LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. S^ajt. 0qu|rijj|t Ifu. Shelf-f.il±a.O| UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Von Boyle's •..Publisher.* ' New York THE ENTERTAINMENTS Griven By Mp.ACLAND BOYLE, Tlie Celebrated. — ARE — Refined! Instructive! Versatile! Original! GOLDEN OPINIONS. BOSTON. " He was applauded to the echo. In a word he made a hit." — Boston Globe, Sept. 1st, '78. . CINCINNATI. "Best that has appeared here. Enthusiastically applauded."' — Cincinnati Times, Oct. 10th, '79. WASHINGTON. " I was struck with his rare dramatic ability and orignal talent." Grace Greenwood. — Capital, 1876. NEW TOBK CITY. "He will be sure to interest and instruct as often as he is beard." — Rev. R. S. McArthur, D. D. " He makes people laugh until they cry, without offending good taste." — Rev. A.S Walsh, D. D. " I take pleasure in commending him and his objects." — Rev. G. W. Samson, D. D., LL. D. '' I was interested, entertained and benefited by the entertainment he gave us. I am satisfied that all who hear him will be both pleased and in- structed." — Rev. D. B. Jutton, D. D. Address $, D. RIDDLE, Agent, 23 3Iurray St., New York. VON BOYLE'S RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. A CAREFUL COMPILATION OF pieces for tfje harlot anir tlje platform. "From grave to gay ; from lively to severe." A number of these pieces are entirely new candidates for. public favor,— written especially for this book ; others make their first appear- ance as adaptions ; some are gleanings from the latest maga- zine r. and other literary fields ; the rest are standard selections which " the world will not willingly let die." W^W ° DE WITT, PUBLISHER, No. 33 Eose Street. Copyright, 1883, by A. T. B. De Witt. 1> o\ **tt^ TO THE PUBLIC. In Yon Boyle's Recherche Recitations will be found many pieces which cannot be found elsewhere. The genial " Yon " hag written several expressly for this book ; and it also contains many adaptations from this fa- mous humorist's repertoire, which now make their first appearance in print. The remainder of the pieces, old and new, are carefully se- lected with reference to variety, good taste, and availability. DE WITT, Publisher. New York, October, 1883. CONTENTS VON BOYLE'S RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. PAGE Acres and the Hands (The) A.J.E. Duganne 134 Address by Orator Climax « Anonymous 12 Bad Boy Gets a Black Eye (The) G. W. Peck 82 Bald-headed Man (The) Anonymous 168 Bar-tender's Story (The) Anonymous 59 Bender on Macbeth Yon Boyle 54 Breaking up a School B.J. Burdette 108 Brother Gardner and Judge Cadaver M. Quad 123 Cat-Astrophe (The) Anonymous 120 Dead Wife's Portrait (The) A nonymous 141 Death of the Wife Anonymous 127 Deserter (The) Mary A. Barr 40 Estray M. Quad 137 Fifine Stanley Huntley 115 Free Seat (A) Anonymous 71 Heap o' Difference (A) Von Boyle 13 He Fired his Father's Gun Anonymous 51 Hezekiah Bedott Francis M. Whitcher... 31 His Mother's Songs Anonymous 5 "Hosses is Hosses." Bret Harte 125 How the Sunlight Came M. Quad 19 Idiot Boy (The) Anonymous 156 If A nonymous 136 Independent Order of Forty Liars Bill Nye Ill Irrepressible (The) A nonymous 161 Jenks' Infernal Machine Von Boyle 24 John o' tbe Smithy A. J. E. Duganne 47 Lady and the Tiger (The) Joseph Kirtland 78 Leap of the Knight of Altenabe Canon Kingsley 62 Lecture Artemus Ward 42 Lime-Kiln Club (The) M. Quad 151 4 CONTENTS. — RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. PAGE Model Love Letter (A) Anonymous 131 Morning Sketch (A) Annoymous 68 My first Political Speech Max Adder J84 Not to be Won that Way Mrs. Browning 167 Now .Anonymous 154 O'Conuel and the Fishwoman Anonymous 74 Our Own Anonymous 130 Pointer's Dyspeptic Goat Yon Boyle 22 Pointer's Electric Cat. Von Boyle 7 Power of Habit (The; Anonymous 175 Prof Max Addlepate's Scientific Sermon... Von Boyle's adaptation. 63 River (The) Geo. W.Bungay 18 Rubber-Hose Macaroni G. W. Peck 97 Rules for Ladies Travelling Alone B. J. Burdette 172 Sam's Letter Anonymous 147 Schlausenheimer's Alarming Glock Von Boyle 101 Scream of the Eagle Col. P. Donan 179 Shanghai— Schlausenheimer Imbroglio . . . Von Boyle. 35 Sim's Little Girl Mary Eartwell 176 Singing Lesson (The) Jean Ingelow. 86 Skowhegan Onderdonk's Sunday-School Oration... Bill Nye.. 88 Small Beginnings Charles MacTcay 171 Small Sweet Courtesies of Life Anonymous 119 Some Items about Snakes - - - .Stanley Huntley 93 Spoopendyke Opening Oysters Stanley Huntley 143 Stranger— An Eastern Legend (The) Wallace Bruce 100 Story of a Bedstead Anonymous 52 Telephone Conversation (A) Mark Twain 105 Two Lovers. George Eliot 165 Unpublished Page from the Life of George Washington. ..'. - Anonymous 49 Which ShallitBe? Anonymous 9 W hat Intemperance Does Robert G. Ingersoll 163 What the Fat Man thought of the Inquisi- tive Boy Anonymous 159 VOIST BOYLE'S RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. HIS MOTHER'S SONGS. ANONYMOUS. Beneath the hot midsummer sun, The men had marched all day; And now beside a rippling stream, Upon the grass they lay. Tiring of games and idle jests, As swept the hours along, They called to one who mused apart, "Come, friend, give us a song." " I fear I cannot please," he said; " The only songs I know Are those my mother used to sing For me long years ago." "Sing one of those," a rough voice cried; "There's none but true men here; To every mother's son of us A mother's songs are dear." Then sweetly rose the singer's voice Amid unwonted calm; " Am I a soldier of the Cross, A follower of the Lamb." RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. " And shall I fear to own His cause " — The very stream was stilled; And hearts that never throbbed with fear, "With tender thoughts were rilled. Ended the song, the singer said, As to his feet he rose, " Thanks to you all, my friends, good night, God grant us sweet repose." " Sing us one more," the captain begged ; The soldier bent his head; Then glancing 'round, with smiling lips, " You'll join with me," he said. " We'll sing this old familiar air, Sweet as the bugle call; ' All hail the power of Jesus' name, Let angels prostrate fall.' " Ah, wondrous was the old tune's spell, As on the singer sang; Man after man fell into line, And loud the voices rang. The songs are done, the camp is still, Naught but the stream is heard; But ah, the depths of every soul By those old hymns are stirred. And up from many a bearded lip, In whispers soft and low, Rises the prayer the mother taught The boy long years ago. EECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 7 POINTER'S ELECTRIC CAT. VON BOYLE. [Written for this book.] Veil, Pointer, he vas a pooty nice feller, but you couldn't pelief a vord he say. Dot's his peesness, you know — assurance peesness. He assures most eferypody ; he's got de most assurance in Harlem. He uses all kinds of shtories und nannectotes in his peesness. Ven he gits a new vone he comes arount und bractices on me mit it ; und if it fits all right, he rooshes oud und gatches a gustomer, und assures him — his money or his life. Von tay he comes gwick my pootcher shtore in, und say : " Bender, vot you tink apout cats ? " Now dot's a nice gwestion to ask a pootcher shtore, oxbecially ven he vas full — blendy gustomers all arount ! "Veil," says I, "cats is pooty goot, if you got rats pooty bad. But I got not time to tink apout cats or rats chust now, already." " I can vait a leetle," says Pointer ; " I vould like und got your itea apout cats, too. / tink it vas a fery useful insect. You know a cat safed vonce my life. I blowed up a powter-makazine mit dot cat, I tid. It vas in de var times, und I am in de army. Dere vas a Kepel powter-makazine dot had to pe blowed up a leetle ; und ve drawed shtraws to see vich feller must do dot. De vone vot got de most shtraw he had to blow. Veil, I got de shtraw. Oh, I felt awful seasick ! It's de last shtraw dot breaks 8 KECHERCHfi KECITATIONS. de gamel's pack, you know, und dot slit-raw broke mine heart., pecau.se shtraws show vich vay de vinds blow, und I had to blow mineself dot makazine mit dot shtraw up. Yell, I got insite of de enemy's lines, und I am Talking along dot time, tinking apout de old folks at home, yot I vould never saw again, my br udder und my sister und my vife und my mut- ter-in-law und de peoples vot I owed money ; vhen suttenly I saw, kleaming in de kloaming, de dwo eyes of a plack cat — a Eepel kitten-cat ; und I gried, safed ! safed ! You know, Bender, if you rup up a plack cat's pack down de wrong vay agross de fur arount, it makes de sharks fly ; pecause a plack cat vas scientific, you know ; und I sdudies all apout electrics in my gehography pook at sckool. Yell, to make a short shtory long, I got bastde bickets O. K., und I gets to de makazine, und py goot luck, some- pody hat left de toor locked open. Now, you know, if you rup a cat's pack, dot cat vill rup you pack again mit her pack. So I rupped her pack — on de outsite — und den I puts her on de insite of dot mak- azine, shut gwick de toor, und roon so vast avay vot I can. Yell, I subbose dot cat vent rupping arount against dem powder-parrels dill she shtruck a light — elecdrick light, you know— und ven I am a guarter miles avay, she blowed up dot makazine down shky- high ; und shpoiled all dem Repels — killed dem in a tousand bieces. I vent pack und gapture.d de fort, und de next day I vas bromoted gorporal ; I vas only a sergeant pefore dot cat, you know. Yell, I must say I felt sorry for dot boor leetle kitten ; und I'll told you vhy, In dot same gampaign ve shtruck RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 9 more as dwendy more makazines, but I couldn't found a kitten-cat for loaf or money any vhere. Ben- der, do you know if only I had apout eight or six fresh plack cats dot time, I vould haf peen a brigadier- colonel pefore de var vas over, sure ! " Veil, dot vas Pointer's shtory. Ven he gits done I told him : " Mr. Pointer, you saidt you vanted to know vot I tink apout cats. Veil, I nefer like to hurt de feel- ings of a assurance achents, but I chust ask vone gwestion, Vas dot cat insured ? If not, all I've got to say vas dis: If I vas in a peesness vhere you haf to dell such shtories like dot, I vould got a can of dynamite und rup my pack up against it undil some- ting exploded for de penefit of de puplick ! " Und Pointer he valked off. WHICH SHALL IT BE? ANONYMOUS. [A rich man who had no children proposed to hi3 neighbor, who had seven, to take one of them, and promised, if the parents would consent, that he would give them property enough to make themselves and their other six children comfortable for life.] Which shall it be ? Which shall it be ? I looked at John, John looked at me (Dear patient John, who loves me yet As well as though my hair were jet), And when I found that I must speak, My voice seemed strangely low and weak : " Tell me again what Kobert said ; " And then I, listening, bent my head — This is his letter: 10 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. " I will give A house and land while you shall live, If, in return, from out your seven, One child to me for aye is given." I looked at John's old garments worn; I thought of all that he had borne Of poverty, and work, and care, Which I, though willing, could not share; I thought of seven young mouths to feed, Of seven little children's need, And then of this. " Come, John," said I, "We'll choose among them as they lie Asleep." So, walking hand in hand, Dear John and I surveyed our band; First to the cradle lightly stepped Where Lilian, the baby, slept. Softly the father stooped to lay His rough hand down in a loving way, When dream or whisper made her stir, And huskily he said: " Not her ! " We stooped beside the trundle bed, And one long ray of twilight shed Athwart the boyish faces there, In sleep so beautiful and fair; I saw on James's rough, red cheek A tear undried. E'er John could speak " He's but a baby, too," said I, And kissed him as we hurried by. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 11 Pale, patient Eobbie's angel face Still in sleep bore suffering's trace, " No, for a thousand crowns, not him ! " He whispered, while our eyes were dim. Poor Dick ! bad Dick ! our wayward son — Turbulent, restless, idle one — ■ Could he be spared ? Nay, He who gave Bade us befriend him to the grave; Only a mother's heart could be Patient enough for such as he; " And so," said John, " I would not dare To take him from her bedside prayer." Then stole we softly up above, And knelt by Mary, child of love; " Perhaps for her 'twould better be," I said to John. Quite silently He lifted up a curl that lay Across her cheek in a willful way, And shook his head: " Nay, love, not thee," The while my heart beat audibly. Only one more, our eldest lad, Trusty and truthful, good and glad, So like his father. " No, John, no ! I cannot, will not, let him go. " And so we wrote in courteous way, "We could not give one child away. And afterward toil lighter seemed, Thinking of that of which we dreamed, 12 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. Happy in truth that not one face Was missed from its accustomed place; Thankful to work for all the seven, Trusting the rest to One in Heaven ! ADDRESS BY ORATOR CLIMAX. ANONYMOUS. Mr. President and Members of the Exopstock Lyceum: Happiness is like a crow perched upon the neighboring tip of a far distant mounting, which an eager fisherman vainly strives, to no purpose, to en- snare. He looks at the crow, Mr. President, and, Mr. President, the crow looks at him, and, sir, they both look at each other. But the moment he at- tempts to reproach him, he banishes away like the schismatic taints of the rainbow, the cause of which it was the astonishing and perspiring genius of a Newton who first deplored and enveloped. Cannot the poor man, sir, precipitate into all the beauties of Nature, from the loftiest mounting up to the hum- blest valley, as well as the man prepossessed of indi- gence? Yes, sir; while trilling transports crown his view, and rosy hours allure his sanguinary youth, he can raise his mind up to the laws of Nature, incompressible as they are, while viewing the law- less storm that kindleth up the tremenjous rainy thunder, and fireth up the dark but rapid light- ning, and causeth it to fly through the intensity of space, that belches forth those awful and sublime meteors through the unfathomable regions of fiery hemispheres. Sometimes, sir, seated in some lovely RKCHEBCHfi RECITATIONS. 13 retreat, beneath the shadowy shade of an umbrage- ous tree, at whose vernal foot flows some limping, stagnant stream, he gathers round him his wife and the rest of -his orphan children. He then endeavors to distil into their minds useless lessons, and guard their juvenile youths against vice and immortality. Then, in a clear, sunny evening, when the silvery moon is shining forth in all her indulgence and ubiquity, he teaches them the first sediments of gas- tronomy, and by pointing out to them the bear, the liar, and many other fixed invisible consternations which are continually involving in their axle-trees through the blue cerulean firmament above. From this vast ethereal he dives with them to the very bottom of the unfathomable oceans, bringing up from thence liquid treasures of earth and air. He then courses with them on the imaginable wing of fancy, through the boundless regions of unimaginable ether, until, swelling into impapable immensity, he is forever lost in the infinite radiations of his own annihilating genius. A HEAP O' DIFFERENCE. ADAPTED BY VON BOYLE. The principal tonsorial artist in our vicinity is a colored brother, rejoicing in the high sounding ap- pellation of Prof. Washington Madison Jefferson Smith. He evidently belongs to a titled family; for his brother next door displays a coat-of-arms over his window with this motto: " Dr. Wm. Henry Smith, M. D. , Perfessor ob de 14 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. art ob whitewashin' — in all colors. Also de boss car- pet-shaker ob Harlem." Prof. Smith's popularity, however, is perhaps as much due to his conversational powers as to the artistic manner in which he handles his trusty- blade. As I seated myself in his comfortable chair, pre- paratory to a delightful shave, I gave him an oppor- tunity to display his eloquence, by remarking : " Professor, I suppose you must very frequently think of the difference between the present times and the times before the war, don't you ? " " Yas, sar. Tas, indeed ! Does you want a close shave? — yas, sar. All right, sar. Befo' de wah I use to was a slave. Niggers in dose times used to be wuff $500 a piece ; but now, niggers ain't wuff a cent ! " " Professor, I have often wondered why you call your people ' niggers.' " " Well, I kind o' likes de name, des as de Southern people dey does like to be called 'Johnny Eebs,' an' de Northern people dey does like to be called 6 Yankees.' When Milton done writ dat book, dey dey calls Buncomb's Pilgrims Lost, he says, 'A rose by any oder name would smell as sweet.' I spec' hits de same wid neg-rose as any oder rose. Hit doan't mak' no diff'rence whether you calls dem 1 niggers,' ' negroes,' ' cullud-pussons ' or ' American citizens of African 'scent' — de scent is dar all de same. Hit's mo' important what a man is, dan hit is what you calls him. And dar's a heap o' diff'rence 'bout dat. But long as a man keeps his razors sharp, RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 15 and uses de bes' shavin' soap, and de bes' pomade, he's 'title* to de 'spect ob de whole community, white an' black. But, as I was savin', dere's a heap o' dif- f rence in de 'stravagant ideas dat people has now-a- days, dat dey didn't had befo' de wah. 'Specially de cullud people. Now some time ago I called on a cul- lud young lady dat I's been payin' my retentions to—" " Why, you don't mean to say, Professor, that you intend to marry again ? " "Yes, indeedee! I's got to. I done been a widower seven years now, and my chilens growing up 'thout any mother to look af dem. I's got to marry for de chilen's sake. Well, I wanted to take dis young lady 'round to a cake-walk. De cullud people, you know, gets togedder an' dey walks 'round a table, an' de one dat walks de tallest gets de cake. Dat's de 'rigen ob de 'spression — ' She takes de cake ! ' So I done writ her a billet-doux — lavender-tinted paper and violent ink. It was performed beautiful — smelled des like fresh pomade. I say : " ' Professor Washington Madison Jefferson Smith 'sires de felicity ob de companionship ob Miss Magnolia Simpson — (dat's her name) — to de freshtivities at de cake-walk fo' de benefit ob Zion A. M. E. Church — (dat's African Mefodis 'Piscopal, you know) — on de 16th instant ob de present month. Please be in readiness at 7:30 sharp, p. m., in de evening.' " ' Tours to command.' " " ' Perfessor Smith.' "I got most ob dat letter outen one ob dese letter- writers; de rest I got outen my own head. Den I sent 16 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. dat 'round by one ob dese 'Merican Deestric* messen- gers. When de evenin' come I was dar on time. De young lady's mother showed me into de parlor an' lef me dar. In about an hour Miss Simpson sailed in, fixing on her 17-button kids. She didn't pay no retentions to me; but she jes' glode straight over to de winder and look out, den she glid straight over to me, an' she says: " ' Whar's de transpo'tation ? ' " " ' De transpo-what-shion ? ' says I. " ' De conveyance— de kerridge — de hack ! ' " C I ain't no hack-driver/ says I. " c Well, how you 'spec* I gwine to git dar 'thout some kind ob weehicle ? ' "'A weehicle,' says I; 'well, look hyar, now, ef I had knowed you 'sired a weehicle, I would have 'gaged a fust-class omilybus, or a couple ob deserved seats in a hoss-car. Dar's one ob my friends drives a Black Maria, an' anoder's got a brand new coal- cart, dat I could have got, des as well as not. May- be I could borrow dat wheelbarrer next do', an' I mout tote you 'round in dat ! ' " ' Now I want you to squit your foolishness, an' tell me how I's gwine to git dar/ says she. " ' I 'spec' you's gwine to hoof it/ says I. ' ' ' I don't know what you means by dat/ says she. " ' Well, ef my language is two copious for your diminutive comprehension, I 'spec' I'll have ter transmogrify it. I 'spected dat you would h'ist your little hoofs, skip de gutter, an' prominade over de payment till you 'rove at de freshtivities. I 'spected, ef you rid dar at all, you'd go on Shank's hosses.' RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 17 " 'Perfessor Smith/ says she, ' I don't low no sech language in my presence. I was riz an' brung up among de highes' social circles ob dis city. I be- . longs to de colored elite ob New York ; an' I ain't use to no sech talk as dat; an' ef you don't 'mejitly 'pologize, your room is mo' 'sirable dan you com- pany.' " " Well, I did not want to raise no scandal in de church, so I 'pologized. Den I rushed out an' got a hack wid a red-headed hack-driver, an' we driv' 'round dar in style ! Um ! you ought to seen us ! Now dat gal was too delicate to trot aroun' to dat church — only a few blocks — but when she got 'cited, lookin' at de race, um ! um ! she th'owed her bon- net off, hove her shawl on de seat, an' waded in. An' she walked aroun' dat table till she took de cake." " And then, Professor, you took her, cake and all — took her for better or worse, eh ? " " Dat's zackly what I did— not. I took and shook her." " What do you mean ? " " Well, hit seemed to me dat 'stid ob 'vestin' in silks and satins and 17-button kids, it would be better fo' me to get a piece ob plain calico dat would look well, wear well an' wash well. Dat would be des as well in de long run for me, an' a good deal better for my little pickanninies. You see I owns dis hyar house; I's done got a little money in de bank, an' my chilens getting a good eddycation. Ef I was to marry a sensible equinoxial sort of wife, in ten years I'd own anoder house; I'd have money in anoder bank; my daughters would be well married, 18 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. an' my boys in some 'spectable bizness. Now, ef I married dat 17-button Simpson's gal, wouldn't I cut a dash ? But, in less dan a year, I wouldn't have a cent in bank; dar would be mortgages all over dis house; I'd be workin' for some udder nigger, an' my chilen would be runnin' 'round de streets in rags. " So I 'eluded dat I would let Miss Simpson slide, an' so I's done took an' shook her. Next ! " And here I resigned my seat to my successor. THE RIVER. GEO. W. BUNGAY. Clear and cool ! clear and cool ! By laughing shadows and dreaming pooL Cool and clear i cool and clear ! ^By shining shingle and foaming weir. Under the crag where the ouzel sings ; And the ivied wall where the church bell-rings. Undefiled for the undefiled; Play by me ! bathe in me ! mother and child. Dank and foul ! dank and foul ! By the smoke-grimed town, in its murky cowl. Foul and dank ! foul and dank ! By wharf and sewer and slimy bank. Darker and darker, the further I go; Baser and baser, the richer I grow. Who dare sport with the sin-defiled ? Shrink from me ! turn from me ! mother and child. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 19 Strong and free ! strong and free ! The flood-gates are open — away to the sea ! Tree and strong ! free and strong ! Cleansing my stream as I hurry along To the golden sands, and the leaping bar, And the taintless tide that awaits me afar. And I lose myself in the infinite main, Like a soul that has sinned and been pardoned again. Undefiled for the undefiled; Play by me ! bathe in me ! mother and child. HOW THE SUNLIGHT CAME, M. QUAD. The sunlight sometimes came into the room, for the sunlight was made for the poor as well as the rich, and it will pour into crazy shutters and over the bare floors just as cheerily as it filters through lace curtains and breaks into golden fragments over vel- vet carpets. And God's free air came to the deso- late room as well, though when it had crossed the decaying roofs and lingered for a moment on the weather-beaten sills, it was no longer pure. Do you know what poverty is ? A gaunt, starved woman with great black eyes which had a look of hunger and terror, as if the shadow of fate had clutched her throat. A bare room — not bare, because it contained an old stove, a wretched bed, a broken chair, a bench, and — but nothing more. The gaunt, starved face women had bread to eat— bread and 20 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. nothing else. A bare room — bread and water. That is poverty. That is what brings to the heart that feeling of loneliness aud grim despair, which is poi- soned out of life or quenched, like a nickering light, in the green waters of the river which creeps softly- past the city and carries every burden of sorrow and woe to the bosom of the lake. "Why did this woman live ? Had life one charm for her ? Perhaps she asked herself these questions as she sat with her face in her hands and looked out upon the cold, cheerless day. There were no tears in her great black eyes — only such a look of woe and despair that the world should have been there to see it, and to have it painted on their hearts. " Mother ! " A little, wasted form on the wretched bed — a bony hand on the ragged quilt — a voice which told of hun- ger and pain and weary waiting. She bent over him, and for a moment a mother's love shone in her eyes, and her wrinkled hand rested on his pale face with such tenderness as only a mother has. " Lift me up and let me see the sunshine," he whispered, trying to put his arms around her neck. " There is no sunshine," she whispered in reply, a sob in her throat. " Kiss me, mother, and call me when the sunlight comes again," he said. She knew that he had been dying for a week — sinking slowly and surely into eternity, but she had no friends to call in — she could only weep over him, and pray God that she might soon follow. With a RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. — ' 21 gasp and a sob she pressed her lips to his forehead, then turned away to struggle with her despair and her great sorrow. The cloudy, cheerless day faded into dusk. She roused herself for a moment, and peered through the gloom to see if her boy still slept, and then she whis- pered with her thoughts again. And such thoughts ! When the darkness covered the bare floor as with a mantle, and when she could no longer see her awn poverty, the boy suddenly cried out : " Mother ! mother ! The sunlight has come ! " " Not yet, dear "Ned, not yet ! It is night now." "But I see the sun — it lights all the room — it blazes into my face ! " he called. " There is no sun ; it is cold and dark ! " " And it grows brighter ! and I hear such sweet music ! and I see little Tommy ! " he whispered, while through the darkness she saw his white face grow radiant. " You are dreaming," she sobbed. t ' It was such a bright sun ! The music is so sweet ! " he whispered, clasping her hand. " It is dark — it is night ! " she gasped, but he did not hear. The sunlight had truly come, but it was the sun- light — the golden rays reflected from the gates of heaven — and not the sunlight of earth. The myste- rious curtain hiding the valley of death had lifted for his spirit to pass under, and woe had been left be- hind. And of her ? Ask the shadows of night — ask the river. When they found his little dead body she was 22 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. not there. If she is dead, God did not judge her harshly. POINTER'S DYSPEPTIC GOAT. VON BOYLE. [Written for this book.] Pointer rushes indo mine pootcher shop de oder tay, und he say : " Bender, dit you know dot go-its vas intichestiple ? I mean, dit you efer heard apout a go-it mit de dys- bepsia ? " Pointer, he vas de man vot geeps de bolicy-shop, vone hoondret dwendy-fife shtreets mit de gorner, you know. He sells you live-assurance bolicies, und ven you die he gifs your vife fife tousand dollars abiece, if de house purns town; but if you set him on fire yourself, you don't got a cend. Now I know dot's a ferry tinicult tings to told ox- actly de drue: mit some beobles it vas unbropable, mit Pointer it vas unbossiple. He has peen so long assurance peesness, dot he has got ghronic enlarge- ments of de imachinations. I told him vonce, he should saw de doctor apout it, und got waccinadet ; but he vouldn't. So I says : "Pointer, I got no dime to lisden to vild goose- perry shtories apout intichestiple go-its, or any oder kind of nonsense. I dont pelief it. " "It ain't no nonsense apout it," says Pointer. "Now, Bender, you bretent to pe a skientific man, vot likes to learn somedings alvays. Now I told you RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 23 a go-it can haf dysbepsia. I know it py mine own exberience. I had it myself — de go-it, I mean. It's name vas Nanny — Nanny Go-it. Dot's a pooty name; und it vas a pooty go-it. Go-its, you know, vas fery egonomical. I used dot go-it for a vaste baper pasket, Ven I shpoils a biece of baper, I vhistles, und she gomes de vindow up. Den I fling der baper into her mout, und she valks off, chews de baper, und makes nice go-it's milk oud of it — ten cends a quart for vaste baper ! "Veil, Nanny vould climb all ofer de rocks, und skhip up de site of de house — oh, how she vould go- it — alvays seemed happy; und she had a sblendit happytight. She vould eat anything, vrom a fine gambric anchorchief off de glothes-line, mit your name engrafed in de gorner, to a pasket of oyster- shells on de half-shell; und she nefer seemed to pe droupled mit indichestion. " But she died in a strange vay. Some beoble tink she gommitted suinsite out of herself. " Von tay a noo trug shtore mofed into Harlem, und he vasnt acquainted mit my go-it. So he put a pasket of dried sponges de door oud, und he leaves de cover off. "Nanny she gomes along, und she vas pooty hoongry. She eat up dem dried shponges, und she eat up de pasket, und she licked up de sitewalk, und valked herself off. "Py-und-by she gomes to a duck-pont, und she felt awful dry. She drank up dot pont, und left de ducks in de mud; und den she shtarts home. " Py de time she got dere, she vas as pig as a cow, 21 RECHERCHtf RECITATIONS. und as light as a feader. Yen de vind blows, sht vould roll ofer, und ve had to die her mit a shtring like a kite to geep her down. " Ye sent for Toctor Sonnenschmidt, de cow-toc- tor. Yhen he comes he says, ' I untershtand oxactly de case. It vasn't eating de shponges; — it vas trinking de vater — hart-trinking — dot's vere she made de misdake. De only ting ve can do vas to put her in de glothes-wrinker und wrink her dry.' " But it vas doo late. Yhile ve vent in to got de glothes-wrinker, ve heard a loud noise, like a cannon oxbloded. De glasses proke mit de vindows out ; und ven ve comes mit de yard out again, de go-it vasn't dere. Und de next tay, you could find little pieces of shponges all ofer de shtreets of Harlem." Dot vas Pointer's shtory. Den I said : "Yell, Pointer, vot pecomes of dot go-it ? * "Dot's de mystery," says Pointer. "I don't know; but I subbose dot go-it died of indichestion. Blease sent dwo pounts borter-haus steak right avay ofer for preakfast. Goot morning ! " JENKS' INFERNAL MACHINE. VON BOYLE. [Written expressly for this book.] Jenks was a genius. A genius is a man who can see ten thousand dol- lars a great way off; but is frequently unable to per- ceive ten cents near enough to get hold of it. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 25 When Mrs. Skinner opened the front door and saw Jenks standing there, she didn't want to let him in. She was in doubt whether he was a tramp or a lunatic. She was about to introduce the watch-dog upon the scene, and thus cut short the interview, when suddenly the apparition opened its mouth, with a strange mechanical motion, and said it wanted board for a week, and would be willing to pay in advance. Mrs. Skinner was greatly in need of a little money to make out her rent. So she took him in; although he looked so hungry that a terrific fear crossed her mind, that he might get up some night, and eat every thing in the house, and then devour the boarders, and thus break up her business. During the afternoon, a wheelbarrow drove up to the front door, and Jenks moved in with his baggage, which consisted of a bandbox, one carpet-bag and two No. 14J collar boxes. The collar boxes were tied with shoestrings; the bandbox was tied with pieces of rope and old neckties; and the "gripsack," which was down at the heels, and out at the elbows, was bandaged all over with handkerchiefs, and in addi- tion had a large trunk-strap wound twice around it, to prevent spontaneous explosion. It appeared to be very heavy, and the fearful sus- picion occurred to Mrs. Skinner, that perhaps her new boarder was a burglar; although he certainly did not look ferocious enough to break open a coal-box, or rob a peanut stand. He was very quiet at the table. The other board- ers tried to "pump" him; but without success. 26 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. They shrugged their shoulders, and shook their heads vaguely, however, as they heard him hammer- _ ing away in his room, at his mysterious occupation. Whatever their suspicions may have been, however, there was no way of verifying them, for Mrs, Skinner declared that he never left his room unlocked for a moment, when he was out, and that the carpet-bag had a combination lock on it, anyway. The fact is, Jenks was an inventor. His idea was to apply clock work to the phonograph, just as it is now applied to music boxes, so that when the in- strument is wound up, instead of playing tunes, it would make a political speech, sing a jolly song, or deliver a heart-rending recitation at the will of the operator. The machine was intended to be not only " accom- plished," but even useful ; for it could be arranged to wake one up for an early breakfast by sweetly singing " Five o'clock in the morning," or by sternly declaring in a deep and penetrating voice : " Early to bed, and earl}' to rise, Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise." Jenks was in the habit of practicing upon the machine in a loud voice, singing songs into it, making speeches at it, and inserting whole scenes from tragedies. The boarders were divided in their opinions con- cerning the new-comer. Some thought he suffered from delirium tremens ; a few opined that he was a law-student advocating imaginary causes before in- visible juries; others again vaguely hinted their sus- picions, that he was a counterfeiter or a burglar, and RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 27 merely pretended to be an elocutionist to cover up his dark schemes. Meanwhile Jenks was working faithfully to com- plete his machine. The real cause of his secresy was his fear that some one would steal his invention. One day he suddenly disappeared, and after an absence of nearly a week, he as suddenly returned by night, when most of the inmates of the house were wrapped in slumber. He let himself in quietly with his latch-key, and then hurried up to his room. The poor fellow was no doubt intoxicated — perhaps with the thought that fame and fortune promised so soon to be his. He placed in the machine the long roll of tinfoil on which the speeches, songs and tragedies were print- ed, and then wound up the instrument. It started off with a vicious click — click ! and then came to a dead stop. It was dusty or rusty, and needed oiling, and there was not a drop of oil in the bottle. Inventors are apt to be impatient. Late as it was Jenks started out in search of the coveted machine oil. He had hardly been gone five minutes when the machine started again — click — click ! and all of a sudden the apparatus began to sing in the most rol- licking style, " The Little Brown Jug." When it came to the chorus it sounded as though there was a double quartette of jugs, little and big, and of assorted colors. Mrs. Skinner rushed up stairs, battered away on Jenks' door, and declared that he was waking up the 28 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. whole neighborhood, and that if he did not desist she would call the police. The heartless machine paid no attention to the ex- postulations of the landlady until it had sung two verses clean through. It then stopped., and all was silent. Mrs. Skinner endeavored to get Jenks to say through the key-hole decidedly whether he intended to be quiet — yes or no. She could get no answer, however, and was de- scending the stairs, to return to her room, when a tragic voice broke out upon the stillness of the night with : " Stand back ! old man; I have a prior claim. Be- fore the face of man and heaven I urge it ! I outbid yon sordid huckster for your priceless jewel. There is the sum twice told. Blush not to take it ; there's not a coin that was not bought and hallowed in the cause of nations, and with a soldier's " Click — click — click ! "Sixteen years in the Bastile, and still I cannot die ! " Click — click — click — click ! " Hurrah — hurrah — hurrah for Dick Shaw ! " Click — clickety — clickety — click ! and the machine stopped suddenly. , The boarders, arrayed in curious costumes, came; out into the halls to inquire what was the matter, and the machine suddenly started again : Click— click ! " Fire ! Police ! Murder ! " The lady boarders shrieked in chorus. Some faint- ed, and others rushed into the street. One of the RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 29 gentlemen boarders hastily struck the fire-alarm, and shouted for the police at the top of his voice. Mrs. Skinner, accompanied by a few of the terror- stricken inhabitants, took her stand at a point near the head of the stairs, and demanded that Jenks should come out and explain himself. There was no immediate reply. Finally there was a preparatory click, and the machine shouted in a beseeching voice, " Help, help ! Save me ! Oh, sir, have mercy ! Let me not perish thus ! Take my life but spare my money ! " Upon thik the boarders, summoning up a frenzied courage, burst open the door, struck a light, and peered into the room. All was still. Nobody was there. While they stood eyeing each other in mute amazement, — " distilled to a jelly by the act of fear," the silence was suddenly broken by a dismal voice proceeding out of the depths of the closet: "I am thy father's ghost, doomed for a time to — " clickety — click — click — cli ck i The assembly trembled in their stockings. At this juncture, the approach of the fire engines could be distinctly heard, and the excitement culmin- ated, when a member of " the finest police in the world " put in an appearance, and declariDg that he feared nothing, dead or alive, valiantly entered Jenks' room, and threw back the closet door. Nothing was to be seen in the mysterious closet but the two collar boxes, the dilapidated bandbox, and the ancient bald-headed carpet-bag; and the cry arose that the house was haunted ! 30 KECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. At this point, a suspicious sound was heard, like that made by the setting of the trigger of a revolver; and a blood-curdling, cruel voice shouted : " Now then, you carry off the house and TO set fire to the girl. Ha ! ha ! Revenge ! Ha ! ha ! " The braggart policeman showed the white feather. He retreated indiscriminately, but was arrested by Mrs. Skinner, and brought back. At this point Jenks entered the house with the machine-oil; and at the sight of him the boarders* hair stood on end. Jenks demanded to know the cause of the up- roar. " Oh, you villain ! " shouted Mrs, Skinner; " you have ruined the reputation of my house, but you shall suffer for your iniquity. You are a murderer, and the spirits of your victims have come back to testify against you. Arrest him, officer. That's the man. Take him to jail, immediately." Now here was something the officer could take hold of. So he took hold of Jenks, and told him he was under arrest. Jenks refused to accompany him with- out his valise. " Keep him down stairs there, policeman, " shouted Mrs. Skinner; " I'll bring his valise to him. I want him to get out of my house as quick as possible." Mrs. Skinner hurried to Jenks* room, got the valise, and had proceeded half way down to the front door, when suddenly a voice within the " gripsack " burst forth with: " Avaunt! and quit my si«;ht ! let the earth hide thee! Thou canst not say I did it. Shake not thy gory locks at me ! " RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 31 Poor Mrs. Skinner I She thought it was a voice from the remains of one of Jenks' victims concealed in the carpet-bag ! She shuddered with horror; her eyes grew dim; her head swam; she lost her presence of mind and her balance. She collapsed into a confused heap on the stairs, and rolled rapidly to the bottom ; and the carpet-sack chased her all the way down. Jenks took up the " gripsack, " and the policeman took up Jcnks. They wended their way to the station house to the tune of u We won't go home till morning," sung by the machine in a loud voice, and with evident relish. Upon explaining the case to the judge. Jenks was discharged with a reprimand; but when he returned to the mansion of Mrs. Skinner, he found that es- timable lady nailing horseshoes over the front door, and he was promptly refused admittance. He turned sadly away, and disappeared in the darkness. No one seems certain of his fate. But it is whispered among the knowing ones, that an enter- prising speculator having heard of the affair, has engaged Jenks (and his machine), at an enormous salary, to travel and give spirit-manifestations all over the United States. HEZEKIAH BEDOTT. FRANCIS M. TVHITCHER. 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 32 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. his poor turns that I never shall forget the longest day I live. He says to me one winter evenin' as we was a settin' by the fire; I was 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 of his mouth and turned toward me, and I knowed something was comin', for he had a pertikeler way of lookin' 'round when he was gwine to say anything oncommon. "Well, he says to me, says he, "Silly," (my name was Priscilly naterally, but he ginerally called me "Silly," cause 'twas handier, you know). Well, he says to me, says he, " Silly," and he looked pretty sollem, I tell you, he had a sollem countenance nater- ally — and after he got to be deacon, 'twas more so; but since he'd lost his health he looked sollemer than ever, and certingly you wouldent wonder at it if you knowed how much he underwent. He was troubled with a wonderful pain in his chest, and amazin 5 weak- ness 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 desire to see a ruggeder man than what he was. But the time I'm speakin' of, he'd been out RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 33 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 married 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 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 thing I believe in finishin' on it 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 individooal to tell a story that I ever see in all my born days. But I was a gwine to tell you what husband said. He says to me, says he, " Silly." Says I, " What? " I dident say, " What, Hezekier ? " for I didn't like his name. The first time I ever heard it, I near killed myself a lafl&n. "Hezekier Bedott," says I, " well, I would give up if I had sich a name," but then, you know, I had no more idee o' marryin' the feller than you have this minnit o' mar- ryin' 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's father Bedott's name, and he and mother Bedott both used to think that names had ought to go down from gin- 34 - RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. eration to generation. But we always called him Kier, yon know. Speakin' o' Kier, he is a blessin', ain't he ? and I ain't the only one that thinks so, I gness. 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 is a gwine to ketch Kier Bedott, she is a leeile out of her reckonin'. But I was going to tell what husband said. He says to me, says he, " Silly." I says, says I, " What ? " If I did- en't say " what " when he said " Silly," he'd a kept on saying " Silly," from time to eternity. He always did, because, you know, he wanted me to pay per- tikkeler 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 wa'n'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 he dident. He and me went once, in the dead o' win- ter, in a one-hoss slay out to Boonville to see a sister o' hisen. You know the snow is amazin' deep in that section o' the kentry. Well, the hoss got stuck in one o' them flambergasted snow-banks, and there we sot, onable to stir, and to cap all, while we was a sittin' there, husband was took with a dretful crick in his back. Now that was what I call a per dicker merit, don't you ? Most men would a swore, but husband RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 35 dident. He only said, says he, " Consarn it." How did we get out, did you ask ? Why, we might a been sittin' there to this day fur as 7 know, if there hadent a 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 o' the fire, there dident happen to be no candle burnin', if I don't disremember, though my memory is sometimes rather forgitful, but I know we wa'n't apt to burn candles exceptin' when we had company), I could see by the light o' the fire that his mind was oncommon solemn- ized. Says he to me, says he, " Silly." I says to him, says I, "What?" He says to me, says he, " We're all poor critters ! " THE SHANGHAI-SCHLAUSENHEIMER IM- BROGLIO. TON BOYLE. [Written for this book.] Our new neighbor is a Chinese launclryman. He moved in only a few days ago, and Schlausenheimer has gotten into trouble with him already. There is nothing specially marked about this particular Mongolian, to distinguish him from the rest of his race. In fact, to us "red-haired barba- rians," all the Chinese appear to be made of about the same material, if not cast in the very same mold. Now the party of the first part in this little "af- fair," rejoices in the euphonious and suggestive 36 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. appellation of Shang-Hai; but as he is little over five feet tall, the boys call him Shang Low, for short. A picturesque " pigtail," three feet long, gayly dangles down his back; his complexion is saffron; his nose is pug; and he looks out upon the world with an eye cut bias. One morniDg, bright and early, our friend Schlau- senheimer might have been seen wending his way toward the Chinese territory, with a plethoric bundle under his arm. " Dose Shinesers," said he to me some time after- wards — " dose Shinesers vas a ferry funny kind of a peoples. Dey don't nefer dalk mooch gonfersations mit you. You shust go dot shop in, und you say, * Vashee — vashee ;' und he says, ' Alls de samee ;' you get a ' sheckee/ und you ' valkee offee ;' und dot set- tles it." When Schlausenheimer received his first "check- ee," however, he had little or no conception of its nature and value. To him it appeared to be merely an oriental advertising device to attract custom; a Mongolian business card; a curious chromo; a Chinese plaque; a simple piece of brown paper, which had been walked over by a hen dipped in Indian ink — only this, and nothing more. He carried it carelessly down the street, and meet- ing with an unpropitious gust of wind, the check was suddenly seized from his hand, and carried up among the kites that ornament the telegraph wires. Schlausenheimer stood and looked up at it for a while, but it was not until a wandering street Arab called out, "Say, Mister Dutchie, there goes your RECHERCHE RECITATI0N3. 37 washee ! " — It was not till then that the thought flashed across his mind that the fire-cracker wrapper was perhaps of some importance. At this stage of the proceedings, he hailed me, as I happened to pass, explained matters, and asked my advice. " Well, the only thing you can do," said I, " is to go right back and try to get another check. But I'm afraid, Schlausenheimer, that you've lost your wash- ing." " No, I didn't losed de vashings. I shust lose de sheck; und ven I goes Vednesday night around to got de vashings, I'll git anoder vone." One of Schlausenheimer's peculiarities is that he is always asking advice, and never taking it. I there- fore left him without further suggestions. At length the eventful Wednesday evening came; and Schlausenheimer went over to the laundry. He demanded hi3 " washee," and Shang demanded his "checkee." " You gottee checkee ? " asked Shang, with the sweetest of smiles. " No ; I don't got no sheckee. You see de vind " "No checkee; no washee," interrupted Shang, in a sad but firm voice. And he then returned to his ironing. " Look here vonce, Mr. Shineemans, I vas coming arount de corner, und de vind was coming arount de oder corner, und I losed de sheckee, you know, und " " You losee checkee ? " asked Shang, looking up. 38 1 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. " Yes; dot's it — dot's shust vot I saidt mineself. I losed de sheckee." With sphinx-like calmness Shang replied solemnly, irrevocably: "You losee checkee; you losee washee." Shang may have had the impression that his visit- or was a sneak- thief, a confidence man or one of those hoodlums that like "to have a little fun with the Chinaman ;" but Schlausenheimer neither knew nor cared what Shang Hai thought; he simply felt that this is a free country, and he wanted his washing. " If you don't gif me dot vashee, I vill pullee your pig-tailee dill you nose vas plack as plue all ofer your facee, all de samee. You untershtandee ? " "Walkee offee; too much talkee," said Shang. "No time fcolee; me gotee whole lottee washee." Schlausenheimer could not explain himself very clearly, of course, neither in Chinese nor in English, for that matter; but he gave Shang to understand distinctly and emphatically, by pounding on the counter, stamping on the floor, waving his hands above his head and other similar calisthenic demon- strations, that he wanted something or other, and he wanted it very badly, too. Shang thought he was tight, and that he wanted to be put out; which he accordingly proceeded do. In the engagement which followed, the numbers were very unequal. The German forces consisted of one man; and he was unarmed. The Chinese army consisted of a battalion headed by Shang Hai and many lieutenants, including Ah Sin, Ah Look, Peek In, Cum Sing Hai and Hop Long John. 1 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 39 Brave Schlausenheimer was defeated, but not con- quered. He stood out upon the sidewalk, and pan- tomimed to the Chinese to come out, pointing again and again to the telegraph wires. The Chinese evidently thought he was crazy, and that he was trying to rent them the wires to be used as clothes-lines; for they merrily laughed in their own quaint way — laughed in their sleeves — conven- ient sleeves; and knowingly winked at each other. Schlausenheimer finally succeeded, however, in getting a delegation to come out and listen respect- fully to his petition, which was to this effect : "Me no gottee no sheckee; aber me vantee mine vashee, allee de samee. Vindee blowee, sheckee goee up shky-highee, delegraph viree. If you don't untershtandee you vas a pig-tail foolee ! " This remarkable speech included all that Schlau- senheimer knew of the Chinese language. When he had finished, he waited anxiously for the result. Shang's displomatic response was as follows: " Allee lightee, you climb uppee, gettee checkee, comee downee, gettee washee. " "I don't could glimb up dot delegraph boles, not a pit. Tou tinks I vas a monkey-shacks." The only reply that Shang deigned to make to this, was short, sharp and to the point: "No monkey, no climbee; no climbee, no checkee; no checkee, no washee." Shang, now considering the interview at an end, returned with the remainder of the embassy into the shop, and resumed business; while poor Schlausen- heimer walked away a sadder and a madder man. 40 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. But the end is not yet. Schlausenheimer swears he will have satisfaction; and he is going to law about it. He has considerable money. He will therefore get satisfaction — the lawyers will get the money; and Shang will keep the " washee" until he gets his " checkee." THE DESERTER. MARY A. BARR. [From the Trenches at Galveston, 1862.] ' ' Deserter ! " Well, Captain, the word's about right, And it's uncommon queer I should run from a fight, Or the chance of a fight; I, raised in a land Where boys, you may say, are born rifle in hand, And who've fought all my life for the right to my ranche With the wily Apache and the cruel Comanche. But it's true— and I'll own it — I did run away. ' ' Drunk ? " No, sir ! I'd not tasted a drop all the day; But — smile if you will— I'd a dream in the night, And I woke in a fever of sorrow and fright, And went for my horse; 'twas up and away; And I rode like the wind till the break of the day. " What was it I dreamt ? " I dreamt of my wife — The true little woman that's dearer than life; RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. ±1 I dreamt of my boys — I have three — one is ten, The youngest is four — all brave little men — Of my one baby girl, my pretty white dove, The star of my home, the rose of its love. I saw the log house on the clear San Antoine, And I knew that around it the grass had been mown, For I felt, in my dream, the sweet breath of the hay. I was there ! for I lifted a jasmine spray; And the dog that I love heard my whispered com- mand, And whimpered, and put his big head in my hand. The place was so still; all the boys were at rest; And the mother lay dreaming, the babe at her breast. I saw the fair scene for a moment ; then stood In a circle of flame, amid shrieking and blood. The Comanche had the place — Captain, spare me the rest; You know what that means, for you come from the West. I woke with a shout, and I had but one aim — To save or revenge them — my head was aflame, And my heart had stood still; I was mad, I dare say, For my poor horse fell dead at the dawn of the day; Then I knew what I'd done, and with heart-broken breath, When the boys found me out, I was praying for death. 42 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. "A pardon ! " No, Captain; I did run away, And the wrong to the flag it is right I should pay With my life. It's not hard to be brave When one's children and wife are gone over the grave. Boys, take a good aim ! When I turn to the west, Put a ball through my heart; it's kindest and best. He lifted his hat to the flag — bent his head, And the prayer of his childhood solemnly said — Shouted: "Comrades, adieu!" — spread his arms to the west — And a rifle ball instantly granted him Rest. But o'er that sad grave by the Mexican sea, Wives and mothers have planted a blossoming tree; And maidens bring roses, and tenderly say : " It was Love — sweetest Love — led the soldier astray." LECTURE BY ARTEMUS WARD. You are entirely welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to my little picture-shop. I couldn't give you a very clear idea of the Mor- mons — and Utah — and the Plains — and the Bocky Mountains — without opening a picture-shop — and therefore I open one. I don't expect to do great things here — but I have thought that if I could make money enough to buy RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 43 me a passage to New Zealand, I should feel that I had not lived in vain. I don't want to live in vain. I'd rather live in Margate — or here. But I wish when the Egypt- ians built this hall they had given it a little more ventilation. I really don't care for money. I only travel round to see the world and exhibit my clothes, These clothes I have on were a great success in Ameri- ca. How often do fortunes ruin young men ! I should like to be ruined, but I can get on very well as I am. I am not an artist. I don't paint myself though, perhaps, if I were a middle-aged single lady, I should yet I have a passion for pictures 1 have had a great many pictures — photographs — taken of myself. Some of them are very pretty — or rather sweet to look at for a short time — and, as I said before, I like them. I've always loved pictures. I could draw on wood at a very tender age. "When a mere child, I once drew a small cart-load of raw turnips over a wooden bridge. The people of the village noticed me. I drew their attention. They said I had a future before me. Up to that time I had an idea it was behind me. Time passed on. It always does, by the way. You may possibly have noticed that Time passes on. It is a kind of a way Time has. I became a man. I haven't distinguished myself at all as an artist — but I have always been more or less 44 RECHEECHE RECITATIONS. mixed up with art. I have an uncle who takes photographs — and I have a servant who takes anything he can get his hands on. "When I was in Eome Eome in New York State, I mean a distinguished sculpist wanted to sculp me. But I said, " No." I saw through the designing man. My model once in his hands — he would have flooded the market with my busts and I couldn't stand it to see everybody going round with a bust of me. Everybody would want one, of course — and wherever I should go, I should meet the educated classes with my bust, taking it home to their families. This would be more than my modesty could stand and I should have to re- turn to America where my creditors are. I like art. I admire dramatic art — although I failed as an actor. It was in my school days that I failed as an act- or. The play was the "Kuins of Pompeii." 1 played the Kuins. It was not a very success- ful performance — but it was better than the " Burn- ing Mountain." He was not good. He was a bad Vesuvius. The remembrance often makes me ask — "Where are the boys of my youth ? " 1 assure you this is not a conundrum. Some are amongst you here some in America some are in jail. Hence arises a most touching question — ""Where are the girls of my youth ? " Some are married some would like to be. Oh, my Maria ! Alas ! She married another. They frequently do. I hope she is happy — because I RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 45 am. Some people are not happy. I have noticed that. A gentleman friend of mine came to me one day with tears in his eyes. I said, " Why these weeps ? " He said he had a mortgage on his farm — and wanted to borrow .£200. I lent him the money — and he went away. Some time after he returned with more tears. He said he must leave me forever. I ventured to remind him of the £200 he had borrowed. He was much cut up. I thought I would not be hard upon him — so I told him I would throw off one hun- dred pounds. He brightened — shook my hand — and said — " Old friend — I won't allow you to outdo me in liberality— 111 throw off the other hundred." As a manager I was always rather more successful than as an actor. Some years ago I engaged a celebrated Living American Skeleton for a tour through Australia, He was the thinnest man I ever saw. He was a splendid skeleton. He didn't weigh anything scarcely — and I said to myself — the people of Australia will flock to see this tremendous curiosity. It is a long voyage — as you know — from New York to Melbourne — and to my utter surprise, the skeleton had no sooner got out to sea, than he commenced eating in the most horrible manner. He had never been on the ocean before — and he said it agreed with him. I thought so ! 1 never saw a man eat so much in my life. Beef — mutton — pork he swallowed them all like a shark and between meals he was often discovered behind barrels eating hard-boiled eggs. The result was that when we reached Mel- 4:6 recherch£ recitations. bourne, this infamous skeleton weighed sixty-four pounds more than I did. I thought I was ruined but I wasn't. I took him on to California another very long sea voy- age and when I got him to San Francisco, I ex- hibited him as a Fat Man. This story hasn't anything to do with my enter- tainment, I know but one of the principal features of my entertainment is that it contains so many things that don't have anything to do with it. I like music. 1 can't sing. As a singist I am not a success. I am saddest when I sing. So are those who hear me. They are sadder even than I am. The other night some silver-voiced young men came under my window, and sang — " Come where my love lies dreaming." 1 didn't go. I didn't think it would be correct. I found music very soothing when I lay ill with fever in Utah and I was very ill 1 was fearfully wasted. My face was hewn down to nothing — and my nose was so sharp I didn't dare stick it into other people's business — for fear it would stay there — and I should never get it again. And on those dismal days a Mormon lady — she was mar- ried — though not so much so as her husband — he had fifteen other wives — she used to sing a ballad commencing, " Sweet bird — do not fly away ! " — . — and I told her I wouldn't. She played the accordion divinely — accordionly I praised her. I met a man in Oregon who hadn't any teeth — not a tooth in his head yet that man could play RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 47 on the bass drum better than any man I ever met. He kept a hotel. They have queer hotels in Oregon. I remember one where they gave me a bag of oats for a pillow 1 had night-mares of course. In the morning the the landlord said — " How do you feel — old hoss — hay ? " — I told him I felt my oats. JOHN O' THE SMITHY. DUGANNE. Smith.— "One who makes or effects anything."— Worcester. Down in the vale, where the mavis sings, And the brook is turning an old-time wheel, From morning till night the anvil rings Where John o' the Smithy is forging steel. My lord rides out at the castle gate; My lady is grand in bower and hall, With men and maidens to cringe and wait; And John o' the Smithy must pay for all. The bishop rides in a coach and four, His grooms and horses are fat and sleek; He has lackeys behind and lackeys before; He rides at a hundred guineas a week. The anvil is singing its " ten pound ten," The mavis pipes from a birken spray, And this is the song that fills the glen : " John o' the Smithy has all to pay." 48 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. John has a daughter rosy and sweet, My lord has a son with a wicked eye; "When she hears the sound of his horses' feet, Her heart beats quicker, — she knows not why. She will know very well before the end; She will learn to detest their rank and pride, "When she has the young lord's babe to tend, While the bishop's daughter becomes his bride. There will be the old, old story to tell Of tyrannous wrong in places high ; A bishop glozing the deeds of hell; The priest and the Levite passing by. And the father may bow his frosted head, When he sees the young bride up at the hall, And say 'twere better his child were dead; But John o' the Smithy must bear it all. The smith and his daughter will pass away, And another shall make the anvil ring For the daily bread and the hodden-gray; But the profits shall go to the priest and king. And over the wide world, day by day, The smiths shall waken, at early morn — Each to his task in the old dull way, To tread a measure of priestly corn. And the smiths shall live on the coarsest fare, With little that they may call their own, While the idler is free from work and care; For the best of all shall go to the drone, RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 49 And the smith complains of the anvil's song — Complains of the years he has wrought and pined, For the priests and rulers are swift to wrong, And the mills of God are slow to grind. But a clear strong voice from over the sea Is piercing the murk of the moral night; Time is, time was, and time shall be That John o' the Smithy will have his right: And those who have worn the mitre and crown, Who have pressed him sore in body and soul, Shall perish from earth, when the grist is ground, And the Mighty Miller has claimed his toll. UNPUBLISHED PAGE FROM THE LIFE OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. ANONYMOUS. It is the merrysummer time. To him, the mother of the father of his country : " George dear, where have you been since school was dismissed? " " Hain't been no where, ma. " "Did you come straight home from school, George ? " " Yes, ma'am ! " " But school is dismissed at three o'clock, and it is now half-past six. How does that come ? " " Got kep' in." 50 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. "What for?" " Missed m' joggrafy less'n." "But your teacher was here only an hour ago, and said you hadn't been at school all day." " Got kep' in yestiddy, then." " George, why were you not at school to-day ? " "Forgot. Thought all the time it was Satur- day." " Don't stand on one side of your foot in that man- ner. Come here to me. George, you have been swimming. " " No'rne." " Yes, you have, George. Haven't you ? " "N o a p." "Tell your mother, George ?" "Nuck." " Then what makes your hair so wet, my son ? " " Sweat. I run so fast comin' from school." "But your shirt is wrong side out." " Put it on that way when I got up this morning for luck. Always win when you play for keeps if your shirt's on wrong-side out." " And you haven't the right sleeve of your shirt on your arm at all, George; and there is a hard knot tied in it. How did that come there ? " " Bill Fairfax tied it when I wasn't lookin'." "But what were you doing with your shirt off?" " Didn't have it off. He jes' took'n tied that knot in there when it was on me." " George ! " " That's honest truth, he did ! " About that time the noble Bushrod came along RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 51 with a skate strap, and we draw a veil over the dread- ful scene, merely remarking that boys do not seem to change so much as men. HE FIRED HIS FATHER'S GUN. ANONYMOUS. Now glory to th' United States, In whom great glories lie; And glory to this king of dates — The Fourth day of July. Let cannon boom and let bells ring ! Unfurl the starry flag, And let the grand old ensign swing From every peak and crag. Though loud the patriot sings, " Hail Columbia ! let's rejoice," His cry is but a feeble wail To our small boy's shrill voice. Ere yet the sun in eastern skies Above the hills has risen, The youth had fled, with glist'ning eyes, Like jail-birds out of prison. "With Chinese crackers in a jar, And punk grasped in his hand, He makes a noise that's heard as far As Moses' promised land. 52 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. None knows the joy that he doth feel, When soon, in search of fun, His buoyant brain doth madly reel — He finds his father's gun. He seeks some safe, secluded spot, "Where no one else will come; He fills the gun with wad and shot, And then he rams it home, Then comes a burst of thunder sound ! The boy — oh ! where is he ? Ask of the winds that far around, With fragments strew the lea ! STORY OF A BEDSTEAD. [From the San Francisco Wasp.] It was night. The boarding house was wrapt in tenebrous gloom, faintly tinted with an oder of kerosene. Suddenly there arose on the air a yell, followed by wild objurgations and furious anathemas. Then there was a clanking and rattling, as of an overturned picket fence, and another yell, with more anathemas. The fatted boarders listened, and, ghostly clad, tip-toed along to BufTum's room; he of BufTum & Bird, second-hand furniture dealers. As they stood there, there was a whiz, a grinding, a rat- tling and a bang, and more yells. They consulted and knocked on the door. KECHSItCHE RECITATIONS. 53 o "Come in." "Open it." "I can't." Convinced that Buffum was in his last agony, they knocked in the door with a bed post. The sight was ghastly. Clasped between two sturdy though slender frames of walnut, Buffum, pale as a ghost, was six feet up in the air. He couldn't move. He was caught like a bear in a log- trap. " What on earth is it ? " they said. " Bedstead — combination. New patent I was tell- in' you about," gasped Buffum. His story was simple, though tearful. He had brought it home that day, and after using it for a writing-desk, had opened it out and made his bed. He was going peacefully to dream-land, when he rolled over and accidentally touched a spring. The faithful invention immediately became a double crib, and turned Buffum into a squalling wafer. Then he struggled, and was reaching around for the spring, when the patent bedstead thought it would show off some more, and straightened out and shot up in the air, and was a clothes-horse. Buffum said he didn't like to be clothes, and he would give the thing to anybody that would get him out. They said they would try. They didn't want any such fire-extin- guisher as that for their trouble, but they would try. They inspected it cautiously. They walked all around it. Then the commission merchant laid his little finger on the top end of it. The thing snorted and reared as if it had been shot, slapped over with 54 9 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. a bang, and became an extension table for ten people. "When they recovered from the panic, they came back. They found the commission merchant in the corner trying to get breath enough to swear, while he rubbed his shins. Buffum had disappeared, but they knew he had not gone far. The invention appeared to have taken a fancy to him, and incorporated him in- to the firm, so to speak. He was down underneath, straddling one of the legs, with his head jammed in- to the mattress. Nobody dared to touch it. The landlady got a club and reached for its vital parts, but could not find them. She hammered her breath away, and when she got through and dropped the club in despair, the thing spread out its arms with a gasp and a rattle, turned over twice, and slapped it- self into a bed again, with Buffum peacefully among the sheets. He held his breath for a minute, and then, watching his opportunity, made a flying leap to the floor just in time to save himself from being a folding-screen. A man with a black eye and cut lip told the Wasp editor about it yesterday. He said he owned the patent, and Buffum had been explaining to him how it worked. BENDER ON MACBETH. VON BOYLE. [Re-arranged for this book.] Ladies und Chentlesman op de Harlem Headings Glub: Pefore making dot recipitation vich I haf selectet for dis efenings, I vill shpoke chust a couble RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 55 of sj^eaks apout Mr. und Mrs. Macbeth. For fur- der informations, see " History apout de Life und Death of Macbeth, by Villiam Henry Shakeshpear, A. M., Ltf. D., F. E. S.," etc., etc. Dere vas vonce a great king in Shcotland, und his name it vas Druncan; und he had a great sheneral vot could fight pooty veil (und his name vas Mac- beth). Und vhile Macbeth und anoder sheneral, vot could fight also pooty veil (und his name vas Buncomb), comes von de vars pack again, und dey meets two dree seferal vitches. Veil, you could easy dell vhich vas vitch, und vhich vas vitches, pecause dey vore vhite night-gowns und proomshticks und " svitches " — dem vitches. Dot's de vay you can told vhich is vitch, und vhich is vitches; also vhich is vhich, und vitch is svitches. Und dem vitches gried oud, " Here comes vone vhich is going pe king of Shcotland hereaftervards." Und Macbeth he didn't could dell vedder dey meant him oder Buncomb, so he asked vone old vitch, " Vhich, you old vitch ? " Den said dem dree vitches, " De vone vhich is coming to pe kiug pooty gwick vas Macbeth." Dot's all apout vitches. He wrote em letter to his vife, Und sent it to de town of Fife, Und said, " My dear, my lofe, my life, Sboost vonce go run und got a kernife. If you can't cut our lofe in two, Den I lofe me as you lofe you, Und I'll pe king of Shcotland. Dot's all apout poetry. Secondly. Macbeth he vas a pooty good feller, und 56 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. he didn't vant to kill Druncan. He vas so kindt- heartet dot if lie vas vonce to kill Druncan, it vould almosd kill him. Howefer, he vould rader pe king of Shcotland as gone a fishing; but he fought* he vould vait shoost a leetle, und den maype if Druncan kills himself oder some oder feller. Dot's all apout killing. But his vife, Mrs. Macbeth ! She vas de vorst vomans vot valks de top of dis vorld on. She calls him a cowyard, und said he vas shcart; dot he don't know B vrom peans, vhen de pag vas open, und de bull puts his foot in it. Dot's all apout peans. Veil, dot king he comes to see Macbeth pecause he don't know dot he vill got killed. Und dot night Mrs. Macbeth she got up, und she vent down, und she prought a pig scheese-knife pack vrom dot cel- lar out. Den she goes Macbeth's ped-room in, und she pulls him of his ped out, und she say: " Yoonk man, if you don't go in und grab Drun- can, und shtab Druncan until he vas deadt Druncan, I vill kick you pooty gwick out of two bales of hay. " Veil, now, ain't dose a nice shpecimens of lan- guages to say apout her own huspand right pefore of his pack ? Vomans vas de shtrangest kind of beoples vot you can't find nefer out. Anypody vot vas a fool vould tink dot Mrs. Macbeth vas a voman's rights. I vould tink so mineself — if I vas a fool. But chenerally vhen dot vomans vas de "boss " of de haus, she don't like to pe called shtrong-minded; und if you calls her a voman's rights, she vill hit you mit de proom- shtick. Dot's all apout vomens. Veil, Mrs. Macbeth she had de mostest ampition vot you nefer saw. She vants him to pe de king, so RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 57 she could be de gueen of Shcotland; und eferpody vot shtands in de vay, she makes her oldt man kill him in pieces. But py-und-py sometings don't agree mit her; und she gits pad treams. Den she had some nambulism — she valks mit her shleep. Dere vas a shpot of plood mit her hand; und she don't can got him off mit sapolio. Und she valks efery night mit her shleep, und says: " Vill not dot shpot git up und got ? Aye, dere's de rup ! " So she rups und rups till she rups herself all avay. Dot's all apout Mrs. Macbeth. Veil, Mr. Macbeth, you know, he lofed his vife so much he vould do anytings she liked; und Mrs. Macbeth she lofed him so much dot she vould let him do anytings to blease her. So he shtarts for Druncan's room to kill him in de dark, ven he vould- n't know noting apout it. But on de vay he has attack of inflammations of de gonscience; und he tinks he sees a ploody tagger in de air; und he makes a shpeech apout it. He say: " To pe oder not to pe, dot's vot's der matter, — Vedder it vas nobler in der mindt we soofer Der shlings und arrows of outrageous fortune, Or dake arms against ein siege of droubles, Und by opposing — put a head auf dem. To die — to shleep, Nicht mehr ; und by dot shleep to say we endt Der ache-heart, und der tousand natural shakes Dot flesh got von his ancestors out. Dot's a con- sumption Devoudly to be wished ! To die— to shleep — 58 KECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. To shleep ! maybe you got der nightmare dot time. Ay ! dere's de scrub; For in dose shleep of deaf dot dreams dot comes Yen a man shoofles his mortal coil avay some blaces Vill mate him sit down und tink a little about dot; Dere's der respect dot makes calamitation got sooch a long life-time. For who would bear der whips und shcorns of time, Der oppressor's wrong, der proud man's contoomly, Der pangs of despised lofe, der law's delay, Der insolence of officers, vomen's rights und wrongs, Trade dollars, shcandals, — all dem tings; Yhen he himself might his quietus make Shoost mit a scheese-knife ? Who vould fardels bear, To grunt und sweat oonder a veary life, But dot der fraid of somedings after ve got deadt, Ven ye shall go to dot gountry vot nobody don't know noting aboud, Und shtay dere all our life-time, puzzles der yill, Und makes us rader bear dose drouble yot ye already got, As go some blaces else— und maybe got some more! So gonscience makes cowyards yon eferybody oudt ! Und dhus der native hue of resolution Got sick all ofer himself mit der pale cast of fought, Und enterprises of great pif und moment, On accound of all dese tings already, Deir currants durn avay, Und lose de name of peesness." Veil, dot's all de recipitation. But dere vas anoder feller vaiting outsite. He vas a sheneral alzo, und his name vas Come On RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 59 McTough. He vaited dill Macbeth had shpoke his leetle bieces, und den he rushes in, full of courage und oats-meal, und he shtabbed Macbeth; und he cut him up into mince pies ; und he killed him a goot deal; und he died. Und dot's all apout Macbeth. THE BAR-TENDER'S STORY. ANONYMOUS. When I knowed him at first, there was suthin', A sort of a general air, That was very particular pleashV, And what yon might call debonair. I'm aware that expression is Frenchy, And rather high-daddy perhaps; Which accounts that I have the acquaintance Of several quality chaps. But he got to increasin' his doses, And took 'em more often, he did; And it growed on him faster and faster Till inter a bummer he slid. I was grieved to observe this here feller A shovin' himself down the grade ; And I lectured him onto it sometimes At the risk of spilin' the trade. At last he got thunderin' seedy, And he lost his respect for himself; And all high notions of honor Was bundled away on the shelf. 60 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. But at times lie was dreadful remorseful Whenever he'd stop for to think. And he'd swear he'd reform himself frequent, And end up by takin' a drink. "What saved the young feller ? A woman. She done it in the singlerest way; He come into the bar-room one evenin' (He hadn't been drinkin' that day), And he sot himself down to a table With a terrible sorrowful face, And he sot there a groanin' repeated, And callin' himself a gone case. He was thinkin' and thinkin' and thinking And cussin' himself for his fate; And ended his thinkin' as usual By orderin' a Bourbon straight. He was holdin' the glass in his fingers, When into the place, from the street, There came a young gal like a spirit, With a face that was powerful sweet. And she glided right up to the table, And took the glass gently away ; And she says to him, " George, it is over; I am only a woman to-day ! I rejected you once in my anger, But I come to you lowly and meek, For I can't live without you, my darling, I thought I was strong, but I'm weak. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 61 " You are bound in a terrible bondage, And I come, love, to share it with you; Is there shame in the deed? I can bear it; For at least to my love I am true; I have turned from the home of my childhood, And I come to my lover and friend, Leaving comfort, contentment and honor, And I'll stay to the terrible end. " Is there hunger and want in the future ? I will share it with you and not shrink ! And together we'll join in the pleasures, The woes and the dangers of drink." Then she raised up the glass firm and steady, But her face was as pale as the dead — "Here's to wine and the joys of carousals, The songs and the laughter," she said. Then he riz up, his face like a tempest, And took the glass out of her hand; And he slung it away stern and savage, And I tell you his manner was grand ! And he says, " I have done with it, Nelly, And I'll turn from the ways I have trod, And I'll live to be worthy of you, dear, So help me a merciful God ! " You have saved me, my love and my darling, On a noble and womanly plan; Go back to your home till I seek you In the garb and the strength of a man." RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. I seen that same feller last Monday Lookin' nobby and handsome and game, He was wheelin' a vehicle, gentlemen, And a baby was into the same. LEAP OF THE KNIGHT OF ALTENAHE. CANON KINGSLEY. [The following poem, by the late Canon Kingsley, was read by him before the members of the Allston Club, Baltimore, Md., during his visit to this country, and was given by him to them in token of the pleasure he had experienced at their hands. It was never published, and the original manuscript, from which this is set, is the only copy known to be in existence.] So the foe is close on the henchmen of mine, And the water is well nigh down ! Then bring me a draught of the red Ahe wine— I never shall drain but this one. And bring me my harness, and saddle my horse, And lead him me round to the door; He must tread such a road to-night, perforce, As steed never trod before. I have lived my life; I have fought my fight; I have drank my share of wine; There ne'er was a knight, in wrong or in right, Led a merrier life than mine. I have lived by the spur for years a score, And if I must die on a tree, The old saddle tree that has borne me of yore Is the properest timber for me. RECHERCHE" RECITATIONS. 63 And now to show bishops and burghers and priests How the Altenahe hawk can die ! If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest, He must take to his wings and fly. He harnessed himself by the pale moonshine; He mounted his steed at the door; He drained such a draught of the red Ahe wine As man never drank before. He spurred his old horse, and he held him tight. And he rode him out over the hall, Right over the cliff — straight into the night — Three hundred feet of fall. They found him next morning, down in the glen, With never a bone of him whole; But God may have more mercy than man On such a bold rider's soul. PROF. MAX ADDLEPATE'S SCIENTIFIC SERMON. VON BOYLE'S ADAPTATION. [Arranged for this book.] In the city of baked beans, otherwise called Boss- town, there is a church of scientific saints who call themselves " The Society for ^Esthetic Culchah. " They meet every Sunday and listen to learned ser- mons or "ethical lectures," as they call them, based upon some text taken from the classics; — Aristotle, 64 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. Socrates, Plato, Browning, Emerson are among philosophers from whom they draw their inspira- tion. They are not confined strictly, however, to the philosophers as such, — for anything that has become a classic is considered worthy of their attention, from Homer to Mother Goose. The celebrated Prof. Max Addlepate regaled this aesthetically ethical and intellectually impressionable congregation upon a certain occasion recently, with the following remarkable discourse: Old Mother Hubbard, She went to the cupboard To get her poor clog a bone ; When she got there The cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog got none. These beautiful words, dear friends, carry with them a solemn lesson, and I propose this evening to analyze their meaning. Dvbio ergo cogito ; cogito ergo sum. The genius sees something remarkable in that which to others is simply commonplace. Now I will call your attention to what I can plain- ly read between the lines. Firstually and primarily, who was this Mother Hubbard ? She was no doubt a person of sesthetie culchah. Names are very significant, and her family cognomen was doubtless derived from an ancestor who was the poet par excellence of Boss-town. A poet, therefore a bard; of Boss-town, therefore of the Hub ; — the poet of Boss-town, therefore the bard of RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 65 the Hub, or the Hubbard. Excelsioribus poetaster, Hubbub universalis. Mother " H.," we see, was old,— an old woman. There being no mention of others, we may presume she was alone — a lone widow, solitary &n.d. friendless — afriendless/emafe. In short, a lone old friendless sol- itary female widow woman. Yet did she despair ? Did she sit down and weep, or read a novel, or wring her hands ? No; she went to the cupboard ! And here observe that she went to the cupboard. She did not wait for the cupboard to come to her. She did not hop or skip or jump or use any other peripatetic artifice. She solely and merely went to the cupboard. We have seen that she was old and lonely, and now we further see that she was poor. For mark, the words are "the cupboard," not "one of the cup- boards," or " the right-hand cupboard," or " the left- hand cupboard," or "the cupboard above," or "the cupboard below," or " the cupboard under the stairs," but just " the cupboard; " the one little, humble cup- board the poor widow possessed. And why did she go to the cupboard ? Was it to bring forth golden goblets, or glittering precious stones, or costly apparel, or feasts, or any other attri- butes of wealth ? No ! It was to get her poor dog a bone. We are not told whether it was a ham-boue, a jaw- bone or a trombone. Presumably it was a pork- bone. For in the language of the Latin author, Horace (Greeley), Bostonibus et porkabus con beanis evray Sundaybus. 66 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. Not only was the widow poor, but the dog, the sole prop of her age, was poor too. We can imagine the scene. The poor dog crouch- ing in the corner, looking wistfully at the solitary cupboard, in hope — in expectation, maybe, — to open . it. Although we are not told that it did not stand "■ already half open or ajar, — a jar of preserves per- haps, not a family jar, for there was no family to stand a-jar. Paterfamilias non est. When she got there The cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none. "When she got there." You see, my hearers, what perseverance is. You see the beauty of per- sisting in doing right. She got there. Nil desperan- dum. Toujours a la promenade. And how was her noble effort rewarded ? 1 ' The cupboard was bare." It was bare. There were to be found neither oranges, nor gingerbread, nor crackers, nor nuts, norlucifer-matches; for the cupboard was bare. There were no Charlottes de Busse, no Saratoga wafers, no Boston brown bread ! no leg of mutton nor porter-house steak, nor Worces- tershire sauce nor sheere tomato sauce, nor sauce for the goose whick is sauce for the gander, Telegoose or Michigan der, as it were, for the cupboard was bare. There was but one, only one solitary cupboard in the whole of that house, and that one, the sole hope of the widow, and the glorious lodestar of the poor dog, as it were, was bare. And this brave Mother Hubbard, the widow, who owned that dog, and whom many thoughtless in- RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 67 dividual® would despise, in that she only owned one cupboard, perceived, or I might even say she saw at once the relentless logic of the situation, and yielded to it with all the heroism of that nature which had enabled her without deviation to reach the barren cupboard. She did not attempt, as some would, to war against the inevitable. She did not try, like others, to ex- plain what she did not understand. She did nothing. The poor dog had none. And at this point our information ceases. But do we not know enough ? Are we not cognizant of suf- ficient? Would we dare to pierce the veil that shrouds the ulterior fate of Mother Hubbard, the poor dog, the cupboard or the bone that was not there ? Must we imagine her still standing at the open cupboard door, or depict to ourselves the dog still dropping his disappointed tail upon the floor — the sought for bone still remaining somewhere else? Ah, no, my dear friends; we are not so permitted to attempt to read the fuchah. Let it suffice for us to glean from this beautiful story its many lessons. Let it suffice for us to ponder them, to meditate upon them, to ruminate over them and to apply them; and bearing in mind the natural frailty of our natures, let us be guided by this triplicate con- clusion : Primarily. Avoid being widows. Don't be a widow if you can help it. Secondarily. Always have more than one cupboard full of provisions, and especially bones. 68 EECHEECHE RECITATIONS. Tertiarily. Let us try to avoid keeping dogs that are in the habit of getting hungry. But, brethren, if we do, if fate has ordained that we should be left with a hungry dog and an empty cupboard, may we also, without prancing or curvet- ing to the right or left, go straight to that cupboard, and may future chroniclers be able to write of us as in the beautiful words of the poem: The little dog laughed to see the sport, And the dish ran away with the spoon. This, friends, finishes Mother Hubbard — and her dog — and the congregation is now dismissed. A MORNING SKETCH. [Toronto Grip.] He wanted his razor-strop. He had just lathered his chin in the most exhaustive manner, and was pre- paring to put a finer edge on his razor. Now the razor-strop was always kept in the washstand draw- er, the one nearest the wall. He fancied he always put it there himself; certainly he had made it a rule to do so. He had already taken out the razor, and he now puts his hand mechanically into the drawer for the strop. No strop was there ! His hand only came in contact with air of a peculiarly exasperating thinness. " By Jove ! " he thought to himself, as he opened the other drawer, " what a singular quality of the fe- RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 69 male rnind that ! not to be able to distinguish be- tween two drawers for two days consecutively. Yet I would wager anything, Fanny would swear I had put the strop in here myself." He was groping dis- cursively among what appeared to be the stock in trade of a small friseur, but nothing as palpable as a razor-strop resisted his touch through the silky fluf- finess of the general contents. " Where is the confounded thing ? " he exclaimed, staring about the room vaguely, but like a man whose angry passions are very near the surface. " "Why can't they leave my things alone, I should like to know ? Fanny ! Fanny ! " he called over the banis- ter, with more accent than was absolutely necessary. " What the dickens have you done with my razor- strop ? " The serene voice of conscious rectitude was heard in fluty tones replying: " In the washstand drawer, love, the one nearest the wall." Now there was something in the fluty tones of Fanny, just at that moment, that suggested to her husband a second trial of the drawer. For when Fanny threw a certain timbre into her voice, he usually found that she had the maddening quality of being right in regard to the subject under discussion. Back he strode into the room, with an uncomfortable stiffness about his chin as of dry soap, and pulled the drawer out — nay, pulled both drawers out, and turned them up side down upon the floor. Positive- ly no strop ! By this time there was a grinmess in the man's demeanor visible to the meanest capacity, and particularly noticeable in his walk, as he strode a second time to the head of the stairs. 70 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. " Fanny ! " lie shouted in loud impetuous accents, "I tell you again it isn't there ! What do you mean by always meddling with my shaving things ? " The answer was perhaps a trine more staccato than before. " Your strop is in the drawer, my dear. I put it away yesterday morning, when I found that as usual you had left everything on the dressing table." " Drawer ! " he is believed to have muttered at this point. " I'll draw her ! " and he fairly jumped back into the room, and dashing at the bureau, he began throwing the contents of each drawer, one after another, out upon the floor, with an awful imparti- ality that knew no distinctions. But after exhaust- ing these receptacles, and shaking and stamping on each article they had contained, no razor-strop pre- sented its simple proportions to his blazing sight. " Fanny ! " he yelled over the banister for a third time, in a voice of thunder that curdled the blood in the veins of his little children as they sat at their early porridge. " Fanny ! " And then his wife came up-stairs, and stood at the door while he danced upon the scene of devastation, and brandished a curious weapon in his hand, after the fashion of a feathered Feejee or other untamed denison of wilds too gruesome to name. " This is past believing," he observed. " This is the kind of method and order one would expect in Bed- lam. Look round this room, will you ? " By Jove ! it is too much. Look you, madam, I'll dine at the Club after this — and sleep and breakfast there, too ! Then perhaps my razor-strop, ha ! ha ! will be forth- RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 71 coming when I dare to treat myself to the luxury of a shave ! Ha ! I'm a monster, of course, to presume to shave in my own house. I admit that; but for mere curiosity's sake now, I should like to know where the strop is ! The coffee's overdone by this time, and the bacon sodden; so a few moments spent in cheerful conversation cannot hurt the breakfast. Did Freddy take it for a hammer, or has Flossy dressed it up for a doll ? or did you give it to an aesthetic tramp, as you did that file of Grip f " Pausing an instant for breath, Fanny took the op- portunity of making a single remark : " Are you speaking of the razor-strop in your hand," asked she softly, " or of some other one ? " A peculiar tingling sensation seemed to creep along his arm as he heard these words, and he ap- peared to shrink together, and to measure several inches less than usual in every direction. But as he vigorously resumed the operation of shapening his razor, which he remembered now he had dropped while he applied the lather, he returned angrily: " Why the deuce didn't you say so before ? " A FREE SEAT. ANONYMOUS. He was old and poor and a stranger In the great metropolis, As he bent his step thitherward To a stately edifice. 72 EECHERCHfi EECITATIONS. Outside he inquires, "What church is this? " " Church of Christ," he hears them say; " Ah ! just the place I am looking for, I trust He is here to-day." He passed through the spacious columned door, And up the carpeted aisle, And as he passed, on many a face, He saw surprise and smile. From pew to pew, he quietly went, Then across the broad front space; From pew to pew down the other side, He walked with the same slow pace. Not a friendly voice had bid him sit To listen to gospel truth; Not a sign of deference had been paid To the aged one by youth. No door was opened by a generous hand, The pews were paid for — rented — And he was a stranger, old and poor, Not a heart to him relented. As he paused a moment outside to think, Then passed into the street, Up to his shoulder he lifted a stone, That lay in the dust at his feet, And bore it up the broad, grand aisle, In front of the ranks of pews, Choosing a place to see and hear, He made a seat for his use. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 73 And calmly sitting upon the stone, Folding his hands on his knees, Slowly reviewing the worshippers, A great confusion he sees. Many a cheek crimsoned with shame, Some whisper together sore And wish they had been more courteous To the stranger, old and poor. As if by magic some fifty doors Open simultaneously, And as many seats and books and hands Are proffered hastily; Changing his stone for a crimson pew, And wiping a tear away, He thinks it was a mistake, after all, And that Christ came late that day. The preacher's discourse was eloquent, The organ in finest tone, But the most impressive sermon heard Was preached by an humble stone. 'Twas a lesson of lowliness and worth That lodged in many a heart, And the church preserves that sacred stone, That the truth may not depart. 74 RECHERCHE EECITATIONS. O'CONNEL AND THE FISHWOMAN. [Abridged expressly for "Von Boyle's Recherche Recitations."] One of the drollest scenes that O'Connel ever figured in, took place in the early part of his life. His talent for vituperative language was early de- veloped, and by some he was considered, even in these days, a matchless scold. There was, however, in Dublin at that time, a cer- tain woman, Biddy O'Houlihan by name, who had a huckster's stall on one end of the quay, nearly op- posite the four Courts. She was a virago of the first order. From one end of Dublin to the other, she was notorious for her powers of abuse. And even in the provinces, Mrs. O'Houlihan' s language had passed into currency. Some of O'Connel's friends, however, thought he could beat her at the use of her own weapons. Of this, however, O'Connel himself had some doubt. But when one of the company rather too freely ridiculed the idea of the young Kerry barris- ter's ability to cope with the famous Mrs. O'Houli- han, O'Connel, who never liked the idea of being put down, professed himself ready to encounter his famous rival; it was decided that the contest should come off at once. The party adjourned to the huckster's stall, and there they found the owner herself superintending the sale of her small wares. A few ragged loungers aad idlers were hanging round her stall, for Biddy EECHEKCHE KECITATIONS. 75 was a " character," and, in her way, one of the sights of Dublin. O'Conne] was very confident of success. He had laid a very ingenious plan for overcoming her, and with all the anxiety of an ardent experimentalist, waited to put it in practice. He resolved to open the attack. " What's the price of this walking-stick, Mrs. what's-your-name ? " "O'Houlihan, sir, is my name; and a good one it is, and what have you to say ag'in it ? And one and sixpence is the price of the stick, and it's cheap as dirt, so it is. " " One and sixpence for a walking-stick, whew ! whew ! Why, you are no better than an impostor to ask one and sixpence for what only cost you four- pence." " Fourpence your grandmother ! Do you mane to say it's chatin' the people, I am? Impostor, in- deed ! " " Aye, impostor ! and it's that I call ye to your teeth." " Come, cut your shtick, you cantankerous ould jackanapes." " Keep a civil tongue in your head, you old diag- onal." " Stop your jaw ! you pug-nosed badger, or by this an' by that, I'll make you go quicker than you came." "Don't be in a passion, my old radius; anger will only wrinkle your beauty." " By the hooky ! if you say another wurrud of your imperence, I'll tan your hide for you — an' sorry I'll 76 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. be for to soil my hands wid such a common good- for-nothin' scrub." " Oho, boys ! what a passion old Biddy is in — I protest as I'm a gentleman " " A gintleman! a gintleman ! the likes of you a gintleman ! Wisha, that bangs Banagher. Why, you potato-faced pippensneezer ! whin did a Mada- gascar monkey like you pick up enough common da- cency to hide his Kerry brogue ? " " Aisy now, don't choke your sell with fine lan- guage, you antiquated whiskey-drinking parallelo- gram." " What's that you call me, you murtherin' ould villain ? " "I call you a parallelogram; and a Dublin judge and jury would support me in saying it's no libel to call you so." " Tare-an-ouns ! that a dacenc, honest 'ooman like me should be called a parybellygrum to her face. I'm none of your parybellygrums, you rascally gal- lows-bird, you cowardly, sneaking, plate-licking blaggard." " Oh, not you, indeed ! I suppose you'll deny that you keep a hypothenuse in your house ? " " It's a lie for you, you rascally robber. I never had such a thing in my house, you swindling thief." " Why, sure all your neighbors know very well, that you not only keep a hypothenuse in your house, but also that you have two diameters locked up in your garret, and that you go out to walk with them every Sunday — you heartless old heptagon, you un- mitigated individual ! " RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 77 " Oh, hear that, — ye saints in glory ! There's bad language from a fellow that wants to pass himself for a gintleman ! May the divil fly away wid you, you mitcher from Munster ! — you flannel-mouth bog- trotter ! " " But you cannot deny the charge, you miserable old submultiple of a duplicate ratio." "Go rinse your mouth in the river ! After all the bad words you shpake it ought to be dirtier than your face, you cantankerous ould chicken of Beelzebub ! " "Kinse your own mouth, you wicked-minded old polygon ! To the dickens I pitch you, you bluster- ing intersection of an antique superficies ! " ' ' You saucy tinker's apprentice ! if you don't cease your jaw, I'll " — But here she lost her breath, and likewise lost her temper; for the last volley from O'Connel had nearly settled her. O'Connel con- tinued nevertheless to berate her, without mercy: " While I have a tongue, I'll abuse you, you most inimitable periphery. Look at her, boys ! There she stands a convicted perpendicular in petticoats. There's contamination in her circumference, and she trembles with guilt down to the extremities of her corollaries. Ah, ha ! you're found out, you rectilinear antecedent and equiangular old hag ! 'Tis with you the devil will fly away, you porter-swiping similitude of the bisection of a vertex." At this juncture Mrs. O'Houlihan was so overcome with her emotions, that she could no longer contain herself. Catching up a saucepan, she aimed it at O'Connel's head; and he was forced to beat a hasty retreat. It was decided, however, that O'Connel had won the victory ! 78 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. THE LADY AND THE TIGER. JOSEPH KIRTLAND. PART I. — THE PROBLEM. A monarch wise, two ladies fair, A youth not blessed with rank or money, A royal tiger from his lair, These are our dramatis personce. The king was great. That potentate Full wisely steered the ship of state; And most of all his shrewdness showed In his majestic Penal Code. An amphitheatre, nobly used, Served as a court where each accused By his own act strict justice got, Or, — 'twas his fault if he did not. The culprit, real or supposed, Was placed before two portals closed; Then uncontrolled, self -guided quite, He took his choice, 'twixt left and right. Behind the one, in wait for him, A tiger lurked, severe and grim ; The other hid a lovely maid, Young, rich, for wedlock all arrayed. Which door to open ? Death or life ? A beast of prey? A lawful wife? No wonder if he gasped and tarried, We all do when we're killed or married. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 79 The trial, from its institution Down to the final execution, Not having any lawyers in it, Took just the space of half a minute. On this grand scheme of penal laws, So free from doubt, delay, excitement, Each of the tiger's separate claws Was a " separate clause " in the indictment. Said we not well this king was shrewd, Who this strong, simple plan pursued ? The crowd amused, law vindicated, The tigers fed, the maidens mated. The king's own daughter's inclination Was toward a youth of lowly station, And since he was like " Barkis, willin," He must have been a hardened villain. So the police pursued him — caught him, And to the Colosseum brought him; And thither came the monarch proud, The princess and the baser crowd. Behind the scenes another maiden Attends, with all her gewgaws laden, While close at hand, to left or right, The tiger — with his appetite. The throng now see the culprit enter, And pause at the arena's centre, Turn, face to the royal box, and bow; Alas, how feels the princess now ? She only, favored of the Fates, Knows the dread problem of the gates, Which hides her rival's hateful face, 80 KECHEECHE RECITATIONS. And which the tiger's lurking-place. Her luckless lover vainly tries To read her secret in her eyes; "What sign can reach his straining sight ? She lifts her lily hand — the right; He sees the sign, he must obey; He bows again, and turns away, Faces the double-gated wall, Advances firmly, and — that's all. Eight here the story halts — the sequel Its author left with chances equal. Did love decree the youth's survival ? Although united to a rival, Did Envy conquer Love, and say, " The youth shall be the tiger's prey ? — What, see her to her bosom take him ? I'd rather let the tiger shake him ! " This last I know's a harsh suggestion, But did she heed it — that's the question ? PAET II. — THE SOLUTION. This tiger, savage, fierce and strong, Had fasted there alone and long, And grown to be far hungrier than a Quadrupedal Doctor Tanner. He sniffed the wall that did divide Him from the maiden t'other side; One sniff, two sniffs, three sniffs were all, Then he forthwith tore down the wall. And now Sir Tiger's had his fill, Another pound would make him ill; RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 81 He's no more need for persons raw, Than Barnum's tiger — stuffed with straw. Too long we've let our hero stand, Since his fair princess raised her hand; Boldly he opes the right-hand portal, Then staggers back in terror mortal ! From out the gateway, crouching low, The tiger steps, sedate and slow; Stops, stoops, unsheaths and sheaths his claws, While all may note the awful paws. He gives the youth a scornful glance, And passes on with looks askance; He does not seem to care to eat him, Meets him, in fact, but does not meat him. He smoothes his whiskers, walks the ring, Winks at the princess aud her lover, Then smiles serenely at the king, And scans the multitude all over. His lordly form and bearing made Fit setting for the part he played; He, on the sands of that theayter, From top to toe looked glad-he-ate-her. He peered and purred and paced awhile, With that same soft seductive smile, Then to a shady corner crept, And laid him down and sweetly slept. The king in this a portent sees. Quoth he, while quake the royal knees, u Go, daughter, quickly as you can, And wed that praiseworthy young man. " 82 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. The princess trips across the sands To where her lover waiting stands; They're* married fast, 'Mid cheers and laughter, And then live happy ever after. Oft did the swain, in later life, Demand the secret of his wife, And by all arts strove to oblige her To tell which door had hid the tiger.* But she, as all historians say, Kept silent till her dying day; So no step further ever made he To solve the problem, " Death or Lady ? ' THE BAD BOY GETS A BLACK EYE. G. W. PECK. [From " Peck's Bad Boy," by permission of Belford, Clark & Co.] " Ah, ha, you have got your deserts at last," said the groceryman to the bad boy, as he came in with one eye black, and his nose peeled on one side, and sat down on a board across the coal-scuttle, and be- gan whistling as unconcerned as possible. " What's the matter with your eye ? " " Boy tried to gouge it out without asking my con- sent," and the bad boy took a dried herring out of the box, and began peeling it. " He is in bed now, and his ma is poulticing him, and she says he will be out about the last of next week." * " G " pronounced soft. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 83 " O, you are going to be a prize-fighter, aint you," said the groceryman, disgusted. "When a boy leaves a job where he is working, and goes to loafing around, he becomes a fighter the first thing. What your pa ought to do is bind you out with a farmer, where you would have to work all the time. I wish you would go away from here, because you look like one of these fellows that comes up before the police- judge Monday morning, and gets thirty days in the house of correction.'* And the groceryman took a hair brush, and brushed some loose sugar and tea that was on the counter, into the sugar barrel. " Well, if you have got through with your sermon, I will toot a little of my horn," and the boy threw the remains of the herring over behind a barrel of pota- toes, and wiped his hands on a coffee sack. " The way of the black eye was this: I've got a job tending a soda fountain, and last night, just before we closed, there were two or three young loafers in the place, and a girl came in for a glass of soda. Five years ago she was one of the brightest scholars in the ward school, when I was in the intermediate department. She was just as handsome as a peach, and everybody liked her. At recess she used to take my part when the boys knocked me around, and she lived near us. She had a heart as big as that cheese box, and I guess that's what's the matter. Anyway, she left school, and then it was said she was going to be married to a fellow who is now in the dude busi- ness, but he went back on her, and after a while her run turned her out doors, and for a year or two she was iu a concert saloon, until the mayor stopped 84: RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. concerts. She tried hard to get sewing to do, but they wouldn't have her. I guess 'cause she cried so much when she was sewing, and the tears wet the cloth she was sewing on. Once I asked pa why ma didn't give her some sewing to do, and he said for me to dry up and never speak to her if I met her on the street. It seemed tuff to pass her on the street when she had tears in her eyes as big as marbles, and not speak to her when I knew her so well, and she had been so kind to me at school, just 'cause a dude wouldn't marry her; but I wanted to obey pa, so I used to walk around a block when I saw her coming, 'cause I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Well, last night she came in the store, looking pretty shabby, and wanted a glass of soda, and I gave it to her, and O, how her hand trembled when she raised the glass to her lips, and how wet her eyes were, and how pale her face was. I choked up so I couldn't speak when she handed me the nickle, and when she looked up to me and smiled just like she used to, and said I was getting to be almost a man since we went to school at the old school-house, and put her handkerchief to her eyes, by gosh, my eyes got so full I couldn't tell whether it was a nickel or a lozenger she gave me. Just then one> of those loafers began to laugh at her, and call her names, and he made fun of her until she cried some more, and I got hot and went around to where he was, and told him if he said another word to that girl, I would maul him. He laughed and asked me if she was my sister, and I told him that a poor, friendless girl, who was sick and in distress, and who was insulted, ought to be every boy's sister for RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 85 a minute, and any boy who had a spark of manhood should protect her, and then he laughed and said I ought to be one of the Little Sisters of the Poor, and then he took hold of her faded shawl, and pulled the weak girl against the show-case, and said something mean to her, and she looked as though she wanted to die, and I mashed that boy one right in the nose. Well, the air seemed full of me for a minute, and he got me down and got his thumb in my eye. I guess he was going to take my eye out, but I turned him over and got on top, and I mauled him until he begged, but I wouldn't let him up until he asked the girl's pardon, and swore he would whip any boy who insulted her, and then I let him up, and the girl thanked me, but I told her I couldn't speak to her, 'cause she was tuff, and pa didn't want me to speak to anybody who was tuff; but if anybody ever insult- ed her so she had to cry, that I would whip him if I had to take a club. I told pa about it, and I thought he would be mad at me for taking the part of a girl that was tuff; but, by gosh, pa hugged me, and the tears come in his eyes, and he said I had got good blood in me, and I did just right, and if I would show him the father of the boy that I whipped, pa said he would whip the old man, and ma said for me to find the poor girl, and send her up to the house, and she would give her a job making pillow-cases and night-shirts. Don't it seem darn queer to you that everybody goes back on a poor girl 'cause she makes a mistake, and the blasted whelp that is to blame gets a chromo. It makes me tired to think of it," and the boy gol up and shook himself, and 86 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. looked in the cracked mirror hanging upon a post, to see how his eye was getting along. " Say, young feller, you are a thoroughbred," said the groceryman, as he sprinkled water on the aspara- gus and lettuce, " and you can come in here and get all the herrings you want, and never mind the black eye. I wish I had it myself." THE SINGING LESSON. JEAN INGELOW. FOR THE CHILDREN. A nightingale made a mistake; She sang a few notes out of tune; Her heart was ready to break, And she hid from the moon. She wrung her claws, poor thing, But was far too proud to speak; She tucked her head under her wing, And pretended to be asleep. A lark, arm-in-arm with a thrush, Came sauntering up to the place; The nightingale felt herself blush, Though feathers hid her face. She knew they'd heard her song; She felt them snicker and sneer; She thought this life was too long, And wished she could skip a year. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 87 * Oh ! nightingale ! " cooed a dove, " Oh ! nightingale ! what's the use ? You bird of beauty and love, Why behave like a goose ? Don't skulk away from our sight, Like a common, contemptible fowl ! You bird of joy and delight, Why behave like an owl ? ' Only think of all you have done; Only think of all you can do; A false note is really fun From such a bird as you. Lift up your proud little crest; Open your musical beak; Other birds have to do their best, You need only to speak." The nightingale shyly took Her head from under her wing, And, giving the dove a look, Straightway began to sing. There was never a bird could pass; The night was divinely calm; And the people stood on the grass, To hear that wonderful psalm ! The nightingale didn't care; She only sang to the skies; Her song ascended there, And there she fixed her eyes. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. The people that stood below, She knew but little about; And this story's a moral, I know, If you'll try to find it out ! SKOWHEGAN ONDERDONKS' SUNDAY- SCHOOL ORATION. BILL NYE. [From "Forty Liars," by permission of Bel ford, Clark & Co.] " As regards impromptu speeches," said Woodtick Williams, as he breathed softly on a piece of blossom rock, and looked at it earnestly through his pocket- glass, " I was never what you might call a natural, easy, graceful, extemporaneous speaker in public. " I can sit down on a boulder or an old powder- keg, and reel anything off to the boys in a tolerably loquacious and instructive style, but when I get up before a big mob, and begin to scatter a few preg- nant gems of thought around among the audience, I get wild and skittish, and want to go home. " Then when I take my seat, the big ideas that adjourned when I was on the rostrum come throng- ing back to me, and fill me so full of inspiration and dumb yearning and warm, earnest swearfulness, that it seems as if I'd bust. " Once, I remember, I was called on by the Gen- eral Passenger Agent and Acting Manager of a Salt Lake Sabbath-school to address the children. The floor manager had me down for a thirty minutes' RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 89 dissertion on ' The Uncertainty of Terrestrial Things,' or some such racket as that, and I thought I'd have to work it mighty fine, to say all that was surging and throbbing in my teeming brain ; but when I sat down and mopped the dew off my marble brow, and looked at my watch, I found that I'd only been a fraction over seven minutes. "All that I can remember of that agonizing speech is about this: " ' Dear children, I'm afraid I'll encroach on your time — but — I want to say a word — that is, a few words — I won't detain you long — or, at least, not very long — a few words about morality and — fire- arms. " ' Never fool with firearms that have not been loaded. Don't do it. " ' I once knew a boy who looked down into the silent depths of an old double-barrel shotgun that had not been loaded since Columbus discovered America, and all at once he went crashing through the Zodiac, and he is up there somewhere now. All we ever found of him was a stone-bruise and the place where he had been. O, it's awful ! " ' I also knew a little lad with soft, curling hair and deep violet eyes. Everybody loved little Eph- raim. But one day he turned his attention to the mystery that clung to an old smooth-bore that Daniel Boone used to have, and that had never been loaded since. This gun had stood around in the cor- ner for about a century, and been kicked and bat- tered by every one, just taking it all pleasantly so as to throw people off their guard, and when the 90 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. hired girl swept up little Ephraim, there wasn't a dry eye in the house.' "Then I apologized for not saying anything on morality, because I had taken up so much time, and sat down. " But it took old Jim Onderdonk to speak without any preparation. We called him Skowhegan Onder- donk, because he came from Skowhegan, and he was tall enough to whitewash the sky, if he had a step- ladder. He never had to stop and cough and take a drink of water while he thought of a hard word. O, no. Just give him a grown person's dose of Cemetery Promoter, and he'd address a caucus or a funeral, he didn't care which. " One day I heard him speak to the children on the subject of ' The Efficiency of Energy.' " He always announced his subject beforehand, not because he ever alluded to it afterwards in any way, but because he had noticed that most public speakers had a subject to speak on. ' ' As near as I can call to mind now, Skowhegan Onderdonk spoke about as follows : " ' Dear children, did you ever stop to think that what we are to-day, and what we will be to-morrow and the next day and the day following and next week and next month and next year and ail through our eventful lives is not so much what we in vain an- ticipation regard ourselves retrospectively as what we ultimately were or some day might previously be? " ' Did you ever stop to consider how much we may find out by ascertaining? RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 91 " ' Journeying aclown life's rugged pathway, did you ever stop to ponder, dear children, upon the cold, hard fact, that the longer you live the older you become, and as you acquire knowledge you gradually get to knowing more ? " 'Ah, let us learn a valuable lesson from this eternal truth and flee from that which is what. " 'Let us promise ourselves to-day — right now, without a moment's delay — that, as we continue to ram facts into our systems and glean intelligence, we will, at the same time, become better informed. 1 ' ' Try to impress this never dying truth upon your minds: That whatever we do not do at once or at some time in the future, unless some one else does it, will in all human probability remain un- done. ' ' * "We should learn from this the importance of these things that are most essential. " ' I might talk to you for hours with pleasure of these things, but I cannot take up the time. One more suggestion, and I will close. " ' You are all young now. The future is before you. This will seem singular to you at first, but when I explain it to you you will see at once that if it were anywhere else it would seem out of place and unhappy. " ' You will readily perceive that things have been so wisely ordered that not only in the economy of Nature does the uncertain subsequently follow closely upon the already forgotten previously, but the hazy and obscure past was at one time the un- born germ of the dim and incandescent directly, em- 92 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. bosomed in the great unknown finally, and shrouded in the prismatic colors of the boundless ultimately. " ' I am afraid, however, that you do not quite get at the never-dying truth that I am trying to eluci- date to you. As I said before, the future is before you. If you understood this thoroughly, you would rejoice that it has been placed in that position, but you are now young and you think you can see little places where Nature has missed it. " ' In the fluff and bloom and exuberance of youth, you naturally feel as though the general management of the universe is open to criticism. You see here and there little irregularities in the economy of the uni- verse, where you could have improved upon it if you had been consulted as to the policy of the adminis- tration. This has taken up a great deal of your time, and worn you out. When you get older you will throw off a good deal of this responsibility, and it will be a great relief to you. " ' Looking back upon my own childhood, I can see here and there in the light of a chastened experience, where if I had not done just as I did, perhaps I should have done differently. " ' Instead of wearing myself out with anxiety, and fretting over the fear that my parents would come to some bad end, if I had taken more relaxation and rest, I would have been better off to-day. Instead of trying to improve the time-card of the heavenly bodies, if I had rubbed glycerine on the backs of my feet, where they were cracked open, I would have been happier then, and I would have entered upon a useful manhood instead of being the physical wreck RECHERCHE RECITATI0N3. 93 that I am now, worn out sitting up nights for fear that the heavenly bodies would crash into each other. " c This is not only true of all things, but of every- thing else. " ' There is a great field of thought open to you here, and I simply call your attention to it. I have- n't the time nor ability to enlarge upon it, but I leave it for your consideration. As you grow older and learn more of the way creation is managed, you will gradually endorse it and approve of it until you are old and gray-headed, and then you will admit that the whole system is arranged and governed as well as you could have done it yourself. " ' Go where information is turned loose at reduced rates, and absorb all you can. Let it soak into you. It won't hurt you after you get accustomed to the novel sensation a little. " ' Then in after years you can write a large ency- clopedia of what you don't know, and you will look back to this time in your history and thank me for calling your attention to these little matters that pertain to those things to which they refer, but are utterly irrelevant to all other matters with which they are in no way connected.' " SOME ITEMS ABOUT SNAKES. STANLEY HUNTLEY. "Do you want some items about snakes?" asked an agricultural-looking gentleman of the Eagle's city editor the other day. 94 RECHERCHE EECITATIONS. " If they are fresh and true," responded the city- editor. "Exactly/* replied the farmer. "These items are both. Nobody knows 'em but me. I got a farm down on the Island a piece, and there's lots of snakes on it. Near the house is a pond about six feet deep. A week ago my little girl jumped into the pond, and would have been drowned if it hadn't been for a snake. The snake seen her, and went for her, and brought her ashore. The particular point about this item is the way he did it." " How was it ? " asked the city editor. "It was a black snake about thirty feet long, and he just coiled the middle of himself around her neck so she couldn't swallow any water, and swum ashore with his head and tail. Is that a good item ? " "First class." " You can spread it out, you know. After they got ashore the girl patted the snake on the head, and it went off pleased as Punch. Ever since then he comes to the house regular at meal times, and she feeds him on pie. He likes pie. Think you can make anything out of that item ? " " Certainly. Know any more ? " " Yes. I got a baby six months old. He's a boy. We generally set him out on the grass of a morning, i and he hollers like a bull all day— at least he used to, * but he don't any more. One morning we noticed he wasn't hollering, and wondered what was up. When we looked, there was a rattlesnake coiled up in front of him scanning his features. The boy was grinning, and the snake was grinning. Bimeby the snake RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 95 turned his tail to the baby, and backed his rattle right into the baby's fist." "What did the baby do ? " " Why, he just rattled that tail so you could hear it three-quarters of a mile, and the snake lay there and grinned. Every morning we found the snake there, until one day a bigger snake came, and the baby played with his rattle just the same till the first snake came back. He looked thin, and I reckon he had been sick and sent the other snake to take his place. Will that do for an item ? " " Immensely," replied the city editor. " You can fill in about the confidence of childhood, and all that, and you might say something about the blue-eyed cherub. His name is Isaac. Put that in to please my wife." " I'll do it. Any more snake items ?" "Lemme see. You've heard of hoop snakes ! " " Yes, often." " Just so. Not long ago we heard a fearful row in our cellar one night. It sounded like a rock blast, and then there was a hiss, and then things were quiet. WTien I looked in the morning I found the cider barrel had busted. But we didn't lose much cider." " How did you save it ? " " It seems that the staves had busted out, but be- fore they could get away, four hoop snakes coiled around the barrel and tightened it up and held it together until we drew the cider off in bottles. That's the way we found 'em, and we've kept them around the house ever since. We're training 'em for 96 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. shawl-straps now. Does that strike you favorably for an item ? " " Enormously," responded the city editor.* " You can fix it up so as to show how quick they was to get there before the staves were blown off. You can work in the details." " Of course. I'll attend to all that. Do you think of any more ? " " I don't call any to mind, just at present. My wife knows a lot of snake items, but I forget 'em. By the way, though, I've got a regular living curiosity down on my place. One day my oldest boy was sit- ting on the back stoop doing his sums, and he could- n't get 'em right. He felt something against his face, and there was a little snake coiled up on his shoulder and looking at the slate. In four minutes he had done all them sums. We've tamed him, so he keeps all our accounts, and he is the lightningest cuss at figures you ever seen. He'll run up a column eight feet long in three seconds. I wouldn't take a reaper for him." " What kind of a snake is he ? " inquired the city editor, curiously. " The neighbors call him an adder." " Oh, yes, yes ! " said the city editor, a little dis- concerted. " I've heard of the species. When did all these things happen ? " " Along in the fore part of the spring, but I didn't say anything about 'em, 'cause it wasn't the season for snake items. This is about time for that sort of thing, isn't it ? " " Yes," chipped in the exchange editor, " you RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 97 couldn't have picked out a better time for snake stories. Take theni over to the cashier's desk. He'll buy them of you at twenty-five cents a yard." RUBBER-HOSE MACARONI. G. W. PECK. [From " Peck's Bad Boy," by permission of Belford, Clark & Co.] The bad boy has been for three weeks trying to think of some innocent joke to play on his father. The old man is getting a little near-sighted, and his teeth are not so good as they used to be, but the old man will not admit it. Nothing that anybody can say can make him own up that his eyesight is failing, or that his teeth are poor, and he would bet a hun- dred dollars that he could see as far as ever. The boy knew the failing, and made up his mind to de- monstrate to the old man that he was rapidly getting off his base. The old person is very fond of macaroni, and eats it about three times a week. The other day the boy was in a drug store and noticed in a show-case a lot of small rubber hose, about the size of sticks of macaroni, such as is used on nursing bottles and other rubber utensils. It was white and nice, and the boy's mind was made up at once. He bought a yard of it, and took it home. "When the macaroni was cooked and ready to be served, he hired the table girl to help him play it on 98 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. the old man. They took a pair of shears and cut the rubber hose in pieces about the same length as the pieces of boiled macaroni, and put them in a saucer with a little macaroni over the rubber pipes, and placed the dish at the old man's plate. I Well, we suppose if ten thousand people could have had reserved seats, and seen the old man struggle with the India-rubber macaroni, and have seen the boy's struggle to keep from laughing, they would have had more fun than they would at a circus. First the old delegate attenrpted to cut the macaroni into small pieces, and failing, he remarked that it was not cooked enough. The boy said his macaroni was cooked too tender, and that his father's teeth were so poor that he would have to eat soup entirely pretty soon. The old man said, "Never you mind my teeth, young man," and decided that he would not complain of anything again. He took up a couple of pieces of rubber, and one piece of macaroni on a fork, and put them in his mouth. The macaroni dissolved easy enough, and went down perfectly easy, but the flat macaroni was too much for him. He chewed on it for a minute or two, and talked about the weather in order that none of the family should see that he was in trouble, and when he found the macaroni would not down, he called their attention to something out of the window, and took the rubber slyly from his mouth, and laid it under the edge of his plate. He was more than half convinced that his teeth were played out, but went on eating something else for a while t and finally he thought he would just chance RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 99 the macaroni once more for luck, and lie mowed away another fork full in his mouth. It was the same old story. He chewed like a seminary girl chewing gum, and his eyes stuck out and his face became red, and his wife looked at him as though afraid he was going to die of apoplexy, and finally the servant girl burst out laughing, and went out of the room with her apron stuffed in her mouth, and the boy felt as though it was unhealthy to tarry too long at the table, and he went out. Left alone with his wife the old man took the rub- ber macaroni from his mouth and laid it on his plate, and he and his wife held an inquest over it. The wife tried to spear it with a fork, but couldn't make any impression on it, and then she saw it was rub- ber hose, aud told the old man. He was mad and glad at the same time; glad because he had found that his teeth were not to blame, and mad because the grocer had sold him boarding-house macaroni. Then the girl came in and was put on the confession- al, and told all, and presently there was a sound of revelry by night, in the wood-shed, and the still, small voice was saying, " O, Pa, don't ! you said you didn't care for innocent jokes. Oh ! " And then the old man between the strokes of the piece of clap-board, would say, "Feed your father a hose- cart next, won't ye ? Be firing car-springs and clothes- wringers down me next, eh ? Put some sjavy on a rubber overcoat, probably, and serve it to me for salad. Try a piece of overshoe, with a bone in it, for my beefsteak, likely. Give your poor old father a slice of rubber bib in place of tripe to-morrow, I ex- 100 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. pect. Boil me a rubber water-bag for apple dump- lings, pretty soon, if I don't look out. There ! You go and split the kindling wood." 'Twas ever thus. A boy can't have any fun now days. THE STRANGER— AN EASTERN LEGEND, WALLACE BRUCE. An aged man came late to Abraham's tent. The sky was dark, and all the plain was bare. He asked for bread; his strength was well-nigh spent; His haggard look implored the tenderest care. The food was brought. He sat with thankful eyes, But spake no grace, nor bowed he towards the east. Safe-sheltered here from dark and angry skies, The bounteous table seemed a royal feast. But ere his hand had touched the tempting fare, The Patriarch rose, and leaning on his rod — " Stranger," he said, " dost thou not bow in prayer ? Dost thou not fear, dost thou not worship God?" He answered, " Nay. " The Patriarch sadly said, " Thou hast my pity. Go ! eat not my bread." Another came that wild and fearful night. The fierce winds raged, and darker grew the sky; But all the tent was filled with wondrous light, And Abraham knew the Lord his God was nigh. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 101 " Where is that aged man ? " the Presence said, " That asked for shelter from the driving blast ? Who made thee master of thy Master's bread ? What right hadst thou the wanderer forth to cast ? " " Forgive me, Lord," the Patriarch answer made, With downcast look, with bowed and trembling knee. " Ah, me ! the stranger might with me have staid, But, O, my God, he would not worship thee." " I've borne him long," God said, "and still I wait; Couldst thou not lodge him one night in thy gate ? " SCHLAUSENHEIMER'S ALARMING- GLOCK. VON BOYLE. There has been considerable excitement in Harlem concerning the arrest of Schlausenheimer upon the charge of assaulting Officer Dyonsius O'Brien. Ben- der, the butcher, a relative of Schlausenheimer, has furnished me the following account of the affair. I transmit it verbatim. Now I glaim dot bluck vas simbly sooccessful shtubborness, und shtubborness vas unsooccessful bluck. But Pointer, de assurance achent und mine- selef ve get a arguments up on dot vonce. "A tisopediant moole," says Pointer, "vot vill not shtir a shtep, he vas shtubborn, but a prafe man vat vill nefer gif up de sheep, he vas Mucky." 102 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. " Yes," says I, " lie vas blacky — if lie soocceeds. If he don't soocceeds, den he vas as pig-headet as a moole; und dot's vot's de matter mit Schlausenhei- mer." Now bluck vas a fery goot ting to haf, if it vas mixed mit a leetle gommon senses — about halef und halef. Gommon senses mitout bluck don't nefer ag- gomblishes only chust a leetle; but bluck mitout gommon senses aggomblishes a goot teal doo much, und ought to pe locked ub mit a lunadics asylum. Yell, Schlausenheimer, you know, he chust geeps eferytings mit himself yet. He don't nefer told his vife someting about notings already. Yon day I says : " Schlausenheimer, maype it vas petter if you told your vife eferyting about sometings und someting about eferytings. Your vife vas your bartner." " Yell, she's got to pe a silent bartner," says he. " Not doo silent," says I. " Yomens has some rights dot a man vas pound to exbect." " I don't believe no such nonsense," says Schlau- senheimer, " not a pit. Dot vas vomen's riots, dot vas, und of all kinds of riots — visky riots, election riots, und efery oder kind of riots — dem vomen's riots vas de vorstest of dem all." " Look here," says I, " dot's not a fair arguments, pecause you tidn't bronounce dot right. It vasn't ri- ots — it vas ri-ds." Den Schlausenheimer gets mad. "Bi-ots or ri-ets," says he, "I vouldn't haf it in mine house. I vas pound to haf eferytings harmoni- ousness if I haf to preak de proomshtick, und dot settles it." RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 103 Veil, I didn't said noting more mit him, but I said mit mineself, as I valks avay: " It vas gwite efitent nadure intented dot Schlau- senheimer should pecome a ferst-glass itiot, und Schlausenheimer he don't got no opchections." Veil, he puyed himself von of dose alarming-glocks, you know, vot Takes you out at fife o glock in de mornings. He puts him mit de mandel-bieces dere- on, und he goes mit de pedt derein. Mrs. Schlausenheimer she gets in de mittle of de night up, und dot glock vent off — vay off de mandel- bieces — vhile Mrs. Schlausenheimer vas py de next room looking for a matches. Schlausenheimer chumps up und he knocks Mrs. Schlausenheimer town in de mittle of his sleep. He hit her on de headt of de shtairs, und dey bot* rolled to de pottom togedder town, heels over pack- vards. Mrs. Schlausenheimer, you know, grabbed him py de tark, mit de hair from his headt, pecause Schlau- senheimer, he tinks, you see, dot she vas all de times de burgular vot he vas chust fcreaining apout coming to shteal his glock at fife a. m. in de morning. Ven dey got mit de pottom of de shtairs de glock shtruck vone, und Schlausenheimer he shtruck de od- der vone. It vas de polices vot runs mit his glub in, to put de fire out. Vhack ! he hits Schlausenheimer pack again mit his headt. If he had any prains dot times dey vouldt come out. It vas a goot ting somedimes to pe apsent-minded; und Schlausenheimer's mind has peen apsent efer since he is porn. 104 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. Yell, he shust hit him vonce ; but it vas sufficient — unci enough vas as goot as a briest. He knocked Schlausenheirner into de mittle of last veek. He losed a whole veek's vork py it, und he is sick more as a mont' apout a year aftervards. Dot bolices vouldn't took no oxcooses; but he took Schlausenheirner. He took him so gwick you can say Chack Kopison mit de shtation-houses. Yell, de chudge of de shtation-house he say, " Yot's de sharge ? " Dot bolicemans vas aggrafatet, so he says, " Salt on a bolices." De chudge vas exaggerated, und he says, "Fine, fife tollars." Schlausenheirner vas indignatet, und he says, " Dat's a fraudt, und I vouldn't put up mit it." So de chudge gifs him fife tollars more fine, for content mit de court. Now, I don't plame de chudge mineself, pecause he called him a superanimatet olt shpringheister, und he ought to toldt his vife all apout it pefore he puts him mit de mandel-bieces, und dot's de vorst tings you couldt call de shudge, anyvay. You know vot dot shpringheister vas in Inklish ? Yell, dot means a monkey chumping-chack-up-a-shtick, ven you bulls him mit a shtring. ? Now, dot's de vay mit Schlausenheirner. He did- n't vant to lose his money, so he loses his demper, und de chudge he find it— fife tollars abiece. But if dot chudge couldt only find Schlausenheirner fife tollars efery times vot he loses his demper, in less as a year dot chudge vouldt pe a millionaire — und Schlausenheirner he vould be a poor-haus. RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 105 A TELEPHONE CONVERSATION. MARK TWAIN. I notice that one can always write best when some one is talking through a telephone close by. Well, the thing began in this way. A member of our household came in and asked me to have our house put into communication with Mr. Bagley's, down town. I have observed, in many cities, that the sex always shrink from calling up the Central Office themselves. I don't know why, but they do. So I touched the bell, and this talk ensued: Central Office {gruffly)— "Hello ! " I—" Is it the Central Office ? " C. O.— " Of course it is. What do you want? " I — " Will you switch me on to the Bagley's, please ? " C. O. — "All right. Just keep your ear to the telephone." Then I heard k-look, k-lcok — klook-klook-klook- look-look ! then a horrible " gritting " of teeth, and finally a piping female voice: "Y-e-s ! " (rising in- flection) "Did you wish to speak to me?" Without answering, I handed the telephone to the applicant and sat down. Then followed the queerest of all the queer things in this world — a conversation with only one end to it. Your hear questions asked; you don't hear the answer. You hear invitations given; you hear no thanks in return. You have lis- tening pauses of dead silence, followed by apparent- ly irrelevant and unjustifiable exclamation of glad 106 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. surprise or sorrow or dismay. You can't make head nor tail of the talk, because you never hear anything that the person at the other end of the wire says. Well, I heard the following remarkable series of ob- servations, all from the one tongue, and all shouted — for you can't ever persuade the se,x to speak gently into a telephone: " Yes ? Why, how did that happen ? " (pause.) " What did you say ? " (pause. ) " Oh, no, I don't think it was. (pause.) " No, oh, no, I don't mean that. I meant, put it in while it is still boiling — or just before it comes to a boil." (pause.) "What?" (pause.) " I turned it over with a back stitch on the selvage edge." (pause.) " Yes, I like that way, too; but I think it's better to baste it on with Valenciennes or bombazine, or some- thing of that sort. It gives it such an air — and at- tracts so much notice." (pause.) "It's forty-ninth Deuteronomy, sixty -fourth to ninety-seventh, inclusive. I think we ought all to read it often. " (pause. ) 11 Perhaps so; I generally use a hair-pin." (pause. ) " What did you say ? (aside) Children, do be quiet ! " ' pause. ) " Oh! &flat! Dear me, I thought you said it was the cat ! " (pause. ) 1 ' Since when ? " (pause. ) " Why, /never heard of it." (pause.) " You astound me ! It seems utterly impossible ! " (pause. ) k EBCHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 107 ' ' Who did ? *' (pause. ) "Goodness gracious ! " (pause.) "Well, what is this world coming to? Was it right in church ? " (pause. ) "And was her mother there ? " (pause.) " Why, Mrs. Bagley, I should have died of humili- ation. What did they do f " (long pause.) "I can't be perfectly sure, because I haven't the notes by me ; but I think it goes something like this :— Te-rolly-loll-loll, loll, lolly-loU-loll, O, tolly- loll-loll-Zee-Zi/-^" ^'-do ! And then repeat, you know." (pause. ) " Yes, I think it is very sweet— and very solemn and impressive, if you get the andantino and pianissimo right." (pauae.) " Oh, gum-drops, gum-drops ! But I never allow them to eat striped candy. And of course they can't till they get their teeth, anyway." (pause. ) " What?" (pause.) " Oh, not in the least, — go right on. He's here writing; it doesn't bother him." (pause.) "Very well, I'll come if I can. (aside) Dear me, how it does tire a person's arm to hold this thing up so long ! I wish she'd " (pause.) " Oh, no, not at all; I like to talk — but I'm afraid I'm keeping you from your affairs." (pause.) "Visitors?" (pause.) "No, we never use butter on them." (pause.) "Yes, that is a very good way; but all the cook- books say they are very unhealthy when they are out of season. And he doesn't like them, anyway — es- pecially canned." (pause.) 108 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. " Oh, I think that is too high for them; we have never paid over fifty cents a bunch." (pause.) "Must you go. Well, good-by." (pause.) " Yes, I think so. Good-by." (pause.) "Four o'clock, then— I'll be ready. Good-by," (pause. ) " Thank you ever so much. Good-by." (pause.) " Oh, not at all ! — just as fresh — Which ? Oh, I'm glad to hear you say that. Good-by." (hangs up tele- phone and says) " Oh, it does tire a person's arm so ! " A man delivers a single brutal " good-by," and that is the end of it. Not so with the gentle sex — I say it in their praise; they cannot abide abruptness. BREAKING UP A SCHOOL. R. J. BURDETTE. It was given out in church, Sunday, that school would open on Monday morning. After the evening service the boys got together and talked it over, and decided to give the new teacher just a week. It had been thawing for a day or two, and the boys were tired of skating, and they thought they could afford to spend about a week educating themselves in how to break up a school. On that evening we were duly elected a member of the class of hard citizens, and we were to open the ball and do something bad, get the teacher to lick us, and then the boys were to jump in and help. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 109 Monday morning the school commenced, and the teacher proved to be a sickly-looking slim sort of a fellow. Every time he looked at one of the boys there seemed to be an expression on his face as though he would say, " I hope you will be good. " When he had anything to say to the scholars he said " please, " and gave other evidences of being pretty soft, we all thought. That morning the weather changed, and it froze hard, and at recess the boys got together and said we would wind up the school before noon and go out on the ice. The big boys had to carry in the wood, and lay it down quietly by the stove. We took in an armful and dropped it on the floor, so that it shook the building and loosened the stove-pipe. The pipe came out of the chimney and filled the room with smoke; but it was put back, and the slim teacher only reprimanded us, and said that it must not occur again. We just ached to go after some more wood, but there was no opportunity. Pretty soon the teacher said we might go and get a pail of water, and while at the well we decided to stumble on entering the school-room, and spill the water all over the floor, and thus give the sickly-looking teacher a chance to show what he was made of. The teacher was near the stove, and we stumbled, and the water went all over everything, wetting his boots, and making him pretty mad. In sizing him up we had not noticed before that his eyes were as black as coals, and that he seemed to be about eight feet high ; but as he looked at us we could see it very plainly. He seemed to read our thoughts, and knew 110 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. that it was done on purpose, and we have always believed he heard the boys talking it over at recess. Anyway he jumped clear across the room, grabbed us by the neck, and sat us down in the water; then he lifted us up and shook us so our teeth rattled; then he seemed to grab us all over, and just maul us. We got a chance, once or twice, to look around to the back seats, as he was revolving us around on our own axis, to see if the other boys were coming to help us put him outdoors, but they were the most studious lot of big boys we ever saw. They had their heads down in their books, and their lips were mov- ing in silent prayer. After the teacher had mopped the floor with us, he took us by the slack of the trousers, just as a dog would carry a duck, and went to his desk and got a big hickory ruler, and proceed- ed to dry our trousers. It was the meanest way to dry trousers that ever was, and while it dried them well enough, it left great ridges inside of them that made a corrugated chair almost a necessity. The boys did not fulfill their part of the pro- gramme, and when the teacher got through drying our trousers and said: " Please return to your seat/' we felt as though his politeness was a perfect sham. We looked at the boys when we went to our seat, but ' they never looked uj3. We have witnessed contested seats in the Legislature since, but never saw one that was so exciting as that one in the old white school- house at the foot of the hill. The teacher never spoke during the proceedings, and when it was over he looked even paler and more sickly than when he had one hand in the hair that once grew where we RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. Ill are now bald, while the other was at work in the vineyard. But none of the boys seemed to care to pitch on a sick man, and he taught that school two terms, and never had to whip another boy. That was the last school we ever broke up. INDEPENDENT ORDER OF FORTY LIARS. BILL NYE. [From " Forty Liars," by permission of Belford, Clark & Co.] At a regular round-up of the Rocky Mountain divis- ion of the Independent Order of Forty Liars, on Saturday evening, the most noble prevaricator hav- ing directed the examination of all present to see that they were in possession of the annual password, explanations and signals, and to report to the most noble promoter of twenty-seven karat falsehoods whether all were so qualified to remain, and the re- port, having been satisfactory, the most noble pre- varicator announced that after the report of the custodian of campaign lies for the past year and the annual statements of the division bartender and most noble beer yanker had been handed in and passed upon, the next business to come before the division would be the nominations and the election of most noble prevaricator to serve during the en- suing year. ' ' Under the rules of our order, " said the M. N. P., e ' ten minutes will be given each aspirant for the 112 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. office named, in which to address the meeting. It is understood that the time shall be devoted to short anecdotes, personal reminiscences, etc., and the brethren will be given ample scope to enlarge upon any details which the subject may suggest. Our usual custom is to devote at least one hour to this highly entertaining exercise, and I call to mind now some of the most enjoyable moments of my life spent in listening to others, or constructing for the amuse- ment of others, a few of the most entertaining and instructive falsehoods that the history of our most noble order has known. "We have several prominent visiting members here from other parts of the country, among whom I am gratified to name Brother Eli Perkins, Brother O'Keefe, of Pike's Peak, and Brothers Morey and Barnum, from the East, who will address the meet- ing, perhaps, for a few minutes after other business has been disposed of. " After singing the opening ode, accompanied by the lyre, the usual order of business having been attend- ed to, the addresses of aspirants for the office of M. N. P. of the Pocky Mountain division were called for. The last speaker was Brother Jedediah Holcomb, who thus addressed the assemblage: " Most noble prevaricator of the Pocky Mountain division of Forty Liars, and brethren of the order: Many years ago, when I was a mere stripling, as it were, and just upon the verge of manhood, so to speak, I was sitting on the green grass, south of Chicago, near where Drexel Boulevard comes into RECHERCHE RECITATI0N3. 113 South Park, thinking of my hard luck and wishing that my future might be more prosperous than my past. ''That locality was then a howling wilderness s compared with what it is now, and where to-day the beautiful drives and walks are so inviting there was nothing but prairie and swamp, with here and there a scrub oak tree. " Chicago was a stirring western city then, but she was young and small. She had not then accumu- lated the fabulous wealth of new and peculiar met- ropolitan odors which she now enjoys, and in place of the rich, fructifying fragrance of the stock yards, there was nothing but the wild honeysuckle and the dead horse. " Out where some of the most beautiful residences now stand there was nothing then but the dank thistle nodding in the wind, or the timid pic-nic bumble bee, hanging on the autumn bough and yearning to be gathered in by the small boy. "As I sat there long ago, and, shrouded in the September haze, was dreaming of a fortunate future for myself, I heard the muffled tread of innumerable feet drawing nearer and nearer. The sound was like the footfall of a regiment of infantry approaching, and I arose to see what it was. " I had not long to wait, for soon there hove in sight a very singular spectacle. First came a large Illinois hog at the head of a long column of Illinois hogs, all marching in Indian fashion, and grunting with that placid, gentle grunt which the hog carries with him. On closer examination into this singular Hi RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. phenomenon, I saw that all the hogs, except the leader, were blind, each, animal having his prede- cessor's tail in his mouth throughout the long line, consisting of 13,521 unfortunate, sightless hogs, cheerfully following their leader toward water. " I was never so struck with the wonderful instinct of the brute creation in my life, and my eyes filled with tears when I saw the child-like faith and confi- dence of each blind animal following with the implicit trust the more fortunate guide. " Soon, however, a great dazzling three-cornered idea worked its way into my intellect. Dashing away my idle tears, I drew my revolver and shot off the leader's tail, leaving the long line of disconcerted and aimless hogs in the middle of a broad prairie, with no guide but the dephlogisticated tail of a hog who was then three-quarters of a mile away. " Then I stole up, and taking the tail in my hand, I led the trusting phalanx down to the stock yards, and sold the outfit at eight cents per pound, live weight. " This was the start of my dazzling career as a capitalist; a career to which I now point with pride. Thus from a poor boy with one suspender and a sore toe, I have risen to be one of our leading business men, known and resj>ected by all, and by industry and economy, and borrowing my chewing tobacco, I have come to be one of our solid men." "When Brother Holcomb ceased to speak, there was a painful silence of perhaps five moments, and then Brother Woodtick "Williams moved that the rules be suspended, and Brother Holcomb declared RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 115 the unanimous choice of the order for the Most Noble Prevaricator, to serve for the next year. Passed. Then the quartette sang the closing ode, and each member, after hanging up his regalia in the ante- room, walked thoughtfully home in the crisp winter starlight. FIFINE. AFTER VICTOR HUGO. STANLEY HUNTLEY. CHAPTER I. Jacques was an organ-grinder. He had a square box filled with cast-off gas-pipes. When he twisted the crank the air rushed into the pipes, and the music came out at the other end. Fifine loved to hear Jacques play, and he liked to play for her. Jacques loved Fifine, and treasured all the sous she gave him. Fifine did not love Jacques, and they both knew it. " Bon jour, Jacques," said Fifine. " Bon jour, Fifine," said Jacques. This conversation took place just after the 12th of July. CHAPTER II. Fifine's father was a bourgeois. Jacques' was a long primer. Jacques dared not tell of his noble birth, lest the hatred entertained for the Bourbons should result in his death. For this reason he played 116 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. the hand-organ. Playing the organ brought him near Fifine. " What are you doing, Fifine ? " asked Jacques one morning as he was twisting " Nancy Lee " out of his hand-organ. " Washing windows," said Fifine. "I wish I had the North Pole to reach that top one." Jacques picked up a rock and smashed his hand- organ. " What have you done, Jacques ? " asked Fifine. " Nothing," said Jacques. Then he walked off. CHAPTER m. Jacques walked to the North Cape, and jumped into the Arctic Ocean. In four hours he swam to the pack ice around Spitzbergen. He climbed up on the ice and walked to the eighty-seventh degree of north latitude. A polar bear attacked him. When the bear opened his mouth Jacques crept in. " This is warm," said Jacques. " That's cool," said the bear. The bear started north and plunged into the open sea around the pole. It is claimed by some scientists that there is no open sea there. The bear knew bet- ter. Jacques looked out of the bear's mouth and saw he was in a whirlpool. He glanced at his compass and saw that the needle pointed to the centre of the pool. " The north pole is there," said Jacques. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 117 CHAPTER IV. Gervais was a map peddler. He loved Fifine, and often presented her with maps of Australia. Gervais loved Fifine, but she did not care for him. She used his maps to stop up rat-holes. " Bon soir, Fifine," said Gervais. " Bon soir, Gervais," said Fifine. This was while the Bourbons were plotting to overthrow the revolution. Danton was dead. Bobespierre had unclinched his bloody hand from the throat of the people, and the coming carnage of March already sent its throbs through the arteries of Paris. " What are you doing, Fifine ? " asked Gervais. " Washing windows," said Fifine. " I wish I had the South Pole to reach the top one." Gervais threw his maps into the sewer and left. In six hours he had reached the Antarctic continent. CHAPTER v. A seal attacked Gervais. He sprang into the seal and settled himself comfortably. " This is fun," said Gervais. " That's business," said the seal. The seal waddled over the ice, and in an hour had reached the open polar sea. Gervais looked through the seal's eye, and saw he was in a whirlpool, toward the centre of which the needle of his compass always pointed. "The pole is in there," said Gervais; "I shall marry Fifine." 118 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. CHAPTER VI. The rings of the whirlpool brought Jacques and Gervais to the centre at the same moment. Jacques was at the North Pole and Gervais at the South. Both pulled at the same time. Neither pole would stir. It was a continuous stick, and neither could succeed until the other let go. They stopped pulling and spit on their hands, and then pulled again. The excitement was terrific. They were twenty-two thousand miles apart, and neither knew of the other. Each was brave and determined, but it was no use. " Come out," said Jacques, tugging away. " Come up," said Gervais. Both poles stuck fast. chapter vn. " How goes it, Fifine ? " said Francois. " First-rate," said Fifine. " I don't wash windows any more. We keep a girl." Fifine loved Francois. He had been a cardinal, but had retired from the business. " Let us get married, Fifine," said Francois. " Good enough," said Fifine. " Wait till I get my hat." She came out and saw Gervais and Jacques stand- ing at the gate. Each had a long pole on his shoulder, broken in the middle. " Here is the North Pole, Fifine," said Jacques. " This is the South Pole, Fifine," said Gervais. " Come, Fifine," said Francois. " You can take the poles back, Messieurs. I don't RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 119 wash windows since we got a girl. Excuse me, I am going to marry Francois. " chapter vm. Francois and Fifine came back married. In front of the house they saw two poles standing upright. Jacques was at the top of one and Gervais on top of the other. " Good-by, Fifine ! " said Gervais. " Dieu vous garde, Fifine," said Jacques. Then they fell off their poles on top of Francois and smashed him like a walnut. " Great Scott ! " said Fifine. " I don't believe any of them are good for much now, but the poles may be worth something." Fifine laughed, and went into the house. SMALL, SWEET COURTESIES OF LIFE. ANONYMOUS. Some gems there are most beautiful, Most rich and pleasant to behold; They are not rubies, diamonds, pearls, Nor corals yet, and yet not gold; They fling a sunshine round the hearth, They soothe like balm each troubled strife, They gild with joy our homes — they are " The small, sweet courtesies of life." Our earth would be a lonely place, A sad abode without these gems; More precious to the heart are they Than glittering gold and diadems; 120 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. Without their rays, divine and pure, Our path with bitterness is rife; Earth would be drear and dark without " The small, sweet courtesies of life. " Rich boons are they to mortals given, Bright blossoms on our pathway laid; Sweet flowers whose fragrance will not die, Whose glorious lustre will not fade. They are the pride of old and young, Of brother, sister, husband, wife, The father's boast, the mother's joy — " The small, sweet courtesies of life." If thou would'st have a happy home, A cheerful house, a hearthstone bright, Keep the rich jewels in thy heart, Day after day, night after night. If thou would'st banish from thy door All bitterness and gloom and strife, I charge thee to remember well " The small, sweet courtesies of life." THE CAT-ASTROPHE. ANONYMOUS. There was a man named Ferguson, He lived on Market street; He had a speckled Thomas cat That couldn't well be beat; He'd catch more rats and mice and sich Than forty cats could eat. EECHEECHfi KECITATIONS. 121 This cat would come into the room And climb upon a cheer, And there he'd sit and lick hisself, And purr so awful queer, That Ferguson would yell at him — But still he'd purr-severe. And then he'd climb the moonlit fence, And loaf around and yowl, And split and claw another cat Alongside of the jowl, And then they both would shake their tails, And jump around and howl. Oh, this here cat of Ferguson's Was fearful then to see, He'd yell precisely like he was In awful agony. You'd think a first-class stomach-ache Had struck a small baby. And all the mothers in the street, "Waked by that horrid din, Would rise right up and search their babes, To find some worrying pin; And still this vigorous cat would keep A hollerin' like sin. And as for Mr. Ferguson, 'Twas more than he could bear, And so he hurled his boot-jack out 122 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. Bight through the midnight air. But this vociferous Thomas cat, Not one cent did he care. For still he yowled and kept his fur A standin' up on end, And his old spine a doublin' up As far as it would bend, As if his hopes of happiness Did on his lungs depend. But while a curvin' of his spine, And waiting to attack A cat upon another fence, There came an awful crack, And this here speckled Thomas cat Got busted in the back. When Ferguson came down next day s There lay his old feline, And not a life was left of him, Although he had had nine. " All this has come," said Ferguson, " Of curvin' of his spine." Now all ye men whose tender hearts This painful tale does rack, Just take this moral to yourselves, All of you, white and black; Don't ever go, like this here cat, To gettin' up your back. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 123 BROTHER GARDNER AND JUDGE CADA- VER. M. QUAD. " Am Judge Cadaver in de hall to-nighf? " softly queried Brother Gardner, as he looked down the aisle towards the stool on which the fat and juicy judge was unanimously reposing. " If de Judge am in de hall he will please step dis way," continued the president, after a moment of deep silence. The judge arose and meandered forward, ener- getically chewing at a piece of slippery elm to hide his agitation. " Brudder Cadaver, I have a few words to say to you to-night," said the president as he looked down upon his shiny baldness. " De odder day I hap- pened to pass a policy shop, an' I saw you gwine in. Dat same evenin' as I was gwine past a saloon, I saw you standin' at de bar wid a glass of whiskey in your han\ I kin also recall de fack dat I hev not seen you at work for de las' month." "I hasn't bin feelin' strictly well," pleaded the judge. " You war well 'nuff to play policy." " I — I — didn't put up but ten cents." " And what about de whiskey-drinkin' ? " " I was feelin' powerful weak, sah." " Too thin— too thin," replied the president as he shook his head. " Now, den, I want to spoke to you. In some respects you am a good man. I doan't be- lieve you would steal, I hev neber cotched you lyiu', 124 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. and I reckon you am a good man at home. Now, if somebody told you dar was a gold ring in de bottom of de ribber somewhar', would you pay ten cents a chance to fish fur it ? " " No, sah." " Sartin, you wouldn't. Policy am a long, wide, deep ribber. De gold ring at de bottom am a $5 prize which some poo' critter fishes out arter payin' ten or fifteen dollars fur de chance. You wouldn't frow money into Lake Erie an' 'spect to git it back, but you'll frow money into de pond of policy an' 'spect to git out ten times as much money as you tossed in. Drap it — drap it, Brudder Cadaver, be- fore you lose de title of Judge an' get dat of Fool." " Yes, sah; I'll drap it to once." " An' you drank whiskey. De man who goes into a saloon am no better dan de man who keeps it. If I should ax you to put your foot ag'in a hot stove you would think me crazy. An' yet, when you burn your stomach, befuddle your brain an' make a brute of yourself, and hev to pay fur de privilege besides, what shall I think of you ? God made de idiot, but it was left to whiskey to make de fool." "I'll nebber tech de stuff ag'in, sah— nebber." " An' you hev bin loafin' aroun'. Brudder Cada- ver, all wickedness begins wid laziness. A loafer am as much despised as a drunkard. When laziness comes home pride goes away to visit de nayburs. Whiskey may break a woman's heart, but laziness will freeze her to death. When you go home to-night spit on yer hands an' ax de boys to grease yer butes. When you turn outer bed in the mawnin', freeze hold RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 125 ob de ax or spade or brush, an' hunt fur a job. Dissolve partnership wid laziness, cut de acquaintance of whiskey, an' de next time you am tempted to play policy come ober to my cabin an' ax me to kick you all aroun' de doahyard. You kin now sot down." "HOSSE3 IS HOSSES." BEET HARTE. Beautiful ! Sir, you may say so. Thar isn't her match in the country, — Is thar, old gal ? • Chiquita, my darling, my beauty ! Feel of that neck, sir — thar's velvet ! Whoa ! Steady — ah, will you ? you vixen ! Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out; let the gentleman look at her paces. Morgan ! — She ain't nothin' else, and I've got the papers to prove it. Sired by Chippewa Chief, and twelve hundred dollars won't buy her; Briggs of Tuolumne owned her. Did you know Briggs of Tuolumne ? — Busted hisself in White Pine, and blew out his brains down in 'Frisco ? Hedn't no savey — hed Briggs. Thar, Jack ! that'll do — quit that foolin' ! Nothin' to what she kin do vrhen she's got her work cut out before her. 126 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. Hosses is hosses, you know, and likewise, too, jock- eys is jockeys; And 'taint every man as can ride as knows what a hoss has got in him. Know that old ford on the Fork, that nearly got^, Flanigan's leaders ? Nasty in daylight, you bet, and a mighty rough ford in low water ! "Well, it ain't six weeks ago that me and the Jedge and his nevy Struck for that ford in the night, in the rain, and the water all round us. Up to our flanks in the gulch, and Rattlesnakes Creek just a bilin', Not a plank left in the dam, and nary a bridge on the river. I had the gray, and the Jedge had his roan, and his nevey, Chiquita; And after us trundled the rocks just loosed from the top of the canon. Lickity, lickity, switch, we came to the ford, and Chiquita Buckled right down to her work, and afore I could yell to her rider, Took water jest at the ford, and there was the Jedge and me standing, And twelve hundred dollars of hoss-nesh afloat, an' a driftin', to thunder I RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 127 Would you b'lieve it, that night, that hoss — that ar' filly—- Chiquita — Walked herself into her stall, and stood there all quiet and dripping ! Clean as a beaver or rat, with nary a buckle or har- ness, Just as she swam the Ford — that hoss, that ar' filly, Chiquita. That's what I call a hoss ! and — what did you say ? — O, the nevy ? Drowned, I reckon — leastwise he never kem back to deny it. Ye see the derned fool had no seat — you couldn't have made him a rider; And then, we know, boys will be boys, and hosses — well, hosses is hosses ! DEATH OF THE WIFE. ANONYMOUS. She had lain all day in a stupor, breathing with heavy-laden breath, but as the sun sunk to rest in the far off western sky, and the red glow on the wall of the room faded into dense shadows, awoke and called feebly to her aged partner, who was sitting motionless by the bed-side. He bent over his dying wife and took her wan, wrinkled hand in his. " Is it night ? " she asked in tremulous tones, look- ing at him with eyes that saw not. "Yes," he answered softly; "it is growing dark." 128 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. " Where are the children ? " she queried; " are they all in ? " Poor old man ! How could he answer her ? The children had slept for years in the old churchyard. " The children are safe/' answered the old man, tremulously; " don't think of them, Jane. Think of yourself. Does the way seem dark ? " " My trust is in Thee. Let me never be confound- ed. "What does it matter if the way is dark ? " " I'd rather walk with God in the dark, than walk alone in the light." " I'd rather walk with Him by faith, than walk alone by sight." " John, where's little Charley ? " she asked. Her mind was again in the past. The grave dust of twenty years had lain on Charley's golden hair, but the mother had never forgotten him. The old man patted her cold hands that had labored so hard that they were seamed and wrinkled and calloused with years of toil, and the wedding ring was worn to a mere thread of gold — and then he pressed his lips to them and cried; they had encouraged and strength- ened him in every trial of life. Why, what a woman she had been ! "What a leader in Israel ! Always with the gift of prayer or service. They had stood at many a deathbed together — closed eyes of loved ones, and then sat down with the Bible between them to read the promise. Now she was about to cross the dark river alone. And it was strange and sad to the yellow-haired grand-daughter left them to hear her babble of walks in the woods, of gathering May flowers and strolling EECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 129 ■with John, of petty household cares that she had always put down with strong, resolute hand, of wed- ding feasts and deathbed triumphs; and when at midnight she heard the Bridegroom's voice, and the old man, bending over her, cried pitifully, and the grand-daughter kissed her pale brow, there was a solemn joy in her voice as she spoke the names of her children, one by one, as if she saw them with immortal eyes, and with one glad smile put on im- mortality. They led the old man sobbing away, and when he saw her again the glad morning sun was shining, the air was jubilant with the song of birds, and she lay asleep on the couch under the north window where he had seen her so often lie down to rest while wait- ing for the Sabbath bell. And she wore the same black silk, and the string of gold beads about her thin neck and the folds of white tulle. Only now the brooch with his miniature was wanting, and in its place was a white rose and a spray of cedar — she had loved cedar — she had loved to sing over her work: "Oh, may I in His courts he seen, Like a young cedar, fresh and green." But the strange transformations that were there ! The wrinkles were gone. The traces of age and pain and weariness were smoothed out; the face had grown strangely young, and a placid smile was on the pale lips. The old man was awed by this like- ness to the bride of his youth. He kissed the un- res}3onsive lips, and then said softly: " Tou have found heaven first, Janet, but you'll 130 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. come for me soon. It's our first parting in more than seventy years, but it won't be for long ! " And it was not. The Winter snow has not fallen, and there is another grave, and to-day would have been their diamond wedding ! We had planned much for it, and I wonder — I wonder — but no ! Where they are there is neither marriage nor giving in marriage, OUR OWN. ANONYMOUS. If I had known in the morning How wearily all the day The words unkind Would trouble my mind I said when I went away, I had been more careful, darling, Nor given you needless pain. But we vex " our own " With look and tone We may never take back again. For though in the quiefc evening You may give me the kiss of peace, Yet it might be That never for me The pain of the heart should cease. How many go forth in the morning That never come home at night; And hearts have broken For harsh words spoken That sorrow can ne'er set right. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 131 We have careful thoughts for the stranger, And smiles for the sometimes guest; But oft for " our own " The bitter tone, Though we love " our own " the best. Ah, lips with the curve impatient ! Ah, brow with that look of scorn ! 'Twere a cruel fate, Were the night too late To undo the work of morn. A MODEL LOVE LETTER. ANONYMOUS. My Dear Miss Milinda: — Every time I think of you my heart flops up and down like a churn-dasher. Sensations of unutterable joy caper over it like young goats on a stable roof, and thrill through it like Spanish needles through a pair of tow linen trousers. As a gosling swimmeth in a mud-puddle, so I swim in a sea of glory. Visions of ecstatic rapture, thicker than the hairs of a blacking-brush, and brighter than the eyes of a humming-bird, visit me in my slumbers, and your image stands before me, and I reach out to grasp it, like a pointer snapping at a blue-bottle. When I first beheld your angelic perfections, I was bewildered, and my brain whirled around like a bumble-bee under a glass tumbler. My eyes stood open like the cellar doors of a country town, and I lifted up my ears to catch the silvery accents of your 132 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. voice. My tongue refused to wag, and in silent adoration I drank in the sweet infection of love as a thirsty man swalloweth a tumbler of hot lemon- ade. Since the light of your face fell upon my life, I sometimes feel as if I could lift myself up by my boot- straps to the top of the church -steeple, and pull the bell-rope for singing-school. Day and night you are in my thoughts. When Aurora, blushing like a bride, rises from her saffron-colored couch; when the jay- bird pipes his tuneful lay in the apple-tree by the spring-house ; when the chanticleer's shrill clarion heralds the coming morn; when the awaken- ing pig arises from his bed and grunteth, and goeth for his refreshments; when the drowsy beetle wheels his droning flight at sultry noontide, and when the lowing herds come home at milking time, I think of thee; and, like a piece of gum-elastic, my heart seems stretched clear across my bosom. Your hair is like the mane of a sorrel horse, pow- dered with gold, and the graceful manner in which you catch your train on the fly fills me with unbound- ed awe. Your forehead is smoother than the elbow of an old coat. Your eyes are glorious to behold. In their liquid depths I see legions of little cupids bathing, like a cohort of red ants in a piece of old cheese. When their fire hit me upon my manly breast, it penetrated my whole anatomy, as a load of bird-shot through a rotten apple. Your nose is like a chunk of Parian marbel, and your mouth is puckered with sweetness. Nectar lingers on your lips, like honey on a bear's RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 133 paw, and myriads of unfledged kisses are there, ready to fly out and light somewhere, like blue-birds out of their parents' nest. Your laugh rings in my ears like the wild harp's strain, or the bleat of a lost Nanny-goat. The dimples on your cheeks are like bowers in beds of roses, or hollows in cakes of home- made sugar. I am dying to pour out the burning eloquence of my love, as thrifty housewives pour out hot coffee. Away from you I am as melancholy as a sick rat. Sometimes I hear the June-bugs of despondency buzzing in my ears, and feel the cold lizards of des- pair crawling down my back. My love for you is stronger than the smell of oleo- margarine, or the kick of a young cow, and more unselfish than a kitten's first caterwaul. As a song- bird hankers for the light of day, the cautious mouse for the fresh bacon in the trap, as a mean pup hank- ers for new milk, so long I for thee. You are fairer than a speckled pullet, sweeter than a Yankee doughnut fried in sorghum molasses. If these few remarks will enable you to see the inside of my soul, and me to win your affections, I shall be as happy as a black-bird on a cherry-tree, or a stage horse in a green pasture. If you cannot reciprocate my thrilling passion, I will pine away like a poisoned bed-bug, and in coming years when the philosophical frog sings his cheerful evening hymns, then may you, happy in another's love, come and drop a tear, and catch a cold on the last resting-place of Yours affectionately, Oscar. 134 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. THE ACRES AND THE HANDS. DUGANNE. " The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof,' Says God's most holy word; The water hath fish, and the land hath flesh, And the air hath many a bird; And the soil is teeming o'er the earth, And the earth hath numberless lands; Yet millions of hands want acres, While millions of acres want hands. Sunlight and breeze, and gladsome flowers, Are o'er the earth spread wide; And the good Grod gave these gifts to men — To men who on earth abide. Yet thousands are toiling in poisonous gloom, And shackled with iron bands; While millions of hands want acres, And millions of acres want hands. Never a rod hath the poor man here, To plant with a grain of corn — And never a plant where his child may cull Fresh flowers in the dewy morn. The soil lies fallow, the woods grow rank; Yet idle the poor man stands ! Ah ! millions of hands want acres, And millions of acres want hands. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 135 'Tis writ " Thou shalt not muzzle the ox That treadeth out the corn ! " Yet, behold ! ye shackle the poor man's limbs That have all earth's burdens borne. The land is the gift of a bounteous God, And to labor his^word commands; Yet millions of hands want acres, And millions of acres want hands. Who hath ordained that the few should hoard Their millions of useless gold ? And rob the earth of its fruits and flowers, "While profitless soil they hold ? Who hath ordained that a parchment scroll Shall fence round miles of lands, When millions of hands want acres, And millions of acres want hands ? 'Tis a glaring lie on the face of the day — This robbery of men's rights ! 'Tis a he that the word of the Lord disowns, 'Tis a curse that burns and blights ! And 'twill burn and blight till the people rise, And swear, while they burst their bands, That the hands shall henceforth have acres, And the acres henceforth have hands. 136 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. IF. ANONYMOUS. If men cared less for wealth and fame, And less for battlefield and glory; If writ in human hearts a name Seemed better than a song and story; If men, instead of nursing Pride, Would learn to hate and to abhor it; If more relied on Love to guide, The world would be the better for it. If men dealt less in stocks and lands, And more in bonds and deeds fraternal; If Love's work had more willing hands To link this world to the supernal; If men stored up Love's oil and wine, And on bruised human souls would pour it; If " yours " and " mine " would once combine, The world would be the better for it. If more would act the play of Life, And fewer spoil it in rehearsal; If Bigotry would sheath its knife Till good became more universal; If Custom, gray with ages grown, Had fewer blind men to adore it; If Talent shone for Truth alone, The world would be better for it. If men were wise in little things, Affecting less in all their dealings; If hearts had fewer rusted strings To isolate their kindly feelings; EECHEBCHE RECITATIONS. 137 If men, when Wrong beats down the Eight, Would strive together and restore it; If Eight made Might in every fight, The world would be better for it. ESTRAY. M. QUAD. No one could say who owned that mule. Small boys had pelted him with liberal hand, and the police had made glorious but unsuccessful efforts to insnare his wayward steps, and turn him over to the pound- master. A gray mule, well put together for an animal of the kind. The rotundity of form which distinguishes the well-fed mule was lacking. A bite of grass here and there, an occasional thistle head, a nibble at a passing load of hay, may blunt the edge of hunger, but will not produce plumpness nor good nature. He had wandered from home, this mule — started out with a desire, perhaps, of visiting strange towns, meeting with strange adventures, and of seeing the world. His owner had been left one mule less, and mayhap he had searched long and diligently, and been patient and hopeful, trusting that the wheel of time would turn, and return the mourned estray. Down the street — around the corner — the gaslight playing for a moment on his faded coat — and the mule crowded close to the fence, and peered over with hungry eyes at the juicy green grass. In the parlor sat the lovers. She was beautiful — 138 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. he was worth 500 shares of Lake Shore stock, and was interested in a bridge contract where there was a chance for a splendid grab. He loved and he trusted that she reciprocated. He had come pre- pared to announce his love, and she blushed as she read the fact in his eyes. I " My dear Isabella," he commenced, as he tender- ! ly pressed her soft fingers, u I think you " '•' Gee haw ! Gee haw ! " roared the wayward mule, rendered melancholy by the sight of the boun- tiful supper just beyond his nose. The fair Isabella sprang up in alarm, and it was several minutes before the young man with Lake Shore stock could quiet her. " It is nothing but a mule," he exclaimed, as he looked from the open window; and he scowled dark- ly at the wanderer, and made threatening ges- tures. She sat down again, and the painful silence was at length broken by his grasping her hand, and say- ing: " I have to-day been analyzing my feelings toward you, and find that " " O-h, hoo-haw, gee-haw — gee-haw ! " announced the homeless, houseless mule, as he caught scent of the roses and tulips from the lawn. He saw things as a mule sees them— he hungered as mules hun- ger. " It's that beast again ! " whispered Lake Shore stock, as the fair Isabella uttered a little shriek of alarm. He went to the window and ordered the gray- RECHEECHfi RECITATIONS. 139 haired outcast to move on— to leave that locality without any unnecessary delay, and secure standing room on the common. They sat down again. He had something of inter- est to communicate, and she had a curiosity to know what it was. Minutes ticked away before he looked into her lustrous eyes again. He thought he saw the light of love shining brightly, and he stole his arm along the sofa and said : "You must have seen — you must know, that I " ' ' O-h-h ! gee-gee-ah-ha ! ah-ha ! " came a voice from beneath the window. It was not the voice of a drifting sailor, going down to a dark, deep grave, after a gallant struggle for life. It was not the voice of a lost child crying out as it stumbled through the darkness, longing for the strong arms of a father to enfold it. It was the voice of a gray mule, quaver- ing strangely as hunger brought up recollections of corn cribs and timothy hay. A smile flitted across her face. The human soul is so constructed that one may smile at a victorious, exultant champion, or at a downcast, discouraged mule. Lake Shore approached the window again, and as he brandished his fist in the air, he warned the in- truder to dissolve in the distance, under penalty of being found dead with a severed jugular. When a rubber ball is flattened it will spring back to its original shape as soon as the pressure is removed. When a lover's declaration has been thrice broken in upon, his thoughts are slow in gather- 140 KECHERCHE" RECITATIONS. ing. They sat there and gazed at the opposite wall as if waiting for a railroad train, but she finally glanced up coyly and lovingly and whispered: "You were about to say something! " " I was, " he whispered in return, reaching out for her hand. "The public have acknowledged me as your — your favored suitor for months past, and this fact has emboldened me to " " Hip-hup-haw-gee-haw-ah ! " came a voice on the night breeze — a voice which halted and gasped and hesitated as if the owner had risen from beside the grave of a loved, lost friend. It was not the voice of a troubadour, warbling words of anguish set in rhyme. It was not the voice of a lone night bird calling for its lost mate. It was the voice of that same mule calling to the lilac bushes to come a little nearer — to come and get a bite. "Is that an odious cow?" she softly inquired. " No; it's a blasted mule ! " he exclaimed. " Such language, sir ! " she said as she rose up. " Such a mule, madam ! " he replied, pointing to the window. " 111 kill the man— the mule — that has dared to come between us," he shouted, and out he rushed from the mansion. He pelted that age-worn mule with lawn ornaments; he pelted him with a picket torn from the fence; he pursued his retreating form, and battered it with stones picked from the street or found along the curbstone. Halting under a lone tree on the dreary common, gazing through the deep shadows of night to discover why pursuit was at last abandoned, the gray mule RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 141 seemed to realize that even as a mule, it was safe to have an accident insurance ticket in his pocket, and he sighed and gasped and tremulously soliloquized: " Gee — haw — gee-ah — r-r-raw — gee-haw! " And the shadow grew deeper, the night breeze sighed with renewed loneliness, the stars nestled be- hind the clouds to sleep, and he felt that he was a mule beloved by no one. THE DEAD WIFE'S PORTRAIT. ANONYMOUS. In a lumbering attic room, Where, for want of light and air, Years had died within the gloom, Leaving dead dust everywhere — Everywhere — Hung the portrait of a lady With a face so fair. Time had long since dulled the paint — Time — which all our arts disguise; And the features now were faint — All except the wondrous eyes — Wondrous eyes, Ever looking, looking, looking, With a sad surprise. As man loveth, man had loved Her whose features faded there; As man mourneth, man had mourned — 142 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. Weeping, in his dark despair, Bitter tears, When she left him broken-hearted, To his death of years. Then, for months, the picture bent All its eyes upon his face — Following him where'er he went — Till another filled the place In its stead — Till the features of the living Did outface the dead. There, for years, it hung above, In that attic dim and ghast, Fading with the fading love — Sad reminder of the past — Save the eyes, Ever looking — ever looking With such sad surprise. Oft, the distant laughter's sound Entered through the cobwebbed door; And the cry of children found Dusty echoes from the floor To those eyes — Ever looking — ever looking With such sad surprise. Once, there moved upon the stair Olden love steps mounting low; But the face that met him there RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 143 Drove him to the depths below; For those eyes Through his soul seemed looking — looking All their sad surprise. From that day the door was nailed Of that memory-haunted room; A.nd the portrait hung, and paled On the dead dust and the gloom- Save the eyes, Ever looking — ever looking With such sad surprise. SPOOPENDYKE OPENING OYSTERS. STANLEY HUNTLEY. "My dear," queried Mr. Spoopendyke, "did you pit those oysters on the cellar floor with the round slells down, as I told you to ? " " I did most of 'em," replied Mrs. Spoopendyke. " Some of 'em wouldn't stay that way. They turned rght over." "Must have been extraordinary intelligent oys- ters," murmured Mr. Spoopendyke, eyeing her with suspicion. " Didn't any of 'em stand up on end and ask for the morning paper, did they ? " " You know what I mean," fluttered Mrs. Spoop- endyke. " They tipped over sideways, and so I laid them on the flat shell." " That's right," grunted Mr. Spoopendyke. a You 14A RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. want to give an oyster his own way, or you'll hurt his feelings. Suppose you bring up some of those gifted oysters and an oyster-knife, and we'll eai 'em. Mrs. Spoopendyke hurried away and pattered back with the feast duly set out on a tea-waiter, which she placed before Mr. Spoopendyke with a flourish. "Now," said she, drawing up her sewing-diair, and resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands; " when you get all you want you may open me some." Mr. Spoopendyke whirled the knife aroun:! his head and brought it down with a sharp crack. Then he clipped away at the end a moment, and jabbed at what he supposed was the opening. The kiife slipped and ploughed the bark off his thumb. " Won't come open, won't ye ! " he shouted, feich- it another lick, and jabbing away again. ' ' Haven't completed your census of who's out here working ct ye, have ye ? " and he brought it another whacl. " P'rhaps ye think I haven't fully made up my mini to inquire within, don't ye ? " and he rammed ths point of the knife at it, knocking the skin of! his knuckles. " That isn't the way to open an oyster," suggested Mrs. Spoopendyke. "Look here," roared Mr. Spoopendyke, turning fiercely on his wife. " Have you got any private un- derstanding with this oyster ? Has the oyster con- fided in you the particular way in which he wants to be opened ? " RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 145 "No-o!" stammered Mrs. Spoopendyke. ''Only I thought- " " This is no time for thought ! " shouted Mr. Spoopendyke, banging away at the edge of the shell. " This is the moment for battle, and if I've happened to catch this oyster during office hours, he's going to enter into relations with the undersigned. Come out, will ye ? " he yelled, as the knife flew up his sleeve. " Maybe ye don't recognize the voice of Spoopendyke ! Come out, ye measly coward, be- fore ye make an enemy of me for life ! " and he belted away at the shell with the handle of the knife, and spattered mud like a dredging machine. " Let me get you a hammer to crack him with," recommended Mrs. Spoopendyke, hovering over her husband in great perturbation. "Don't want any hammer,'' howled Mr. Spoopen- dyke, slamming around with his knife. " S'pose I'm going to use brute force on a measly fish that I could swallow alive if I could only get him out of his house ? Open your measly premises ! " raved Mr. Spoopendyke, stabbing at the oyster vindictively, and slicing his shirt sleeve clear to the elbow. "Come forth and enjoy the society of Spoopendyke ! " and the worthy gentleman foamed at the mouth, and he sunk back in his chair and contemplated his stubborn foe with glaring eyes. " I'll tell you what to do ! " exclaimed Mrs. Spoop- endyke, radiant with a profound idea. " Crack him in the door ! " " That's the scheme ! " grinned Mr. Spoopendyke, with horrible contortions of visage. "Fetch me the 146 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. door. Set that door right before me on a plate. This oyster is going to stay here. If you think this oyster is going to enjoy any change of climate until he strikes the tropics of Spoopendyke, you don't know the domestic habits of shell-fish. Loose your hold ! " squealed Mr. Spoopendyke, returning to the charge, and fetching the bivalve a prodigious whack. " Come into the outer world, where all is gay and beautiful. Come out and let me introduce you to my wife ; " and Mr. Spoopendyke laid the oyster on the arm of his chair, and slugged him remorselessly. " "Wait ! " squealed Mrs. Spoopendyke, " here's one with his mouth open ! " and she pointed cautiously at a gaping oyster who had evidently taken down the shutters to see what the row was about. " Don't care a measly nickle with a hole in it ! " protested Mr. Spoopendyke, thoroughly impatient. * ' Here's one that's going to open his mouth, or the resurrection will find him still wrestling with the os- tensible head of this family. Ow ! " and Mr. Spoop- endyke, having rammed the knife into the palm of his hand, slammed the oyster against the chimney- piece, where it was shattered, and danced around the room wriggling with wrath and agony. " Never mind the oysters, dear," cried Mrs. Spoop- endyke, following him around and trying to disen- gage his wounded hand from his armpit. " Who's minding 'em ? " roared Mr. Spoopendyke, standing on one leg and bending up double. " I tell ye that when I start to inflict discipline on a narrow- minded oyster that won't either accept an invitation or send regrets, he's going to mind me ! Where's RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 1A7 the oyster ? Show me the oyster ! Arraign the oyster ! " " Upon my word, you've opened him ! " giggled Mrs. Spoopendyke, picking up the smashed bivalve between the tips of her thumb and fore-finger. " Won't have him ! " sniffed Mr. Spoopendyke, eyeing the broken shell and firing his defeated enemy into the grate. " If I can't go in the front door of an oyster, I'm not going down the scuttle ! That all comes of laying 'em on the flat shell," he continued, suddenly recollecting that his wife was to blame for the whole business. " Now you take the rest of 'em down and lay 'em as I told you to." "Yes, dear." " And another time you want any oysters you sit around in the cellar, and when they open their mouths you put sticks in. You hear ? " "Yes, dear." And Mrs. Spoopendyke took the bivalves back, re- solving that the next time they were in demand they would crawl out of their shells and walk up-stairs arm-in-arm, before she would have any hand in the mutilation of her poor dear suffering husband by bringing them up herself. SAM'S LETTER. ANONYMOUS. I wonder who the d-d-dickenth w-wote me this let- ter. I thuppose the b-best way to f-find out ith to open it and thee, {opens letter) Thome lun -lunatic hath w-witten me this letter. He hath w-witten it 140 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. upthide down. I wonder if he th-thought I wath go- ing to w-wead it thanding on my head. Oh, yeth, I thee; I had it t-t-turned upthide down. " Ainewi- ca." Who the d-dickenth do I know in Amewica? I am glad he hath g-given me hith addwess anyhow. Oh, yeth, I thee, it ith from Tham. I alwayth know Tham's handwiting when I thee hith name at the b-bottom of it. Tham alwayths wath an aths; but you'd like him. " My dear bwother — " Tham al- waths called me bwother. I-I thuppose iths because hith m-mother and my mother wath the thame woman, and we never had any thisters. When we were boyths we were ladths together. They used to ge-get off a p wo verb when they thaw uth corn-com- ing down the stweet. It ith vewy good, if I could only think of it. I can never wecollect anything that I can't we-wemember. Iths — it iths the early bir- bird — iths the early bir-bird that knowths iths own father. What non-nonthenths that iths ! How co- could a bir-bird know iths cwn father? Iths a w r ithe — iths a withe child — iths a withe child that geths the worn. T-that's not wite. What non-non- thenths that iths i No pa-pawent would allow hiths child to ga-gather woms. Iths a wyme. Iths fish of -of a feather. Fish of a fea — What non-nonthenths ! for fish don't have feathers. Iths a bir-bird — iths b- birds of a feather — b-birds of a — of feather flock to- gether. B-birds of a feather ! Just as if a who? who- whole flock of b-birds had only one f-feather. They'd all catch cold, and only one b-bird c-could have that f-feather, and he'd fly sidewithse. What con-confounded nonthenths that iths ! Flock to- RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 149 together ! Of courthse th-they'd flock together. Who ever her-heard of a bird being such a thupid f- fool as to g-go into a c-corner and flo-nock by him- self? "Iwo-wote you a letter thome time ago — " Thath's a lie; he d-didn't wi-wite me a letter. If he had witten me a letter he would have posted it, and I would have g-got it; so, of course, he didn't post it, and then he didn't wite it. Thath's easy. Oh, yeths, I thee: "but I dwopped it into the potht- potht-offlce forgetting to diwect it." Tham alwayths waths an aths. I wonder who the d-dic-dickens got that letter. I wonder if the poth-pothman iths go- in' awound inquiring for a f- fellow without a name. I wonder if there iths a f -fellow without any name. If there iths any fel-fellow without any name, how the d dickenth doeths he know who he iths himthelf ? I — I wonder if thuch a fellow could get mawaid. How could he ask hiths wife to take hithsname if he h-had no name ? Thath's one of thothse things no fellow can f-find out. " I have just made a startling dithcovery." Thani's alwayths d-doing thomthing. " I have dithcovered that my mother iths — that m- my mother ith not my m-mother; that a — the old nurse iths my m-mother, aud that you are not my b-bwother, and a — tha-that I was changed at my birth." How c-can a fellow be changed at hith b-birth ? If he iths not himthelf, who the d-dick- enth iths he ? If Thani's m-mother ith not hith m- niother, and the nurthse iths hith mother, and Tham ithn't my bwother, who the d-dickenth am I ? That's one of thothse things that no fel-follow can find out. "I have p-pur chased an ethstate som-some- 150 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. where — " Dothn't the id-idiot know wh-where h-he has bought it ? Oh, yeths : " on the b-bahkths of the M-M-Mithithippi." Wh-who the d-dickenth iths M-Mithithippi ? I g-gueths ith's Tham's m-mother- in-l-law. Tharn's got mawaid. He th-thayths he felt v-vewy ner-nervons. Any fel-fellow feels nervous when h-he knows he iths go-going to make an aths of himthelf. Thani's got a mother-in-law. He al- wayths waths a lucky fellow getting th- things he did- n't want, and hadn't any use for. Thpeaking of mother-in-lawths, I had a fwiend who had a mother- in-law, and he didn't like her pwetty well; and she f-felt the thame way towards him; and they went away on a st-steamer acwoths the ocean, and they got wecked, catht away on a waft, and they floated awound with their feet in the water and other amuthements, living on thuch things ath they could pick up — thardinths, ithcweam, owanges, and other c-canned goodths that were floating awound. "When that waths all gone, everybody ate everybody else. F-finally only himthelf and hiths m-mother-in-law waths left, and they pl-played a game of c-cards to thee who thould be eaten up — himthelf or hiths mother-in-law. A-a — the mother-in-law lotht. H- he treated her handthomly, only he strapped h-her flat on her back, and c-carved her gently. H-h-he thays that waths the f-first time that he ever weally enjoyed a m-mother-in-law. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 151 THE LIME-KILN CLUB. M. QUAD. "What I was gwine to remark," said Brother Gardner, as the siege opened, " was to de effeck dat Killwilliam Smith, ginerally known as de ' Demos- thenes of the South,' am now waitin' in de aunty- room for an invitashun to deliver his orashun on ' The Great Men of de Past.' He has come heah from Lynchburg, Va., fur dis speshul purpose, payin' his own fa'r part of de way, an' walkin' de rest of de way on de railroad ties, an' if dar am no dejeckshuns we will bring him in." " Did I understan' de cha'r to say if deir was no dejeckshuns ? " asked the Rev. Penstock, as he sud- denly popped up. "You did, sah!" " Dejeckshuns — ah. Didn't de cha'r mean to say if deir was no " " Brudder Penstock," interrupted the President, " when dis cha'r says dejeckshuns he doan' mean in- fleckshuns, direckshuns or deneckshuns. De las' time you interrupted the purceedin's of dis meetin', you war tole dat de nex' display of capfulness on your part would dissult in a fine. Painful as it am to me, an' as much as I feel fur your wife an' chil'en, I shall repose a fine on you of $400 an' costs. De costs, as near as I can figger, will be about $600. You will consider yourself impended from member- ship until de fine am paid." The Rev. sank down on his chair, his eyes rolled, 152 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. his breathing was labored, and he suddenly fainted away, and dragged Napoleon Shrewsbury with him to the floor. During the excitement eight or ten persons received the contents of the water-pail. Melon rinds flew about in a perfect shower, and a cantelope, which struck Ten Thousand Collins be- tween the shoulders, broke open and extinguished three lamps, and knocked down the grub-hoe with which Washington crossed the Delaware. Brother Penstock finally revived and bound a wet towel around his head, and Colonel Hi Smith arose to make a statement. He was intimately acquainted with the pecuniary resources of Brother Penstock. His earnings the past year were exactly $483.29. His expenditures were exactly $483.25. The balance on hand was therefore only four cents. This year the balance would be closer still, and even in the best year to come there was no hope of a great in- crease. Giving four cents as the average yearly IK balance, and it would take Brother Penstock about 250,000 years to pay his fine and secure his restora- tion to membership. The speaker hoped that mercy would prevail and the fine be withdrawn. After a brief consultation with Sir Isaac Walpole and Way- down Bebee the President arose and announced that he would remit the fine and costs, and that the mem- ber's narrow escape from being killed stone dead would be a great moral warning to him throughout the rest of his days. The Committee on Reception then donned their red neckties, and escorted the great orator into the hall. He was given a general introduction from the RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 153 ( platform, a glass of water and a lemon placed at his left hand, and after clearing his throat and adjusting his necktie, he began: " Whar am Cicero ? In de y'ars gone by de world cheered at his name. When he recommended any maker's liver pills dem pills war considered boss. When he acted as judge at a hoss race no man dared appeal. When he entered a street kyar everybody hitched along. When he rode out in his keeridge butcher carts turned pale and took a back street. De newspapers glorified him, de public applauded him, an' banks fairly ached to cash his checks. But whar am he to-day ? His sweet songs am silent, his dog has quit barking, and eben his name am forgot- ten except by de few interested in faro an' de string game, (cheers by Elder Toots.) " Whar am Plato ? Ask 'em at de toll-gate an' dey can't tell you. Ask 'em at de depots, an' a shake of de head will tell de sad story. Gone ! Gone ! When he crossed de Rubicon de world thundered with applause, (applause from Samuel Shin) When he crossed de Alps nations trembled, (cheers from the bach end of the hall) When he wrote ' Paradise Lost' de world wept, (suppressed applause from Casseway Bottomlands) But he am passed away. De blight an' de mildew struck him, an' he faded, an' only now and den, as you see a game of dominoes, do you h'ar his memory referred to. (prolonged cheers.) "But I did not come yere to take up de time ob dis meetin'. (applause) I simply desired to present you wid a few gems from my oratorical album, an' to say to you dat yereafter I kin be found at 2,657 154 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. Croglian street, dis city, whar I shall be ready at all times to cuali corns, bunyons, cracked heels an' so' toes, an' deliber my full lectur' at de low price of twenty-five cents a head — chil'en free." (cheers and applause and a fall of eleven joints of stove-pipe.) When quiet had been restored the Secretary read a communication from Happy John Franks of Ver- million, Marshall county, Kas., stating that a one- eyed, straw-pajDer colored man, giving his name as Pickles Smith, had been in that vicinity for the last two weeks collecting money for the erection of a colored church in Michigan. He had credentials, but hesitated and exhibited guilt when asked how many of the bald-headed members of the club wore buckskin plasters on top of their heads in fly time. The Secretary was instructed to reply that the real Pickles Smith had not been outside of Detroit for a year, and to ask the people of Kansas to receive the base impostor in the way he deserves. NOW. ANONYMOUS. "When I am lying pale and dead. Come not, dear friends, around my bed, And pour your loss in deafened ears, And wash my heedless face with tears. "What thrill of hope or tenderness Will beat beneath my burial dress ? What look of gratitude arise, And lift the lid of sightless eyes ? RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 155 What loving voice escape those lips, From which no speech or language slips ? Alas ! I cannot rouse and say : ;c If ye lament me I will stay." Speak while I hear, and while I long To feel your love is true and strong, While peace can soothe my troubled brow, Wait not to miss me; hold me now! Set not your kisses on my cheek, Nor on my mouth, too cold to speak; In life I longed to feel their breath But what are kisses worth to Death ? Like blossoms dropped on ice and snow, Like songs when howling tempests blow, A wasted gift, a vain caress, That might have been a power to bless, That might a life with joy endow; Oh ! if you kiss me, kiss me now. Remember not when I am gone, The deeds I did or would have done; How much I loved, how vainly strove To find an answer in your love; Say not with tears, and cries and prayers, ' Would that we showed her tender cares, Had patience with the faults we knew, Clung to the heart so warm and true, That now we weep with hopeless pain, And know will never come again." Ah ! breathe not then the useless vow, But if you love me, love me now. 156 EECHEKCHE RECITATIONS. Nor standing round my wintry grave, Too late to serve me or to save, Fling on it all yon have to give; " At last her follies we forgive ! " No ! if within your hearts there be A kind but slumbering thought of me, A memory of the vanished past, A hope of peace and love at last, A speechless prayer, a silent sense, That sometimes speaks in my defence; That says: " Our life is not too long, And we, perhaps, were sometimes wrong; ' Ah ! listen to that pleading voice, And bid a living heart rejoice. If late remorse or grief allow Forgiveness then, forgive me now. THE IDIOT BOY. ANONYMOUS. It had pleased God to form poor Ned A thing of idiot mind. Yet, to the poor unreas'ning boy He had not been unkind. Old Sarah loved her helpless child, Whom helplessness made dear; And life was all in all to him Who knew no hope — no fear. She knew his wants — she understood Each half-artic'late call; For he was everything to her, And she to him was all. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 157 And so, for many a year they lived, Nor knew a want beside. But age, at length, on Sarah came, And she fell sick — and died. He tried, in vain, to waken her — He called her o'er and o'er. They told him she was dead — the words To him no import bore. They closed her eyes and shrouded her, Whilst he stood wondering by; And when they bore her to the grave, He followed — silently. They laid her in the narrow house, And sang the funeral stave; And, when the mournful train dispersed, He lingered at the grave. The rabble boys that used to jeer Whene'er they saw poor Ned, Now stood and watched him at the grave- And not a word they said. They came — and went — and came again — Till night at length drew on. Yet, still he lingered at the place Till every one had gone. And when he found himself alone, He quick removed the clay, And took the coffin in his arms, And bore it quick away. 158 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. Straight went he to his mother's cot, And laid it on the floor; And, with the eagerness of joy, He barred the cottage door. And then he placed his mother's corpse Upright within her chair, And then he heaped the hearth, and blew The kindling fire with care. She now was in her wonted chair — It was her wonted place — And bright the fire blazed and flashed, Reflected from her face. Then, kneeling down, he'd feel her hands- Anon her face behold — ' TvTiy, mother do you look so pale; And why are yon so cold ? " And, when the neighbors, on next day, Had forced the cottage door, Old Sarah's corpse was in the chair, And Ned's was on the floor. It had pleased God from this poor boy His only friend to call. Yet God was not unkind to him — For Death restored him all. RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 159 WHAT THE FAT MAN THOUGHT OF THE INQUISITIVE BOY. ARKANSAW TRAVELLER. Mrs. Mulldttle started on a visit to friends living in the suburbs of the city, the other day, and might have spent a pleasant afternoon but for an idle re- mark of the youngster which threw the expedition into an immediate change of programme. They boarded a street car, and were travelling along peace- ably, not to say slowly, when the boy who, in strict keeping of a promise not to ask foolish questions, had conquered every desire to harvest information, said: " Ma, is a street car as hard to pull as a wagon ? " " No, I think not." "Why ain't it?" "Because the street car runs on iron." " And a wagon runs on dirt, don't it ? " " Yes." " Is a mule street car harder to pull than a horse street car ? " "I don't know." " Do mules have pistols ? " "No." " Horses have, haven't they ? " "I don't know." * ' Well, what's a horse pistol, then ? " " If you don't hush I'll put you off the car." " Then I'd get lost Would you care ? " " Of course I'd care." 160 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. " Then why do you want to put me off? " A fat man who, with a cod nose and puffy face, sat opposite the boy, looked up from a newspaper, and bestowed an annoyed glance on the merciless ques- tioner. " You don't know me; does he, ma ? " "Hush, Willie." " Mister, can't you read when the car jolts ? " The man grunted and resumed his reading. " If you wanted to read and the car jolted so you couldn't read, you get off, wouldn't you ? " The man grunted again, and Mrs. Mulkittle brushed her son's foot from the seat and declared that she would tell his father. " Anybody can read when the car jolts if they ain't on the car, can't they ? " "Never mind, sir. I'll tell your father." " Ma, that man's face is red like brother's was, ain't it ? " " Hush sh-sh." " Mister, does your nose hurt ? " The man glared at the boy and roughly asked: " What's the matter with you ? " " Hush, Willie, or I'll slap you," exclaimed Mrs. Mulkittle in an agony of humiliation. " Ain't nothing the matter with me. What's the matter with you ? Did the cat scratch your face ? " " The cat ought to have your tongue," replied the man. " Then I couldn't talk, could I ? " " It is to be hoped that you could not." " Have you been looking at the sun ? " RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 161 The man grunted, and Mrs. Mulkifctle jerked the boy, and made a feint at boxing his ears. " Well, what makes his eyes so red, then ? Do your eyes hurt, mister ? " "Madam," said the man, arising and violently pulling the strap, tl I dislike to be rude, for I ap- preciate your position, but if that boy was mine, hanged if I wouldn't annihilate him." " Ma, what's annihilate ? " asked the boy when the man had gone. " If you ask me another question, you naughty boy, I'll whip you till you can't sit still. " " I can walk, can't I ? " Mrs. Mulkittle turned away, pretending not to hear him. " If I couldn't sit still, I could twist around." THE IRREPRESSIBLE. ANONYMOUS. A cross-eyed man in a long linen ulster and a tall hat rang the bell, and when the woman of the house opened the door, she was satisfied he had an eye to the spoons (the straight eye), so she snapped: " Well, what do you want ? " "Madam, be calm," said the cross-eyed man, in a smooth voice. "What for?" she queried, suspiciously. "Madam," said the cross-eyed man, "have you a child ? " " Yes, I have, " replied the woman; " what of it ? " 162 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. " A little girl ? " queried the cross-eyed man. \ " No, a boy, " returned the woman. 11 Of course — a boy, " repeated the cross-eyed man; " a young boy — not very old ? " "About that age," said the woman; "what about ' him ? " " Madam, do not get excited," pursued the cross- eyed man; " be brave and calm." "Mercy on me," exclaimed the woman, in surprise; "what's the matter ? " " Gently, gently," said the cross-eyed man, in a soothing manner; " restrain yourself. Did not that little boy go out to play this morning?" "Yes, yes," said the woman, excitedly; "what — why— is there anything the matter ? " " Is there not a railroad track crosses the next street ? " queried the cross-eyed man, in a solemn voice. "Yes, oh yes," ejaculated the woman, in great fear; " oh, tell me what has happened ! what " "Be calm," interrupted the cross-eyed man, sooth- ingly; "be brave — keep cool — for your child's sake." " Oh, what is it, what is it? " wailed the woman, wildly; " I knew it — I feared it. Tell me the worst, quick ! Is my child — where is my darling boy ? " " Madam," replied the cross-eyed man, gently, " I but this moment saw a little boy playing upon the railroad track; as I looked upon him he seemed to be " "Oh, dear! oh, dear!" screamed the woman, wringing her hands; "tell me the worst. Is he " " He seemed to be daubing himself with oil," con- RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 163 tinned the cross-eyed man, quickly drawing a bottle from his pocket, " and I've got here the best thing in the world — Lightning Grease Eradicator — only twenty-five cents a bottle, warranted " There was a broom standing behind the door, and with one blow she knocked his tall hat over his eyes, and with another waved him over the steps and through the gate. And as the cross-eyed man moved swiftly up the street, she shook the broom at him, looking for all the world like an ancient god of mythology with a passion-distorted face and highly excited red arms. WHAT INTEMPERANCE DOES. ROBERT G. IXGEESOLL. I am aware there is a prejudice against any man engaged in the manufacture of alcohol. I believe from the time it issues from the coiled and poison- ous worm in the distillery until it empties into the hell of death, that it is demoralizing to everybody that touches it, from the source to where it ends. I do not believe that anybody can contemplate the subject without being prejudiced against the crime. All they have to do is to think of the wrecks on either side of the stream of death, of the suicides, of the insanity, of the poverty, of the destruction, of the little children tugging at the breast, of weeping and despairing wives asking for bread, of the men struggling