Nothing to Eat | Page 3

to rule our own city.
In "council" while sitting, though "common" we call them,
In
common opinion, if people at large
Are's common in morals, no
worse could befal 'em
If Satan should take them at once in his charge.
If food as their filth was as plenty for diet,
No lack would they feel of
the coveted cash,
Or power they maintain with the power of a riot,

When heads of opponents are served up as hash
By Star-chamber
cooks of the club "restoration,"
That rules now the city and would
rule the nation,
If "Sachems" were willing the "Wigwam" to yield,

And give the arch-traitor a fair fighting field.
[Illustration: "JACK WARDEN DROVE UP IN HIS CARRIAGE
AND BAYS."]
But fighting just now is not our intention,
But dining with Merdle, the
banker, in state,
And only these items like side dishes mention,

While waiting the coming the main dinner plate.

The Invitation.
While waiting debating I stated before,
Jack Merdle drove up in his
carriage and bays,
"Halloo," said the banker, "I see you're ashore--

No wonder--this weather is all in a haze--
But come in my carriage,
and truly confess
You're a victim of hunger and dinner down town;

A case of most common distressing distress;
When dining in public
with Jones, Smith or Brown,
Or some other practical men of the
nation,
Is worse on the whole than a little starvation.
But come home with me for the sake of Lang Syne,
And see Mrs.
Merdle and see how we dine.
I must not expect," he advised in advance,
"To meet with a dinner got
up in perfection,
But must run the risk of the luck and the chance,

As candidates do on the day of election."
The Merdle Origin.
Now Merdle, _en passant_, I had known for a score
Of years, when a
dinner with Jones, Brown or Smith
As good as one gets for a quarter
or more,
Was a thing unthought of, or else but a myth
In Merde's
day-dreaming of things yet in store,
When hope painted visions of a
painted abode,
And hope never hoped for anything more--
I'm sure
never dreamed he would dine _a la mode_.
In dreams wildest fancy I doubt if he dreamed,
That time in its
changes that wears rocky shores,
Should change what so changeless
certainly seemed,
Till Merdle, Jack Merdle, would own twenty stores,

Much more own a bank, e'en the horse that he rode,
Or pay half the
debts of the wild oats he sowed.
I knew when he worked at his old father's trade,
And thought he
would stick to his wax and the last,
But Fortune, the fickle,
incontinent jade,
A turn to his fortune has given a cast;
"A wife

with a fortune," which men hunt in packs,
To Jack was the fortune
that fell to his share;
A fortune that often is such a hard tax,
That
men hurry through it with "nothing to spare,"
With "nothing to eat,"
or a house "fit to live in,"
With "nothing half decent" to put on their
backs,
With nothing "exclusive" to have or believe in,
"Except what
is common to common street hacks."
So fortune and comfort, that should be like brothers,
Though fought
for and bled for where fortunes are made,
Though sought for and
failed of by ten thousand others,
Are not worth the fighting and fuss
that is made.
But fortune for Merdle by Cupid was cast,
And bade him look higher
than wax and the last,
That Merdle his father, with good honest trade,

Had used with the stitches his waxed end had made.
I knew when old Merdle lived down by the mill,
I often went fishing
and Jack dug the bait;
But Jack Merdle then never thought he should
fill
With fish and roast meat such a full dinner plate:
Nor I, when
my line which I threw for a trout
While Jack watched the bob of the
light floating cork,
Ever thought of the time in a "Merdle turn out"

To ride, or to dine with a pearl handle fork
In Jack's splendid mansion,
where taste, waste and style,
Contend for preemption, as then by the
mill,
Old Merdle contended with fortune the while,
For bread
wherewithal Jack's belly to fill.
[Illustration: "I NEVER THOUGHT THEN LITTLE KITTY
MALONE, AS HEIR TO OLD CRIPUS WOULD BRING HIM
THE CASH."]
I never thought then little Kitty Malone
As heir to old Gripus would
bring him the cash,
'Pon which as a banker Jack Merdle has shone,

And Kitty in fashion has cut such a dash;
Nor when as a girl not a
shoe to her feet,
She accepted my offers of coppers or candy,
She
would tell me in satin "we've nothing to eat,"
While eating from

silver or sipping her brandy,
And wond'ring that Merdle, the Jack I
have named,
Should bring home a friend--('twas thus she exclaimed--

The day that I've mentioned--a day to remember--
When Merdle
and I in his carriage and bays,
Through Avenue Five on a day in
September,
Drove up to a mansion with gas-light ablaze.)
Mrs. Merdle At Home.
She Discourseth of Nothing to Eat and the Cost thereof.
Why Merdle--why did you bring Dinewell to-day?
So very, though
welcome,