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

Avery
Cone_ 9
Strike of One, The _Elliott
Flower_ 84
Suppressed Chapters _Carolyn
Wells_ 22
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