The Wit and Humor of America, Volume V. | Page 8

glitter
Of the sun in tropic lands,
And his talk
a sweeter twitter
Than the swallow understands;
Hear him sing--and
tell a story--
Snap a joke--ignite a pun,--
'Twas a
capture--rapture--glory,
And explosion--all in one!
Though he hadn't any money--
That condiment which tends
To
make a fellow "honey"
For the palate of his friends;
Sweet simples
he compounded--
Sovereign antidotes for sin
Or taint,--a faith
unbounded
That his friends were genuine.
He wasn't honored, may be--
For his songs of praise were slim,--

Yet I never knew a baby
That wouldn't crow for him;
I never knew
a mother
But urged a kindly claim
Upon him as a brother,
At the
mention of his name.
The sick have ceased their sighing,
And have even found the grace

Of a smile when they were dying
As they looked upon his face;

And I've seen his eyes of laughter
Melt in tears that only ran
As
though, swift dancing after,
Came the Funny Little Man.
He laughed away the sorrow,
And he laughed away the gloom
We
are all so prone to borrow
From the darkness of the tomb;
And he
laughed across the ocean
Of a happy life, and passed,
With a laugh
of glad emotion,
Into Paradise at last.
And I think the Angels knew him,
And had gathered to await
His
coming, and run to him

Through the widely-opened Gate--
With
their faces gleaming sunny
For his laughter-loving sake,
And
thinking, "What a funny
Little Angel he will make!"
MUSICAL REVIEW EXTRAORDINARY

BY JOHN PHOENIX
SAN DIEGO, July 10th, 1854.
As your valuable work is not supposed to be so entirely identified with
San Franciscan interests as to be careless what takes place in other
portions of this great _kentry_, and as it is received and read in San
Diego with great interest (I have loaned my copy to over four different
literary gentlemen, most of whom have read some of it), I have thought
it not improbable that a few critical notices of the musical performances
and the drama of this place might be acceptable to you, and interest
your readers. I have been, moreover, encouraged to this task by the
perusal of your interesting musical and theatrical critiques on San
Francisco performers and performances; as I feel convinced that if you
devote so much space to them you will not allow any little feeling of
rivalry between the two great cities to prevent your noticing ours,
which, without the slightest feeling of prejudice, I must consider as
infinitely superior. I propose this month to call your attention to the two
great events in our theatrical and musical world--the appearance of the
talented Miss PELICAN, and the production of Tarbox's celebrated
"Ode Symphonie" of "The Plains."
The critiques on the former are from the columns of the Vallecetos
Sentinel, to which they were originally contributed by me, appearing on
the respective dates of June 1st and June 31st.
_From the Vallecetos Sentinel, June 1st_
MISS PELICAN.--Never during our dramatic experience has a more
exciting event occurred than the sudden bursting upon our theatrical
firmament, full, blazing, unparalleled, of the bright, resplendent and
particular star whose honored name shines refulgent at the head of this
article. Coming among us unheralded, almost unknown, without
claptrap, in a wagon drawn by oxen across the plains, with no agent to
get up a counterfeit enthusiasm in her favor, she appeared before us for
the first time at the San Diego Lyceum last evening, in the trying and
difficult character of Ingomar, or the Tame Savage. We are at a loss to
describe our sensations, our admiration, at her magnificent, her

super-human efforts. We do not hesitate to say that she is by far the
superior to any living actress; and, as we believe that to be the
perfection of acting, we cannot be wrong in the belief that no one
hereafter will ever be found to approach her. Her conception of the
character of Ingomar was perfection itself; her playful and ingenuous
manner, her light girlish laughter, in the scene with Sir Peter, showed
an appreciation of the savage character which nothing but the most
arduous study, the most elaborate training could produce; while her
awful change to the stern, unyielding, uncompromising father in the
tragic scene of Duncan's murder, was indeed nature itself. Miss Pelican
is about seventeen years of age, of miraculous beauty, and most
thrilling voice. It is needless to say she dresses admirably, as in fact we
have said all we can say when we called her, most truthfully, perfection.
Mr. John Boots took the part of Parthenia very creditably, etc., etc.
_From the Vallecetos Sentinel, June 31st_
MISS PELICAN.--As this lady is about to leave us to commence an
engagement on the San Francisco stage, we should regret exceedingly
if anything we have said about her should send with her a _prestige_
which might be found undeserved on trial. The fact is, Miss Pelican is a
very ordinary actress; indeed, one of the most indifferent ones we have
ever happened