At the Sutter House, Sacramento, a New Yorker, newly arrived, was lamenting his condition, and his folly in leaving an abundance at home, and especially two beautiful daughters, who were just budding into womanhood, when he asked the other if he had a family. "Yes, Sir, I have a wife and six children in New York, and I never saw one of them." After this reply, the couple sat a few minutes in silence, and then the interrogator again commenced. "Were you ever blind, Sir?"—"No, Sir." "Did you marry a widow, Sir?"—"No, Sir." Another lapse of silence. "Did I understand you to say, Sir, that you had a wife and six children living in New York, and had never seen one of them?"—"Yes, Sir, I so stated it." Anotherand a longer pause of silence. The interrogator again enquired—"How can it be, Sir, that you never saw one of them?" "Why," was the response, "oneof them was born after I left." "Oh, ah!" and a general laugh followed. After that, the first New Yorker was especially distinguished as the man who has six children and never saw one of them.
It is said the Southerns captured at Mansfield two waggons loaded with paper collars, and that General Dick Taylor returned the collars through a flag of truce, with a letter to General Banks, in which the facetious rebel said:—"I have boiled, baked, and stewed these things, and can do nothing with them. We cannot eat them. They are a luxury for which we have no use, and I would like, therefore, to exchange them for a like quantity of hard tack." The joke is a good one, and has convulsed the Western boys, who have no great admiration for the "Liberator of Louisiana." When the Western troops passed General Banks's head-quarters, coming into Alexandria, they groaned, jeered, and called aloud, "How about those paper collars?"
Many of the United States papers give with every death they announce the name of the physician who attended the defunct. The following specimen, from a New Orleans journal, will show the business-like manner in which the matter is gone about:—"Died, at his house in Cotton Street, Jonathan Smith, storekeeper. He was a well-doing citizen, and deservedly respected. His wife carries on the store. Gregson physician." The name of the doctor renders the affair complete.
The keeper of a groggery in New York happened one day to break one of his tumblers. He stood for a moment looking at the fragments, reflecting on his loss; and then turning to his assistant, he cried out, "Tom, put a quart of water into that old Cognac."
When the question of the enlistment of the negroes in the Northern army was first mooted, the following song made its appearance, and became very popular. It is supposed to be written by one Miles O'Reilly, a private soldier in the Army of the Potomac. Miles is altogether an imaginary personage, and is represented by his clever inventors as the typical Hibernian soldier of the war. The song is sung to the Irish air of the "Low-backed Car":—
"Some tell us 'tis a burning shameTo make the naygers fight,And that the thrade of being kiltBelongs but to the white;But as for me, upon my sowl—So liberal are we here—I'll let Sambo be murther'd instead of myselfOn every day in the year.On every day in the year, boys,And in every hour of the day,The right to be killt I'll divide wid him,And divil a word I'll say."In battle's wild commotionI shouldn't at all objectIf Sambo's body should stop a ballThat was coming for me direct.And the prod of a Southern bagnet—So generous are we here—I'll resign, and let Sambo take itOn every day in the year.So hear me, all boys, darlins,Don't think I'm tippin' you chaff,The right to be killt we'll divide wid him,And give him the largest half."
"Some tell us 'tis a burning shameTo make the naygers fight,And that the thrade of being kiltBelongs but to the white;But as for me, upon my sowl—So liberal are we here—I'll let Sambo be murther'd instead of myselfOn every day in the year.On every day in the year, boys,And in every hour of the day,The right to be killt I'll divide wid him,And divil a word I'll say."In battle's wild commotionI shouldn't at all objectIf Sambo's body should stop a ballThat was coming for me direct.And the prod of a Southern bagnet—So generous are we here—I'll resign, and let Sambo take itOn every day in the year.So hear me, all boys, darlins,Don't think I'm tippin' you chaff,The right to be killt we'll divide wid him,And give him the largest half."
"Some tell us 'tis a burning shameTo make the naygers fight,And that the thrade of being kiltBelongs but to the white;But as for me, upon my sowl—So liberal are we here—I'll let Sambo be murther'd instead of myselfOn every day in the year.On every day in the year, boys,And in every hour of the day,The right to be killt I'll divide wid him,And divil a word I'll say.
"In battle's wild commotionI shouldn't at all objectIf Sambo's body should stop a ballThat was coming for me direct.And the prod of a Southern bagnet—So generous are we here—I'll resign, and let Sambo take itOn every day in the year.So hear me, all boys, darlins,Don't think I'm tippin' you chaff,The right to be killt we'll divide wid him,And give him the largest half."
Old Rowe kept a hotel in the northern part of York State, which he boasted was the best in those parts; where, as he used to say, you could get anything that was ever made to eat. One day in came a Yankee. He sent his horse round to the stable, and stepping up to the bar, asked old Rowe what he could give him for dinner."Anything, Sir," said old Rowe; "anything from a pickled elephant to a canary-bird's tongue." "Wal," says the Yankee, eyeing Rowe, "I guess I'll take a piece of pickled elephant." Out bustles Howe into the dining-room, leaving our Yankee friend nonplussed at his gravity. Presently he comes back again. "Well, we've got 'em; got 'em all ready, right here in the house; but you'll have to take a whole 'un, 'cause we never cut 'em." The Yankee thought he would take some cod fish and potatoes.
A gentleman, finding his servant intoxicated, said, "What, drunk again, Sam? I scolded you for being drunk last night, and here you are drunk again." "No, massa; same drunk, massa, same drunk," replied Sambo.
"Jem, you've been drinking." "No, I haven't; I've been looking at another man drinking, and it was too much for me."
If the leech will not bite, bind him apprentice to a broker for a week, and his teeth will become so sharp that he will bite through the bottom of a brass kettle.
"Hillo, master," said a Yankee to a teamster, who appeared in something of a hurry, "What time is it?—Where are you going?—How deep is the creek?—And what is the price of the butter?" "Past one, almost two—home—waist deep—and elevenpence," was the reply.
A paper publishes a story in which it is stated that a man who came very near drowning had a wonderful recollection of every event which had occurred during his life. There are afewof our subscribers whom we would recommend to practice bathing in deep water.
"What is the use of living?" asked Jack Simmons the other day. "We are flogged for crying when we are babies, flogged because the master is cross when we are boys, obliged to toil, sick or well, or starve, when we are men, to toil still harder when we are husbands, and after exhausting life and strength in the service of other people, die, and leave our children to quarrel about the possession of father's watch, and our wives to catch somebody else."
There was a law in Boston against smoking in the street. A down-easter strutted about the city one day, puffing at a cigar. Up walked the constable. "Guess your smokin'," he said. "You'll pay two dollars, stranger." "I ain't smokin'," was the quick response, "try the weed yourself; it ain't alight." The constable took a pull at the cigar, and out came a long puff of white smoke. "Guess you'll paymetwo dollars," said the down-easter, quietly. "Wal," replied the constable, "I calc'late you're considerable sharp. S'pose we liquor."
This is to certify that I have always been bald, and have used up a barrel of common hair-dye. I accidentally heard of your Invigorator, and purchased a bottle, and carried it home in my overcoat pocket. The pocket was full of hair when I got home! I took the bottle and held it in the sun, when the shadow fell on my head. A thick head of chestnut-coloured hair grew out in thirty minutes by the watch, all curled and perfumed. Send me twenty bottles by return mail.
The editor of theFlorence Inquirergives the following notice to one of his friends—"The gentleman who took out of our library the number ofGraham's Magazine, is respectfully invited to call again in about two weeks and get the number for August."
Andrew Jackson was once making a stump speech out West in a small village. Just as he was concluding amen, Kendall, who sat behind him, whispered, "Tip 'em a little Latin, General; they won't be content without it." The man of iron instantly thought upon a few phrases he knew, and in a voice of thunder he wound up his speech by exclaiming—"E pluribus unum—sine qua non—ne plus ultra—multum in parvo." The effect was tremendous, and the Hoosier's shouts could be heard for miles.
A distinguished Southern gentleman, dining at a New York hotel, was annoyed at a negro servant continually waiting upon him, and desired him one day at dinner to retire. "Excuse me, Sir," said Cuffy, drawing himself up, "but I'se 'sponsible for de silver."
A romantic youth, promenading in a fashionable street in New York, picked up a thimble. He stood awhile, meditating upon the probable beauty of the owner, when he pressed it to his lips, saying, "Oh, that it were the fair cheek of the wearer!" Just as he had finished, a stout, elderly negress looked out of an upper window, and said, "Massa, jist please to bring dat fimble of mine in de entry—I jist drapt it."
I met her in the sunset bright, her gingham gown was blue; her eyes, that danced with pure delight, were of the same dear hue. And always when the sun goes down, I think of the girl in the gingham gown.
A man seeing an oyster vendor pass by, called out, "Give me a pound of oysters!" "We sell oysters by measure, not by weight," replied the other. "Well," said he, "give me a yard of them."
An editor at a dinner-table being asked if he would take some pudding, replied in a fit of abstraction, "Owing to a crowd of other matter we are unable to find room for it."
Hard Times.—Sitting on a cold grindstone and reading the President's message.
Love.—A little world within itself intimately connected with shovel and tongs.
Genteel Society.—A place where the rake is honoured and the moralist condemned.
Poetry.—A bottle of ink thrown over a sheet of foolscap.
Politician.—A fellow that culls all his knowledge from borrowed newspapers.
Patriot.—A man who has neither property nor reputation to lose.
Independence.—Owing fifty thousand dollars which you never intend to pay.
Lovely Woman.—An article manufactured by milliners.
"One wants but little here below,And wants that little for ashow."
"One wants but little here below,And wants that little for ashow."
"One wants but little here below,And wants that little for ashow."
The editor of theAlbany Expresssays, the only reason why his dwelling was not blown away in a late storm was because there was a heavy mortgage on it.
An American agricultural society offers premiums to farmers' daughters—"girls under twenty-one years of age," who shall exhibit the best lots of butter, not less than 10 lbs. "That's all right," says a New York paper, "save the insinuation that some girls are over twenty-one years of age."
We know a man down East whose hearing is so hard that he broke it up and sold it for gun-flints.
I cannot bear egotism. I never like to praise myself; but, humanly speaking, I can double up any two men in these diggings, take the bark off a tree by looking at it, and bore a hole through a board fence with my eye. But I don't praise myself. I leave others to give my character.
A Yankee, whose face had been mauled in a pot-house brawl, assured General Jackson that he had received his scars in battle. "Then," said Old Hickory, "be careful the next time you run away, and don't look back."
A Kentuckian, on hearing praised the Rutland Punch-bowl, which on the christening of the young Marquis was built so large that a small boat was actually set sailing upon it, in which a boy sat, who laddled out the liquor, exclaimed, "I guess I've seen a bowl that 'ud beat that to smash; for, at my brother's christening, the bowl was so deep, that when we young'uns said it warn't sweet enough, father sent a man down in a diving-bell to stir up the sugar at the bottom."
The people live uncommon long at Vermont. There are two men there so old that they have forgotten who they are, and there is nobody alive who can remember it for them.
It is said that there is a skipper in New York who has crossed the Atlantic so often that he knows every wave by sight.
A lad was subpoenaed as a witness in one of the American courts. The judge said, "Put the boy upon evidence," upon hearing which young America exclaimed, "Who are you calling a boy? W'e chewed baccy these two years."
TheSalem Registertells this good story. Daniel Webster was once standing in company with several other gentlemen in the Capitol at Washington, as a drove of mules were going past. "Webster," said one of the Southern gentlemen, "there go some of your constituents." "Yes," instantly replied Mr. Webster, "they are going South to teach school."
A man in Missouri planted some beans late one afternoon, and next morning they wereup—thanks to his hens.
TheBoston Postsays—"All that is necessary for the enjoyment of sausages isconfidence."
During the long drought of last summer, an American paper says, water became so scarce in a certain parish that the farmers' wives were obliged to send their milk to town genuine.
An American clergyman, preaching a drowsy sermon, asked, "What is the price of earthly pleasure?" The deacon, a fat grocer, woke up hastily from a sound sleep, and cried out lustily, "Seven and sixpence a dozen."
Once in autumn, wet and dreary, sat this writer, weak and weary, pondering over a memorandum book of items used before—book of scrawling head notes, rather; items taking days to gather them in hot and sultry weather, using up much time and leather, pondered we those times o'er. While we conned them, slowly rocking (through our mind queer ideas flocking) came a quick and nervous knocking—knocking at our sanctum door. "Sure, that must be Jinks," we muttered—"Jinks that's knocking atour door; Jinks, the everlasting bore." Ah, well do we remind us, in the walls which then confined us, the "exchanges," lay behind us, and before us, and around us, all scattered o'er the floor. Thought we, "Jinks wants to borrow some papers till to-morrow, and 'twill be relief from sorrow to get rid of Jinks the bore, by opening wide the door." Still the visitor kept knocking—knocking louder than before. And the scattered piles of papers, cut some rather curious capers, being lifted by the breezes coming through another door; and we wished (the wish was evil, for one deemed always civil) that Jinks was to the d——l, to stay there evermore; there to find his level—Jinks the nerve-unstringing bore. Bracing up our patience firmer, then, without another murmur, "Mr. Jinks," said we, "your pardon, your forgiveness we implore. But the fact is, we were reading of some curious proceeding, and thus it was, unheeding your loud knocking there before." Here we opened wide the door. But phancy now our pheelins—for it wasn't Jinks the bore—Jinks, nameless, evermore! But the form that stood before us, caused a trembling to come o'er us, and memory quickly bore us back again to days of yore—days when items were in plenty, and where'er this writer went he picked up interesting items by the score. 'Twas the form of our "devil," in an attitude uncivil; and he thrust his head within the open door, with "The foreman'sout o' copy, sir—he says he wants some more!" Yes, like Alexander, wanted "more." Now this "local" had already walked about till nearly dead—he had sauntered through the city till his feet were very sore—and walked through the street called Market, and the byways running off into the portions of the city, both public and obscure; had examined store and cellar, and had questioned every "feller" whom he met from door to door, if anything was stirring—any accident occurring—not published heretofore—and he had met with no success; he would rather guess he felt a little wicked at that ugly little bore, with the message from the foreman that he wanted "something more." "Now, it's time you were departing, you scamp!" cried we, upstarting. "Get you back into your office—office where you were before—or the words that you have spoken will get your bones all broken;" (and we seized a cudgel, oaken—that was lying on the floor); "take your hands out of your pockets, and leave the sanctum door; tell the foreman there's no copy,you ugly little bore." Quoth the devil, "send him more." And our devil, never sitting, still is flitting, still is flitting, back and forth upon the landing, just outside the sanctum door. Tears adown his cheeks are streaming—strange light from his eye is beaming—and his voice is heard, still crying, "Sir, the foreman wants some more." And our soul pierced with the screaming, is awakened from its dreaming, and has lost the peaceful feeling; for the fancy will come o'er us, that each reader's face before us, hears the horrid words—"We want a little more!"—Words on their foreheads glaring, "Your 'funny' column needs a little more!"
And there they sat a-popping corn,John Stiles and Susan Cutter;John Stiles as stout as any ox,And Susan fat as butter.And there they sat and shelled the corn,And raked and stirred the fire,And talked of different kinds of ears,And hitched their chairs up nigher.Then Susan she the popper shook,Then John he shook the popper,Till both their faces grew as redAs saucepans made of copper.And then they shelled and popped and ate,And kinks of fun a-poking,And he haw-hawed at her remarks,And she laughed at his joking.And still they popped, and still they ate(John's mouth was like a hopper),And stirred the fire and sparkled salt,And shook and shook the popper.The clock struck nine, the clock struck ten,And still the corn kept popping:It struck eleven, and then struck twelve,And still no signs of stopping.And John he ate, and Sue she thought—The corn did pop and patter,Till John cried out: "The corn's a fire!Why, Susan, what's the matter?"Said she, "John Stiles, it's one o'clock;You'll die of indigestion;I'm sick of all this popping corn,Why don't you Pop the Question?"
And there they sat a-popping corn,John Stiles and Susan Cutter;John Stiles as stout as any ox,And Susan fat as butter.And there they sat and shelled the corn,And raked and stirred the fire,And talked of different kinds of ears,And hitched their chairs up nigher.Then Susan she the popper shook,Then John he shook the popper,Till both their faces grew as redAs saucepans made of copper.And then they shelled and popped and ate,And kinks of fun a-poking,And he haw-hawed at her remarks,And she laughed at his joking.And still they popped, and still they ate(John's mouth was like a hopper),And stirred the fire and sparkled salt,And shook and shook the popper.The clock struck nine, the clock struck ten,And still the corn kept popping:It struck eleven, and then struck twelve,And still no signs of stopping.And John he ate, and Sue she thought—The corn did pop and patter,Till John cried out: "The corn's a fire!Why, Susan, what's the matter?"Said she, "John Stiles, it's one o'clock;You'll die of indigestion;I'm sick of all this popping corn,Why don't you Pop the Question?"
And there they sat a-popping corn,John Stiles and Susan Cutter;John Stiles as stout as any ox,And Susan fat as butter.
And there they sat and shelled the corn,And raked and stirred the fire,And talked of different kinds of ears,And hitched their chairs up nigher.
Then Susan she the popper shook,Then John he shook the popper,Till both their faces grew as redAs saucepans made of copper.
And then they shelled and popped and ate,And kinks of fun a-poking,And he haw-hawed at her remarks,And she laughed at his joking.
And still they popped, and still they ate(John's mouth was like a hopper),And stirred the fire and sparkled salt,And shook and shook the popper.
The clock struck nine, the clock struck ten,And still the corn kept popping:It struck eleven, and then struck twelve,And still no signs of stopping.
And John he ate, and Sue she thought—The corn did pop and patter,Till John cried out: "The corn's a fire!Why, Susan, what's the matter?"
Said she, "John Stiles, it's one o'clock;You'll die of indigestion;I'm sick of all this popping corn,Why don't you Pop the Question?"
Judge —— had noticed for some time that on Monday morning his Jamaica was considerably lighter than he had left it on Saturday night. Another fact had established itself in his mind. His son Sam was missing from the parental pew on Sundays. On Sunday afternoon, Sam came in and went up stairs very heavy, when the judge put the question to him: "Sam, where have you been?" "To church, sir," was the prompt reply.—"What church, Sam?" "Second Methodist, sir."—"Had a good sermon, Sam?" "Very powerful, sir; it quite staggered me."—"Ah! I see," said the Judge, "quite powerful!" The next Sunday the son came home rather earlier than usual, and apparently not so much under the weather. His father hailed him with, "Well, Sam, been to the Second Methodist again to-day?" "Yes, sir."—"Good sermon, my boy?" "Fact was, father, that I couldn't get in; the church was shut up, and a ticket on the door."—"Sorry, Sam; keep going, you may get good by it yet." Sam says that on going to the office for his usual refreshment, he found the "John" empty, and bearing the following label:—"There will be no service here to-day; the church is temporarily closed."
An editor in Iowa has been fined two hundred dollars for hugging a girl in church.—Early Argus.Cheap enough! We once hugged a girl in church some ten years ago, and it has cost a thousand a year ever since.—Chicago Young American.
Mr. Mewins was courting a young lady of some attractions, and something of a fortune into the bargain. After a liberal arrangement had been made for the young lady by her father, Mr. Mewins, having taken a particular fancy to a little brown mare, demanded that it should be thrown into the bargain; and, upon a positive refusal, the match was broken off. After a couple of years the parties accidentally met at a country ball. Mr. Mewins was quite willing to renew the engagement. The lady appeared not to have the slightest recollection of him. "Surely you have not forgotten me," said he.—"What name, sir?" she inquired. "Mewins," he replied; "I had the honour of paying my addresses to you, about two years ago." "I remember a person of that name," she rejoined, "who paid his attentions to my father's brown mare."
In the Pennsylvania Legislature, two years ago, there was a member named Charlie Wilson, from one of the Northern frontier counties, who considered himself among the great orators of the day, and, when pretty well filled with "Harrisburg water," would get off for the edification of his colleagues some very rich illustrations. Being somewhat interested in a bill before the House, he made what he considered one of his master-speeches, during the delivery of which he used the illustration of "Nero fiddling while Rome was burning." He had scarcely taken his seat when a member tapped him on the shoulder, and said: "Say, Charlie, it wasn't Nero that 'fiddled,' it was Cæsar. You should correct that before it goes on the record." In an instant he was upon his feet, and exclaimed. "Mr. Speaker—Mr. Speaker—I made a mistake. It wasn't Nero that 'fiddled' while Rome was burning; it wasJulius Cæsar." Happily for him, the Speaker was so busily engaged that he did not hear him; but some members near heard and enjoyed the joke. Afterwards some one told him that he was right in the first place, which resulted in his reading all the ancient history in the State Library during the remainder of the winter, to assure himself as to who it was that "fiddled."
An old bachelor, who has evidently been taken in by a love of a bonnet, thus discourseth:—
"No matter where you may chance to be,No matter how many women you see—A promiscuous crowd, or a certain she—You may fully depend upon it,That a gem of the very rarest kind,A thing most difficult to find,A pet for which we long have pined,Is a 'perfect love of a bonnet.'"
"No matter where you may chance to be,No matter how many women you see—A promiscuous crowd, or a certain she—You may fully depend upon it,That a gem of the very rarest kind,A thing most difficult to find,A pet for which we long have pined,Is a 'perfect love of a bonnet.'"
"No matter where you may chance to be,No matter how many women you see—A promiscuous crowd, or a certain she—You may fully depend upon it,That a gem of the very rarest kind,A thing most difficult to find,A pet for which we long have pined,Is a 'perfect love of a bonnet.'"
An old man, rather elevated, bought a pair of new shoes, and, in order to save their soles, walked home barefoot. He had not walked far before his toe was brought too near to a large stone (considering the latter was the harder of the two). He received a severe blow, and began limping across the street, shoe in hand, groaning out: "Oh! how glad I am I hadn't my new shoes on!"
A Virginia lawyer once objected to an expression of the Act of Assembly of the State of Pennsylvania, that "the State House yard should be surrounded by a brick wall, and remain an open enclosure for ever." "But," replied a Pennsylvanian who was present, "I put it down by that Act of the Legislature of Virginia which is entitled 'A Supplement to an Act to amend an Act making it penal to alter the mark of an unmarked hog.'"
There is a curious duel now pending in Boston which began ten years ago. Mr. A., a bachelor, challenged Mr. B., a married man, with one child, who replied that the conditions were not equal—that he must necessarily put more at risk with his life than the other, and he declined. A year afterwards he received a challenge from Mr. A., who stated that he too had now a wife and child, and he supposed, therefore, the objection of Mr. B. was no longervalid. Mr. B. replied that he now had two children, consequently the inequality still subsisted. The next year Mr. A. renewed the challenge, having now two children also; but his adversary had three. The matter when last heard from was still going on, the numbers being six to seven, and the challenge yearly renewed.
An editor of a Boston paper thinks that the millennium is at hand, and gives his reasons. He says that an inspector of long and dry measures in Baltimore, while going his rounds, cut a full quarter of an inch from a yard-stick in a dry-goods' store in that city, it being that muchtoo long.
It iz highly important that when a man makes up hiz mind tew bekum a raskal, that he should examine hizself clusly, and see if he aint better konstrukted for a phool.
I argy in this way; if a man iz right, he kant be too radikal; if he iz rong, he kant be too consarvatiff.
"Tell the truth, and shame the Devil;" i kno lots ov people who kan shame the devil eazy enuff, but the tother thing bothers them.
It iz a verry delikate job tew forgive a man, without lowering him in hiz own estimashun, and yures too.
Az a gineral thing, when a woman wares the britches she haz a good rite tew them.
It iz admitted now bi evryboddy that the man who kan git fat on berlony sassage has got a good deal of dorg in him.
Wooman's inflooenze iz powerful, espeshila when she wants ennything.
Sticking up yure noze don't prove ennything, for a sope biler, when he iz away from his hum, smells evrything.
No man luvs tew git beat, but it iz better tew git beat than tew be rong.
Don't mistake arroganse for wisdom; menny people hav thought they wuz wize, when tha waz onla windy.
Men aint apt tew git kicked out ov good society for being ritch.
The rode tew Ruin iz alwus kept in good repair, and the travelers pa the expense ov it.
If a man begins life bi being a fust Lutenant in hiz familee, he need never tew look for promoshun.
The only proffit thare is in keeping more than one dorg iz what you kan make on the board.
Young man, study Defference; it iz the best card in the pack.
Honesta iz the poor man's pork, and the rich man's pudding.
Thare iz a luxury in sumtimes feeling lonesum.
Thare is onla one advantage, that i kan see, in going tew the Devil, and that iz the rode iz easy, and yu are sure to git there.
Lastly, i am violently oppozed tew ardent speerits as a bevridge; but for manufakturing purposes i think a leetle ov it tastes good.
Josh Billings.
A country girl, desirous of matrimony, received from her mistress a twenty dollar bill for her marriage gift. Her mistress desired to see the object of Susan's favour, and a diminutive fellow, swarthy as a Moor, and ill-favoured generally, made his appearance. "Oh, Susan!" said her mistress, "how small; what a strange choice you have made." "La, ma'am," answered Sue, "in such hard times as these, when all tall and handsome fellows are off to the war, what more of a man than this would you expect for twenty dollars?"
A Philadelphia judge, well known for his love of jokes, advertised a farm for sale, with a fine stream of water running through it. A few days afterwards a gentleman called on him to speak about it. "Well, judge," said he, "I have been over that farm you advertised for sale the other day, and find all right, except the find stream of water you mentioned."—"It runs through the piece of wood in the lower part of the meadow," said the judge.—"What, that little brook? Why, it does not hold much more than a spoonful. I am sure if you empty a bowl of water into it it would overflow. You don't call that a fine stream, do you?"—"Why, if it was a little finer you couldn't see it at all," said the judge, blandly.
"Never go to bed," said a father to his son, "without knowing something you did not know in the morning." "Yes, sir," replied the youth, "I went to bed tipsy last night; didn't dream of such a thing in the morning."
The Confederates at Atlanta were in the habit of throwing immense 64-pound shells. When these were seen coming, the Federal soldiers would warn each other by such expressions as "Look out for the cart-wheel!" "There comes an anchor!" "Look out for that blacksmith's shop!"
A lady, who was in the habit of spending a large portion of her time in the society of her neighbours, happened one day to be taken suddenly ill, and sent her husband in great haste for a physician. The husband ran a few rods, but soon returned, exclaiming: "My dear, where shall I find you when I get back?"
There was many affectin' ties which made one hanker arter Betsy Jane. Her father's farm joined our'n; their cows and our'n squencht their thurst at the same spring; our old mares both had stars in their forreds; the measles broke out in both famerlies at nearly the same period; our parients (Betsy's and mine) slept regularly every Sunday in the same meeting-house; and the nabers used to observe: "How thick the Wards and Peasleys air!" It was a surblime site, in the spring of the year, to see our sevral mothers (Betsy's and mine) with their gowns pin'd up so they couldn't sile 'em, affecshuntly Bilin sope together & aboozin the nabers. Altho' I hanker'd intensly arter the objeck of my affecshuns, I darsent tell her of the fires which was rajin in my manly Buzzum. I'd try to do it, but my tung would kerwollop up agin the roof of my mouth & stick thar, like deth to a deseast Afrikan, or a country postmaster to his offiss, while my hart whanged agin my ribs like a old-fashioned wheat Flale agin a barn floor. 'Twasa carm still nite in Joon. All nater was husht, and nary zeffer disturbed the sereen silens. I sot with Betsy Jane on the fense of her father's pastur. We'd bin rompin threw the woods, kullin flowrs, & drivin the woodchuck from his Native Lair (so to speak) with long sticks. Wall, we sot thar on the fense, a swingin our feet two and fro, blushin as red as the Baldinsville skool-house when it was fust painted, and looking very simple, I make no doubt. My left arm was ockepied in ballunsin myself on the fense, while my rite was wounded lovingly round her waste. I cleared my throat, and tremblinly sed: "Betsy, your'e a Gazelle." I thought that air was putty fine. I waited to see what effect it would have upon her. It evidently didn't fetch her, for she up and sed: "Your'e a sheep!" Sez I: "Betsy, I think very muckly of you." "I don't believe a word you say, so there now, cum!" with which obsarvashun she hitched away from me. "I wish thar was winders to my Sole," sed I, "so that you could see sum of my feelins. Thare's fire enough within," sed I, striking my buzzum with my fist, "to bile all the corn beef and turnips in the naberhood. Veersoovius and Critter ain't a circumstance!" She bow'd her hed down, and commenced chewin the strings to her bonnet. "Ar, could you know the sleepless nites I worry threw with on your account; how vittles has seized to be attractive to me, & how my lims has shrunk up, you wouldn't dowt me. Gaze on this wastin form, and these 'ere sunken cheeks." I should have continured on in this strane probly for sum time, but unfortnitly I lost one ballanse and fell over into the pasture. Ker smash tearin my close, and seveerly damagin myself ginerally. Betsy Jane sprang to my assistance in dubble quick time, and dragged me 4th. Then, drawin herself up to her full hite, sed: "I won't listen to your noncents no longer. Jes say rite strate out what your'e drivin at. If you mean gettin hitched,I'm in!" I considered that air enuff for all practical purposes, and we proceeded immejitly to the parson's, and was made 1 that very nite. I've parst through many tryin ordeels sins then, but Betsy Jane has bin troo as steel. By attending strickly to bizness I've amarsed a handsome Pittance. No man on this footstool can rise and git up & say I ever knowingly injered no man or wimmin folks, while all agree that my Show is ekalled by few and excelled by none, embracin, as it does, a wonderful colleckshun of livin wild Beests of Pray, snaix ingreat profushun, a endless variety of life-size wax figgers, & the only traned Kangaroo in Ameriky—the mos amoozin little cuss ever introjuced to a discriminatin public, at the small charge of 15 sents.
I discovered a long time ago that a 'coon couldn't stand my grin. I could bring one tumbling down from the highest tree. I never wasted powder and lead when I wanted one of the creatures. Well, as I was walking out one night, a few hundred yards from my house, looking carelessly about me, I saw a 'coon planted upon one of the highest limbs of an old tree. The night was very moony and clear, and old Ratler was with me; but Ratler won't bark at a 'coon—he's a queer dog in that way. So I thought I'd bring the lark down in the usual way,by a grin. I set myself—and, after grinning at the 'coon a reasonable time, found that he didn't come down. I wondered what was the reason, and I took another steady grin at him. Still he was there. It made me a little mad. So I felt round, and got an old limb about five feet long, and planting one end upon the ground, I placed my chin upon the other, and took a rest. I then grinned my best for about five minutes, but the cursed 'coon hung on. So, finding I could not bring him down by grinning, I determined to have him, for I thought he must be a droll chap. I went over to the house, got my axe, returned to the tree, saw the 'coon still there, and began to cut away. Down it come, and I run forward; but d——n the 'coon was there to be seen. I found that what I had taken for one was a large knot upon a branch of the tree, and, upon looking at it closely, I saw thatI had grinned all the bark off, and left the knot perfectly smooth.
"Modesty," says a Yankee editor, "is a quality that highly adorns a woman, but ruins a man."
A Yankee soldier who read his name in the list of deaths at an hospital, wrote home that he didn't believe it. In fact, he knew the statement was a falsehood as soon as he read it.
A juror held out against his eleven companions in Santa Cruz, California. The others, after trying all other means, finally agreed to send in a verdict of "Guilty," with the addition, that the obstinate member was a great rascal, and confederate of the prisoner. He thereupon gave in.
A Southern paper says that "a Yankee's chief nerve of feeling is in his pocket."—"A rebel is more apt to feel in his neighbour's pocket," replies a Northern journal.
A correspondent tells of a chap who was drinking at a bar, and withal being tolerably tight, after several ineffectual attempts to raise the glass to his lips, succeeded in getting it high enough to pour the contents inside his shirt-collar, and set the glass down with the exclamation, "That's good, but a little too much ice, landlord!"
A Mormon, named Nichols, made a nerve and bone all-healing salve, and thought he would experiment a little with it. He first cut off his dog's tail, and applied some to the stump. A new tail grew out immediately. He then applied some to the piece of the tail which he cut off, and a new dog grew out. He did not know which dog was which.
A writer in theChicago Postdescribes how he got out of a bad scrape in a police-court:—"The next morning the judge of the police-court sent for me. I went down, and he received me cordially. Said he heard of the wonderful things I had accomplished by knocking down five persons, and assaulting six others, and was proud of me. I was a promising young man, and all that. Then he offered a toast, 'Guilty or Not Guilty?' I responded in a brief but elegant speech, setting forth the importance of the occasion that had brought us together. After the usual ceremonies, I was requested to lend the city ten dollars."
An officer down in Georgia tells the following story:—"One night General —— was out on the line, and observed a light by the side of the mountain opposite. Thinking it was a signal light of the enemy, he remarked to his artillery officer that a hole could easily be put through it. Whereupon the officer, turning to the corporal in charge of the gun, said, 'Corporal, do you see that light?' 'Yes, sir.' 'Put a hole through it,' ordered the captain. The corporal sighted the gun, and when all was ready he looked up and said, 'Captain, that's the moon!' 'Don't care for that,' was the captain's ready response, 'put a hole through it any how.'"
An Indiana man was travelling down the Ohio in a steamer, with a mare and a two-year-old colt, when by a sudden career of the boat, all three were tilted into the river. The Indiana man, as he rose puffing and blowing above water, caught hold of the tail of the colt, not having a doubt that the natural instinct of the animal would take him ashore. The old mare took a direct line for the shore; but the frightened colt swam lustily down the current with the owner. "Let go the colt and hang on the old mare," shouted some of his friends. "Pooh, pooh!" exclaimed the Indiana man, spouting the water from his mouth, and shaking his head like a Newfoundland dog; "it's mighty fine, you telling me to leave go the colt; but to a man that can't swim, this ain't exactly the time for changing horses!"
"In the summer of 1823," says an American writer, "when a mere lad, I was at Swift's, in Sandwich. My then schoolmaster was there also, and from him I had the tale. John Brown was the well-knownsobriquetof the fisherman who attended amateur anglers on their excursions. John was not remarkable for his veracity, but quite otherwise, when his success with the hook and line was the 'subject of his story.' One day he was out with Daniel Webster. Both were standing in the brook, patient waiters for a bite, when Mr. Webster told John how he caught a large, avery large, trout on a former time. 'Your honour,' said John, 'that was very well for a gentleman. But once, when I was standing down by yonder bush, I took a fish, weighing'—I forget how much, but of course many ounces more than the great lawyer's big fish. 'Ah! John, John,' exclaimed Mr. Webster, 'you are an amphibious animal—you lie in the water, and you lie out of it!'"
They have pretty good marksmen in Vermont. Brown was telling Smith, of New Hampshire, the skill of a Green Mountain hunter. "Why," said he, "I have seen him take two partridges and let them both go—one in front and the other behind him; and he would fire and kill the one in front, and then whirl round and kill the other." "Did he have a double-barrelled gun?" enquired Smith. "Of course he did." "Well," replied Smith, "I saw a man do the same thing with asingle-barrel." Brown didn't believe the thing possible, and said so.
A fellow charged with stealing a hoe was discharged upon trial, it being proved that the article taken was an axe. The affair turned out a regularho-ax.
Said he, "And who are you?" "I'm that same David Crockett, fresh from the backwoods, half horse, half alligator, a little touched with the snapping turtle; can wade the Mississipi, leap the Ohio, ride upon a streak of lightning, and slip without a scratch down a honey locust; can whip my weight in wild cats—and if any gentleman pleases, for a ten dollar bill, he may throw in a panther—hug a bear too close for comfort, and eat any man opposed to General Jackson."
A farmer in the West once planted his onions close to his poppies, and the consequence was they grew so sleepy that he never could get them out of their beds.
"We must be unanimous," observed Hancock, on the occasion of signing the declaration of American Independence; "there must be no pulling different ways." "Yes," observed Franklin, "We must all hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately."
The following description of Henry Clay appeared in theKnickerbocker Magazine; it is needless to say it is by a Western man:—"He is a man, and no mistake! Nature made him with hersleeves rolled up."
A gentleman at the Astor House table, New York, asked the person sitting next to him if he would please to pass the mustard. "Sir," said the man, "do you mistake me for a waiter?" "Oh no, Sir," was the reply, "I mistook you for a gentleman."
An American writer says, "Poetry is the flour of literature; prose is the corn, potatoes, and meat; satire is the aqua-fortis; wit is the spice and pepper; love letters are the honey and sugar; and letters containing remittances are the apple-dumplings."
Thomas Jefferson, when Minister to France, being presented at Court, some eminent functionary remarked, "You replace Dr. Franklin, Sir." "IsucceedDr. Franklin," was Mr. Jefferson's prompt reply, "no man canreplacehim."
All owners of interesting children will be amused by the following, from theBoston Daily American:—A gentleman and lady of that city were blessed with a beautiful child about a year old, which attracted so much attention fromtheir neighbours, that the young ladies opposite frequently sent over to "borrow the baby." After being obliged to send for the child several times, Mr. ——, on coming home to dinner one day, got out of temper on finding it gone as usual. "There, Jane," said he, "go over to the Misses —— and get the baby; give them my compliments, and tell them I wish they had a baby of their own, and were not obliged to borrow."
Meeting an American friend travelling in the United States, I enquired whither he was going? "Why," said he, "I guess I'm going to take possession of an estate of mine, and I calculate I will have to shoot down my predecessors."
Wemyss, a famous theatrical manager in Philadelphia, quitted the business, and opened instead a large store for the sale of patent medicines. A friend dryly remarked that he would no doubt be successful in filling bothboxesandpit.
TheMaine Farmertells a number of tough stories about a man whom it calls "Neverbeat." Here is one:—A gentleman was boasting in the presence of Neverbeat about the speed of his horse, which, he said, would trot a mile inside of three minutes, and follow it for three miles. "A mile inside of three minutes aint much to brag about," said Neverbeat. "Why, the other day I was up to S——, sixteen miles distant; just as I started for home, a shower came sweeping on. The rain struck in the back part of the waggon; and the moment it struck, I hit old Kate a cut with the whip, away she trotted, scarcely touching her fore feet to the ground. She kept just nip and nip with the shower.The waggon was filled with water, but not a drop fell on me."
An American dandy who wanted the milk passed to him at an hotel, thus asked for it: "Landlady, please to pass your cow down this way." The landlady thus retorted: "Waiter, take thiscowdown to where thecalfis bleating."
An American, fresh from the magnificent woods and rough clearings, was one day visiting the owner of a beautiful seat in Brooklyn; and, walking with him through a little grove, out of which all the underbrush had been cleared, paths had been nicely cut and gravelled, and the rocks covered with woodbine, suddenly stopped, and, admiring the beauty of the scene, lifted up his hands and exclaimed: "This I like! This is Nature—with her hair combed."
"Mrs. Green," said a tolerably dressed female, entering a grocery store, in which were several customers, "have you any fresh-corned pork?" "Yes, ma'am." "How much is this sugar a pound?" "One shilling, ma'am." "Let me have," she continued, lowering her voice, "half a pint of gin, and charge it as sugar on the book."
A farmer once hired a Vermonter to assist him in drawing logs. The Yankee, when there was a log to lift, generally contrived to secure the smallest end, for which the farmer chastised him, and told him always to take the butt end. Dinner came and with it a sugar-loaf Indian pudding. Jonathan sliced off a generous portion of the largest part, giving the farmer the wink, and exclaimed: "Always take the butt end."
I never seen a poet that warn't as poor as Job's turkey, or a church mouse; nor a she-poet that her shoes didn't go down to heel, and her stockings looked as if they wanted darnin'; for its all cry and little wool with poets.—Sam Slick.
"Mister, your sign has fallen down!" cried a temperance man to a grog-shop keeper, before whose door a drunken man was prostrate. We don't know, says a paper, whether this temperance man was the same into whosestore a customer reeled, exclaiming, "Mr. ——, do you—keep—a-ny—thing—good to take here?" "Yes, we have excellent cold water; the best thing in the world to take." "Well, I know it," was the reply, "there is no one—thing—that's done so much for—navigation—as that."
A Western editor complains that all the good things in his paper are cut and inserted in other papers, without acknowledgment of the source whence they are obtained. He says, "they do not render unto scissors the things that are scissors'."
Speaking of wags—what is more waggish than a dog's tail when he is pleased? Speaking of tails—we always like those that end well: Hogg's for instance. Speaking of hogs—we saw one of those animals the other day lying in the gutter, and in the one opposite a well-dressed man; the first one had a ring in his nose, and the latter a ring on his finger. The man was drunk; the hog was sober. "A hog is known by the company he keeps," thought we; so thought Mr. Porker, and off he went. Speaking of "going off" puts us in mind of a gun we once owned—it "went off" one night, and we have not seen it since. Speaking of guns reminds us of powder—we saw a lady yesterday with so much of it on her face that she was refused admission into an omnibus for fear of an explosion.
TheChristian Index(U. S.) thus prefaces an obituary:—"But a week since we recorded the death of one who was an old father in the church, a careful reader of theIndex, and who paid for three papers in advance."
Under the title of "An Odd Advertisement," a New York paper publishes the following:—"A young lady, perfectly competent, wishes to form a class of young mothers and nurses, to instruct them in the art of talking to infants in such a manner as will interest and please them."
A comedian at Boston, by way of puff for his approaching benefit, published the following lines:—