful before long." 
 
 So, with that, it was no sooner said nor done — they 
 pulled away, and got close into shore in less than no time, 
 and run the boat up in a little creek, and a beautiful creek 
 it was, with a lovely white sthrand — an illegant place for 
 ladies to bathe in the summer — and out I got; and it's 
 stiff enough in the limbs I was, afther bein' cramped up in 
 the boat, and perished with the cowld and hunger, but I 
 conthrived to scramble on, one way or t'other, tow'rds a 
 little bit iv a wood that was close to the shore, and the 
 smoke curlin' out iv it, quite timptin' like. 
 
 "By the powdhers o' war, I'm all right," says I ; ' ' there's 
 a house there," — and sure enough there was, and a parcel 
 of men, women and childher, ating their dinner round a 
 table, quite convanient. And so I wint up to the door, 
 and I thought I'd be very civil to them, as I heered the 
 French was always mighty p'lite intirely — and I thought 
 I'd show them I knew what good manners was. 
 
 So, I took aff my hat, and, makin' a low bow, says I, 
 " God save all here," says I. 
 
 Well to be sure, they all stapt eatin' at wanst, and began 
 to stare at me ; and faith they almost looked me out of 
 countenance — and I thought to myself, it was not good 
 manners at all — more betoken from furrincrs, which they 
 call so mighty p'lite ; but I never minded that, in regard o' 
 wantin' the gridiron ; and so, says I, " I beg your pardon," 
 says I, "for the liberty I take, but it's only bein' in dis- 
 thress in regard of eatin'," says I, "that I made bowld to 
 throuble yez, and if you could lind me the loan of a grid- 
 iron," says I, "I'd be entirely obleeged to ye." 
 
 By gor, they all stared at me twice worse nor before — 
 and with that, says I, (knowin' what was in their minds,) 
 "Indeed it's thrue for you," says I, "I'm tatthered to 
 pieces, and I look quaro enough ; but it's by raison of the 
 
PAT AND THE GRIDIRON. 155 
 
 storm," says I, ''which dhruv us ashore here below, and 
 we're all starvm'," says I. 
 
 So then they began to look at each other again, and my- 
 self, seem' at once dirty thoughts was in their heads, and 
 that they tuk me for a poor beggar, comin' to crave charity ; 
 with that, says I, "O, not at all," says I, by no manes — 
 we have plenty of mate ourselves there below, and we'll 
 dhress it," says I, "if you would be pleased to lind us the 
 loan of a gridiron," says I, makin' a low bow.^ 
 
 "Well, sir, with that, throth they stared at me twice worse 
 nor ever, and faith I began to think that maybe the captain 
 was wrong, and that it was not Prance at all, at all ; and so 
 says I: "I beg pardon, sir," says I, to a fine ould man, 
 with a head of hair as white as silver, "maybe I'm under 
 a mistake," says I, "but I thought I was in France, sir. 
 aren't you furriners ?" says I, "parley voo frongsay <?" 
 "We, munseer," says he. 
 
 " Then, would you lind me the loan of a gridiron," says 
 I, "if youplase?" 
 
 Oh, it was thin that they stared at me, as if I had seven 
 heads ; and, faith, myself began to feel flushed like and 
 onaisy, and so says I, makin' a bow and scrape agin, "I 
 know it's a liberty I take, sir, "but it's only in the regard 
 of bein' cast away; and if you plase, sir," says I, "parley 
 voo frongsay ?" 
 
 "We, munseer," says he, mighty sharp, j 
 "Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron ?" say 
 I, "and you'll obleege me." 
 
 Well, sir, the ould chap began to munseer me ; but tli6 
 devil a bit of a gridiron he'd gi' me, and so I began to 
 think they wor all neygars, for all their fine manners ; and 
 throth, my blood began to rise, and says I, "By my sowl, 
 if it was you was in distriss," says I, "and if it was to 
 ould Ireland you kem, it's not only the gridiron they'd give 
 you, if you axed it, but something to put on it, too, and 
 the drop o' drink into the bargain, and caed mile faille" 
 
156 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Well, the word cead mile faille seemed to sthreck his heart 
 and the old chap cocked his ear, and so I thought I'd give 
 him another offer, and make him sensible at last ; and so 
 says I, wanst more, quite slow, that he might understand, 
 "Parley voo frongsay, munseer ?" 
 
 "We, munseer," says he. 
 
 "Then lind me loan of a gridiron," says I, "and bad 
 scram to you." 
 
 Well, bad win to the bit of it he'd gi' me, and the ould 
 chap begins bo win' and scrapin,' and said something or 
 other about long tongs. * 
 
 "Phoo ! — the divil swape yourself and your tongs," says 
 I; "I don't want a tongs at all, at all ; but can't you lis- 
 ten to raison?" says I. "Parley voo frongsay ?" 
 
 "We, munseer." 
 
 "Then lind me the loan of a gridiron," says I, "and 
 howld your prate." 
 
 Well, what would you think, but he shook his ould 
 noddle, as much as to say he wouldn't; and so says I, 
 "Bad cess to the likes o' that I ever seen — throth if you 
 wor in my counthry it's not that a- way they'd use you. The 
 curse o' the crows an you, you owld sinner," says I, " the 
 divil a longer I'll darken your door." 
 
 So he seen I was vexed, and I thought, as I was turnin' 
 away, I seen him begin to relint, and that his conscience 
 throubled him ; and says I, turnin' back, "Well, I'll give 
 one chance more, you ould thief : Are you a Ohrishthan 
 at all — are you a furriner," says I, "that all the world 
 calls so p'lite ? Bad luck to you, do you understand your 
 own language ? "Parley voo frongsay ?" says I. 
 
 "We, munseer," says he. 
 
 "Then, thunder an' turf," says I, "will you lind me the 
 loan of a gridiron ?" 
 
 Well, sir, the devil resave the bit of it he'd gi' me, and 
 
 * Some mystification of Paddy's touching the French n'entends. 
 
the Barmecide's eeast. 157 
 
 so with that, the "The curse o' the hungry an you, you 
 Duld negarly villain!" says I ; "the back o' my hand, and the 
 sowl o' my foot to you, that you may want a gridiron your- 
 self, yit," says I; and with that I left them there, sir, and 
 kem away — and, in troth, it's often sense that I thought that 
 it was remarkable. 
 
 THE BABMECIDE'S FEAST ; 
 
 Or, the Adventures of the Barber's Sixth Brother. A Burlesque in 
 Two Scenes. 
 
 DALTON. 
 
 Clnruters. 
 
 Sohacabac, the barber's sixth brother — a mendicant. 
 The Barmecide, a rich but eccentric nobleman of Bagdad. 
 Abdadlah, his butler. 
 Hassan, his footman. 
 Walking Tusks. Prologue. 
 
 Costumes of the Characters. 
 
 Schacabac. — Large red and yellow bandana pocket- 
 handkerchief turban, loosely rolled, one end hanging down 
 untidily; dingy green or brown Turkish trousers, ragged 
 and dirty ; white calico sash, soiled and worn out ; square 
 open jacket, orange or red in color, faded also ; colored 
 flannel shirt ; old slippers, in holes and down at heels ; 
 throat and arms from the elbows bare ; general aspect of 
 poverty and want of washing. 
 
 Barmecide. — Crimson velvet jacket, square and open, 
 sleeves hanging ; arms bare, but ornamented with showy 
 sham diamond or gold b: ; variegated chintz waist- 
 
 coat, pattern flowery ; splendid dark blue satin (glazed 
 calico) trousers, very full, and fastened at the ankle ; scar- 
 let stockings ; gold slippers, pointed and turned up at the 
 
158 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 toes ; crimson or scarlet Indian scarf, embroidered in gold., 
 worn as a sash round the waist, the ends hanging grace- 
 fully down, and in which two or three handsome paper knives 
 may be stuck in default of daggers ; voluminous dark-green 
 glazed calico turban, half a yard across ; tall peacock's 
 feather, fastened upright on the front of the turban by an 
 immense and showy gilt crescent; very long, thick, and 
 flowing white beard of white wool, fastened on with invis- 
 ible strings ; long walking-stick chibouque, which, when 
 the curtain draws up, he is discovered in the act of smoking 
 whilst seated cross-legged on his divan. 
 
 Abd allah and Hassan. — Complete servants' livery : col- 
 ored cloth coats with silver buttons, cords, and knots ; 
 waistcoats and shorts, with silk stockings and pumps ; 
 large white muslin turbans, with the Barmecide's crest in 
 gilt paper on the front of each ; white gloves. As the per- 
 formers of these two parts may also enact those of the 
 walking Turks who appear on the stage when Schacabac is 
 singing, let them be ready dressed in the above costume, 
 but slip over ample petticoat-trousers of white or red glazed 
 calico, with shawls as sashes, and loose jackets of any ma- 
 terial of brilliant hue. The turbans, the same, only ex- 
 changing the crest for a brooch or plume of showy effect. 
 
 Enter Prologue, dressed in antique fashion. 
 
 Trunk hose, striped crimson and green ; crimson doublet, 
 large ruff, short black velvet cloak, black silk stockings, 
 shoes with large rosettes, long rapier, black velvet cap ; his 
 hair gray. He halts, and, walking feebly, leans on his 
 stick with both hands, appearing very old. 
 
 Takes off his cap and bows to the audience. 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, — Of course, you know 
 My name and office. What ? you don't say No i 
 Is that the meaning of the blank surprise 
 Now streaming on me from your opened eyes ? 
 
the Barmecide's eeast. 159 
 
 What's this ? you say ; we came to see a piece, 
 Not this intrusive fellow ! Pray, now, cease 
 
 ^Shaking his head at them. ) 
 That rude, impertinent, and vulgar stare, 
 And who I am — you shall be made aware. 
 I'm not the manager, not come to say 
 That any of the actors cannot play, 
 For no one's indisposed ; not e'en a cold 
 Makes havoc in their numbers. Be it told — 
 Since courteous recognition you refuse, 
 And force me thus rayseif to introduce — 
 That I am here " to introduce the play," 
 And surely " 'tis old Prologue" you will say. 
 Well, yes, you're right, your great-grandfather's friend 
 Stands now before you ; and so please attend 
 While I assist you, as I'm very happy, 
 To comprehend what's coming on the tapis. 
 The story's too well known to need relation : 
 Its very name gives ample explanation, 
 And therefore needs not here to be repeated ; 
 But, gentle audience, know you are entreated 
 In the first scene to view this carpet gay 
 
 (Points to carpet.) 
 As any dusty, muddy, trampled way ; 
 These papered walls as houses^ and what's more, 
 
 (Pointing to malls. ) 
 Lighted with many a window, many a door. 
 And if you wonder to see papers clad 
 In gay, bright colors, know they're in Bagdad. 
 The second scene is once again a room, 
 Rich with silk glories of the Persian loom ; 
 With Turkey carpets really comfortable, 
 With soft divans, no chairs, and yet a table ; 
 And on that table — well, I'll not disclose 
 What will appear, or you will say I prose, 
 
160 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 And on your patience I shall prove a clog. 
 Past are the days when I and Epilogue 
 Commanded hearing, stooped not to implore. 
 I must away ! or shall be called a bore ! 
 So leave the actors all the rest to tell, 
 And may you, critics, find they do it well. 
 
 {Makes his bow to audience in an old-fashioned manner, and then 
 exit, halting in his walk, and leaning on his stick, ) 
 
 Scene I. — A street in Bagdad, 
 
 Enter Schacabac by right door, singing a street song and offering a 
 tin plate to passers-by in the hopes of remuneration. 
 
 Sch ac ab ac. ( Singing. ) Air — il Fm Afloat. " 
 
 I'm a Turk, I'm a Turk, I'm a Mussulman true, 
 
 No dog of a Christian, no hound of a Jew ! 
 
 My wants to relieve, oh ! ye faithful, incline, 
 
 My grave be defiled, if I ever eat swine ! 
 
 Bismillah ! 'tis seldom, indeed, I can dine. 
 
 My voice becomes cracked if I tell you a lie, 
 
 I hav'n't a farthing to spend or lay by ; 
 
 MashaDah ! my fast is unbroken to-day, 
 
 For who will sell food to the man who can't pay ? 
 
 Then throw me a penny, 'tis not thrown away. 
 (Runs about, looking up at the windows of surrounding houses, but 
 receives no encouragement. At last, sees respectable old Turk pass- 
 ing, hastens after him, and presents the tin plate. ) 
 
 (Sings. ) My father ! the soul of your grandmother live ! 
 
 The prophet defend you ! I hope you will give. 
 
 A trifling donation to one whose sad case 
 
 Deserves your compassion — you won't ? then the place 
 
 Of your family sepulchre, jackals deface ! 
 
 (Old Turk walks unconcernedly on.) 
 
 Schac. (Sitting despairingly down on doorstep, cross-legged.) 
 Now what on earth am I to do ? one thing is very plain. 
 
the Barmecide's feast. 161 
 
 My style of singing don't go down — I can't try that again. 
 It only shows the utter want of taste among the many, 
 But certainly it don't succeed, I hav'n't turned a penny. 
 I really hav'n't tasted food this morning, without fibbing, 
 And Schacabac's an honest boy, and ne'er will take to 
 
 cribbing. 
 My late lamented father, well, you told me very true, 
 When warning me what idleness one day would bring me to. 
 I own your wisdom when too late to profit by the lesson, 
 And wish that I had taken in good time to some profession. 
 But what's the use of thinking now, the money being 
 
 spent, 
 With which my worthy father to a rising business meant 
 To bind me as apprentice ? Had he only lived to do it ! 
 Instead of which he left it me by will— how much I rue it ! 
 For then in speculations, which not once did e'er succeed, 
 I wasted all, and now am brought to beggary and need. 
 Oh ! if like him I had but worked, and had not sought to 
 
 double 
 My little store by avarice, I should not be in trouble. 
 ( Wipes his eyes with end of his iurban, and muses. ) 
 
 Hem ! shall I try it on ? a begging letter, 
 So touchingly, so elegantly written ; 
 
 Mashallah, no ! Bismillah ! this is better, 
 A capital idea that I've just hit on ! 
 
 {Slaps his sides and cuts a caper in the air,) 
 
 I will apply to good Lord Barmecide ; 
 
 (I wonder I ne'er thought of it before) ; 
 I'll ask to see him, will not be denied — 
 
 Beard of the Prophet ! there's his very door. 
 
 (Buns across the stage to left door. ) 
 For visitors this bell, for servants that. 
 
 Odious distinction ! which I will not heed : 
 I know their nature, and a rat-atat 
 
 Will bring the servant at his utmost speed. 
 
162 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 ( Gives a thundering knock at the door. Abd a tj, ah throws the door 
 wide open. On seeing Schacabac his manner changes. ) 
 
 Abd. (Insolently.) Well now, my good fellow, 
 And what do you want ? 
 
 Shac. (Nonchalantly.) Is your master at home ? 
 Can I see him ? 
 
 Abd. (Rudely.) You can't. 
 And please to take notice next time as you call 
 You'd better not come to the front door at all. 
 Partic'lar remember, that parties as knock 
 Are not of your style, or my feelings you'll shock. 
 It isn't my business to stand here all day, 
 And look after beggars, so come, cut away. 
 
 ( Offers to shid door. ) 
 
 Schao. For love of the Prophet ! just one moment 
 stay, 
 I really have something most pressing to say. 
 
 Abd. "Well, then, just get on faster. 
 
 Sohac. If I could but see your master ! — 
 
 Abd. Yes ; you'd like it, I've no doubt, 
 But you're just a little out, 
 For that won't come about. 
 What do you think, Mr. Hassan ? 
 
 {Turning to second footman.) 
 
 Has. Aside, to Abdallah.) Don't you get in such a 
 passion ; 
 For if this fellow chose to say 
 That we two turned the poor away, 
 My lord, I'm sure, would send us packing.. 
 Or may be, order us a whacking. 
 
 Abd. (To Schacabac.) Well, then, your tale arrive at. 
 
 Schac. I can't to you, it's private. 
 
 Abd, You're a jolly one for chaffing. 
 Why, therms Mr. Hassan laughing.* 
 

 the Barmecide's feast. 3o3 
 
 Schac. (To Hassan.) Be good-natured. Tell your 
 lord I am here. 
 
 Has. I'll take Mm at his word. (Exit Hassan by left. 
 
 Abd. Well, my stars ! he is a flat ! 
 
 Schac. (Aside. ) Quite beyond my hopes was that. 
 (To audience.) When poverty in plush meets with a 
 
 friend, 
 The world is surely coming to its end. 
 
 Has. (Returning.) You're to walk up, if you please. 
 
 Schac. (Aside.) Bless me ! wonders never cease ! 
 I'm quite breathless with surprise. (Exit with Hassan. 
 
 Abd. What a strange event ! my eyes ! 
 It's the Caliph in disguise ! 
 If he should offence have took 
 At the way in which I spoke, 
 
 (Holds up both hands in consternation.) 
 I should lose my place and bread ! 
 And, oh ! heavens ! p'r'aps my 'ead. 
 Well, henceforward, I am sure, 
 I'll be civil to the poor. (Exit in trepidation, left door. 
 
 Scene H. — A room furnished in the Oriental style, with two low sofas 
 and divans. Upon one, placed very nearly in the middle of the 
 room, the Barmecide is seated. 
 
 Enter Schacabac in a hesitating manner, right door. 
 
 Schac (Salaaming three times.) Light of my eyes and 
 greenback of the bountiful ! 
 
 Sunshine of the seedy ! and preserver of the poor ! 
 Star of the Stock Exchange, aiid treasure ever plentiful ! 
 
 Fund for the forsaken, and great commercial store ! 
 May you live for ever more ! (Salaams again, three times. 
 
 Bar. Not probable, I fear. 
 
 Schac. May your shadow ne'er be less, 
 But every day increase. 
 
 Bah. My friend, what brings you here ? 
 
164 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 (Aside.) He seems an arrant chatterer, 
 And what is worse, a flatterer. . 
 
 Schag. Father of philanthropists, and brother of the 
 merciful ! 
 
 First among the opulent, and of noblemen the chief, 
 Moon of the munificent, and planet of the powerful, 
 
 Best of benefactors, thy servant seeks relief. (Salaams 
 again. ) 
 Bose-tree among flowers, among gems the Koh-i-noor ! 
 
 Peerless among pearls, and nugget of pure gold ' 
 J?ity the privations of thy servant, who is poor, 
 
 And count not his petition for assistance as too bold. 
 
 (Again salaams three times, knocking his head on the floor.) 
 Bar. Don't mention it, pray ! most delighted to see you. 
 (Aside.) No doubt, you expect me for all this to fee you ; 
 Though he plainly shows me he thinks me a fool, 
 I know how to teach him — who's workman, who's tool. 
 I've a very great mind his comj)laisance to try, 
 And to prove how much " blarney " is worth by-and by ; 
 And yet if I find that his story is true, 
 Before he departs something handsome I'll do ; 
 (Aloud.) And is it possible in Bagdad town, 
 Any distress to Barmey is unknown ? 
 
 (Grandiloquently rattles his seals.) 
 Schac. 'Tis a fact that your slave is so poor that no meat 
 He has tasted for weeks, and to-day — nothing ate ! 
 
 (Salaams three times.) 
 
 Bar. (Pompously waving his hand.) You shall not leave 
 without my aid ; 
 in Bagdad, ne'er it shall be said 
 That any left my house unfed ; 
 Here, slaves ! the dinner must be laid. 
 
 (Claps his hands, but no slaves appear.) 
 Schac. My lord is most noble ; (kisses his hand), indeed, 
 'tis no lie, 
 
the Barmecide's feast. 165 
 
 To swear for his service I'd willingly die ! 
 
 {Puts his hand on his heart, bowing lozo. ) 
 
 Bar. Ahem ! his devotion I soon mean to try. 
 (Aside. ) He's somewhat mistaken in thinking me one 
 By buttering thick to be instantly done. 
 (Aloud.) The dinner is ready, so pray take a chair. 
 (Points to an imaginary place, at an imaginary table.) 
 
 Schac. My lord's sweetly affable, how can I dare ? 
 (Aside.) Besides, as to dinner, I'd like to know where? 
 That missing repast is, Mashaliah ! not here, 
 But that is, of course, my receiver's affair. 
 
 (Looks about and finally sits down.) 
 
 Bar. ( Cheerfully. ) Now make yourself quite happy, 
 But first let us wash oar hands ; 
 No Mussulman omits it ; 
 Slaves ! bring the washhand-stands. 
 
 (No basins are brought, but the Barmecide washes and wipes his 
 hands in dumb show.) 
 
 Bar. (Aside.) Now, if he takes this joke of mine, 
 I'll afterwards pay him well: 
 
 Schac. (Aside.) I must fall into his fancy, 
 But I hope 'tis not a sell. ( Washes and wipes his hands.) 
 
 Bar. And having done our duty — thus, 
 Why, let us both fall to. 
 I hope you've a good appetite ? 
 
 Schac. (Aside. ) A better one than you ! 
 Since yours it seems is satisfied with chawing empty air. 
 (Aloud. ) My lord, a starving man like me could eat up all 
 that's here. 
 
 Bar. Nay, pray don't put that quite in force, 
 Or what becomes of me ? 
 
 Schac. (Aside.) You'd be the meal yourself, of course, 
 The only one I see. 
 
 (Aloud. ) Ne'er fear, my lord, you're welcome to the whole 
 repast for me ! 
 
166 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 But really you must pardon in your slave some gormandize, 
 U you tempt his hungry palate with so very much that's 
 nice. 
 
 (Makes a face to audience.) 
 
 Bar. I'm glad you do it justice ; how d'you like my 
 
 mutton broth ? 
 Schac. Most excellent ! so clarified ! it almost seemed 
 
 froth ! 
 Bar. (Aside.) 'Twas froth, indeed, poor man, to him, 
 And so is all the meal. 
 Here comes the fish, at last, that's right ! 
 Now which ? some sole ? or eel ? 
 
 Schac. A choice, indeed, no eel for me, for that might 
 slip away, 
 And I am one who ne'er profess with mouthfuls but " to 
 
 play," 
 So, please, some sole, that seems to me the most appropriate 
 
 fish. 
 (Aside.) Since total absence there appears of body in the 
 
 dish. 
 (Aside. ) Indeed, this first-rate dinner might be well called, 
 
 on the whole, 
 If not the feast of reason, nothing but the flow of soul. 
 Bar. I thank you for the compliment, your feeling is 
 quite mine, 
 The w r ell-bred man comes not to eat, but, as you hint, to 
 dine. 
 Schac. Indeed, that is a sentiment in theory very fine, 
 (Aside.) But if dining is not eating, invitations I decline. 
 And if all dinner parties are like yours, old boy — a cheat, 
 Henceforward I will dine no more, but with the vulgar eat. 
 Bab. Now let me recommend this goose, served up with 
 " sauce piquante ;" 
 Of honey, raisins, vinegar, dry figs, and peas composed, 
 But do not eat too largely, or an appetite you'll want, 
 For better dishes coming, ere the second course is closed. 
 
THE BABMECIDE'S FEAST. 167 
 
 Schac. Nay, never doubt, my gracious lord, your ser- 
 vant's moderation, 
 [Aside.) I were a goose myself to find in his goose much 
 temptation ! 
 Bah. This lamb, stuffed with pistachio nuts, I'm sure 
 you will approve, 
 You'll see it in no other house, it is my cook's chef-d'oeuvre — 
 Schac. (Aside. ) I only wish I saw it here, exhausted as I 
 
 am. 
 Bar. So tell me what you think of it — pray taste this bit 
 
 of lamb. 
 {Pretends to put a morsel into Schacabac's mouth with his own 
 hands ; a great compliment with Orientals. ) 
 
 Schac. (Chewing rapturously, and kissing the tip of his fingers, 
 with the gesture of a delighted gourmand.) 
 
 Most admirably stuffed, indeed ! a bonne-bouche quite de- 
 licious ! 
 [Aside. ) The more's the pity such a dish should only be 
 
 fictitious ! 
 I'm getting tired of this work, how long will he go on ? 
 I'll bring it somehow to an end, 'tis time the joke were 
 done. 
 Bar. I hope you've eaten well of that, now honor this 
 ragout 
 
 Schac. My lord, your hospitality you almost overdo ; 
 I could not touch a morsel more, though 'twere to save my 
 
 head ; 
 Eemember, pray, how sparingly your slave of late has fed. 
 
 Bar. Why, then, I'll send the meat away. 
 Slaves ! bring the dishes sweet. 
 You'll own the pudding's capital, 
 This souffle's quite a treat ! 
 Or won't you try a piece of game ? 
 There's partridge, and there's pheasant ; 
 Or if light diet you prefer, 
 This crime's uncommon pleasant. 
 
168 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 There's lobster salad, and there's tongue, 
 
 There's trifle and there's cake. {Pointing to imaginary 
 
 dishes.) p 
 
 Now, please, whatever you prefer, don't hesitate to take. 
 
 Schac. Already I'm quite satisfied, but since to choose I 
 may, 
 The "souffles" would be just enough — the " whiff," I 
 
 ought to say — 
 Since 'tis almost impalpable, your "chef," I must declare, 
 Is quite without a rival in these " trifles light as air." 
 
 Bab. Why, yes, I think he understands how to perform 
 his duty ; 
 For lightness, as you just remark'd, in sweets is such a 
 beauty. 
 
 Schac. (Leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. ) 
 I'm almost drowsy with good cheer ; 
 I'm sure you will excuse 
 
 My giving way — no tongue, nor game. ( Waves his hand.) 
 I really must refuse. 
 
 (Sinks back, nods his head, and feigns sleep; snoring preposter- 
 ously. ) 
 
 Bah. (Astonished.) How dare you take such liberties ? 
 Madman ! I say, be waking ! 
 For if you don't, you vulgar wretch ! 
 Ill give you such a shaking ! 
 
 (Attempts to shake Schacabac, who thereupon falls heavily on the 
 Barmecide's shoulder, snoring louder than ever. ) 
 
 Bak. (Trying in vain to release himself) I never saw in all 
 my life, such a rude and horrid fellow ! 
 His snore is insupportable, more like a wild bull's bellow 
 Than any human snoring that I ever heard before ! 
 How fast he sticks ! I can't get free ! (Struggling .) Thi3 
 
 is a bore. 
 Ruffian, awake ! (Shouts in his ear.) I say, awake ! or else 
 
 my slaves I'll call ; 
 Alack ! I now remember, I bade Hassan tell them all, 
 
the babmecide's eeast. 169 
 
 That none should heed my summons till this man had gone 
 
 away. 
 They'll never come ! and I must sit ! thus sat upon all day I 
 
 (Attempts in vain to shake off Schacabac.) 
 In truth, 'tis such a comic end to all one's precious chaffing, 
 That were it not I'm almost smashed, I hardly could help 
 laughing ! 
 
 Bursts into a fit of laughter. Schacabac jumps up suddenly, and 
 turning a pirouette, stands before the Barmecide .) 
 
 Bab. [Severely.) So, sirrah ! you're awake at last! your 
 
 conduct pray explain ! 
 Sohac. [Ironically.) My lord, an unaccustomed man, like 
 me, cannot refrain 
 From dozing, when he's overwhelmed by too much of a 
 
 treat. 
 It was your fault, indeed, my lord, for pressing me to eat ; 
 
 (Changing voice and manner ; botes low.) 
 But now I'm wide awake at last ! and not to be " caught 
 napping." 
 ( Tarns a pirouette and stares impudently at Barmecide. ) 
 
 Bae. [Hastily.) False flatterers, I make a point in their 
 own nets of trapping. (Rubbing his hands compla- 
 cently.) 
 At least, my friend, you'll own, you've learnt a very useful 
 
 lesson, 
 Of what the value really is — of over-loud profession ! 
 
 (Jingles his seals and looks gleefully at Schacabac.) 
 
 Schac. [Vulgarly.) Come, come, my worthy gentleman, 
 
 no doubt you're very wise ! 
 And never in the wrong, ah, no I at least in your own 
 
 eyes. 
 But ere to pointing morals at "yours to command " you 
 
 come, [bows. 
 
 Perhaps 'twould be as well to look a leelle nearer home ! 
 
170 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 And might I the suggestion make, for which I beg you* 
 pardon, 
 
 'Tis that this morning, Shacabac, you've been a trifle hard 
 on. 
 
 It's very well for you rich folks, who never want a dinner, 
 
 To sit in judgment on the faults of every hungry sinner ! 
 
 But did it ne'er occur to you, a poor soul to be mocking, 
 
 Than natt'ry in a starving man, was very much more shock- 
 ing ? 
 {Looks -fixedly at Bakmeczde, who seems confused. , 
 
 So now, good-bye ; I'm very glad, henceforward to be 
 able 
 
 To praise the hospitality {ironically) I met with at your 
 table. 
 
 (Bows low, and walks off to go away.) 
 Bak. ( Catching hold of him) Stop, Schacabac, my worthy 
 friend, you are the very style 
 Of fellow I've been looking for, for ever such a while ! 
 I freely own I have been wrong, but only sought to test 
 If I had lighted on a man who could keep up a jest. 
 And since I find a merry joke you both can take and give, 
 What was no joking part to you, I freely now forgive. 
 
 (Holds out his band to Schacabac.) 
 For I humbly beg your pardon, 
 And if you will be friends, 
 With a very good real dinner 
 I will make you full amends. 
 And what is more, you shall live here 
 As long as you will stay, 
 And lamb stuffed with pistachio nuts 
 I'll order every day. 
 You shall not want for clothes nor cash, 
 Or anything you need, 
 If you'll take up your quarters here — 
 Come ! is it not agreed ? 
 
HINTS FOB THE ACTING. 171 
 
 Schac. Good sir, if what you offer me is not another 
 trick, 
 My feelings on the subject are, that you are "quite a 
 
 brick !" 
 These are my heart-felt sentiments, without the least dis- 
 guise, 
 For henceforth I will speak the truth, and give up flatter- 
 ing lies. 
 {They perform a stage embrace in token of reconciliation, and 
 Schacabac turns head-over-heels, dances, and pirouettes to express his 
 satisfaction.) 
 
 Bar. Well, Schacabac, we must not waste 
 Much longer time in talking, 
 But to the dining-room in haste 
 
 We'd better both be walking. (Offers his arm to Schaca- 
 bac) 
 But first, although I cannot doubt you've got an appetite — 
 Schac. Mashallah and Bismillah ! by the Prophet, you 
 
 are right ! 
 Bar. In courtesy, we'll wish our friends {to audience) the 
 
 same, and so, good-night. 
 Schac. And I hope they'll find their supper, when they 
 get theirs, right and tight. 
 
 ( They bow to the audience, executing a light Turkish pas de deux 
 expressive of extreme rapture and delight ) 
 Cubtain. 
 
 HINTS FOR THE ACTING, 
 
 COSTUMES, AND ARRANGEMENTS OF «THE BARMECIDE'S FEAST." 
 
 Some remarks upon the foregoing Burlesque of "The Barmecide's Feast," 
 may not be deemed unwelcome by those among our young readers who are 
 inexperienced in the art of burlesque acting. 
 
 It must be observed that the plot of this little specimen of burlesque is 
 taken from the well-known story of the Barber's Sixth Brother, in the Arabian 
 Nights' Entertainments. It has been slightly changed, in order better to 
 
172 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 adapt it to the drawing-room stage, and yet it is strictly in accordance with 
 the spirit of burlesque. 
 
 Schacabac, in the original tale, ended his tantalizing, imaginary banquet by 
 giving the Barmecide a sound box on the ear whilst feigning intoxication. 
 There is, doubtless, more point in this denouement than that we have sub- 
 stituted, but as the representation of our burlesque is intended for a drawing- 
 room audience, it was deemed advisable to change Schacabac's feigned intox- 
 ication, to sleep, as the impersonation of the former state, however delicately 
 perforined, is seldom free from coarseness. 
 
 The only scenes wanted in the Barmecide's Feast would be a street, the 
 more commonplace in character the better ; and the interior of an oriental 
 apartment. On drawing-room stages it is wise to confine the use of scenes to 
 those short pieces in which a single scene may serve throughout. In a farce 
 one interior would probably be sufficient for all the acts. The difficulty of 
 shifting two scenes in the short time permissible for a burlesque such as the 
 Barmecide's Feast will be found almost insurmountable by an amateur com- 
 pany performing in a drawing-room. If, on the other hand, scenes are dis- 
 pensed with altogether, the stage should, on opening the piece, be entirely 
 cleared of all furniture, and after the prologue has been recited, Schacabac 
 should rely upon his acting alone to convey to the spectators the impression 
 ' that in the first scene he is walking and singing in a street. 
 
 Let him enter by the right door, (if there are two,) walk slowly along in a 
 direct line, only diverging to offer his tin plate to the passers-by, who must 
 enter, at intervals, by the same door, walking in the same manner, so as to 
 present the idea of pacing a street to the minds of the spectators. 
 
 With this object in view, he must also look up towards imaginary windows, 
 and appear to address his songs and petitions particularly towards them. 
 
 The passers-by, or, as they are elsewhere denominated, the "walking 
 Turks," must stand now and then as if to listen to Schacabac's song, rather 
 from curiosity than any desire to remunerate him. 
 
 If there are three doors to the room, one should be set aside as that at 
 which Schacabac knocks, being the entrance to the Barmecide's house ; if 
 only two, the left door will serve for this purpose, and therefore it will be bet- 
 ter to make the "walking Turks" retrace their steps after crossing the stage 
 and exit again by the right door, where they entered, so as to leave the left 
 door unopened until after Schacabac's knock, which brings Abdallah in view of 
 the audience. These " walking Turks " may be personated by the same actors 
 who perform the part of Abdallah and Hassan. The actor who performs the 
 Barmecide may, if required, also lend his aid in these minor parts, otherwise 
 the number of actors increases, and few are disposed to have all the trouble of 
 dressing up in costume to undertake little beyond dumb show in a burlesque. 
 Ample time will be found for the Barmecide to change or make additions to 
 his costume after his exit from the first scene ; and the little difficulty in the 
 way of Abdallah and Hassan also doing the same may be provided against by 
 coveri7ig their costumes as " servants " with large loose petticoat trousers and 
 equally loose Zouave jackets cast over their "upper man," and confined 
 round the waist with shawl-sashes. In the notes prefixed to the burlesque 
 on the costumes of the characters we have added minuter directions. 
 
HINTS FOE THE ACTING. 173 
 
 The stage properties required for the second scene are divans, stools, sofas 
 and cushions. These must be disposed to advantage about the room, one 
 large one being reserved for the immediate centre of the stage, before which a 
 small low table or large stool with legs must be placed. All other furniture, 
 save rich heavy curtains, Turkey rugs and carpets, and perhaps a large China 
 Vase or two, judiciously disposed, must be carefully banished ; and care must 
 be taken that the little table be not too high to conceal the two figures of 
 Schacabac and the Barmecide. These two must be seated cross-legged on 
 their divans ; whilst seated, care must be taken that the faces of both front 
 the audience, yet avoiding all approach to stiffness. This is always a point of 
 importance — a good actor never turns his back to the audience, even in the 
 asides, which by an obliging poetical license in dramatic laws are allowed to be 
 littered confidentially to the audience, the companion actors remaining con- 
 veniently deaf whilst they are being spoken. The crisis of this comic episode 
 of the Arabian Nights' Entertainments may be much better conveyed by pan- 
 tomime than by descriptive language. We must leave this to the talent of the 
 actor undertaking Schacabac's part ; for the author, limited in the burlesque 
 to dialogue, has found it impossible to convey, in words, the whole absurdity 
 of Schacabac's position, and the responsibility of endowing the part with bur- 
 lesque, fun, and humor must fall on the actors themselves. 
 
 It is the peculiarity of burlesque acting, that as much is required from the 
 actor himself as from the author's pen ; and in this instance the point of the 
 joke lies in the ludicrous contrast between the energetic feigned eating of the 
 Barmecide and his guest, and the total absence of all comestibles before them. 
 This wall be much easier conveyed to the perceptions of the spectators by the 
 eye than to our readers by words. Let the actors, therefore, concentrate all 
 their efforts upon the exaggeration of this action till they reach a point cf 
 absurdity which is true burlesque. Let the imaginary plates be handed with 
 assiduous politeness from host to guest ; the graceful bow and pantomimic 
 thanks be exchanged on receiving imaginary delicacies ; the imaginary knife 
 and fork continually ply their work ; the imaginary morsel on the former 
 being ever and anon raised to the mouth . Let the chewing be well imitated ; 
 imaginary cups of wine being supped perceptibly, and with an air of gusto* 
 Let Schacabac turn smiles of delight on the Barmecide — on the other hand, 
 when uttering his asides to the audience, his visage may be as long and lugu- 
 brious as disappointed hunger can make it. 
 
 In the first scene of the "Barmecide's Feast," there is little more to be 
 observed than Schacabac's salaams must not be simple obeisances, but utter 
 prostrations of the body — the head touching the ground. This salutation 
 may be made still more ridiculous if the performer can contrive to bump his 
 head on the ground with an audible knock . 
 
 Those well acquainted with Eastern customs may throw in many little ad- 
 ditional forms of civilities exchanged between Orientals, which are much 
 more open to caricature than the present slight forms in use amongst 
 Americans. 
 
 With regard to the costumes of this piece, a detailed account is appended to 
 the list of the dramatis pcrsonae, which may be varied, of course, according 
 
174 A BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 to the taste and fancy of the various performers. Some of these, however, 
 may welcome one or two practical hints as to its preparation ; since for a 
 piece which requires the parts being learnt beforehand, the costumes should be 
 carefully prepared, and not left to be improvised by the actors at the last moment. 
 In the first case, then, it should be remarked, that the Turks in this piece 
 may be attired after the woodcuts which embellish the pages of the tragic 
 history of Bluebeard. These old traditional pictures have evidently nothing 
 in common with the present degenerate Mussulmans, amongst whom the 
 "father of hats " has already introduced the innovations of black broad-cloth 
 and boots. The petticoat trousers, already alluded to as convenient garments 
 to cover the plush and liveries of Abdallah and Hassan in the opening scene, 
 are much more simply arranged than the puzzled lady's-maid, called in to the 
 council on costume, would at first anticipate. Let her take a petticoat either 
 of white, scarlet, or blue stuff ; let her then join it together in the centre and 
 make two or three large plaits of each of the two gaps thus left, which must 
 be firmly stitched together. The garment, after being put on, must be 
 fastened round the waist and then bound round the leg just below the knee ; 
 the folds of the petticoat are then allowed to fall loosely over each leg, and the 
 whole effect will resemble the loose Zouave trousers already popular amongst 
 country gentlemen and volunteer riflemen. 
 
 We may let our male performers into the secret, that an obliging sister's 
 wardrobe will furnish nearly all the articles essential to dress up a Turk of the 
 old school. Her silk or cotton gown, or even her scarlet winter petticoat, will 
 soon be gathered into folds for the trousers described above. Her evening 
 Zouave jacket, if his proportions be not too large, may make his jacket ; her 
 Indian scarf his sash or girdle ; her old tarlatan ball-dress will be the best 
 material for twisting into a voluminous turban ; whilst the white or scarlet 
 feather now in fashion for her country or riding hat may be fastened on the 
 front of the turban with her showy shawl brooch. Thus may the Barmecide 
 or Schacabac, in turn, martyrize their good-natured sisters, who doubtless will 
 not thank me for such hints at their expense. The only articles she cannot 
 supply are the long-pointed slippers turned up at the ends, the scimitar, and 
 the moustache, which, if not already grown on the faces of our youthful 
 actors, must be gummed on ; and We must observe, by the way, that it should 
 be long and turned up at the ends with a fierce twirl. The crooked scimitar | 
 may easily be furnished by any toy-shop, and the slippers can easily be 
 manufactured by the skillful fingers of a lady friend. • 
 
 THE COUNTRY PEDAGOGUE. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Nineteen out of twenty in this country receive all their 
 education in the common schools. The education of the 
 people, then, is just what these schools are fitted to give. 
 These humble schools may be said to educate the nation. 
 
THE COUNTRY PEDAGOGUE, 175 
 
 The character of the man, to a great degree, is formed dur- 
 ing the days of childhood and youth ; and these days are 
 passed with the common-school teacher. Whatever he may 
 be, he stamps himself upon his pupils. He is their crite- 
 rion, their model. They imitate him, and to him they look 
 up for decisions. Children copy after their teacher ; they 
 imitate his gait, his looks, his speech, his manners, and 
 adopt his opinions. The common-sehool teacher maybe 
 said to shape the destinies of this Republic. 
 
 I have observed in my travels through remote rural dis- 
 tricts, that the most illiterate and incompetent men are 
 too frequently selected as school teachers. This, I pre- 
 sume, is not done intentionally, but from a want of knowl- 
 edge of what constitutes a good teacher, added to a miserly 
 disposition to save a few dollars. To illustrate this thing 
 more clearly, I will give an example that came under my 
 own observation. Sitting in a tavern one evening, my 
 attention was drawn towards a greenhorn, a lean, lanky 
 kind Qf a fellow, who addressed the landlord in the fol- 
 lowing language : 
 
 " Well, I vow, landlord, I don't think I shall do another 
 stick of out-door work this winter. I've been working my 
 daylights out all summer, on a farm, and I'm jest about 
 tired out of that 'ere kind of business. I've pretty much 
 made up my mind to take it easy this winter, and go to 
 work teaching school. I've been to Jarvis Doolittle's, this 
 arternoon, and he offered me six dollars a month : take one- 
 half out in corn and t'other half in washing. Yes, I vow, 
 I'll do it, and no mistake. Come, who's going to drink on 
 my expense. I've got a good situation, and don't care if I 
 treat all round." 
 
 Passing by his school-house, some time afterwards, I 
 stepped in to see how he got on with his scholars. And I 
 will now endeavor to give you a description of this country 
 school 
 
 "Now, boys, don't stir from your seats, but look at me 
 while I exhort you on larnin' Now, boys, recollect you are 
 
176 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 the future fathers and mothers of this place. "Who's that 
 laughing ? Thomas, was that you ?" "No, sir; t'was Bill 
 Smith." "Smith, what did you laugh for?" "I say I 
 didn't ; it was Tom ; for he asked me which I'd rather be, 
 father or mother ?" " Nov/ boys recollect what I tell you. 
 You must get knowledge ; for knowledge is power." " Mas- 
 ter, if I git knowledge, will it turn our mill when the 
 creek's dry ?" " First class in the alphabet, come up. Now, 
 sir, what letter's that ?" " I knowed it once like a book, 
 but I forgot it now." "That's A, sir." "Oh, golly! is 
 that A ?" " Yes, sir, that's A. Now, sir, what's the next ?" 
 " That's just what I was going to ask you." "Answer me, 
 sir." "Well, it's a crooked looking thing, anyhow." 
 "That's B." "Well, I shouldn't thought that was B." 
 " Go to your seat, sir, and study your lesson, or I'll make 
 you smart. Next boy, go on from where he left off."'"B., 
 C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L." "Stop, sir; I see you 
 know your lesson — take your seat. First spelling class 
 come up. Now, sir, begin." "D o g." What.'s that 
 spell, sir?" "I don't know, sir." "Tell me, this min- 
 ute ; what does d o g, dog, spell ?" "I don't know, sir." 
 {Boy cries.) " Stop your crying, or 111 give you something 
 to cry for. You are a bad egg 9 sir ; and if you don't be- 
 have, I'll make an eggsample of you. Next, what does 
 dog spell?" "Dog, sir." "Bight — good boy. Next, 
 go on." "Milk." "What does that spell, sir?" "I 
 don't know, sir." "What does the milkman bring round 
 every morning ?" "Water, sir," " Stop your nonsense, 
 what does your mother put in her tea?" "Bum, sir." 
 "Next, spell physician." "Ph yzli ishin, physician." 
 "Good. Next— spell foolery; look at me." "Foole 
 —master, Jim Smith keeps all time pinching me — ry, fool- 
 cry." "Sam Smith, what do you pinch him for?" "I 
 didn't pinch him. Sam House, jist wait till I catch you 
 alone, I'll break your cheek for you." "Order there, boy3, 
 order. Sam Edwards, where you been all this morning ?" 
 " Mammy said if I was a good boy, I might stay at home 
 
A FABLE. 177 
 
 and see the pigs killed." "First class in history, stand up. 
 Now, who was Julius Caesar ?" "Black man, used to saw 
 wood for daddy." " Who discovered America ?" "Gen - 
 eral Jackson. " " Next. " " Martin Van Buren. " " Next. " 
 
 "I know well. " "If you know, tell. " " Yankee Doodle 
 and Hail Collumby." 
 
 This confusion was exactly what I expected to find. I 
 have only to say, in conclusion, that this little burlesque is 
 not intended to disparage the efforts of those noble men 
 who labor to improve the education of the rising genera- 
 tion, but is simply a hit at ignorant pretenders, who too 
 often find a place at the schoolmaster's desk through lack 
 of proper examination, or the incapacity of those who ap- 
 point them. 
 
 THE MIDDLE-AGED MAN AND THE TWO 
 WIDOWS- 
 
 IA FONTAINE. 
 
 A man of middle age, 
 
 Fast getting grey, 
 Thought it' would be but sage 
 
 To fix the marriage day. 
 He had in stocks, 
 And under locks, 
 Money enough to clear his way. 
 Such folks can pick and choose; all tried to please 
 The moneyed man ; but he, quite at his ease, 
 Showed no great hurry, 
 Fuss nor scurry. 
 "Courting," he said, "was no child's play." 
 
 Two widows in his heart had shares 
 
 One young ; the other, rather past her prime, 
 By careful art repairs 
 "What has been carried off by Time. 
 The merry widows did their bept 
 
 To flirt and coax, and laugh and jest; 
 Arranged, with much of bantering glee, 
 
178 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 His hair, and curled it playfully. 
 The eldest, with a wily theft, 
 
 Plucked one by one the dark hairs left. 
 The younger, also plundering in her sport, 
 
 Snipped out the grey hair, every bit. 
 Both worked so hard at either sort, 
 
 They left him bald — that was the end of it. 
 " A thousand thanks, fair ladies, " said the man; 
 
 * • You've plucked me smooth enough ; 
 
 Yet more of gain than loss, so Quantum Sum, 
 For marriage now is not at all my plan. 
 
 She whom I would have taken t'other day 
 To enroll in Hymen's ranks, 
 Had but her wish to make me go her way, 
 And not my own; 
 
 A head that's bald must live alone: 
 For this good lesson, ladies, many thanks." 
 
 THE SAEATOGA WAITER. 
 
 WHITE. 
 
 Pompey, a darkey waiter. Pete, his chum. 
 
 Pompey. Pete, you know Mr. Simpson, de head waiter 
 up to Slamatoga Springs ? 
 
 Pete. Yes, I'se slightly 'quainted wid dat individual. 
 
 Pompey. Well, he sent me a letter dis summer to come 
 up and go to work ; so I packed up all my tings carefully 
 in a cigar box, den went down to de boat to go up. All the 
 Captains know me, and I's squainted, in fac, wid eberybody 
 bout de steamboats : so I walked right aboard and spoke to 
 do captain, and he scs, Well, go right ashore. So I found 
 that it was no use, and as I hadn't no money, I was bod- 
 ered for a moment. So I waited, and when it was time for 
 
THE SARATOGA WAITER. 179 
 
 to take in de gang plank, I run to de stern line to frow it 
 off de spile, and when I done so I frow'd myself wid it, case 
 I know'd dat day would haul de line in, and all I had to do 
 was to hold on it. Well, dey got me in on de deck and all 
 de passengers was crowdin round to see de drownded man. 
 I was all wet, and dey carried me in the fire room, lay me 
 down to dry myself, and de colored cooks see dat I was in 
 danger dar, case de firemen might make a mistake and 
 throw me in de boiler for a big lump ob coal ; so dey took 
 charge ob me and I was removed to de cooks' room ; and, 1 
 golly, I was well de minute I got dar. Arter a while we 
 got to Albany ; den I was bliged to find some way to get to 
 Slamatoga; so de cars was just startin' from de depot, and 
 I cut on behind em. But dey hadn't got fur afore de' duc- 
 tor cut me off, right in de hight of my bloom. So I took de 
 people's line, and arribed safe at de Springs early de next 
 mornin'. 
 
 Pete. What do you call de people's line ? 
 
 Pompey. Why, Pete, your legs ; dat am de people's inde- 
 pendent line. Well, in quenseconce of my arriving dar so 
 early, I thought I would go down to de Springs and see de 
 ladies and gemmen drink de water; after dat I started for 
 de hotel, shook hands wid Mr. Simpson, de head waiter, 
 and den got ready for de dinner by putting on some clean 
 tings and a nice linen apron, etc. De gong struck for de 
 dinner, and, Moses, you ought to see us niggers ebery man 
 to his place quicker dan de telegraph. I was den sent 
 down in de kitchen to bring up a large terene of soup, and 
 while I was coming up de steps wid it, dar was a big fat 
 wench coming down wid a large tray ob dishes. We neber 
 seed each oder, and de fust ting I know'd, in went her foot 
 among de hot soup, down cum de wench and dishes, and 
 you neber see so much crockery, soup, and niggers before 
 rollin' down one pair ob stairs. Dar was Mr. Simpson hol- 
 lerin' for de soup. I hurried up and told him what had 
 happened; so he tcld me to go wait on de table, and de fust 
 
180 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 man I spoke to, ses to me, Are you going to keep me 
 waiting all day for my soup ? I told him dat de soup had 
 vanished; so he ordered a jjiece ob punkin pie, and when I 
 bring it to him, just see my luck agin: dar was a piece ob 
 cinder on it, and he pushed it from before him bery spite- ' 
 full, and dat went on a lady's dress. I, golly! I was scared 
 to deff. De gemblem den ordered a piece ob custard pie. 
 I brought dat, too; but, my gracious ! wus luck still! On 
 dis piece ob pie dar was a little mustach hair, and it was so 
 bery wisible dat de gent see it at once. He den mixed up 
 de pie wid his fingers, squashin' it in his hand, and all at 
 once, he smack me side ob de head wid it. Mr. Simpson 
 see me in dat 'dicament, and said to me, John, clear out ob 
 de room 'mediately, wid your brains all knocked out in dat 
 manner ! So dey took me out in de garden, layed me on 
 de grass, and scrape off my temples wid pieces ob shingles 
 an' lath, and finally, after bathing my froat wid brandy, 
 I come too, and in a day or so after, I leff, case dey charge 
 so much. 
 
 Pete. Charge, Pompey — what for ? board ? 
 
 Pompey. Oh no, Pete; dey charges me wid stealing 
 spoons and seberal oder pieces ob wardrobe; so I see dey 
 begin to get personal, and I started home agin, and since I 
 been home, de colored cooks hab had a meetin' and passed 
 resolutions dat dey will neber make any more punkin and 
 custard pies for de rich peeple. 
 
 Pete. Why, what's de reason, Pompey ? 
 
 Pompey. Case it am dar firm beleef dat day nebber was 
 intended for de upper crust. 
 
 PEOLOGUE. 
 
 neLHES. 
 
 A Prologue? Well of course the ladies know ; — 
 I have my doubts. No matter, — here we go ! 
 What is a Prologue ? Let our Tutor tench : 
 Pro means beforehand ; logos stands for speech. 
 
PROLOGUE. "181 
 
 'Tis like the harper's prelude on the strings, 
 The prima donna's courtesy ere she sings : — 
 Prologues in metre are to other pros 
 As worsted stockings are to engine-hose. 
 
 "The world's a stage," — as Shakespeare said, one day ; 
 The Stage a world — was what he meant to say. 
 The outside world's a blunder, that is clear ; 
 The real world that Nature meant is here ; 
 Here every foundling finds its lost mamma ; 
 Each rogue, repentant, melts his stern papa ; 
 Misers relent, the spendthrift's debts are paid, 
 The cheats are taken in the traps they laid ; 
 One after one the troubles all are past, 
 Till the fifth act comes right side up at last, 
 "When the young couples, old folks, rogues, and all, 
 Join hands, so happy at the curtain's fall. 
 Here suffering virtue ever finds relief, 
 And black-browed ruffians always come to grief. 
 When the lorn damsel, with a frantic speech, 
 And cheeks as hueless as a brandy-peach, 
 Cries, ' '- Help, kyind Heaven !" and drops upon her knees 
 On the green — baize — beneath the (canvas^ trees, — 
 See to her side avenging Yalor fly: — 
 "Ha! Villain! Draw! Now, Terratiorr, Yield or die ! " 
 "When the poor hero flounders in despair, 
 Some dear lost uncle turns up rniilionnaire, 
 Clasps the young scapegrace with paternal joy, 
 Sobs on his neck, " My boy ! my boy ! ! MY BOY ! ! ! 
 
 Ours, then, sweet friends, the real world to-night, 
 Of love that conquers in disaster's spite. 
 Ladies attend ! While woeful cares and doubt 
 Wrong the soft passions in the world without. 
 Though Fortune scowl, though Prudence interfere, 
 One thing is certain — Love will triumph h^re ! 
 Lords of creation, whom you ladies rule, 
 The world's great masters, when you're out of school, — 
 Learn the brief moral of our evening's play: 
 Man has his will, — but woman has her way ! 
 
182 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 "While man's dull spirit toils in smoke and fire, 
 "Woman's swift instinct threads the electric wire, — 
 The magic bracelet stretched beneath the waves, 
 Mats the black giant with his score of slaves. 
 All earthly powers confess your sovereign art, 
 But that one rebel — woman's wi]ful heart. 
 All foes you master; but a woman's wit 
 Lets daylight through you ere you know you're hit. 
 So, just to picture what her art can do, 
 Hear an old story, made as good as new : 
 
 Rudolph, professor of the headsman's trade, 
 
 Alike was famous for his arm and blade. 
 
 One day, a prisoner Justice had to kill, 
 
 Knelt at the block to test the artist's skill. 
 
 Bare-armed, swart-visaged, gaunt, and shaggy-browed, 
 
 Rudolph the headsman rose above the crowd. 
 
 His falchion lightened with a sudden gleam, 
 
 As the pike's armor flashes in the stream. 
 
 He sheathed his sword; he turned as if to go. 
 
 The victim knelt, still waiting for the blow. 
 
 '<■ Why strikest not ? Perform thy murderous act," 
 
 The prisoner said. (His voice was slightly cracked. ) 
 
 "Friend, I have struck," the artist straight replied ; 
 
 " Wait but one moment, and yourself decide." 
 
 He held his snuff-box, — " Now then, if you please !" 
 
 The prisoner sniffed, and, with a crashing sneeze, 
 
 Off his head tumbled, — bowled along the floor,— 
 
 Bounced down the steps ; — the prisoner said no more ! 
 
 Woman ! thy falchion is a glittering eye; 
 If death lurk in it, O how sweet to die ! 
 Thou takest hearts as Rudolph took the head ; 
 We die with love, and never dream we're dead ! 
 
THE STRANGLING PAIR. 183 
 
 THE WRANGLING PAIR. 
 
 Valentine. 
 
 [This is designed to be spoken by one person, affording considerable dis- 
 play for mimicry.) 
 
 In our walks we see, almost daily, unhappy matches — a 
 quarrelling between man and wife. I will endeavor to re- 
 present a scene that I was witness to a short time ago ; and 
 afterwards suggest some ideas on the subject. 
 
 You will please imagine me man and wife while I repre- 
 sent them : 
 
 Husband. " Well, madam, so you are gadding about as 
 usual, spinning street-yarn. "When I married you, madam, 
 it was expressly understood that you were to stay at home 
 and attend to your little family duties, and not to gad 
 about." 
 
 Wife. "Oh! you are always railing at our sex. It's 
 nothing but jaw, jaw, from morning till night. You are just 
 like a sheex^'s head — all jaw." 
 
 Husb. "And not without reason, madam." 
 
 Wife. "Yes, without rhyme or reason ; you men would 
 be miserable beings enough without us : I can tell you that, 
 sir." 
 
 Husb. Sometimes, madam, sometimes ; the^e is no 
 general rule without an exception. I could name some 
 very good ones, madam. For instance, there is Mrs. Daw- 
 son, the best of wives ; always at home when you call ; 
 always in good humor ; always neat and clean, sober, tidy, 
 and discreet." 
 
 Wife. " I wish you were tied to her ; ' always at home !' 
 She's the greatest gossip in the country; she may well 
 smile — she's nothing to ruffle her temper. ' Neat and 
 clean !' She's nothing else to do. ' Sober !' She can take 
 a glass as well as her neighbors. * Discreet!' That's 
 another word. I'll have you to know, she can tip a wink 
 
184 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 But I detest scandal. I wonder you did not say she was 
 handsome." 
 
 Husb. "So she is, in my eyes ; she's a beauty. I wish 
 you were half as handsome." 
 
 Wife. " You've got a fine eye, to be sure. You are an 
 excellent judge of beauty. "What do you think of her 
 nose ?" 
 
 Husb. " She's a fine woman, in spite of her nose." 
 
 Wife. " Eine feathers make fine birds. She can pencil 
 her eyebrows, and paint her old withered cheeks." 
 
 Husb. "You can do the same, if you please." 
 
 W t ife. "I'll have you to know my cheeks don't want 
 painting, nor my eyebrows pencilling." 
 
 Husb. " Yes, your cheeks are about as red as a blue cab- 
 bage." 
 
 Wife. "You thought me handsome when you married 
 me. But that good-for-nothing hussy, Molly Dawson, has 
 stolen your heart. She's no gossip ! And yet she's found 
 in everybody's house but her own. So silent too ! Yes, 
 when she has all the clack to herself. Her tongue is as thin 
 as a sixpence with talking ; and she's got a pair of eyes 
 that look for all the world like gimlet holes ; and then as to 
 scandal. But her tongue's no scandal." 
 
 Husb. "Take care, madam, there is such a thing as 
 standing in a white sheet." 
 
 Wife. You good-for-nothing brute, you are enough to 
 provoke a saint." 
 
 Husb. " You seem to be getting into a passion, madam." 
 
 Wife. " Is it any wonder ? ' White sheet !' You ought 
 to be tossed in a blanket. ' Handsome !' I cannot forget 
 that word. My charms are lost on such a tasteless fellow as 
 you." 
 
 Husb. "Yes, the charms of your tongue are." 
 
 Wife. Don't provoke me, or I'll fling a dish at your 
 head." 
 
 Husb. " I've done, madam, I've done." 
 
A CONNUBIAL ECLOGUE. 185 
 
 "Wife. "But I have not done, sir. I wish I had 
 drowned myself the first day I saw you. " 
 Husb. "It is not too late yet, madam." 
 Wife. "I'll see you hung first." 
 Husb. " You'd be the first to cut me down. " 
 Wife. "Then I ought to be hung up in your stead. " 
 Husb. ' ' I'd cut you down. ' ' 
 Wife. "You would ; would you ?" 
 Husb. "Yes, but I'd be sure you were dead first." 
 Wife. " I would tear your eyes out. " 
 Husb. " Stop, madam, stop, if you please. I'm off." 
 [Exit in haste, with dishes flying round his heud. 
 
 A CONNUBIAL ECLOGUE.* 
 
 Arcades ambo, 
 
 Et cantare pares et respowlere parati. 
 
 Much lately have I thought, my darling wife, 
 Some simple rules might make our wedded life 
 As pleasant always as a morn in May ; 
 I merely name it — what does Molly say ? 
 
 Agreed : your plan I heartily approve ; 
 
 Rules would be nice — bat who shall make them, love ? 
 
 Nay, do not speak ! — let this the bargain be, 
 
 One shall be made by you, and one by me, 
 
 Till all are done — 
 
 HE. 
 
 — Your plan is surely fair ; 
 In such a work 'tis fitting we should share— 
 And now — although it matters not a pin — 
 If you have no objection, I'll begin. 
 
 * This inimitable colloquy was written for, and originally appeared in the 
 ! New York Ledger." 
 
186 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 Proceed ! In making laws I'm little versed ; 
 And as to words, I do not mind the first ; 
 I only claim — and hold the treasure fast — 
 My sex's sacred privilege, the last I 
 
 HE. 
 
 With all my heart. Well — dearest — to begin : — 
 When by our cheerful hearth our friends drop in, 
 And I am talking in my brilliant style, 
 (The rest with rapture listening the while) 
 About the war — or anything, in short, 
 That you're aware is my especial forte — 
 Pray, don't get up a circle of your own, 
 And talk of — bonnets, in an under-tone ! 
 
 That's Number One ; I'll mind it well, if you 
 Will do as much, my dear, by Number Two. 
 When we attend a party or a ball, 
 Don't leave your Molly standing by the wall, 
 The helpless victim of the dreariest bore 
 That ever walked upon a parlor-floor, 
 While you — oblivious of your spouse's doom- 
 Flirt with the girls the gayest in the room ! 
 
 When I (although the busiest man alive) 
 Have snatched an hour to take a pleasant drive, 
 And say, "Remember, at precisely four,- 
 You'll find the carriage ready at the door," 
 Don't keep me waiting half-an-hour or so. 
 And then declare, " The clock must be too slow !" 
 
 When you (such things have happened now and then) 
 Go to the Club with, " I'll be back at ten" — 
 And stay till two o'clock — you needn't say, 
 "I really was the first to come away ; 
 
A CONNUBIAL ECLOGUE. 187 
 
 Tis very strange how swift the time has passed ! 
 X do declare the clock must be too fast ! M 
 
 There — that will do ; what else remains to say, 
 
 We may consider at a future day ; 
 
 I'm getting sleepy — and — if you have done — 
 
 Not I : this making rules is precious fun ; 
 Now here's another : — When you paint to me 
 " That charming woman" you are sure to see, 
 Don't — when you praise the virtues she has got — 
 Name only those you think your wife lias not ! 
 And here's a rule I hope you won't forget, 
 The most important I have mentioned yet — 
 Pray mind it well : — Whenever you incline 
 To bring your queer companions home to dine, 
 Suppose, my dear, — Good Gracious ! he's asleep 
 Ah ! well — 'tis lucky good advice will keep ; 
 And he shall have it, or, upon my life, 
 I've not the proper spirit of a wife ! 
 
 THE ITALIAN FEOM COKK 
 
 COMIC SCENE IN A POLICE COURT. 
 
 DALY. 
 
 [This amusing scene is from the drama of " Under the Gas Light."] 
 
 ¥ 
 
 The Judge, seated on the bench. 
 Officer of the Court. 
 Attorney. 
 
 Rafferdi, (alias Rafferty, an Italian organ grinder from Cork, ) 
 standing in the dock, with his organ and a monlcey. 
 
188 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 Judge. Officer, what is the charge against this man ? 
 {pointing to Rafferdi. ) 
 
 Officer. There is a complaint lodged against this Buf- 
 fered of disturbing the neighborhood. 
 
 Judge. Look here, Rafferdi. "What is the reason you 
 disturb people ? 
 
 Attorney, May it please the Court, we appear for Raf- 
 ferdi. 
 
 Judge. "Well, sir, what have you to say for him ? 
 
 Attorney, May it please your honor, this unfortunate 
 man, a native of sunny Italy, an exile from that land of 
 poetry and song, being unable, in consequence of a differ- 
 ence of political opinions, to bear the persecution and op- 
 pression of the despotic tyrants who rule in his beloved 
 country, crossed the surging ocean, and sought in this 
 happy land, the home of the brave and the free, under the 
 glorious stars and stripes, that liberty which was denied 
 him in the land of his birth. Being of an industrious dis- 
 position, and endued with a taste for music, cultivated in 
 the highest academies of his country, he bought an organ 
 and a monkey with a determination to get an honest liv- 
 ing by dispensing sweet melody by giving a series of prom- 
 enade concerts in the streets of this city. 
 
 One unhappy day, the minions of the law, who have no 
 soul for harmony, ruthlessly seized him, the Goddess of 
 Liberty veiled her face, the glorious eagle drooped his pin- 
 ions, and Rafferdi was thrust into a dungeon. 
 
 Judge. Rafferdi ! an Italian ? I should have supposed 
 you were an Irishman. 
 
 Rafferdi. Sure, an' it's a pretty good guesser your honor 
 is, and 
 
 Judge. So you are an Irishman. WTiat did you mean by 
 being an Italian ? Why do you try to deceive us ? 
 
 Rafferdi. Desave your honor ! Is it desaving, you 
 mane ? Sure, an' I didn't, at all, at all. It was that lawyer 
 chap, there. I paid him fifty cints, and he's lying out the 
 worth of it. 
 
GASPER SCHNAPPS' EXPLOIT. 189 
 
 Judge. Here, officer, take him away. (To Rafferdi.) 
 We commit you for 
 
 Attorney. Commit liim ! Oh, your honor, do not act 
 harshly with the poor man ; let your kindlier feelings tem- 
 per justice with mercy. Pause, reflect ! Deprived of his 
 natural protector, what will become of his monkey ? 
 
 Jugde, (smiling.) Well, I suppose we'll have to commit 
 the monkey, too. 
 
 Attorney. What ! Commit the monkey ! You cannot 
 do it ; it's impossible. I know the law, and I defy you to 
 find in the Revised Statutes any authority for committing a 
 monkey to prison — it's illegal. Besides, by so doing, your 
 honor would commit yourself! 
 
 Judge. Well, well, we will have to leave the monkey out. 
 
 Attorney. Wliat ! Leave the monkey out ! Let me 
 appeal to your honor's better nature. Consider the case, 
 the attachment of the poor animal to its only protector. 
 Think ! what can the monkey do without him, with no 
 means of support ? Reflect ! perhaps the monkey is an 
 orphan ! 
 
 Judge. Oh, here, enough of this. You, Rafferty, get out 
 of this, and recollect, if you are brought here again you 
 won't get off so easily. 
 
 Exit Rafferdi. 
 
 Officer. The Courtis adjourned. 
 
 GASPER SCHNAPPS' EXPLOIT. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Once in a merry tavern in Brabant 
 
 A jolly dozen of dragoons were boasting 
 
 Of their past feats in many a Flemish hosting. 
 
 " How now," at length cried one, " friend Gaspar ! — can't 
 
190 BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES. 
 
 You brush your memory up, and give us some 
 
 Exploit of yours?" The query was addressed 
 To a dragoon who had as yet been dumb. 
 "0, M answered Gasper, "I am silent, lest 
 You might suppose me lying, or might call 
 Me braggart." " No, no, no !— we won't !" cried all. 
 " Well, then, the time we lay in camp near Seville, 
 I — I—" " Ay ! — hear him ! Gaspar Schnapps forever !" 
 " 1 cut ten troopers' legs off — clean and clever !" 
 te Their legs !" cried six or eight — " Why, what the devil !-— 
 "What made you cut their legs off, pr'ythee, brother?" 
 " What made me cut their legs off? " echoed t'other. 
 ' ' Ay ! — had you cut their heads off, then, in truth, 
 You would ha~e ta'en the right mode to astound them." 
 "0, but you see," said Schnapps, "the fact is— I — 
 I — couldnt cut their heads off." — "No ! — and why?'* 
 " Because," responded the redoubted youth, 
 Their heads had been cut off before I found them 1" 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 SUITABLE FOE THE CONCLUSION OF AN ENTERTAINMENT. 
 
 J. B. 
 
 The wittiest thoughts in aptest words expressed, 
 Lose, ill-recited, half their pith and zest, 
 And choice morceaux, spiced high with Attic salt, 
 Oft seem insipid through some bungler's fault. 
 Perchance to night, we've dished — in double sense— * 
 The dainties rare of Wit and Eloquence ; 
 If so, excuse the Cooks who, inexpert, 
 Have failed to give to Genius its desert 
 
 We've done our best; but amateurs, of course, 
 Misdrive, sometimes, the Muses' frisky horse, 
 And "upset all," despite the counsel cage 
 That Hamlet gave to regulate the stage. 
 If thus we've erred, our entertainment o'er, 
 Tell us our faults,— the Audience has the floor. 
 
EPILOGUE. 191 
 
 We're not thin-skinned, advice we do not spurn, 
 Our part is played — so Critics take your turn! 
 
 You've laughed — that's something — but our want of skill 
 May have amused you; — that's a bitter pill, 
 So we'll decline the mortifying dose, 
 And that we really tickled you suppose; 
 Thankful, at least, our efforts to supply 
 Suggestions mirthful, did not make you cry ! 
 
 An evening thus with humorous authors spent, 
 "Who that has humor in him can repent ? 
 Fun cures dyspepsia: folks who never smile 
 Never grow fat, their diet turns to bile, 
 And ribs unshaken by Wit's sportive taps 
 For lack of healthful exercise, collapse. 
 
 " Mirth," Milton cried, " admit me to thy crew f 
 We follow Milton's lead, and say so too . 
 Accepting bounty from her magic hand 
 Enlisted soldiers in her corps we stand, 
 And, ere we stack our arms, and say good night, 
 With hearts untroubled and with spirits light, 
 Let us proclaim — and join us all who choose — 
 War, endless war, against Mirth's foe — the Blues I 
 
 Our blasts, as trumpeters to Humor's train, 
 We've blown, and come at last to the refrain, 
 Which, though, perhaps by all the rest surpassed, 
 Has this transcendent merit — His the last I 
 
192 l'envol 
 
 L'ENVOX. 
 
 J. B. 
 
 GooD-bye, wits and poets — the volume we close, 
 And leave you like friends 'tis a joy to have met ; 
 
 But when plodding, to-morrow, the dull world of prose, 
 Our delightful companions we shall not forget 
 
 An evening with Authors whose whimsical pens 
 Turned to visible unction all subjects and themes, 
 
 Is worth a whole year in the dust-defiled dens 
 "Where Mammon sits throned among projects and schemes. 
 
 Life's journey were gloomy, uncheered by the lamps 
 
 That Humor lights up to illumine the way, 
 And what were we all but the dullest of tramps, 
 
 If we turned not aside from the turnpike to play ? 
 
 Peter Pindar's rare screed of the "Pilgrims and Peas" 
 
 "Was invented to teach us as well as amuse ; 
 Let us dance with the Pilgrim, elate and at ease, 
 
 And not limp like the wretch who'd hard peas in his shoes. 
 
 
DICK & FITZGERALD, 
 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
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 Tillgrove's Ball-room Guide and Complete Dancing-mas- 
 ter- Containing a plain treatise on Etiquette and Deportment at Balls 
 a~-d Parties, with valuable hints on Dress and the Toilet, together with lull 
 explanations of the Rudiments, Terms, Figures and Steps used in Dancing', 
 including clear and precise instructions how to dant^ all kinds of Quad- 
 rilles, Waltzes, Poikas, Redowas, Reels, Round, Plain and Fancy Dances, 
 so that any person may learn them without the aid of a teacher ; to which 
 is added, easy directions for calling out the Figures of every dance, and the 
 amount of Music required tor each. The whole illustrated with 176 de- 
 scriptive engravings and diagrams. By Thomas Hillgrove, Professor of 
 1 Dancing. 
 
 Bound in cloth, with gilt side and back. Price $1 00 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back 75 c t,s. 
 
 Wright's Book of 3,000 American Receipts ; or, Light- 
 
 Uouse of Valuable Information. Containing over 3,000 Receipts in all the 
 Useful and Domestic Arts— including Cooking, Confectionery, Distilling, 
 Perfumery, Chemicals, Tarnishes, Dyeing, Agriculture, etc. Embracing 
 valuable secrets that cannot be obtained from any other source. Ko exer- 
 tion or expense has been spared to make this work as comprehensive and 
 accurate as possible. Many Receipts will be found in it that have never 
 before appeared in print in this country. Some idea may be lormed of its 
 value in the latter respect, when it is stated that the compiler has been for 
 many years engaged in collecting rare and valuable Receipts from numer- 
 ous languages besides the English. This is by far the most valuable Ameri- 
 can Receipt Book that has ever been published. 
 12mo., cloth, 359 pages. Price <§1 50 
 
 The Modern Pocket Hoyle. Containing all the Games of 
 
 Skill and Chance, as played in this country at the present time ; being an 
 " authority on all disjoined points." By " Trumps." This valuable manual 
 is all original, or thoroughly revised, from the best and latest authorities, 
 and includes the laws and complete directions for playing one hundred and 
 eleven different games, comprising Card games, Chess, Checkers, Dominoes> 
 Backgammon, Dice, Billiards, and all the Field Games. 388 pages. 
 
 Paper covers. Price . . . 50 cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back 75 cts. 
 
 Bound in cloth, gilt tide and back SI 25 
 
 Richardson's Monitor of Free-Masonry. A Complete 
 
 Guide to the various Ceremonies and Routine in Free-Mason's Lodges, 
 Chapters, Encampments, Hierarchies, etc., in all the Degrees, whether 
 Modern, Ancient, Ineffable, Philosophical or Historical. Containing, also, 
 the Signs, Tokens, Grips, Pass-words, Decorations, Drapery, Dress, Regalia 
 and Jewels, in each Degree. Profusely illustrated with Explanatory En- 
 gravings, Plans of the Interior of Lodges, etc. By Jabez Richardson, 
 A. M. A book of 185 pages. 
 
 Bound in paper covers. Price , 75 cts. 
 
 Bound and gilt . SI 25 
 
 Uarey and Knowlson's Complete Horse-tamer and Far* 
 
 rier. A New and Improved Edition, containing Mr. Rarey's whole Secret 
 ot Subduing and Breaking Vicious Horses, together with his Improved 
 Plan of Managing Young Colts, and breaking them to the Saddle, the 
 Harness and the Sulky, with Rules tor selecting a good Horse, for Feeding 
 Horses, etc. Also, The Complete Farrier ; or, Horse Doctor ; a Guide 
 for the Treatment of Horses in all Diseases to which that noble animal is 
 liable, being the result of fifty years' extensive practice of the author, 
 John C. Knowlsok, during his life an English Farrier of high popularity, 
 containing the latest discoveries in the Cure of Spavin. Illustrated with 
 descriptive Engravings. 
 Bound in boards, cloth back. Price..... -•>.*-...*. &3 c%- 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Price3 annexed. 
 
 The American Home Cook Book. Containing several hun- 
 dred excellent Precipes. The whole based on many years' experience ol an 
 American Housewife. Illustrated with Engravings. All the Kecipes in 
 this book are written from actual experiments in Cooking. There are no 
 copyings from theoretical cooking recipes. 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back. Price 50 cts. 
 
 Bound m paper covers. Price §0 C £g 3 
 
 "iLnatenr Theatricals and Fairy-Tale Dramas. A collection 
 
 of original plays, expressly designed for Drawing-room performance. By 
 S. A. Fhost. This work is designed to meet a want, which has been long 
 felt, of short and amusing pieces suitable to the limited stage of the private 
 parlor. The old friends of fairy-land will be recognized among the Fairy- 
 Tale Dramas, newly clothed and arranged. 
 
 Paper covers. Price , 30 ^g g 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts! 
 
 Parlor Tricks with Cards. Containing explanations of 
 Tricks and Deceptions with Playing Cards, embracing Tricks with Cards 
 performed by Sleight-of-hand, by the aid of Memory, Mental Calculation 
 and Arrangement of the Cards, by the aid of Confederacy; and Tricks 
 performed by the aid of Prepared Cards. The whole illustrated and made 
 plain and easy, with 70 engravings. This book is an abridgment of our 
 large work, entitled " The .Secret Out." 
 
 Paper covers. Price 30 ctS« 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts« 
 
 Chesterfield's Letter- writer and Complete Book of Eti~ 
 
 (JUGtte J or i Concise, Systematic Directions for Arranging and Writing Letters. 
 Also, Model Correspondence in Friendship and Business, and a great variety 
 of Model Love Letters. This work is also a Complete Book of Etiquette. 
 There is more real information in this book than in half a dozen volumes 
 of the most expensive ones. 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back. Price 35 cts. 
 
 ]?raxik Converse's Complete Banjo Instructor. Without a 
 
 Master. Containing a choice collection of Banjo Solos, Hornpipes, Feels, 
 Jigs, Walk Arounds, Songs, and Banjo Stories, progressively arranged and 
 plainly explained. Bound in boards, with cloth back. Price 50 cts. 
 
 The Magician's Own Book. Containing several hundred 
 amusing Sleight-of-hand and Card Tricks, Perplexing Puzzles, Entertain- 
 ing Tricks and Secret Writing Explained. Illustrated with over 500 wood 
 engravings. 12mo., cloth, gilt side and back stamp. Price SI 50 
 
 North's Book of Love Letters. With Directions how to 
 
 write and when to use them, and 120 specimen Letters, suitable tor Lovers 
 of any age and condition, and under all circumstances. Interspersed with 
 the author's comments thereon. The whole forming a convenient hand- 
 book of valuable information and counsel for the use of those who need 
 friendly guidance and advice in matters of Love, Courtship and Marriage. 
 . By Ingoldsby North. This book is recommended to all who are from any 
 cause in doubt as to the manner in which they should write or reply to let- 
 ters upon love and courtship. The reader will be aided in his thoughts— he 
 will see where he is likely to please and where to displease, how io begin 
 and how to end his letter, and how to judge of those nice shades of expres* 
 pion and feeling concerning which a few mistaken expressions may create 
 misunderstanding. All who wish not only to copy a love letter, but to learn 
 the art of writing them, will find North's book a very pleasant, sensible and 
 friendly companion. It, is an additional recommendation that the variety 
 
 offered is very large. Cloth. Price 75 cts. 
 
 Bound in boards 50 cts, 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 
 51ie Parlor Magician ; or, One Hundred Tricks for 1l<e Draw- 
 
 . ing-Rooni, containing an Extensive and Miscellaneous Collection of Conjur- 
 ing and Legerdemain ; Sleights with Dice, Dominoes, Curds, Ribbons, 
 Rings, Fruit, Coin, Balls, Handkerchiefs, etc., all of which may be per- 
 formed in the Parlor or Drawing-Room, without the aid of any apparatus ; 
 also embracing a choice variety of Curious Deceptions, Avhich may be per- 
 formed with the aid of simple apparatus; the whole illustrated and clearl* 
 
 explained with 121 engravings. Paper Covers. Price 30 q\\ 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts. 
 
 Book of Riddles and Five Hundred Home Amusements. 
 
 Containing a Choice and Curious Collection of Riddles, Charades, Enigmas, 
 Rebuses, Anagrams, Transpositions, Conundrums, Amusing Puzzles, Queer 
 Sleights, Recreations in Arithmetic, Fireside Games and Natural Magic, 
 embracing Entertaining Amusements in Magnetism, Chemistry, Second 
 Sight and Simple Recreations in Science for Family and Social Pastime, il- 
 lustrated with sixty Engravings. Paper covers. Price 30 cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts. 
 
 Book Of Fireside Games. Containing an Explanation of the 
 most Entertaining 1 Games suited to the Family Circle as a Recreation, such 
 as Games of Action, Games which merely require attention, Games which 
 require memory, Catch Games, which have lor their objects Tricks or Mysti- 
 fication, Games in which an opportunity is afforded to display Gallantry, 
 Wit, or some slight knowledge of certain Sciences, Amusing Forfeits, Fire- 
 side Games for Winter Evening Amusement, etc. 
 
 Paper covers. Price 30 cts- 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts. 
 
 Parlor Theatricals ; or, Winter Evenings' Entertainment. Con- 
 taining Acting Proverbs. Dramatic Charades, Acting Charades, or Draw- 
 ing-Room Pantomimes, Musical Burlesques, Tableaux Vivants, etc.; with 
 Instructions for Amateurs ; how to Construct a Stage and Curtain ; how to 
 get up Costumes and Properties ; on the " Making up " of Characters ; 
 Exits and Entrances ; how to arrange Tableaux, etc. Illustrated with 
 
 Engravings. Paper covers. Price. .• 30 cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back. „ , 50 cts. 
 
 The Book of 500 Curious Puzzles. Containing a large col- 
 lection of entertaining Paradoxes, Perplexing Deceptions in numbers, and 
 Amusing Tricks in Geometry. By the author of " The Sociable," " The Se- 
 cret Out," " The Magician's Own Book." Illustrated with a great variety 
 of Engravings. This book commands a large sale. It will furnish fun and 
 
 amusement for a whole winter. Paper covers. Price 30 cts, 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts, 
 
 The above five books are compiled from the " Sociable " and " Magician's 
 
 Own." 
 
 The American Boys' Book of Sports and Games. A Reposi- 
 tory of In and Out-Door Amusements for Boys and Youth. Illustrated 
 with nearly 700 engravings, designed by "White, Herrick, "Weir and Harvev 
 and engraved by N. Orr. This is, unquestionably, the most attractive and 
 valuable book of its kind ever issued in this or any other country. It has 
 "been three years in preparation, and embraces all the sports and games that 
 tend to develop the physical constitution, improve the mind and heart, and 
 relieve the tedium of leisure hours, both in the parlor and the field. The 
 Engravings are all in the finest style of art, and embrace eight full-page 
 ornamental titles, illustrating the several departments of the work, beauti- 
 fully printed on tinted paper. The book is issued in tho best style, being 
 printed on fine sized paper, and handsomely bound. Extra cloth, gilt side 
 
 and back, extra gold. Price &3 50 
 
 Extra cloth, full gilt edges, back and side , g4 QQ 
 
Popular Books seat Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 
 ^OQk of Household Pets. Containing valuable instructions 
 about the Diseases, Breeding, Training and Management of the Canary, 
 'Mocking Bird, Brown Thrush, or Thrasher, and other birds, and the rearing 
 and management of all kinds of Pigeons and Fancy Poultry, Rabbits, Squir- 
 rels, Guinea Pigs, White Mice, and Dogs ; together with a Comprehensive 
 Treatise on the Principle and Management of the Salt and Fresh Water- 
 Aquarium. Illustrated with 123 fine wood-cuts. 
 
 Bound in boards. Price 50 c fe. 
 
 Bound in cloth, gilt side 75 c ^ s . 
 
 Athletic Sports for Boys. A Kepository of Graceful Be- 
 creations for Youth, containing clear and complete instructions in Gymnas- 
 tics, Limb Exercises. Jumping, Pole Leaping, Dumb Bells, Indian Clubs, 
 Parallel Cars, the Horizontal Bar, the Trapeze, the Suspended Ropes, Skat- 
 ing, Swimming, Rowing, Sailing, Horsemanship, Riding, Driving, Angling, 
 Fencing and Broadsword. The whole splendidly illustrated with 194 fine 
 wood-cuts and diagrams. 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back. Price 75 (»ts- 
 
 Bound in cloth, gilt side SI 00 
 
 The Play-KooiXl ; or, In-Door Games j or Boys and Girls; in- 
 cluding Round Games and Forfeits, Slate andBoard Games ; also numerous 
 Table and Toy G<rmes, together with a large collection of Evening Amuse- 
 ments, Comprehending Comic Diversions, Parlor Magic, Tricks with Cards, 
 Scientific Recreations and Puzzles. Profusely illustrated with 197 fine v/ood 
 
 cnts. Bound in boards, with cloth back. Price 50 cts 
 
 Bound in cloth, gilt side 75 cts, 
 
 The Play-Ground ; or, Out-Door Games for Boys. A Book of 
 Healthy Recreations for Youth, containing over a hundred Amusements^ 
 including Games of Activity and Speed ; Games with Toys, Marbles, Tops. 
 Hoops, Kites, Archery, Balls ; with Cricket, Croquet and Base-Ball. Illus- 1 
 
 trated with 124 wood-cuts. Bound in boards. Price 50 cts. 
 
 Bound in cloth, gilt side 75 Cts, 
 
 The above four books are abridged from the " American Boy's Book oi 
 Sports and Games." 
 
 The Young Reporter ; or, How to Write Short-Hand. A com- 
 plete Phonographic Teacher, intended to afford thorough instruction to 
 those who have not the assistance of an Oral Teacher. By the aid of this 
 work, any person of the most ordinary intelligence may learn to write Short- 
 Hand, and Report Speeches and Sermons in a short time. Bound in boards, 
 with cloth back. Price 50 cts. 
 
 Barton's Comic Recitations and Humorous Dialogues. 
 
 Containiug a variety of Comic Recitations in Prose and Poetry, Amusing 
 Dialogues, Burlesque Scenes, Eccentric Orations and Stump Speeches, Hu- 
 morous Interludes and Laughable Farces. Designed for School Commence- 
 ments and Amatevr Theatricals. Edited by Jerome Barton. This is thft 
 best collection of Humorou? pieces, especially adapted to the parlor stage, 
 
 that has ever been published. Illuminated paper cover. Price 30 cts» 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 CtS* 
 
 fhe Secret Out ; or, One Thousand Triclcs with Cards, and 
 
 other Recrealiovx. Illustrated with over Three Hundred Engravings. A 
 book which explains all the Tricks and Deceptions with Playing Cards ever 
 known, and (jives, besides, a great many new ones— the whole being de- 
 scribed so carefully, with engravings to illustrate them, *hat anybody can 
 easily learn how to perform thorn. This work alrt <to! .tiliF* T£<* 0* Ci:e test 
 Tricks in Legerdemain, in addition to the eaici tricks Jiiut^.s M& r^es, 
 bound in cloth, with gilt bide and back. Prico, ..»».. b**»«>>««\*%4 »*.& 60 
 
 ''•ilt bide and b 
 
 666 
 


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