CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS.

(‡ decoration)CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS.AUTHOR OF “LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS.”THE humorous and dialectic literature of America owes more to Charles Follen Adams perhaps than to any other contributor who has not made literature a business or depended upon his pen for his livelihood. There is not a pretentious book of humorous readings or popular selections of late years which has not enriched its pages from this pleasingly funny man who delineates the German-American character and imitates its dialect with an art that is so true to nature as to be well-nigh perfection. “The Puzzled Dutchman;” “Mine Vamily;” “Mine Moder-in-Law;” “Der Vater Mill;” “Der Drummer,” and, above all, “Dot Leedle Yawcob Strauss,” have become classics of their kind and will not soon suffer their author to be forgotten.Charles Follen Adams was born in Dorchester,Mass., April 21, 1842, where he received a common school education, leaving school at fifteen years of age to take a position in a business house in Boston. This place he occupied until August, 1862, when he enlisted, at the age of twenty, in the Thirteenth Massachusetts Regiment of Volunteers, and saw service in a number of hard-fought battles. At Gettysburg, in 1863, he was wounded and held a prisoner for three days until the Union forces recaptured the town. After the close of the war he resumed business, and succeeded in placing himself at the head of a large business house in Boston, where he has continued to reside.It was not until 1870 thatMr.Adams wrote his first poem, and it was two years later that his first dialectic effort, “The Puzzled Dutchman,” appeared and made his name known. From that time he begun to contribute “as the spirit moved him” to the local papers, “Oliver Optic’s Magazine,” and, now and then, to “Scribner’s.” In 1876 he became a regular contributor to the “Detroit Free Press,” his “Leedle Yawcob Strauss” being published in that paper in June, 1876. For many years all his productions were published in that journal, and did much to enhance its growing popularity as a humorous paper.As a genial, companionable man in business and social circles,Mr.Adams has as great distinction among his friends as he holds in the literary world as a humorist. His house is one of marked hospitality where the fortunate guest always finds a cordial welcome.DERDRUMMER.¹¹Special Permission of the Author.WHO puts oup at der pest hotel,Und dakes his oysders on der schell,Und mit der frauleins cuts a schwell?Der drummer.Who vas it gomes indo mine schtore,Drows down his pundles on der vloor,Und nefer schtops to shut der door?Der drummer.Who dakes me py der handt, und say,“Hans Pfeiffer, how you vas to-day?”Und goes vor peeseness righdt avay?Der drummer.Who shpreads his zamples in a trice,Und dells me, “Look, und see how nice?”Und says I get “der bottom price?”Der drummer.Who dells how sheap der goods vas bought,Mooch less as vot I gould imbort,But lets dem go as he vas “short?”Der drummer.Who says der tings vas eggstra vine,—“Vrom Sharmany, ubon der Rhine,”—Und sheats me den dimes oudt off nine?Der drummer.Who varrants all der goots to suitDer gustomers ubon hisroute,Und ven dey gomes dey vas no goot?Der drummer.Who gomes aroundt ven I been oudt,Drinks oup mine bier, and eats mine kraut,Und kiss Katrina in der mout’?Der drummer.Who, ven he gomes again dis vay,Vill hear vot Pfeiffer has to say,Und mit a plack eye goes avay?Der drummer.HANS ANDFRITZ.¹¹Special Permission of the Author.HANS and Fritz were two Deutschers who lived side by side,Remote from the world, its deceit and its pride:With their pretzels and beer the spare moments were spent,And the fruits of their labor were peace and content.Hans purchased a horse of a neighbor one day,And, lacking a part of theGeld,—as they say,—Made a call upon Fritz to solicit a loanTo help him to pay for his beautiful roan.Fritz kindly consented the money to lend,And gave the required amount to his friend;Remarking,—his own simple language to quote,—“Berhaps it vas bedder ve make us a note.”The note was drawn up in their primitive way,—“I, Hans, gets from Fritz feefty tollars to-day;”When the question arose, the note being made,“Vich von holds dot baper until it vas baid?”“You geeps dot,” says Fritz, “und den you vill knowYou owes me dot money.” Says Hans, “Dot ish so:Dot makes me remempers I half dot to bay,Und I prings you der note und der money some day.”A month had expired, when Hans, as agreed,Paid back the amount, and from debt he was freed.Says Fritz, “Now dot settles us.” Hans replies, “Yaw:Now who dakes dot baper accordings by law?”“I geeps dot now, aind’t it?” says Fritz; “den you see,I alvays remempers you paid dot to me.”Says Hans, “Dot ish so: it vas now shust so blain,Dot I knows vot to do ven I porrows again.”YAWCOBSTRAUSS.¹¹Special Permission of the Author.IHAF von funny leedle poy,Vot gomes schust to mine knee;Der queerest schap, der createst rogue,As efer you dit see,He runs, und schumps, und schmashes dingsIn all barts off der house:But vot off dot? he vas mine son,Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.He get der measles und der mumbs,Und eferyding dot’s oudt;He sbills mine glass off lager bier,Poots schnuff indo mine kraut,He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese.—Dot vas der roughest chouse:I’d dake dot vrom no oder poyBut leedle Yawcob Strauss.He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum,Und cuts mine cane in dwo,To make der schticks to beat it mit.—Mine cracious dot vas drue!I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart,He kicks oup sooch a touse:But nefer mind; der poys vas fewLike dot young Yawcob Strauss.He asks me questions sooch as dese:Who baints mine nose so red?Who vas it cut dot schmoodth blace oudtVrom der hair ubon mine hed?Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lampVene er der glim I douse.How gan I all dose dings eggsblainTo dot schmall Yawcob Strauss?I somedimes dink I schall go vildMit sooch a grazy poy,Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest,Und beaceful dimes enshoy;But ven he vas ashleep in ped,So guiet as a mouse,I prays der Lord, “Dake anyding,But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss.”MINEMODER-IN-LAW.¹¹Copyright, Harper &Bros.THERE vas many qveer dings in dis land of der free,I neffer could qvite understand;Der beoples dhey all seem so deefrent to meAs dhose in mine own faderland.Dhey gets blendy droubles, und indo mishapsMitout der least bit off a cause;Und vould you pelief it? dhose mean Yangee shapsDhey fights mit dheir moder-in-laws?Shust dink off a vhite man so vicked as dot!Vhy not gife der oldt lady a show?Who vas it gets oup, ven der nighdt id vas hot,Mit mine baby, I shust like to know?Und dhen in dher vinter vhen Katrine vas sickUnd der mornings vas shnowy und raw,Who made righdt avay oup dot fire so quick?Vhy, dot vas mine moder-in-law.Id vas von off dhose voman’s righdts vellers I beenDhere vas noding dot’s mean aboudt me;Vhen der oldt lady vishes to run dot masheen,Vhy, I shust let her run id, you see.Und vhen dot shly Yawcob vas cutting some dricks(A block off der oldt chip he vas, yaw!)Ef he goes for dot shap like some dousand off bricks,Dot’s all righdt! She’s mine moder-in-law.Veek oudt und veek in, id vas always der same,Dot vomen vas boss off der house;But, dehn, neffer mindt! I vas glad dot she cameShe vas kind to mine young Yawcob Strauss.Und ven dhere vas vater to get vrom der springUnd firevood to shplit oup und sawShe vas velcome to do it. Dhere’s not anydingDot’s too good for mine moder-in-law.YAWCOB’SDRIBULATIONS.¹(SEQUEL TO “LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS.”)¹Copyright, Lee & Shepard.MAYBE dot you don’d rememper,Eighdeen—dwendy years ago,How I dold aboudt mine Yawcob—Dot young rashkell, don’t you know,Who got schicken-box und measles;Filled mine bipe mit Limburg sheeze;Cut mine cane oup indo dhrum-schticks,Und blay all sooch dricks as dhese.Vell! dhose times dhey vas been ofer,Und dot son off mine, py shings!Now vas taller as hees fader,Und vas oup to all sooch dhingsLike shimnasdic dricks und pase pall;Und der oder day he sayDot he boxes mit “adthledics,”Somevheres ofer on Back Bay.Times vas deeferent, now, I dold you,As vhen he vas been a lad;Dhen Katrine she make hees drowsersVrom der oldt vones off hees dad;Dhey vas cut so full und baggy,Dot id dook more as a foolTo find oudt eef he vas going,Or vas coming home vrom school.Now, dhere vas no making oferOff mine clothes to make a suitFor dot poy—der times vas schanged;“Der leg vas on der oder boot;”For vhen hees drowsers dhey gets dhin,Und sort off “schlazy” roundt der knee,DotMrs.Strauss she dake der sceessorsUnd she cuts dhem down for me.Shust der oder day dot YawcobGife me von electric shock,Vhen he say he vants fife-hundordTo invesht in railroadt schtock.Dhen I dell him id vas beddherDot he leaf der schtocks alone,Or some fellar dot vas schmardterDake der meat und leaf der bone.Und vhen I vas got oxcited,Und say he get “schwiped” und fooled,Dhen he say he haf a “pointer”Vrom soom frendts off Sage und Gould;Und dot he vas on “rock bottom;”Had der “inside drack” on “Atch—”Dot vas too mooch fur hees fader,Und I coom oup to der scratch.Dhen in bolitics he dabbles,Und all qvesdions, great und schmall,Make no deeferent to dot Yawcob—For dot poy he knows id all.Und he say dot dhose oldt fogiesMust be laid oup on der shelf,Und der governors und mayorsShould pe young men—like himself.Vell! I vish I vas dransbortedTo dhose days of long ago,Vhen dot schafer beat der milk-ban,Und schkydoodled droo der schnow.I could schtand der mumbs und measles,Und der ruckshuns in der house;Budt mine presendt dribulationsVas too mooch for Meester Strauss.THE PUZZLEDDUTCHMAN.¹The copy for this selection was forwarded to us by the author himself with the notation on the side,“My First Dialect Poem.”¹Copyright, Lee & Shepard.I’M a broken-hearted Deutscher,Vots villed mit crief unt shame.I dells you vot der drouble ish—I doesn’t know my name.You dinks it ferry vunny, eh?Ven you der story hear,You vill not wonder den so mooch,It vas so shtrange und queer.Mein mudder had dwo liddle dwins—Dey vas me und mein brudder;Ve lookt so very mooch alikeNo von knew vich from toder.Von of der poys was YawcobUnd Hans der oder’s name;But den it made no different—Ve both got called der same.Vell, von of us got tead—Yaw, Mynheer, dat is so;But vedder Hans or Yawcob,Mein mudder she don’t know.Und so I am in droubles;I gan’t git droo mein hedVedder I’m Hans vot’s living,Or Yawcob vot is tead.DER OAK AND DERVINE.¹¹From “Dialect Ballads.” Copyright, 1887, by Harper & Brothers.IDON’D vas preaching voman’s righdts,Or anyding like dot,Und I likes to see all beoplesShust gondented mit dheir lot;Budt I vants to gondradict dot shapDot made dis leedle shoke;“A voman vas der glinging vine,Und man, der shturdy oak.”Berhaps, somedimes, dot may be drue;Budt, den dimes oudt off nine,I find me oudt dot man himselfVas peen der glinging vine;Und ven hees friendts dhey all vas gone,Und he vas shust “tead proke,”Dot’s vhen der voman shteps righdt in,Und peen der shturdy oak.Shust go oup to der paseball groundtsUnd see dhose “shturdy oaks”All planted roundt ubon der seats—Shust hear dheir laughs and shokes!Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs,Mit glothes oudt on der lines;Vhich vas der shturdy oaks, mine friendts,Und vhich der glinging vines?Ven sickness in der householdt comes,Und veeks und veeks he shtays,Who vas id fighdts him mitoudt resdt,Dhose veary nighdts und days?Who beace und gomfort alvays prings,Und cools dot fefered prow?More like id vas der tender vineDot oak he glings to, now.“Man vants budt leedle here below,”Der boet von time said;Dhere’s leedle dot man he don’d vant,I dink id means, inshted;Und ven der years keep rolling on,Dheir cares und droubles pringing,He vants to pe der shturdy oak,Und, also, do der glinging.Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more,Und don’d so shturdy peen,Der glinging vines dhey haf some shanceTo helb run life’s masheen.In helt und sickness, shoy und pain,In calm or shtormy veddher,’Twas beddher dot dhose oaks und vinesShould alvays gling togeddher.(‡ decoration)

(‡ decoration)

AUTHOR OF “LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS.”

THE humorous and dialectic literature of America owes more to Charles Follen Adams perhaps than to any other contributor who has not made literature a business or depended upon his pen for his livelihood. There is not a pretentious book of humorous readings or popular selections of late years which has not enriched its pages from this pleasingly funny man who delineates the German-American character and imitates its dialect with an art that is so true to nature as to be well-nigh perfection. “The Puzzled Dutchman;” “Mine Vamily;” “Mine Moder-in-Law;” “Der Vater Mill;” “Der Drummer,” and, above all, “Dot Leedle Yawcob Strauss,” have become classics of their kind and will not soon suffer their author to be forgotten.

Charles Follen Adams was born in Dorchester,Mass., April 21, 1842, where he received a common school education, leaving school at fifteen years of age to take a position in a business house in Boston. This place he occupied until August, 1862, when he enlisted, at the age of twenty, in the Thirteenth Massachusetts Regiment of Volunteers, and saw service in a number of hard-fought battles. At Gettysburg, in 1863, he was wounded and held a prisoner for three days until the Union forces recaptured the town. After the close of the war he resumed business, and succeeded in placing himself at the head of a large business house in Boston, where he has continued to reside.

It was not until 1870 thatMr.Adams wrote his first poem, and it was two years later that his first dialectic effort, “The Puzzled Dutchman,” appeared and made his name known. From that time he begun to contribute “as the spirit moved him” to the local papers, “Oliver Optic’s Magazine,” and, now and then, to “Scribner’s.” In 1876 he became a regular contributor to the “Detroit Free Press,” his “Leedle Yawcob Strauss” being published in that paper in June, 1876. For many years all his productions were published in that journal, and did much to enhance its growing popularity as a humorous paper.

As a genial, companionable man in business and social circles,Mr.Adams has as great distinction among his friends as he holds in the literary world as a humorist. His house is one of marked hospitality where the fortunate guest always finds a cordial welcome.

DERDRUMMER.¹

¹Special Permission of the Author.

WHO puts oup at der pest hotel,Und dakes his oysders on der schell,Und mit der frauleins cuts a schwell?Der drummer.Who vas it gomes indo mine schtore,Drows down his pundles on der vloor,Und nefer schtops to shut der door?Der drummer.Who dakes me py der handt, und say,“Hans Pfeiffer, how you vas to-day?”Und goes vor peeseness righdt avay?Der drummer.Who shpreads his zamples in a trice,Und dells me, “Look, und see how nice?”Und says I get “der bottom price?”Der drummer.Who dells how sheap der goods vas bought,Mooch less as vot I gould imbort,But lets dem go as he vas “short?”Der drummer.Who says der tings vas eggstra vine,—“Vrom Sharmany, ubon der Rhine,”—Und sheats me den dimes oudt off nine?Der drummer.Who varrants all der goots to suitDer gustomers ubon hisroute,Und ven dey gomes dey vas no goot?Der drummer.Who gomes aroundt ven I been oudt,Drinks oup mine bier, and eats mine kraut,Und kiss Katrina in der mout’?Der drummer.Who, ven he gomes again dis vay,Vill hear vot Pfeiffer has to say,Und mit a plack eye goes avay?Der drummer.

WHO puts oup at der pest hotel,Und dakes his oysders on der schell,Und mit der frauleins cuts a schwell?Der drummer.Who vas it gomes indo mine schtore,Drows down his pundles on der vloor,Und nefer schtops to shut der door?Der drummer.Who dakes me py der handt, und say,“Hans Pfeiffer, how you vas to-day?”Und goes vor peeseness righdt avay?Der drummer.Who shpreads his zamples in a trice,Und dells me, “Look, und see how nice?”Und says I get “der bottom price?”Der drummer.Who dells how sheap der goods vas bought,Mooch less as vot I gould imbort,But lets dem go as he vas “short?”Der drummer.Who says der tings vas eggstra vine,—“Vrom Sharmany, ubon der Rhine,”—Und sheats me den dimes oudt off nine?Der drummer.Who varrants all der goots to suitDer gustomers ubon hisroute,Und ven dey gomes dey vas no goot?Der drummer.Who gomes aroundt ven I been oudt,Drinks oup mine bier, and eats mine kraut,Und kiss Katrina in der mout’?Der drummer.Who, ven he gomes again dis vay,Vill hear vot Pfeiffer has to say,Und mit a plack eye goes avay?Der drummer.

HO puts oup at der pest hotel,

Und dakes his oysders on der schell,

Und mit der frauleins cuts a schwell?

Der drummer.

Who vas it gomes indo mine schtore,

Drows down his pundles on der vloor,

Und nefer schtops to shut der door?

Der drummer.

Who dakes me py der handt, und say,

“Hans Pfeiffer, how you vas to-day?”

Und goes vor peeseness righdt avay?

Der drummer.

Who shpreads his zamples in a trice,

Und dells me, “Look, und see how nice?”

Und says I get “der bottom price?”

Der drummer.

Who dells how sheap der goods vas bought,

Mooch less as vot I gould imbort,

But lets dem go as he vas “short?”

Der drummer.

Who says der tings vas eggstra vine,—

“Vrom Sharmany, ubon der Rhine,”—

Und sheats me den dimes oudt off nine?

Der drummer.

Who varrants all der goots to suit

Der gustomers ubon hisroute,

Und ven dey gomes dey vas no goot?

Der drummer.

Who gomes aroundt ven I been oudt,

Drinks oup mine bier, and eats mine kraut,

Und kiss Katrina in der mout’?

Der drummer.

Who, ven he gomes again dis vay,

Vill hear vot Pfeiffer has to say,

Und mit a plack eye goes avay?

Der drummer.

HANS ANDFRITZ.¹

¹Special Permission of the Author.

HANS and Fritz were two Deutschers who lived side by side,Remote from the world, its deceit and its pride:With their pretzels and beer the spare moments were spent,And the fruits of their labor were peace and content.Hans purchased a horse of a neighbor one day,And, lacking a part of theGeld,—as they say,—Made a call upon Fritz to solicit a loanTo help him to pay for his beautiful roan.Fritz kindly consented the money to lend,And gave the required amount to his friend;Remarking,—his own simple language to quote,—“Berhaps it vas bedder ve make us a note.”The note was drawn up in their primitive way,—“I, Hans, gets from Fritz feefty tollars to-day;”When the question arose, the note being made,“Vich von holds dot baper until it vas baid?”“You geeps dot,” says Fritz, “und den you vill knowYou owes me dot money.” Says Hans, “Dot ish so:Dot makes me remempers I half dot to bay,Und I prings you der note und der money some day.”A month had expired, when Hans, as agreed,Paid back the amount, and from debt he was freed.Says Fritz, “Now dot settles us.” Hans replies, “Yaw:Now who dakes dot baper accordings by law?”“I geeps dot now, aind’t it?” says Fritz; “den you see,I alvays remempers you paid dot to me.”Says Hans, “Dot ish so: it vas now shust so blain,Dot I knows vot to do ven I porrows again.”

HANS and Fritz were two Deutschers who lived side by side,Remote from the world, its deceit and its pride:With their pretzels and beer the spare moments were spent,And the fruits of their labor were peace and content.Hans purchased a horse of a neighbor one day,And, lacking a part of theGeld,—as they say,—Made a call upon Fritz to solicit a loanTo help him to pay for his beautiful roan.Fritz kindly consented the money to lend,And gave the required amount to his friend;Remarking,—his own simple language to quote,—“Berhaps it vas bedder ve make us a note.”The note was drawn up in their primitive way,—“I, Hans, gets from Fritz feefty tollars to-day;”When the question arose, the note being made,“Vich von holds dot baper until it vas baid?”“You geeps dot,” says Fritz, “und den you vill knowYou owes me dot money.” Says Hans, “Dot ish so:Dot makes me remempers I half dot to bay,Und I prings you der note und der money some day.”A month had expired, when Hans, as agreed,Paid back the amount, and from debt he was freed.Says Fritz, “Now dot settles us.” Hans replies, “Yaw:Now who dakes dot baper accordings by law?”“I geeps dot now, aind’t it?” says Fritz; “den you see,I alvays remempers you paid dot to me.”Says Hans, “Dot ish so: it vas now shust so blain,Dot I knows vot to do ven I porrows again.”

ANS and Fritz were two Deutschers who lived side by side,

Remote from the world, its deceit and its pride:

With their pretzels and beer the spare moments were spent,

And the fruits of their labor were peace and content.

Hans purchased a horse of a neighbor one day,

And, lacking a part of theGeld,—as they say,—

Made a call upon Fritz to solicit a loan

To help him to pay for his beautiful roan.

Fritz kindly consented the money to lend,

And gave the required amount to his friend;

Remarking,—his own simple language to quote,—

“Berhaps it vas bedder ve make us a note.”

The note was drawn up in their primitive way,—

“I, Hans, gets from Fritz feefty tollars to-day;”

When the question arose, the note being made,

“Vich von holds dot baper until it vas baid?”

“You geeps dot,” says Fritz, “und den you vill know

You owes me dot money.” Says Hans, “Dot ish so:

Dot makes me remempers I half dot to bay,

Und I prings you der note und der money some day.”

A month had expired, when Hans, as agreed,

Paid back the amount, and from debt he was freed.

Says Fritz, “Now dot settles us.” Hans replies, “Yaw:

Now who dakes dot baper accordings by law?”

“I geeps dot now, aind’t it?” says Fritz; “den you see,

I alvays remempers you paid dot to me.”

Says Hans, “Dot ish so: it vas now shust so blain,

Dot I knows vot to do ven I porrows again.”

YAWCOBSTRAUSS.¹

¹Special Permission of the Author.

IHAF von funny leedle poy,Vot gomes schust to mine knee;Der queerest schap, der createst rogue,As efer you dit see,He runs, und schumps, und schmashes dingsIn all barts off der house:But vot off dot? he vas mine son,Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.He get der measles und der mumbs,Und eferyding dot’s oudt;He sbills mine glass off lager bier,Poots schnuff indo mine kraut,He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese.—Dot vas der roughest chouse:I’d dake dot vrom no oder poyBut leedle Yawcob Strauss.He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum,Und cuts mine cane in dwo,To make der schticks to beat it mit.—Mine cracious dot vas drue!I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart,He kicks oup sooch a touse:But nefer mind; der poys vas fewLike dot young Yawcob Strauss.He asks me questions sooch as dese:Who baints mine nose so red?Who vas it cut dot schmoodth blace oudtVrom der hair ubon mine hed?Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lampVene er der glim I douse.How gan I all dose dings eggsblainTo dot schmall Yawcob Strauss?I somedimes dink I schall go vildMit sooch a grazy poy,Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest,Und beaceful dimes enshoy;But ven he vas ashleep in ped,So guiet as a mouse,I prays der Lord, “Dake anyding,But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss.”

IHAF von funny leedle poy,Vot gomes schust to mine knee;Der queerest schap, der createst rogue,As efer you dit see,He runs, und schumps, und schmashes dingsIn all barts off der house:But vot off dot? he vas mine son,Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.He get der measles und der mumbs,Und eferyding dot’s oudt;He sbills mine glass off lager bier,Poots schnuff indo mine kraut,He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese.—Dot vas der roughest chouse:I’d dake dot vrom no oder poyBut leedle Yawcob Strauss.He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum,Und cuts mine cane in dwo,To make der schticks to beat it mit.—Mine cracious dot vas drue!I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart,He kicks oup sooch a touse:But nefer mind; der poys vas fewLike dot young Yawcob Strauss.He asks me questions sooch as dese:Who baints mine nose so red?Who vas it cut dot schmoodth blace oudtVrom der hair ubon mine hed?Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lampVene er der glim I douse.How gan I all dose dings eggsblainTo dot schmall Yawcob Strauss?I somedimes dink I schall go vildMit sooch a grazy poy,Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest,Und beaceful dimes enshoy;But ven he vas ashleep in ped,So guiet as a mouse,I prays der Lord, “Dake anyding,But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss.”

HAF von funny leedle poy,

Vot gomes schust to mine knee;

Der queerest schap, der createst rogue,

As efer you dit see,

He runs, und schumps, und schmashes dings

In all barts off der house:

But vot off dot? he vas mine son,

Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.

He get der measles und der mumbs,

Und eferyding dot’s oudt;

He sbills mine glass off lager bier,

Poots schnuff indo mine kraut,

He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese.—

Dot vas der roughest chouse:

I’d dake dot vrom no oder poy

But leedle Yawcob Strauss.

He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum,

Und cuts mine cane in dwo,

To make der schticks to beat it mit.—

Mine cracious dot vas drue!

I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart,

He kicks oup sooch a touse:

But nefer mind; der poys vas few

Like dot young Yawcob Strauss.

He asks me questions sooch as dese:

Who baints mine nose so red?

Who vas it cut dot schmoodth blace oudt

Vrom der hair ubon mine hed?

Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp

Vene er der glim I douse.

How gan I all dose dings eggsblain

To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss?

I somedimes dink I schall go vild

Mit sooch a grazy poy,

Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest,

Und beaceful dimes enshoy;

But ven he vas ashleep in ped,

So guiet as a mouse,

I prays der Lord, “Dake anyding,

But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss.”

MINEMODER-IN-LAW.¹

¹Copyright, Harper &Bros.

THERE vas many qveer dings in dis land of der free,I neffer could qvite understand;Der beoples dhey all seem so deefrent to meAs dhose in mine own faderland.Dhey gets blendy droubles, und indo mishapsMitout der least bit off a cause;Und vould you pelief it? dhose mean Yangee shapsDhey fights mit dheir moder-in-laws?Shust dink off a vhite man so vicked as dot!Vhy not gife der oldt lady a show?Who vas it gets oup, ven der nighdt id vas hot,Mit mine baby, I shust like to know?Und dhen in dher vinter vhen Katrine vas sickUnd der mornings vas shnowy und raw,Who made righdt avay oup dot fire so quick?Vhy, dot vas mine moder-in-law.Id vas von off dhose voman’s righdts vellers I beenDhere vas noding dot’s mean aboudt me;Vhen der oldt lady vishes to run dot masheen,Vhy, I shust let her run id, you see.Und vhen dot shly Yawcob vas cutting some dricks(A block off der oldt chip he vas, yaw!)Ef he goes for dot shap like some dousand off bricks,Dot’s all righdt! She’s mine moder-in-law.Veek oudt und veek in, id vas always der same,Dot vomen vas boss off der house;But, dehn, neffer mindt! I vas glad dot she cameShe vas kind to mine young Yawcob Strauss.Und ven dhere vas vater to get vrom der springUnd firevood to shplit oup und sawShe vas velcome to do it. Dhere’s not anydingDot’s too good for mine moder-in-law.

THERE vas many qveer dings in dis land of der free,I neffer could qvite understand;Der beoples dhey all seem so deefrent to meAs dhose in mine own faderland.Dhey gets blendy droubles, und indo mishapsMitout der least bit off a cause;Und vould you pelief it? dhose mean Yangee shapsDhey fights mit dheir moder-in-laws?Shust dink off a vhite man so vicked as dot!Vhy not gife der oldt lady a show?Who vas it gets oup, ven der nighdt id vas hot,Mit mine baby, I shust like to know?Und dhen in dher vinter vhen Katrine vas sickUnd der mornings vas shnowy und raw,Who made righdt avay oup dot fire so quick?Vhy, dot vas mine moder-in-law.Id vas von off dhose voman’s righdts vellers I beenDhere vas noding dot’s mean aboudt me;Vhen der oldt lady vishes to run dot masheen,Vhy, I shust let her run id, you see.Und vhen dot shly Yawcob vas cutting some dricks(A block off der oldt chip he vas, yaw!)Ef he goes for dot shap like some dousand off bricks,Dot’s all righdt! She’s mine moder-in-law.Veek oudt und veek in, id vas always der same,Dot vomen vas boss off der house;But, dehn, neffer mindt! I vas glad dot she cameShe vas kind to mine young Yawcob Strauss.Und ven dhere vas vater to get vrom der springUnd firevood to shplit oup und sawShe vas velcome to do it. Dhere’s not anydingDot’s too good for mine moder-in-law.

HERE vas many qveer dings in dis land of der free,

I neffer could qvite understand;

Der beoples dhey all seem so deefrent to me

As dhose in mine own faderland.

Dhey gets blendy droubles, und indo mishaps

Mitout der least bit off a cause;

Und vould you pelief it? dhose mean Yangee shaps

Dhey fights mit dheir moder-in-laws?

Shust dink off a vhite man so vicked as dot!

Vhy not gife der oldt lady a show?

Who vas it gets oup, ven der nighdt id vas hot,

Mit mine baby, I shust like to know?

Und dhen in dher vinter vhen Katrine vas sick

Und der mornings vas shnowy und raw,

Who made righdt avay oup dot fire so quick?

Vhy, dot vas mine moder-in-law.

Id vas von off dhose voman’s righdts vellers I been

Dhere vas noding dot’s mean aboudt me;

Vhen der oldt lady vishes to run dot masheen,

Vhy, I shust let her run id, you see.

Und vhen dot shly Yawcob vas cutting some dricks

(A block off der oldt chip he vas, yaw!)

Ef he goes for dot shap like some dousand off bricks,

Dot’s all righdt! She’s mine moder-in-law.

Veek oudt und veek in, id vas always der same,

Dot vomen vas boss off der house;

But, dehn, neffer mindt! I vas glad dot she came

She vas kind to mine young Yawcob Strauss.

Und ven dhere vas vater to get vrom der spring

Und firevood to shplit oup und saw

She vas velcome to do it. Dhere’s not anyding

Dot’s too good for mine moder-in-law.

YAWCOB’SDRIBULATIONS.¹

(SEQUEL TO “LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS.”)

¹Copyright, Lee & Shepard.

MAYBE dot you don’d rememper,Eighdeen—dwendy years ago,How I dold aboudt mine Yawcob—Dot young rashkell, don’t you know,Who got schicken-box und measles;Filled mine bipe mit Limburg sheeze;Cut mine cane oup indo dhrum-schticks,Und blay all sooch dricks as dhese.Vell! dhose times dhey vas been ofer,Und dot son off mine, py shings!Now vas taller as hees fader,Und vas oup to all sooch dhingsLike shimnasdic dricks und pase pall;Und der oder day he sayDot he boxes mit “adthledics,”Somevheres ofer on Back Bay.Times vas deeferent, now, I dold you,As vhen he vas been a lad;Dhen Katrine she make hees drowsersVrom der oldt vones off hees dad;Dhey vas cut so full und baggy,Dot id dook more as a foolTo find oudt eef he vas going,Or vas coming home vrom school.Now, dhere vas no making oferOff mine clothes to make a suitFor dot poy—der times vas schanged;“Der leg vas on der oder boot;”For vhen hees drowsers dhey gets dhin,Und sort off “schlazy” roundt der knee,DotMrs.Strauss she dake der sceessorsUnd she cuts dhem down for me.Shust der oder day dot YawcobGife me von electric shock,Vhen he say he vants fife-hundordTo invesht in railroadt schtock.Dhen I dell him id vas beddherDot he leaf der schtocks alone,Or some fellar dot vas schmardterDake der meat und leaf der bone.Und vhen I vas got oxcited,Und say he get “schwiped” und fooled,Dhen he say he haf a “pointer”Vrom soom frendts off Sage und Gould;Und dot he vas on “rock bottom;”Had der “inside drack” on “Atch—”Dot vas too mooch fur hees fader,Und I coom oup to der scratch.Dhen in bolitics he dabbles,Und all qvesdions, great und schmall,Make no deeferent to dot Yawcob—For dot poy he knows id all.Und he say dot dhose oldt fogiesMust be laid oup on der shelf,Und der governors und mayorsShould pe young men—like himself.Vell! I vish I vas dransbortedTo dhose days of long ago,Vhen dot schafer beat der milk-ban,Und schkydoodled droo der schnow.I could schtand der mumbs und measles,Und der ruckshuns in der house;Budt mine presendt dribulationsVas too mooch for Meester Strauss.

MAYBE dot you don’d rememper,Eighdeen—dwendy years ago,How I dold aboudt mine Yawcob—Dot young rashkell, don’t you know,Who got schicken-box und measles;Filled mine bipe mit Limburg sheeze;Cut mine cane oup indo dhrum-schticks,Und blay all sooch dricks as dhese.Vell! dhose times dhey vas been ofer,Und dot son off mine, py shings!Now vas taller as hees fader,Und vas oup to all sooch dhingsLike shimnasdic dricks und pase pall;Und der oder day he sayDot he boxes mit “adthledics,”Somevheres ofer on Back Bay.Times vas deeferent, now, I dold you,As vhen he vas been a lad;Dhen Katrine she make hees drowsersVrom der oldt vones off hees dad;Dhey vas cut so full und baggy,Dot id dook more as a foolTo find oudt eef he vas going,Or vas coming home vrom school.Now, dhere vas no making oferOff mine clothes to make a suitFor dot poy—der times vas schanged;“Der leg vas on der oder boot;”For vhen hees drowsers dhey gets dhin,Und sort off “schlazy” roundt der knee,DotMrs.Strauss she dake der sceessorsUnd she cuts dhem down for me.Shust der oder day dot YawcobGife me von electric shock,Vhen he say he vants fife-hundordTo invesht in railroadt schtock.Dhen I dell him id vas beddherDot he leaf der schtocks alone,Or some fellar dot vas schmardterDake der meat und leaf der bone.Und vhen I vas got oxcited,Und say he get “schwiped” und fooled,Dhen he say he haf a “pointer”Vrom soom frendts off Sage und Gould;Und dot he vas on “rock bottom;”Had der “inside drack” on “Atch—”Dot vas too mooch fur hees fader,Und I coom oup to der scratch.Dhen in bolitics he dabbles,Und all qvesdions, great und schmall,Make no deeferent to dot Yawcob—For dot poy he knows id all.Und he say dot dhose oldt fogiesMust be laid oup on der shelf,Und der governors und mayorsShould pe young men—like himself.Vell! I vish I vas dransbortedTo dhose days of long ago,Vhen dot schafer beat der milk-ban,Und schkydoodled droo der schnow.I could schtand der mumbs und measles,Und der ruckshuns in der house;Budt mine presendt dribulationsVas too mooch for Meester Strauss.

AYBE dot you don’d rememper,

Eighdeen—dwendy years ago,

How I dold aboudt mine Yawcob—

Dot young rashkell, don’t you know,

Who got schicken-box und measles;

Filled mine bipe mit Limburg sheeze;

Cut mine cane oup indo dhrum-schticks,

Und blay all sooch dricks as dhese.

Vell! dhose times dhey vas been ofer,

Und dot son off mine, py shings!

Now vas taller as hees fader,

Und vas oup to all sooch dhings

Like shimnasdic dricks und pase pall;

Und der oder day he say

Dot he boxes mit “adthledics,”

Somevheres ofer on Back Bay.

Times vas deeferent, now, I dold you,

As vhen he vas been a lad;

Dhen Katrine she make hees drowsers

Vrom der oldt vones off hees dad;

Dhey vas cut so full und baggy,

Dot id dook more as a fool

To find oudt eef he vas going,

Or vas coming home vrom school.

Now, dhere vas no making ofer

Off mine clothes to make a suit

For dot poy—der times vas schanged;

“Der leg vas on der oder boot;”

For vhen hees drowsers dhey gets dhin,

Und sort off “schlazy” roundt der knee,

DotMrs.Strauss she dake der sceessors

Und she cuts dhem down for me.

Shust der oder day dot Yawcob

Gife me von electric shock,

Vhen he say he vants fife-hundord

To invesht in railroadt schtock.

Dhen I dell him id vas beddher

Dot he leaf der schtocks alone,

Or some fellar dot vas schmardter

Dake der meat und leaf der bone.

Und vhen I vas got oxcited,

Und say he get “schwiped” und fooled,

Dhen he say he haf a “pointer”

Vrom soom frendts off Sage und Gould;

Und dot he vas on “rock bottom;”

Had der “inside drack” on “Atch—”

Dot vas too mooch fur hees fader,

Und I coom oup to der scratch.

Dhen in bolitics he dabbles,

Und all qvesdions, great und schmall,

Make no deeferent to dot Yawcob—

For dot poy he knows id all.

Und he say dot dhose oldt fogies

Must be laid oup on der shelf,

Und der governors und mayors

Should pe young men—like himself.

Vell! I vish I vas dransborted

To dhose days of long ago,

Vhen dot schafer beat der milk-ban,

Und schkydoodled droo der schnow.

I could schtand der mumbs und measles,

Und der ruckshuns in der house;

Budt mine presendt dribulations

Vas too mooch for Meester Strauss.

THE PUZZLEDDUTCHMAN.¹

The copy for this selection was forwarded to us by the author himself with the notation on the side,“My First Dialect Poem.”

¹Copyright, Lee & Shepard.

I’M a broken-hearted Deutscher,Vots villed mit crief unt shame.I dells you vot der drouble ish—I doesn’t know my name.You dinks it ferry vunny, eh?Ven you der story hear,You vill not wonder den so mooch,It vas so shtrange und queer.Mein mudder had dwo liddle dwins—Dey vas me und mein brudder;Ve lookt so very mooch alikeNo von knew vich from toder.Von of der poys was YawcobUnd Hans der oder’s name;But den it made no different—Ve both got called der same.Vell, von of us got tead—Yaw, Mynheer, dat is so;But vedder Hans or Yawcob,Mein mudder she don’t know.Und so I am in droubles;I gan’t git droo mein hedVedder I’m Hans vot’s living,Or Yawcob vot is tead.

I’M a broken-hearted Deutscher,Vots villed mit crief unt shame.I dells you vot der drouble ish—I doesn’t know my name.You dinks it ferry vunny, eh?Ven you der story hear,You vill not wonder den so mooch,It vas so shtrange und queer.Mein mudder had dwo liddle dwins—Dey vas me und mein brudder;Ve lookt so very mooch alikeNo von knew vich from toder.Von of der poys was YawcobUnd Hans der oder’s name;But den it made no different—Ve both got called der same.Vell, von of us got tead—Yaw, Mynheer, dat is so;But vedder Hans or Yawcob,Mein mudder she don’t know.Und so I am in droubles;I gan’t git droo mein hedVedder I’m Hans vot’s living,Or Yawcob vot is tead.

’M a broken-hearted Deutscher,

Vots villed mit crief unt shame.

I dells you vot der drouble ish—

I doesn’t know my name.

You dinks it ferry vunny, eh?

Ven you der story hear,

You vill not wonder den so mooch,

It vas so shtrange und queer.

Mein mudder had dwo liddle dwins—

Dey vas me und mein brudder;

Ve lookt so very mooch alike

No von knew vich from toder.

Von of der poys was Yawcob

Und Hans der oder’s name;

But den it made no different—

Ve both got called der same.

Vell, von of us got tead—

Yaw, Mynheer, dat is so;

But vedder Hans or Yawcob,

Mein mudder she don’t know.

Und so I am in droubles;

I gan’t git droo mein hed

Vedder I’m Hans vot’s living,

Or Yawcob vot is tead.

DER OAK AND DERVINE.¹

¹From “Dialect Ballads.” Copyright, 1887, by Harper & Brothers.

IDON’D vas preaching voman’s righdts,Or anyding like dot,Und I likes to see all beoplesShust gondented mit dheir lot;Budt I vants to gondradict dot shapDot made dis leedle shoke;“A voman vas der glinging vine,Und man, der shturdy oak.”Berhaps, somedimes, dot may be drue;Budt, den dimes oudt off nine,I find me oudt dot man himselfVas peen der glinging vine;Und ven hees friendts dhey all vas gone,Und he vas shust “tead proke,”Dot’s vhen der voman shteps righdt in,Und peen der shturdy oak.Shust go oup to der paseball groundtsUnd see dhose “shturdy oaks”All planted roundt ubon der seats—Shust hear dheir laughs and shokes!Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs,Mit glothes oudt on der lines;Vhich vas der shturdy oaks, mine friendts,Und vhich der glinging vines?Ven sickness in der householdt comes,Und veeks und veeks he shtays,Who vas id fighdts him mitoudt resdt,Dhose veary nighdts und days?Who beace und gomfort alvays prings,Und cools dot fefered prow?More like id vas der tender vineDot oak he glings to, now.“Man vants budt leedle here below,”Der boet von time said;Dhere’s leedle dot man he don’d vant,I dink id means, inshted;Und ven der years keep rolling on,Dheir cares und droubles pringing,He vants to pe der shturdy oak,Und, also, do der glinging.Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more,Und don’d so shturdy peen,Der glinging vines dhey haf some shanceTo helb run life’s masheen.In helt und sickness, shoy und pain,In calm or shtormy veddher,’Twas beddher dot dhose oaks und vinesShould alvays gling togeddher.

IDON’D vas preaching voman’s righdts,Or anyding like dot,Und I likes to see all beoplesShust gondented mit dheir lot;Budt I vants to gondradict dot shapDot made dis leedle shoke;“A voman vas der glinging vine,Und man, der shturdy oak.”Berhaps, somedimes, dot may be drue;Budt, den dimes oudt off nine,I find me oudt dot man himselfVas peen der glinging vine;Und ven hees friendts dhey all vas gone,Und he vas shust “tead proke,”Dot’s vhen der voman shteps righdt in,Und peen der shturdy oak.Shust go oup to der paseball groundtsUnd see dhose “shturdy oaks”All planted roundt ubon der seats—Shust hear dheir laughs and shokes!Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs,Mit glothes oudt on der lines;Vhich vas der shturdy oaks, mine friendts,Und vhich der glinging vines?Ven sickness in der householdt comes,Und veeks und veeks he shtays,Who vas id fighdts him mitoudt resdt,Dhose veary nighdts und days?Who beace und gomfort alvays prings,Und cools dot fefered prow?More like id vas der tender vineDot oak he glings to, now.“Man vants budt leedle here below,”Der boet von time said;Dhere’s leedle dot man he don’d vant,I dink id means, inshted;Und ven der years keep rolling on,Dheir cares und droubles pringing,He vants to pe der shturdy oak,Und, also, do der glinging.Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more,Und don’d so shturdy peen,Der glinging vines dhey haf some shanceTo helb run life’s masheen.In helt und sickness, shoy und pain,In calm or shtormy veddher,’Twas beddher dot dhose oaks und vinesShould alvays gling togeddher.

DON’D vas preaching voman’s righdts,

Or anyding like dot,

Und I likes to see all beoples

Shust gondented mit dheir lot;

Budt I vants to gondradict dot shap

Dot made dis leedle shoke;

“A voman vas der glinging vine,

Und man, der shturdy oak.”

Berhaps, somedimes, dot may be drue;

Budt, den dimes oudt off nine,

I find me oudt dot man himself

Vas peen der glinging vine;

Und ven hees friendts dhey all vas gone,

Und he vas shust “tead proke,”

Dot’s vhen der voman shteps righdt in,

Und peen der shturdy oak.

Shust go oup to der paseball groundts

Und see dhose “shturdy oaks”

All planted roundt ubon der seats—

Shust hear dheir laughs and shokes!

Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs,

Mit glothes oudt on der lines;

Vhich vas der shturdy oaks, mine friendts,

Und vhich der glinging vines?

Ven sickness in der householdt comes,

Und veeks und veeks he shtays,

Who vas id fighdts him mitoudt resdt,

Dhose veary nighdts und days?

Who beace und gomfort alvays prings,

Und cools dot fefered prow?

More like id vas der tender vine

Dot oak he glings to, now.

“Man vants budt leedle here below,”

Der boet von time said;

Dhere’s leedle dot man he don’d vant,

I dink id means, inshted;

Und ven der years keep rolling on,

Dheir cares und droubles pringing,

He vants to pe der shturdy oak,

Und, also, do der glinging.

Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more,

Und don’d so shturdy peen,

Der glinging vines dhey haf some shance

To helb run life’s masheen.

In helt und sickness, shoy und pain,

In calm or shtormy veddher,

’Twas beddher dot dhose oaks und vines

Should alvays gling togeddher.

(‡ decoration)

(‡ decoration)EDGAR WILSON NYE.(BILL NYE.)AMONG those who have shaken the sides of the fun-loving citizens of the United States and many in the old world with genuine wit and droll humor, our familiar and purely American “Bill Nye” must be numbered.Edgar Wilson Nye was a born “funny man” whose humor was as irrepressible as his disposition to breathe air. The very face of the man, while far from being homely, as is frequently judged from comic pictures of him, was enough to provoke the risibility of the most sedate and unsmiling citizens in any community. WhenMr.Nye walked out on the platform to exhibit in his plain manner a few samples of his “Baled Hay,” or offer what he was pleased to term a few “Remarks,” or to narrate one or more of the tales told by those famous creatures of his imagination known as “The Forty Liars,”—before a word was uttered an infectious smile often grew into a roaring laugh.Edgar Wilson Nye was born at Shirley, Maine, 1850. His parents removed to Wisconsin, and thence to Wyoming Territory when he was but a boy, and he grew up amid the hardships and humorous aspects of frontier life, which he has so amusingly woven into the warp and the woof of his early “yarns.”Mr.Nye studied law and was admitted to the bar in 1876; but practiced his profession only one year. Afterwards he reported for the newspapers, and, in 1878, began to write regularly a weekly humorous letter for the Sunday papers in the West. This he continued to do for several years, receiving good compensation therefor, and his reputation as a humorous writer grew steadily and rapidly.In 1884,Mr.Nye came to New York and organized the Nye Trust, or Syndicate, through which a weekly letter from him should simultaneously appear in the journals of the principal cities of the Union. This increased his fame; and during the later years of his life he was engaged much of his time on the lecture platform, sometimes alone, and sometimes in company with other prominent authors. He and the poet, James Whitcomb Riley, did considerable touring together and were enthusiastically welcomed wherever they went, the people invariably turning out in large numbers to enjoy a feast of fun and good feeling which this pair of prominent and typical Westerners never failed to treat them to.Among the most humorous ofMr.Nye’s recent writings were his famous letters from Buck’s Shoals, North Carolina, where, in his imagination, he established himself as a southern farmer, and dealt out his rural philosophy and comments on currentevents to the delight, not only of the farmers—many of whom imagined that he was really one of them—but of every class of readers throughout the country.In 1894Mr.Nye turned his attention to another branch of humor, and brought out “Bill Nye’s History of the United States.” The drollery and humor of this work is unsurpassed—the interest and delight of the reader being greatly enhanced by the fact that he followed the chronological thread of the real historic narrative on which he pours the sidelights of his side-splitting humor. The success of this book was so great thatMr.Nye was preparing to go abroad to write humorous histories of England and other European countries when he suddenly died in 1896, in the47thyear of his age.After his deathMrs.Nye went abroad, stopping in Berlin for the education of her children. The royalty on “Bill Nye’s” books brings an ample support for his family.THE WILD COW.(CLIPPING FROM NEWSPAPER.)WHEN I was young and used to roam around over the country, gathering water-melons in the light of the moon, I used to think I could milk anybody’s cow, but I do not think so now. I do not milk a cow now unless the sign is right, and it hasn’t been right for a good many years. The last cow I tried to milk was a common cow, born in obscurity; kind of a self-made cow. I remember her brow was low, but she wore her tail high and she was haughty, oh, so haughty.I made a common-place remark to her, one that is used in the very best of society, one that need not have given offence anywhere. I said, “So”—and she “soed.” Then I told her to “hist” and she histed. But I thought she overdid it. She put too much expression in it.Just then I heard something crash through the window of the barn and fall with a dull, sickening thud on the outside. The neighbors came to see what it was that caused the noise. They found that I had done it in getting through the window.I asked the neighbors if the barn was still standing. They said it was. Then I asked if the cow was injured much. They said she seemed to be quite robust. Then I requested them to go in and calm the cow a little, and see if they could get my plug hat off her horns.I am buying all my milk now of a milkman. I select a gentle milkman who will not kick, and feel as though I could trust him. Then, if he feels as though he could trust me, it is all right.MR.WHISK’S TRUE LOVE.SO she said to him: “Oh, darling, I fear that my wealth hath taught thee to love me, and if it were to take wings unto itself thou wouldst also do the same.”“Nay, Gwendolin,” saidMr.Whisk, softly, as he drew her head down upon his shoulder and tickled the lobe of her little cunning ear with the end of his moustache, “I love not thy dollars, but thee alone. Also elsewhere. If thou doubtest me, give thy wealth to the poor. Give it to the World’s Fair. Give it to the Central Pacific Railroad. Give it to any one who is suffering.”“No,” she unto him straightway did make answer, “I could not do that, honey.”“Then give it to your daughter,” saidMr.Whisk, “if you think I am so low as to love alone your yellow dross.” He then drew himself up to his full height.She flew to his arms like a frightened dove that has been hit on the head with a rock. Folding her warm round arms about his neck, she sobbed with joy and gave her entire fortune to her daughter.Mr.Whisk then married the daughter, and went on about his business. I sometimes think that, at the best, man is a great coarse thing.THE DISCOVERY OF NEW YORK.FROM “BILL NYE’S HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES, 1894.”By Permission of J. B. Lippincott Co.THE author will now refer to the discovery of the Hudson River and the town of New York via Fort Lee and the125thStreet Ferry.New York was afterwards sold for twenty-four dollars,—the whole island. When I think of this I go into my family gallery, which I also use as a swear room, and tell those ancestors of mine what I think of them. Where were they when New York was sold for twenty-four dollars? Were they having their portraits painted by Landseer, or their disposition taken by Jeffreys, or having their Little Lord Fauntleroy clothes made?Do not encourage them to believe that they will escape me in future years. Some of them died unregenerate, and are now, I am told, in a country where they may possibly be damned; and I will attend to the others personally.Twenty-four dollars for New York! Why, my Croton-water tax on one house and lot with fifty feet four and one-fourth inches front is fifty-nine dollars and no questions asked. Why, you can’t get a voter for that now.Henry—or Hendrik—Hudson was an English navigator, of whose birth and early history nothing is known definitely, hence his name is never mentioned in many of the best homes of New York.In 1607 he made a voyage in search of the North West Passage. In one of his voyages he discovered Cape Cod, and later on the Hudson River.This was one hundred and seventeen years after Columbus discovered America; which shows that the discovering business was not pushed as it should have been by those who had it in charge.Hudson went up the river as far as Albany, but, finding no one there whom he knew, he hastened back as far as209thStreet West, and anchored.He discovered Hudson Bay and Hudson Strait, and made other journeys by water, though aquatting was then in its infancy. Afterwards his sailors became mutinous, and set Hendrik and his son, with seven infirm sailors, afloat.Ah! Whom have we here?It is Hendrik Hudson, who discovered the Hudson River.Here he has just landed at the foot of209thStreet, New York, where he offered the Indians liquor, but they refused.(‡ Pilgrims bargaining with Indians)How209thStreet has changed!The artist has been fortunate in getting the expression of the Indians in the act of refusing.Mr.Hudson’s great reputation lies in the fact that he discoveredthe river which bears his name; but the thinking mind will at once regard the discovery of an Indian who does not drink as far more wonderful.Some historians say that this special delegation was swept away afterwards by a pestilence, whilst others, commenting on the incident, maintain that Hudson lied.It is the only historical question regarding America not fully settled by this book.Nothing more was heard by him till he turned up in a thinking part in “Rip Van Winkle.”Many claims regarding the discovery of various parts of the United States had been previously made. The Cabots had discovered Labrador; the Spaniards the southern part of the United States; the Norsemen had discovered Minneapolis; and Columbus had discovered San Salvador and had gone home to meet a ninety-day note due in Palos for the use of the Pinta, which he had hired by the hour.But we are speaking of the discovery of New York.About this time a solitary horseman might have been seen at West209thStreet, clothed in a little brief authority, and looking out to the west as he petulantly spoke in the Tammany dialect, then in the language of the blank-verse Indian. He began: “Another day of anxiety has passed, and yet we have not been discovered! The Great Spirit tells me in the thunder of the surf and the roaring cataract of the Harlem that within a week we will be discovered for the first time.”As he stands there aboard of his horse one sees that he is a chief in every respect, and in life’s great drama would naturally occupy the middle of the stage. It was at this moment that Hudson slipped down the river from Albany past Fort Lee, and, dropping a nickle in the slot at125thStreet, weighed his anchor at that place. As soon as he had landed and discovered the city, he was approached by the chief, who said: “We gates. I am on the committee to show you our little town. I suppose you have a power of attorney, of course, for discovering us?”“Yes,” said Hudson. “As Columbus used to say when he discovered San Salvador, ‘I do it by the right vested in me by my sovereigns.’ ‘That oversizes my pile by a sovereign and a half,’ says one of the natives; and so, if you have not heard it, there is a good thing for one of your dinner-speeches here.”“Very good,” said the chief, as they jogged downtown on a swift Sixth Avenue elevated train towards the wigwams on14thStreet, and going at the rate of four miles an hour. “We do not care especially who discovers us so long as we hold control of the city organization. How about that, Hank?”“That will be satisfactory,” saidMr.Hudson, taking a package of imported cheese and eating it, so that they could have the car to themselves.“We will take the departments, such as Police, Street-cleaning,etc.,etc.,etc., while you and Columbus get your pictures on the currency and have your graves mussed up on anniversaries. We get the two-moment horses and the country châteaux on the Bronx. Sabe?”“That is, you do not care whose portrait is on the currency,” said Hudson, “so you get the currency.”Said the man, “That is the sense of the meeting.”Thus was New York discovered via Albany and Fort Lee, and five minutes after the two touched glasses, the brim of the schoppin and the Manhattan cocktail tinkled together, and New York was inaugurated.(‡ decoration)

(‡ decoration)

(BILL NYE.)

AMONG those who have shaken the sides of the fun-loving citizens of the United States and many in the old world with genuine wit and droll humor, our familiar and purely American “Bill Nye” must be numbered.

Edgar Wilson Nye was a born “funny man” whose humor was as irrepressible as his disposition to breathe air. The very face of the man, while far from being homely, as is frequently judged from comic pictures of him, was enough to provoke the risibility of the most sedate and unsmiling citizens in any community. WhenMr.Nye walked out on the platform to exhibit in his plain manner a few samples of his “Baled Hay,” or offer what he was pleased to term a few “Remarks,” or to narrate one or more of the tales told by those famous creatures of his imagination known as “The Forty Liars,”—before a word was uttered an infectious smile often grew into a roaring laugh.

Edgar Wilson Nye was born at Shirley, Maine, 1850. His parents removed to Wisconsin, and thence to Wyoming Territory when he was but a boy, and he grew up amid the hardships and humorous aspects of frontier life, which he has so amusingly woven into the warp and the woof of his early “yarns.”Mr.Nye studied law and was admitted to the bar in 1876; but practiced his profession only one year. Afterwards he reported for the newspapers, and, in 1878, began to write regularly a weekly humorous letter for the Sunday papers in the West. This he continued to do for several years, receiving good compensation therefor, and his reputation as a humorous writer grew steadily and rapidly.

In 1884,Mr.Nye came to New York and organized the Nye Trust, or Syndicate, through which a weekly letter from him should simultaneously appear in the journals of the principal cities of the Union. This increased his fame; and during the later years of his life he was engaged much of his time on the lecture platform, sometimes alone, and sometimes in company with other prominent authors. He and the poet, James Whitcomb Riley, did considerable touring together and were enthusiastically welcomed wherever they went, the people invariably turning out in large numbers to enjoy a feast of fun and good feeling which this pair of prominent and typical Westerners never failed to treat them to.

Among the most humorous ofMr.Nye’s recent writings were his famous letters from Buck’s Shoals, North Carolina, where, in his imagination, he established himself as a southern farmer, and dealt out his rural philosophy and comments on currentevents to the delight, not only of the farmers—many of whom imagined that he was really one of them—but of every class of readers throughout the country.

In 1894Mr.Nye turned his attention to another branch of humor, and brought out “Bill Nye’s History of the United States.” The drollery and humor of this work is unsurpassed—the interest and delight of the reader being greatly enhanced by the fact that he followed the chronological thread of the real historic narrative on which he pours the sidelights of his side-splitting humor. The success of this book was so great thatMr.Nye was preparing to go abroad to write humorous histories of England and other European countries when he suddenly died in 1896, in the47thyear of his age.

After his deathMrs.Nye went abroad, stopping in Berlin for the education of her children. The royalty on “Bill Nye’s” books brings an ample support for his family.

THE WILD COW.

(CLIPPING FROM NEWSPAPER.)

WHEN I was young and used to roam around over the country, gathering water-melons in the light of the moon, I used to think I could milk anybody’s cow, but I do not think so now. I do not milk a cow now unless the sign is right, and it hasn’t been right for a good many years. The last cow I tried to milk was a common cow, born in obscurity; kind of a self-made cow. I remember her brow was low, but she wore her tail high and she was haughty, oh, so haughty.I made a common-place remark to her, one that is used in the very best of society, one that need not have given offence anywhere. I said, “So”—and she “soed.” Then I told her to “hist” and she histed. But I thought she overdid it. She put too much expression in it.Just then I heard something crash through the window of the barn and fall with a dull, sickening thud on the outside. The neighbors came to see what it was that caused the noise. They found that I had done it in getting through the window.I asked the neighbors if the barn was still standing. They said it was. Then I asked if the cow was injured much. They said she seemed to be quite robust. Then I requested them to go in and calm the cow a little, and see if they could get my plug hat off her horns.I am buying all my milk now of a milkman. I select a gentle milkman who will not kick, and feel as though I could trust him. Then, if he feels as though he could trust me, it is all right.

WHEN I was young and used to roam around over the country, gathering water-melons in the light of the moon, I used to think I could milk anybody’s cow, but I do not think so now. I do not milk a cow now unless the sign is right, and it hasn’t been right for a good many years. The last cow I tried to milk was a common cow, born in obscurity; kind of a self-made cow. I remember her brow was low, but she wore her tail high and she was haughty, oh, so haughty.

I made a common-place remark to her, one that is used in the very best of society, one that need not have given offence anywhere. I said, “So”—and she “soed.” Then I told her to “hist” and she histed. But I thought she overdid it. She put too much expression in it.

Just then I heard something crash through the window of the barn and fall with a dull, sickening thud on the outside. The neighbors came to see what it was that caused the noise. They found that I had done it in getting through the window.

I asked the neighbors if the barn was still standing. They said it was. Then I asked if the cow was injured much. They said she seemed to be quite robust. Then I requested them to go in and calm the cow a little, and see if they could get my plug hat off her horns.

I am buying all my milk now of a milkman. I select a gentle milkman who will not kick, and feel as though I could trust him. Then, if he feels as though he could trust me, it is all right.

MR.WHISK’S TRUE LOVE.

SO she said to him: “Oh, darling, I fear that my wealth hath taught thee to love me, and if it were to take wings unto itself thou wouldst also do the same.”“Nay, Gwendolin,” saidMr.Whisk, softly, as he drew her head down upon his shoulder and tickled the lobe of her little cunning ear with the end of his moustache, “I love not thy dollars, but thee alone. Also elsewhere. If thou doubtest me, give thy wealth to the poor. Give it to the World’s Fair. Give it to the Central Pacific Railroad. Give it to any one who is suffering.”“No,” she unto him straightway did make answer, “I could not do that, honey.”“Then give it to your daughter,” saidMr.Whisk, “if you think I am so low as to love alone your yellow dross.” He then drew himself up to his full height.She flew to his arms like a frightened dove that has been hit on the head with a rock. Folding her warm round arms about his neck, she sobbed with joy and gave her entire fortune to her daughter.Mr.Whisk then married the daughter, and went on about his business. I sometimes think that, at the best, man is a great coarse thing.

SO she said to him: “Oh, darling, I fear that my wealth hath taught thee to love me, and if it were to take wings unto itself thou wouldst also do the same.”

“Nay, Gwendolin,” saidMr.Whisk, softly, as he drew her head down upon his shoulder and tickled the lobe of her little cunning ear with the end of his moustache, “I love not thy dollars, but thee alone. Also elsewhere. If thou doubtest me, give thy wealth to the poor. Give it to the World’s Fair. Give it to the Central Pacific Railroad. Give it to any one who is suffering.”

“No,” she unto him straightway did make answer, “I could not do that, honey.”

“Then give it to your daughter,” saidMr.Whisk, “if you think I am so low as to love alone your yellow dross.” He then drew himself up to his full height.

She flew to his arms like a frightened dove that has been hit on the head with a rock. Folding her warm round arms about his neck, she sobbed with joy and gave her entire fortune to her daughter.

Mr.Whisk then married the daughter, and went on about his business. I sometimes think that, at the best, man is a great coarse thing.

THE DISCOVERY OF NEW YORK.

FROM “BILL NYE’S HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES, 1894.”

By Permission of J. B. Lippincott Co.

THE author will now refer to the discovery of the Hudson River and the town of New York via Fort Lee and the125thStreet Ferry.New York was afterwards sold for twenty-four dollars,—the whole island. When I think of this I go into my family gallery, which I also use as a swear room, and tell those ancestors of mine what I think of them. Where were they when New York was sold for twenty-four dollars? Were they having their portraits painted by Landseer, or their disposition taken by Jeffreys, or having their Little Lord Fauntleroy clothes made?Do not encourage them to believe that they will escape me in future years. Some of them died unregenerate, and are now, I am told, in a country where they may possibly be damned; and I will attend to the others personally.Twenty-four dollars for New York! Why, my Croton-water tax on one house and lot with fifty feet four and one-fourth inches front is fifty-nine dollars and no questions asked. Why, you can’t get a voter for that now.Henry—or Hendrik—Hudson was an English navigator, of whose birth and early history nothing is known definitely, hence his name is never mentioned in many of the best homes of New York.In 1607 he made a voyage in search of the North West Passage. In one of his voyages he discovered Cape Cod, and later on the Hudson River.This was one hundred and seventeen years after Columbus discovered America; which shows that the discovering business was not pushed as it should have been by those who had it in charge.Hudson went up the river as far as Albany, but, finding no one there whom he knew, he hastened back as far as209thStreet West, and anchored.He discovered Hudson Bay and Hudson Strait, and made other journeys by water, though aquatting was then in its infancy. Afterwards his sailors became mutinous, and set Hendrik and his son, with seven infirm sailors, afloat.Ah! Whom have we here?It is Hendrik Hudson, who discovered the Hudson River.Here he has just landed at the foot of209thStreet, New York, where he offered the Indians liquor, but they refused.(‡ Pilgrims bargaining with Indians)How209thStreet has changed!The artist has been fortunate in getting the expression of the Indians in the act of refusing.Mr.Hudson’s great reputation lies in the fact that he discoveredthe river which bears his name; but the thinking mind will at once regard the discovery of an Indian who does not drink as far more wonderful.Some historians say that this special delegation was swept away afterwards by a pestilence, whilst others, commenting on the incident, maintain that Hudson lied.It is the only historical question regarding America not fully settled by this book.Nothing more was heard by him till he turned up in a thinking part in “Rip Van Winkle.”Many claims regarding the discovery of various parts of the United States had been previously made. The Cabots had discovered Labrador; the Spaniards the southern part of the United States; the Norsemen had discovered Minneapolis; and Columbus had discovered San Salvador and had gone home to meet a ninety-day note due in Palos for the use of the Pinta, which he had hired by the hour.But we are speaking of the discovery of New York.About this time a solitary horseman might have been seen at West209thStreet, clothed in a little brief authority, and looking out to the west as he petulantly spoke in the Tammany dialect, then in the language of the blank-verse Indian. He began: “Another day of anxiety has passed, and yet we have not been discovered! The Great Spirit tells me in the thunder of the surf and the roaring cataract of the Harlem that within a week we will be discovered for the first time.”As he stands there aboard of his horse one sees that he is a chief in every respect, and in life’s great drama would naturally occupy the middle of the stage. It was at this moment that Hudson slipped down the river from Albany past Fort Lee, and, dropping a nickle in the slot at125thStreet, weighed his anchor at that place. As soon as he had landed and discovered the city, he was approached by the chief, who said: “We gates. I am on the committee to show you our little town. I suppose you have a power of attorney, of course, for discovering us?”“Yes,” said Hudson. “As Columbus used to say when he discovered San Salvador, ‘I do it by the right vested in me by my sovereigns.’ ‘That oversizes my pile by a sovereign and a half,’ says one of the natives; and so, if you have not heard it, there is a good thing for one of your dinner-speeches here.”“Very good,” said the chief, as they jogged downtown on a swift Sixth Avenue elevated train towards the wigwams on14thStreet, and going at the rate of four miles an hour. “We do not care especially who discovers us so long as we hold control of the city organization. How about that, Hank?”“That will be satisfactory,” saidMr.Hudson, taking a package of imported cheese and eating it, so that they could have the car to themselves.“We will take the departments, such as Police, Street-cleaning,etc.,etc.,etc., while you and Columbus get your pictures on the currency and have your graves mussed up on anniversaries. We get the two-moment horses and the country châteaux on the Bronx. Sabe?”“That is, you do not care whose portrait is on the currency,” said Hudson, “so you get the currency.”Said the man, “That is the sense of the meeting.”Thus was New York discovered via Albany and Fort Lee, and five minutes after the two touched glasses, the brim of the schoppin and the Manhattan cocktail tinkled together, and New York was inaugurated.

THE author will now refer to the discovery of the Hudson River and the town of New York via Fort Lee and the125thStreet Ferry.

New York was afterwards sold for twenty-four dollars,—the whole island. When I think of this I go into my family gallery, which I also use as a swear room, and tell those ancestors of mine what I think of them. Where were they when New York was sold for twenty-four dollars? Were they having their portraits painted by Landseer, or their disposition taken by Jeffreys, or having their Little Lord Fauntleroy clothes made?

Do not encourage them to believe that they will escape me in future years. Some of them died unregenerate, and are now, I am told, in a country where they may possibly be damned; and I will attend to the others personally.

Twenty-four dollars for New York! Why, my Croton-water tax on one house and lot with fifty feet four and one-fourth inches front is fifty-nine dollars and no questions asked. Why, you can’t get a voter for that now.

Henry—or Hendrik—Hudson was an English navigator, of whose birth and early history nothing is known definitely, hence his name is never mentioned in many of the best homes of New York.

In 1607 he made a voyage in search of the North West Passage. In one of his voyages he discovered Cape Cod, and later on the Hudson River.

This was one hundred and seventeen years after Columbus discovered America; which shows that the discovering business was not pushed as it should have been by those who had it in charge.

Hudson went up the river as far as Albany, but, finding no one there whom he knew, he hastened back as far as209thStreet West, and anchored.

He discovered Hudson Bay and Hudson Strait, and made other journeys by water, though aquatting was then in its infancy. Afterwards his sailors became mutinous, and set Hendrik and his son, with seven infirm sailors, afloat.

Ah! Whom have we here?

It is Hendrik Hudson, who discovered the Hudson River.

Here he has just landed at the foot of209thStreet, New York, where he offered the Indians liquor, but they refused.

(‡ Pilgrims bargaining with Indians)

How209thStreet has changed!

The artist has been fortunate in getting the expression of the Indians in the act of refusing.Mr.Hudson’s great reputation lies in the fact that he discoveredthe river which bears his name; but the thinking mind will at once regard the discovery of an Indian who does not drink as far more wonderful.

Some historians say that this special delegation was swept away afterwards by a pestilence, whilst others, commenting on the incident, maintain that Hudson lied.

It is the only historical question regarding America not fully settled by this book.

Nothing more was heard by him till he turned up in a thinking part in “Rip Van Winkle.”

Many claims regarding the discovery of various parts of the United States had been previously made. The Cabots had discovered Labrador; the Spaniards the southern part of the United States; the Norsemen had discovered Minneapolis; and Columbus had discovered San Salvador and had gone home to meet a ninety-day note due in Palos for the use of the Pinta, which he had hired by the hour.

But we are speaking of the discovery of New York.

About this time a solitary horseman might have been seen at West209thStreet, clothed in a little brief authority, and looking out to the west as he petulantly spoke in the Tammany dialect, then in the language of the blank-verse Indian. He began: “Another day of anxiety has passed, and yet we have not been discovered! The Great Spirit tells me in the thunder of the surf and the roaring cataract of the Harlem that within a week we will be discovered for the first time.”

As he stands there aboard of his horse one sees that he is a chief in every respect, and in life’s great drama would naturally occupy the middle of the stage. It was at this moment that Hudson slipped down the river from Albany past Fort Lee, and, dropping a nickle in the slot at125thStreet, weighed his anchor at that place. As soon as he had landed and discovered the city, he was approached by the chief, who said: “We gates. I am on the committee to show you our little town. I suppose you have a power of attorney, of course, for discovering us?”

“Yes,” said Hudson. “As Columbus used to say when he discovered San Salvador, ‘I do it by the right vested in me by my sovereigns.’ ‘That oversizes my pile by a sovereign and a half,’ says one of the natives; and so, if you have not heard it, there is a good thing for one of your dinner-speeches here.”

“Very good,” said the chief, as they jogged downtown on a swift Sixth Avenue elevated train towards the wigwams on14thStreet, and going at the rate of four miles an hour. “We do not care especially who discovers us so long as we hold control of the city organization. How about that, Hank?”

“That will be satisfactory,” saidMr.Hudson, taking a package of imported cheese and eating it, so that they could have the car to themselves.

“We will take the departments, such as Police, Street-cleaning,etc.,etc.,etc., while you and Columbus get your pictures on the currency and have your graves mussed up on anniversaries. We get the two-moment horses and the country châteaux on the Bronx. Sabe?”

“That is, you do not care whose portrait is on the currency,” said Hudson, “so you get the currency.”

Said the man, “That is the sense of the meeting.”

Thus was New York discovered via Albany and Fort Lee, and five minutes after the two touched glasses, the brim of the schoppin and the Manhattan cocktail tinkled together, and New York was inaugurated.

(‡ decoration)

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