The Wit and Humor of America Volume VI Part 28

LATTER-DAY WARNINGS

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

When legislators keep the law, When banks dispense with bolts and locks,-- When berries--whortle, rasp, and straw-- Grow bigger _downwards_ through the box,--

When he that selleth house or land Shows leak in roof or flaw in right,-- When haberdashers choose the stand Whose window hath the broadest light,--

When preachers tell us all they think, And party leaders all they mean,-- When what we pay for, that we drink, From real grape and coffee-bean,--

When lawyers take what they would give, And doctors give what they would take,-- When city fathers eat to live, Save when they fast for conscience' sake,--

When one that hath a horse on sale Shall bring his merit to the proof, Without a lie for every nail That holds the iron on the hoof,--

When in the usual place for rips Our gloves are st.i.tched with special care, And guarded well the whalebone tips Where first umbrellas need repair,--

When Cuba's weeds have quite forgot The power of suction to resist, And claret-bottles harbor not Such dimples as would hold your fist,--

When publishers no longer steal, And pay for what they stole before,-- When the first locomotive's wheel Rolls through the Hoosac tunnel's bore;--

_Till_ then let c.u.mming blaze away, And Miller's saints blow up the globe; But when you see that blessed day, _Then_ order your ascension robe!

IT PAYS TO BE HAPPY[10]

BY TOM Ma.s.sON

She is so gay, so very gay, And not by fits and starts, But ever, through each livelong day She's suns.h.i.+ne to all hearts.

A tonic is her merry laugh!

So wondrous is her power That listening grief would stop and chaff With her from hour to hour.

Disease before that cheery smile Grows dim, begins to fade.

A Christian scientist, meanwhile, Is this delightful maid.

And who would not throw off dull care And be like unto her, When happiness brings, as her share, One hundred dollars per ----?

[Footnote 10: Lippincott's Magazine.]

JAMES AND REGINALD

BY EUGENE FIELD

Once upon a Time there was a Bad boy whose Name was Reginald and there was a Good boy whose Name was James. Reginald would go Fis.h.i.+ng when his Mamma told him Not to, and he Cut off the Cat's Tail with the Bread Knife one Day, and then told Mamma the Baby had Driven it in with the Rolling Pin, which was a Lie. James was always Obedient, and when his Mamma told him not to Help an old Blind Man across the street or Go into a Dark Room where the Boogies were, he always Did What She said. That is why they Called him Good James. Well, by and by, along Came Christmas.

Mamma said, You have been so Bad, my son Reginald, you will not Get any Presents from Santa Claus this Year; but you, my son James, will get Oodles of Presents, because you have Been Good. Will you Believe it, Children, that Bad boy Reginald said he didn't Care a Darn and he Kicked three Feet of Veneering off the Piano just for Meanness. Poor James was so sorry for Reginald that he cried for Half an Hour after he Went to Bed that Night. Reginald lay wide Awake until he saw James was Asleep and then he Said if these people think they can Fool me, they are Mistaken. Just then Santa Claus came down the Chimney. He had Lots of Pretty Toys in a Sack on his Back. Reginald shut his Eyes and Pretended to be Asleep. Then Santa Claus Said, Reginald is Bad and I will not Put any nice Things in his Stocking. But as for you, James, I will Fill your Stocking Plum full of Toys, because You are Good. So Santa Claus went to Work and Put, Oh! heaps and Heaps of Goodies in James' stocking, but not a Sign of a Thing in Reginald's stocking. And then he Laughed to himself and Said I guess Reginald will be Sorry to-morrow because he Was so Bad. As he said this he Crawled up the chimney and rode off in his Sleigh. Now you can Bet your Boots Reginald was no Spring Chicken. He just Got right Straight out of Bed and changed all those Toys and Truck from James' stocking into his own. Santa Claus will Have to Sit up all Night, said He, when he Expects to get away with my Baggage. The next morning James got out of Bed and when He had Said his Prayers he Limped over to his Stocking, licking his chops and Carrying his Head as High as a Bull going through a Brush Fence. But when he found there was Nothing in his stocking and that Reginald's Stocking was as Full as Papa Is when he comes home Late from the Office, he Sat down on the Floor and began to Wonder why on Earth he had Been such a Good boy. Reginald spent a Happy Christmas and James was very Miserable. After all, Children, it Pays to be Bad, so Long as you Combine Intellect with Crime.

BANTY TIM

REMARKS OF SERGEANT TILMON JOY TO THE WHITE MAN'S COMMITTEE OF s.p.u.n.kY POINT, ILLINOIS

BY JOHN HAY

I reckon I git your drift, gents,-- You 'low the boy sha'n't stay; This is a white man's country; You're Dimocrats, you say; And whereas, and seein', and wherefore, The times bein' all out o' j'int, The n.i.g.g.e.r has got to mosey From the limits o' s.p.u.n.ky P'int!

Le's reason the thing a minute: I'm an old-fas.h.i.+oned Dimocrat too, Though I laid my politics out o' the way For to keep till the war was through.

But I come back here, allowin'

To vote as I used to do, Though it gravels me like the devil to train Along o' sich fools as you.

Now dog my cats ef I kin see, In all the light of the day, What you've got to do with the question Ef Tim s.h.i.+ll go or stay.

And furder than that I give notice, Ef one of you tetches the boy, He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime Than he'll find in Illanoy.

Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me!

You know that unG.o.dly day When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how ripped And torn and tattered we lay.

When the rest retreated I stayed behind, Fur reasons sufficient _to_ me,-- With a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike, I sprawled on that cursed glacee.

Lord! how the hot sun went for us, And br'iled and blistered and burned!

How the Rebel bullets whizzed round us When a cuss in his death-grip turned!

Till along toward dusk I seen a thing I couldn't believe for a spell: That n.i.g.g.e.r--that Tim--was a crawlin' to me Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged h.e.l.l!

The Rebels seen him as quick as me, And the bullets buzzed like bees; But he jumped for me, and shouldered me, Though a shot brought him once to his knees; But he staggered up, and packed me off, With a dozen stumbles and falls, Till safe in our lines he drapped us both, His black hide riddled with b.a.l.l.s.

So, my gentle gazelles, thar's my answer, And here stays Banty Tim: He trumped Death's ace for me that day, And I'm not goin' back on him!

You may rezoloot till the cows come home, But ef one of you tetches the boy, He'll wrastle his hash to-night in h.e.l.l, Or my name's not Tilmon Joy!

EVENING

_By A Tailor_

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

Day hath put on his jacket, and around His burning bosom b.u.t.toned it with stars.

Here will I lay me on the velvet gra.s.s, That is like padding to earth's meager ribs, And hold communion with the things about me.