The Wit and Humor of America, Volume V. | Page 3

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Tiddle-Iddle-Iddle-Iddle-Bum! Bum! _Wilbur D. Nesbit_ 218 Whar Dem Sinful Apples Grow _Anne Virginia Culbertson_ 121 Willy and the Lady _Gelett Burgess_ 72 Woman Who Married an Owl, The _Anne Virginia Culbertson_ 44
COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X.
THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA
THE MARRIAGE OF SIR JOHN SMITH
BY PHOEBE CARY
Not a sigh was heard, nor a funeral tone,?As the man to his bridal we hurried;?Not a woman discharged her farewell groan,?On the spot where the fellow was married.
We married him just about eight at night,?Our faces paler turning,?By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,?And the gas-lamp's steady burning.
No useless watch-chain covered his vest,?Nor over-dressed we found him;?But he looked like a gentleman wearing his best,?With a few of his friends around him.
Few and short were the things we said,?And we spoke not a word of sorrow,?But we silently gazed on the man that was wed,?And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we silently stood about,?With spite and anger dying,?How the merest stranger had cut us out,?With only half our trying.
Lightly we'll talk of the fellow that's gone,?And oft for the past upbraid him;?But little he'll reck if we let him live on,?In the house where his wife conveyed him.
But our hearty task at length was done,?When the clock struck the hour for retiring;?And we heard the spiteful squib and pun?The girls were sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we turned to go,--?We had struggled, and we were human;?We shed not a tear, and we spoke not our woe,?But we left him alone with his woman.
THE SPRING BEAUTIES
BY HELEN AVERY CONE
The Puritan Spring Beauties stood freshly clad for church; A thrush, white-breasted, o'er them sat singing on his perch. "Happy be! for fair are ye!" the gentle singer told them; But presently a buff-coat Bee came booming up to scold them.
"Vanity, oh, vanity!?Young maids, beware of vanity!"?Grumbled out the buff-coat Bee,?Half parson-like, half soldierly.
The sweet-faced maidens trembled, with pretty, pinky blushes, Convinced that it was wicked to listen to the thrushes; And when that shady afternoon, I chanced that way to pass, They hung their little bonnets down and looked into the grass.
All because the buff-coat Bee?Lectured them so solemnly--?"Vanity, oh, vanity!?Young maids, beware of vanity!"
GOING UP AND COMING DOWN
BY MARY F. TUCKER
This is a simple song, 'tis true--?My songs are never over-nice,--?And yet I'll try and scatter through?A little pinch of good advice.?Then listen, pompous friend, and learn?To never boast of much renown,?For fortune's wheel is on the turn,?And some go up and some come down.
I know a vast amount of stocks,?A vast amount of pride insures;?But Fate has picked so many locks?I wouldn't like to warrant yours.?Remember, then, and never spurn?The one whose hand is hard and brown,?For he is likely to go up,?And you are likely to come down.
Another thing you will agree,?(The truth may be as well confessed)?That "Codfish Aristocracy"?Is but a scaly thing at best.?And Madame in her robe of lace,?And Bridget in her faded gown,?Both represent a goodly race,?From father Adam handed down.
Life is uncertain--full of change;?Little we have that will endure;?And 't were a doctrine new and strange?That places high are most secure;?And if the fickle goddess smile,?Yielding the scepter and the crown,?'Tis only for a little while,?Then B. goes up and A. comes down.
This world, for all of us, my friend?Hath something more than pounds and pence;?Then let me humbly recommend,?A little use of common sense.?Thus lay all pride of place aside,?And have a care on whom you frown;?For fear you'll see him going up,?When you are only coming down.
THE SET OF CHINA
BY ELIZA LESLIE
"Mr. Gummage," said Mrs. Atmore, as she entered a certain?drawing-school, at that time the most fashionable in Philadelphia, "I have brought you a new pupil, my daughter, Miss Marianne Atmore. Have you a vacancy?"
"Why, I can't say that I have," replied Mr. Gummage; "I never have vacancies."
"I am very sorry to hear it," said Mrs. Atmore; and Miss Marianne, a tall, handsome girl of fifteen, looked disappointed.
"But perhaps I could strain a point, and find a place for her," resumed Mr. Gummage, who knew very well that he never had the smallest idea of limiting the number of his pupils, and that if twenty more were to apply, he would take them every one, however full his school might be.
"Do pray, Mr. Gummage," said Mrs. Atmore; "do try and make an exertion to admit my daughter; I shall regard it as a particular favor."
"Well, I believe she may come," replied Gummage: "I suppose I can take her. Has she any turn for drawing?"
"I don't know," answered Mrs. Atmore, "she has never tried."
"Well, madam," said Mr. Gummage, "what do you wish your daughter to learn? figures, flowers, or landscape?"
"Oh! all three," replied Mrs. Atmore. "We have been furnishing our new house, and I told Mr. Atmore