initial commit of ebook 28503HEADmain

220 files changed, 24446 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/28503-8.txt b/28503-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a5ab1e5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,7687 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Wit of Women, by Kate Sanborn
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Wit of Women
+       Fourth Edition
+
+
+Author: Kate Sanborn
+
+
+
+Release Date: April 5, 2009  [eBook #28503]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIT OF WOMEN***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Bryan Ness, Jen Haines, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from digital
+material generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/witofwomen00sanbiala
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WIT OF WOMEN
+
+by
+
+KATE SANBORN
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The Wit of Women," by Miss Kate Sanborn, [Funk &
+    Wagnalls,] proves that the authoress is one of those
+    rare women who are gifted with a sense of humor.
+    Fortunately for her, the female sense of humor, when it
+    does exist, is not affected by such trifles as
+    "chestnuts." Therefore, women will read with pleasure
+    Miss Sanborn's choice collection of these dainties.
+    There are, however, many new anecdotes in Miss
+    Sanborn's collection, and, taken as a whole, it may
+    fairly be said to establish the fact that there have
+    been feminine wits not inferior to the best of the
+    opposite sex.
+
+    [Newspaper clipping pasted into front cover]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WIT OF WOMEN
+
+by
+
+KATE SANBORN
+
+Fourth Edition
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+New York
+Funk & Wagnalls Company
+London and Toronto
+1895
+
+Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1885, by
+Funk & Wagnalls,
+In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D.C.
+
+
+
+
+    Miss Addie Boyd, of the Cincinnati "Commercial," and
+    Miss Anna M.T. Rossiter, alias Lilla M. Cushman, of the
+    Meriden "Recorder," will probably represent the gentler
+    sex in the convention of paragraphers which meets next
+    month. They are a pair o' graphic writers and equal to
+    the best in the profession.--Waterloo Observer.
+
+    [Newspaper clipping pasted into book]
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+It is refreshing to find an unworked field all ready for harvesting.
+
+While the wit of men, as a subject for admiration and discussion, is now
+threadbare, the wit of women has been almost utterly ignored and
+unrecognized.
+
+With the joy and honest pride of a discoverer, I present the results of
+a summer's gleaning.
+
+And I feel a cheerful and Colonel Sellers-y confidence in the success of
+the book, for every woman will want to own it, as a matter of pride and
+interest, and many men will buy it just to see what women think they can
+do in this line. In fact, I expect a call for a second volume!
+
+                                            KATE SANBORN.
+    HANOVER, N.H., August, 1885.
+
+
+My thanks are due to so many publishers, magazine editors, and personal
+friends for material for this book, that a formal note of acknowledgment
+seems meagre and unsatisfactory. Proper credit, however, has been given
+all through the volume, and with special indebtedness to Messrs. Harper
+& Brothers and Charles Scribner's Sons of New York, and Houghton,
+Mifflin & Co. of Boston. I add sincere gratitude to all who have so
+generously contributed whatever was requested.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+    CHAPTER I.
+                                                            PAGE
+    THE MELANCHOLY TONE OF WOMEN'S POETRY--PUNS, GOOD
+    AND BAD--EPIGRAMS AND LACONICS--CYNICISM OF FRENCH
+    WOMEN--SENTENCES CRISP AND SPARKLING                      13
+
+
+    CHAPTER II.
+
+    HUMOR OF LITERARY ENGLISHWOMEN                            32
+
+
+    CHAPTER III.
+
+    FROM ANNE BRADSTREET TO MRS. STOWE                        47
+
+
+    CHAPTER IV.
+
+    "SAMPLES" HERE AND THERE                                  67
+
+
+    CHAPTER V.
+
+    A BRACE OF WITTY WOMEN                                    85
+
+
+    CHAPTER VI.
+
+    GINGER-SNAPS                                             103
+
+
+    CHAPTER VII.
+
+    PROSE, BUT NOT PROSY                                     122
+
+
+    CHAPTER VIII.
+
+    HUMOROUS POEMS                                           150
+
+
+    CHAPTER IX.
+
+    GOOD-NATURED SATIRE                                      179
+
+
+    CHAPTER X.
+
+    PARODIES--REVIEWS--CHILDREN'S POEMS--COMEDIES BY
+    WOMEN--A DRAMATIC TRIFLE--A STRING OF FIRECRACKERS       195
+
+
+
+
+    TO
+    G.W.B.
+    In Grateful Memory.
+
+
+
+
+    _"There was in her soul a sense of delicacy mingled
+    with that rarest of qualities in woman--a sense of
+    humor," writes Richard Grant White in "The Fate of
+    Mansfield Humphreys." I have noticed that when a
+    novelist sets out to portray an uncommonly fine type of
+    heroine, he invariably adds to her other intellectual
+    and moral graces the above-mentioned "rarest of
+    qualities." I may be over-sanguine, but I anticipate
+    that some sagacious genius will discover that woman as
+    well as man has been endowed with this excellent gift
+    from the gods, and that the gift pertains to the large,
+    generous, sympathetic nature, quite irrespective of the
+    individual's sex. In any case, having heard so
+    repeatedly that woman has no sense of humor, it would
+    be refreshing to have a contrariety of opinion on that
+    subject._--THE CRITIC.
+
+
+
+
+    PROEM.[A]
+
+
+    We are coming to the rescue,
+      Just a hundred strong;
+    With fun and pun and epigram,
+      And laughter, wit, and song;
+
+    With badinage and repartee,
+      And humor quaint or bold,
+    And stories that _are_ stories,
+      Not several æons old;
+
+    With parody and nondescript,
+      Burlesque and satire keen,
+    And irony and playful jest,
+      So that it may be seen
+
+    That women are not quite so dull:
+      We come--a merry throng;
+    Yes, we're coming to the rescue,
+      And just a hundred strong.
+
+                                       KATE SANBORN.
+[Footnote A: _Not_ Poem!]
+
+
+
+
+THE WIT OF WOMEN.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE MELANCHOLY TONE OF WOMEN'S POETRY--PUNS, GOOD AND BAD--EPIGRAMS AND
+LACONICS--CYNICISM OF FRENCH WOMEN--SENTENCES CRISP AND SPARKLING.
+
+
+To begin a deliberate search for wit seems almost like trying to be
+witty: a task quite certain to brush the bloom from even the most
+fruitful results. But the statement of Richard Grant White, that humor
+is the "rarest of qualities in woman," roused such a host of brilliant
+recollections that it was a temptation to try to materialize the ghosts
+that were haunting me; to lay forever the suspicion that they did not
+exist. Two articles by Alice Wellington Rollins in the _Critic_, on
+"Woman's Sense of Humor" and "The Humor of Women," convinced me that the
+deliberate task might not be impossible to carry out, although I felt,
+as she did, that the humor and wit of women are difficult to analyze,
+and select examples, precisely because they possess in the highest
+degree that almost essential quality of wit, the unpremeditated glow
+which exists only with the occasion that calls it forth. Even from the
+humor of women found in books it is hard to quote--not because there is
+so little, but because there is so much.
+
+The encouragement to attempt this novel enterprise of proving ("by their
+fruits ye shall know them") that women are not deficient in either wit
+or humor has not been great. Wise librarians have, with a smile,
+regretted the paucity of proper material; literary men have predicted
+rather a thin volume; in short, the general opinion of men is condensed
+in the sly question of a peddler who comes to our door, summer and
+winter, his stock varying with the season: sage-cheese and home-made
+socks, suspenders and cheap note-paper, early-rose potatoes and the
+solid pearmain. This shrewd old fellow remarked roguishly "You're
+gittin' up a book, I see, 'baout women's wit. 'Twon't be no great of an
+undertakin', will it?" The outlook at first was certainly discouraging.
+In Parton's "Collection of Humorous Poetry" there was not one woman's
+name, nor in Dodd's large volume of epigrams of all ages, nor in any of
+the humorous departments of volumes of selected poetry.
+
+Griswold's "Female Poets of America" was next examined. The general air
+of gloom--hopeless gloom--was depressing. Such mawkish sentimentality
+and despair; such inane and mortifying confessions; such longings for a
+lover to come; such sighings over a lover departed; such cravings for
+"only"--"only" a _grave_ in some dark, dank solitude. As Mrs. Dodge puts
+it, "Pegasus generally feels inclined to pace toward a graveyard the
+moment he feels a side-saddle on his back."
+
+The subjects of their lucubrations suggest Lady Montagu's famous speech:
+"There was only one reason she was glad she was a woman: she should
+never have to _marry_ one."
+
+From the "Female Poets" I copy this "Song," representing the average
+woman's versifying as regards buoyancy and an optimistic view of this
+"Wale of Tears":
+
+    "Ask not from me the sportive jest,
+       The mirthful jibe, the gay reflection;
+     These social baubles fly the breast
+       That owns the sway of pale Dejection.
+
+    "Ask not from me the changing smile,
+       Hope's sunny glow, Joy's glittering token;
+     It cannot now my griefs beguile--
+       My soul is dark, my heart is broken!
+
+    "Wit cannot cheat my heart of woe,
+       Flattery wakes no exultation;
+     And Fancy's flash but serves to show
+       The darkness of my desolation!
+
+    "By me no more in masking guise
+       Shall thoughtless repartee be spoken;
+     My mind a hopeless ruin lies--
+       My soul is dark, my heart is broken!"
+
+In recalling the witty women of the world, I must surely go back,
+familiar as is the story, to the Grecian dame who, when given some
+choice old wine in a tiny glass by her miserly host, who boasted of the
+years since it had been bottled, inquired, "Isn't it very small of its
+age?"
+
+This ancient story is too much in the style of the male
+story-monger--you all know him--who repeats with undiminished gusto for
+the forty-ninth time a story that was tottering in senile imbecility
+when Methuselah was teething, and is now in a sad condition of
+anec_dotage_.
+
+It is affirmed that "women seldom repeat an anecdote." That is well,
+and no proof of their lack of wit. The discipline of life would be
+largely increased if they did insist on being "reminded" constantly of
+anecdotes as familiar as the hand-organ repertoire of "Captain Jinks"
+and "Beautiful Spring." Their sense of humor is too keen to allow them
+to aid these aged wanderers in their endless migrations. It is
+sufficiently trying to their sense of the ludicrous to be obliged to
+listen with an admiring, rapt expression to some anecdote heard in
+childhood, and restrain the laugh until the oft-repeated crisis has been
+duly reached. Still, I know several women who, as brilliant
+_raconteurs_, have fully equalled the efforts of celebrated after-dinner
+wits.
+
+It is also affirmed that "women cannot make a pun," which, if true,
+would be greatly to their honor. But, alas! their puns are almost as
+frequent and quite as execrable as are ever perpetrated. It was Queen
+Elizabeth who said: "Though ye be burly, my Lord Burleigh, ye make less
+stir than my Lord Leicester."
+
+Lady Morgan, the Irish novelist, witty and captivating, who wrote "Kate
+Kearney" and the "Wild Irish Girl," made several good puns. Some one,
+speaking of the laxity of a certain bishop in regard to Lenten fasting,
+said: "I believe he would eat a horse on Ash Wednesday." "And very
+proper diet," said her ladyship, "if it were a _fast_ horse."
+
+Her special enemy, Croker, had declared that Wellington's success at
+Waterloo was only a fortunate accident, and intimated that he could have
+done better himself, under similar circumstances. "Oh, yes," exclaimed
+her ladyship, "he had his secret for winning the battle. He had only to
+put his notes on Boswell's Johnson in front of the British lines, and
+all the Bonapartes that ever existed could never _get through_ them!"
+
+"Grace Greenwood" has probably made more puns in print than any other
+woman, and her conversation is full of them. It was Grace Greenwood who,
+at a tea-drinking at the Woman's Club in Boston, was begged to tell one
+more story, but excused herself in this way: "No, I cannot get more than
+one story high on a cup of tea!"
+
+You see puns are allowed at that rarely intellectual assemblage--indeed,
+they are sometimes _very_ bad; as when the question was brought up
+whether better speeches could be made after simple tea and toast, or
+under the influence of champagne and oysters. Miss Mary Wadsworth
+replied that it would depend entirely upon whether the oysters were
+cooked or raw; and seeing all look blank, she explained: "Because, if
+raw, we should be sure to have a raw-oyster-ing time."
+
+Louisa Alcott's puns deserve "honorable mention." I will quote one.
+"Query--If steamers are named the Asia, the Russia, and the Scotia, why
+not call one the _Nausea_?"
+
+At a Chicago dinner-party a physician received a menu card with the
+device of a mushroom, and showing it to the lady next him, said: "I hope
+nothing invidious is intended." "Oh, no," was the answer, "it only
+alludes to the fact that you spring up in the night."
+
+A gentleman, noticeable on the porch of the sanctuary as the pretty
+girls came in on Sabbath mornings, but _not_ regarded as a devout
+attendant on the services within, declared that he was one of the
+"pillars of the church!" "Pillar-sham, I am inclined to think," was the
+retort of a lady friend.
+
+To a lady who, in reply to a gentleman's assertion that women sometimes
+made a good pun, but required time to think about it, had said that
+_she_ could make a pun as quickly as any man, the gentleman threw down
+this challenge: "Make a pun, then, on horse-shoe." "If you talk until
+you're horse-shoe can't convince me," was the instant answer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The best punning poem from a woman's pen was written by Miss Caroline B.
+Le Row, of Brooklyn, N.Y., a teacher of elocution, and the writer of
+many charming stories and verses. It was suggested by a study in butter
+of "The Dreaming Iolanthe," moulded by Caroline S. Brooks on a
+kitchen-table, and exhibited at the Centennial in Philadelphia. I do not
+remember any other poem in the language that rings so many changes on a
+single word. It was published first in _Baldwin's Monthly_, but ran the
+rounds of the papers all over the country.
+
+    I.
+
+    "One of the Centennial buildings
+       Shows us many a wondrous thing
+     Which the women of our country
+       From their homes were proud to bring.
+     In a little corner, guarded
+       By Policeman Twenty-eight,
+     Stands a crowd, all eyes and elbows,
+       Seeing butter butter-plate
+
+     II.
+
+    "'Tis not 'butter faded flower'
+       That the people throng to see,
+     Butter crowd comes every hour,
+       Nothing butter crowd we see.
+     Butter little pushing brings us
+       Where we find, to our surprise,
+     That within the crowded corner
+       Butter dreaming woman lies.
+
+     III.
+
+    "Though she lies, she don't deceive us,
+       As it might at first be thought;
+     This fair maid is made of butter,
+       On a kitchen-table wrought.
+     Nothing butter butter-paddle,
+       Sticks and straws were used to bring
+     Out of just nine pounds of butter
+       Butter fascinating thing.
+
+     IV.
+
+    "Butter maid or made of butter,
+       She is butter wonder rare;
+     Butter sweet eyes closed in slumber,
+       Butter soft and yellow hair,
+     Were the work of butter woman
+       Just two thousand miles away;
+     Butter fortune's in the features
+       That she made in butter stay.
+
+     V.
+
+    "Maid of all work, maid of honor,
+       Whatsoever she may be,
+     She is butter wondrous worker,
+       As the crowd can plainly see.
+     And 'tis butter woman shows us
+       What with butter can be done,
+     Nothing butter hands producing
+       Something new beneath the sun.
+
+     VI.
+
+    "Butter line we add in closing,
+       Which none butter could refuse:
+     May her work be butter pleasure,
+       Nothing butter butter use;
+     May she never need for butter,
+       Though she'll often knead for bread,
+     And may every churning bring her
+       Butter blessing on her head."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The second and last example is much more common in its form, but is just
+as good as most of the verses of this style in Parton's "Humorous
+Poetry." I don't pretend that it is remarkable, but it is equally worthy
+of presentation with many efforts of this sort from men with a
+reputation for wit.
+
+
+THE VEGETABLE GIRL.
+
+BY MAY TAYLOR.
+
+    Behind a market-stall installed,
+      I mark it every day,
+    Stands at her stand the fairest girl
+      I've met within the bay;
+    Her two lips are of cherry red,
+      Her hands a pretty pair,
+    With such a charming turn-up nose,
+      And lovely reddish hair.
+
+    'Tis there she stands from morn till night,
+      Her customers to please,
+    And to appease their appetite
+      She sells them beans and peas.
+    Attracted by the glances from
+      The apple of her eye,
+    And by her Chili apples, too,
+      Each passer-by will buy.
+
+    She stands upon her little feet
+      Throughout the livelong day,
+    And sells her celery and things--
+      A big feat, by the way.
+    She changes off her stock for change,
+      Attending to each call;
+    And when she has but one beet left,
+      She says, "Now, that beats all."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As to puns in conversation, my only fear is that they are too generally
+indulged in. Only one of this sort can be allowed, and that from the
+highest lady in the land, who is distinguished for culture and good
+sense, as well as wit. A friend said to her as she was leaving Buffalo
+for Washington: "I hope you will hail from Buffalo."
+
+"Oh, I see you expect me to hail from Buffalo and reign in Washington,"
+said the quick-witted sister of our President.
+
+In epigrams there is little to offer. But as it is stated that "women
+cannot achieve a well-rounded epigram," a few specimens must be
+produced.
+
+Jane Austen has left two on record. The first was suggested by reading
+in a newspaper the marriage of a Mr. Gell to Miss Gill, of Eastborne.
+
+    "At Eastborne, Mr. Gell, from being perfectly well,
+     Became dreadfully ill for love of Miss Gill;
+     So he said, with some sighs, 'I'm the slave of your iis;
+     Oh, restore, if you please, by accepting my ees.'"
+
+The second is on the marriage of a middle-aged flirt with a Mr. Wake,
+whom gossips averred she would have scorned in her prime.
+
+    "Maria, good-humored and handsome and tall,
+       For a husband was at her last stake;
+     And having in vain danced at many a ball,
+       Is now happy to jump at a Wake."
+
+It was Lady Townsend who said that the human race was divided into men,
+women, and _Herveys_. This epigram has been borrowed in our day,
+substituting for Herveys the _Beecher_ family.
+
+When some one said of a lady she must be in spirits, for she lives with
+Mr. Walpole, "Yes," replied Lady Townsend, "spirits of hartshorn."
+
+Walpole, caustic and critical, regarded this lady as undeniably witty.
+
+It was Hannah More who said: "There are but two bad things in this
+world--sin and bile."
+
+Miss Thackeray quotes several epigrammatic definitions from her friend
+Miss Evans, as:
+
+"A privileged person: one who is so much a savage when thwarted that
+civilized persons avoid thwarting him."
+
+"A musical woman: one who has strength enough to make much noise and
+obtuseness enough not to mind it."
+
+"Ouida" has given us some excellent examples of epigram, as:
+
+"A pipe is a pocket philosopher, a truer one than Socrates, for it never
+asks questions. Socrates must have been very tiresome, when one thinks
+of it."
+
+"Dinna ye meddle, Tam; it's niver no good a threshin' other folks' corn;
+ye allays gits the flail agin' i' yer own eye somehow."
+
+"Epigrams are the salts of life; but they wither up the grasses of
+foolishness, and naturally the grasses hate to be sprinkled therewith."
+
+"A man never is so honest as when he speaks well of himself. Men are
+always optimists when they look inward, and pessimists when they look
+round them."
+
+"Nothing is so pleasant as to display your worldly wisdom in epigram and
+dissertation, but it is a trifle tedious to hear another person display
+theirs."
+
+"When you talk yourself you think how witty, how original, how acute you
+are; but when another does so, you are very apt to think only, 'What a
+crib from Rochefoucauld!'"
+
+"Boredom is the ill-natured pebble that always _will_ get in the golden
+slipper of the pilgrim of pleasure."
+
+"It makes all the difference in life whether hope is left or--left out!"
+
+"A frog that dwelt in a ditch spat at a worm that bore a lamp.
+
+"'Why do you do that?' said the glow-worm.
+
+"'Why do you shine?' said the frog."
+
+"Calumny is the homage of our contemporaries, as some South Sea
+Islanders spit on those they honor."
+
+"Hived bees get sugar because they will give back honey. All existence
+is a series of equivalents."
+
+"'Men are always like Horace,' said the Princess. 'They admire rural
+life, but they remain, for all that, with Augustus.'"
+
+"If the Venus de Medici could be animated into life, women would only
+remark that her waist was large."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The brilliant Frenchwomen whose very names seem to sparkle as we write
+them, yet of whose wit so little has been preserved, had an especial
+facility for condensed cynicism.
+
+Think of Madame du Deffand, sceptical, sarcastic; feared and hated even
+in her blind old age for her scathing criticisms. When the celebrated
+work of Helvetius appeared he was blamed in her presence for having made
+selfishness the great motive of human action.
+
+"Bah!" said she, "he has only revealed every one's secret."
+
+And listen to this trio of laconics, with their saddening knowledge of
+human frailty and their bitter Voltaireish flavor:
+
+We shall all be perfectly virtuous when there is no longer any flesh on
+our bones.--_Marguerite de Valois._
+
+We like to know the weakness of eminent persons; it consoles us for our
+inferiority.--_Mme. de Lambert._
+
+Women give themselves to God when the devil wants nothing more to do
+with them.--_Sophie Arnould._
+
+Madame de Sévigné's letters present detached thoughts worthy of
+Rochefoucauld without his cynicism. She writes: "One loves so much to
+talk of one's self that one never tires of a _tête-à-tête_ with a lover
+for years. That is the reason that a devotee likes to be with her
+confessor. It is for the pleasure of talking of one's self--even though
+speaking evil." And she remarks to a lady who amused her friends by
+always going into mourning for some prince, or duke, or member of some
+royal family, and who at last appeared in bright colors, "Madame, I
+congratulate myself on the health of Europe."
+
+I find, too, many fine aphorisms from "Carmen Sylva" (Queen of
+Roumania):
+
+"Il vaut mieux avoir pour confesseur un médecin qu'un prêtre. Vous dites
+au prêtre que vous détestez les hommes, il vous réponds que vous n'êtes
+pas chrétien. Le médecin vous donne de la rhubarbe, et voilà que vous
+aimez votre semblable."
+
+"Vous dites au prêtre que vous êtes fatigué de vivre; il vous réponds
+que le suicide est un crime. Le médecin vous donne un stimulant, et
+voilà que vous trouvez la vie supportable."
+
+"La contradiction anime la conversation; voilà pourquoi les cours sont
+si ennuyeuses."
+
+"Quand on veut affirmer quelque chose, on appelle toujours Dieu à
+témoin, parce qu'il ne contredit jamais."
+
+"On ne peut jamais être fatigué de la vie, on n'est fatigué que de
+soi-même."
+
+"Il faut être ou très-pieux ou très-philosophe! il faut dire: Seigneur,
+que ta volonté soit faite! ou: Nature, j'admets tes lois, même
+lorsqu'elles m'écrasent."
+
+"L'homme est un violon. Ce n'est que lorsque sa dernière corde se brise
+qu'il devient un morceau de bois."
+
+In the recently published sketch of Madame Mohl there are several
+sentences which show trenchant wit, as: "Nations squint in looking at
+one another; we must discount what Germany and France say of each
+other."
+
+Several Englishwomen can be recalled who were noted for their
+epigrammatic wit: as Harriet, Lady Ashburton. On some one saying that
+liars generally speak good-naturedly of others, she replied: "Why, if
+you don't speak a word of truth, it is not so difficult to speak well of
+your neighbor."
+
+"Don't speak so hardly of ----," some one said to her; "he lives on your
+good graces."
+
+"That accounts," she answered, "for his being so thin."
+
+Again: "I don't mind the canvas of a man's mind being good, if only it
+is completely hidden by the worsted and floss."
+
+Or: "She never speaks to any one, which is, of course, a great advantage
+to any one."
+
+Mrs. Carlyle _was_ an epigram herself--small, sweet, yet possessing a
+sting--and her letters give us many sharp and original sayings.
+
+She speaks in one place of "Mrs. ----, an insupportable bore; her neck
+and arms were as naked as if she had never eaten of the tree of the
+knowledge of good and evil."
+
+And what a comical phrase is hers when she writes to her "Dearest"--"I
+take time by the _pig-tail_ and write at night, after post-hours"--that
+growling, surly "dearest," of whom she said, "The amount of bile that he
+brings home is awfully grand."
+
+For a veritable epigram from an American woman's pen we must rely on
+Hannah F. Gould, who wrote many verses that were rather graceful and
+arch than witty. But her epitaph on her friend, the active and
+aggressive Caleb Cushing, is as good as any made by Saxe.
+
+    "Lay aside, all ye dead,
+     For in the next bed
+       Reposes the body of Cushing;
+     He has crowded his way
+     Through the world, they say,
+       And even though dead will be pushing."
+
+Such a hit from a bright woman is refreshing.
+
+Our literary foremothers seemed to prefer to be pedantic, didactic, and
+tedious on the printed page.
+
+Catharine Sedgwick dealt somewhat in epigram, as when she says: "He was
+not one of those convenient single people who are used, as we use straw
+and cotton in packing, to fill up vacant places."
+
+Eliza Leslie (famed for her cook-books and her satiric sketches), when
+speaking of people silent from stupidity, supposed kindly to be full of
+reserved power, says: "We cannot help thinking that when a head is full
+of ideas some of them must involuntarily _ooze_ out."
+
+And is not this epigrammatic advice? "Avoid giving invitations to
+bores--they will come without."
+
+Some of our later literary women prefer the epigrammatic form in
+sentences, crisp and laconic; short sayings full of pith, of which I
+have made a collection.
+
+Gail Hamilton's books fairly bristle with epigrams in condensed style,
+and Kate Field has many a good thought in this shape, as: "Judge no one
+by his relations, whatever criticism you pass upon his companions.
+Relations, like features, are thrust upon us; companions, like clothes,
+are more or less our own selection."
+
+Miss Jewett's style is less epigrammatic, but just as full of humor.
+Speaking of a person who was always complaining, she says: "Nothing ever
+suits her. She ain't had no more troubles to bear than the rest of us;
+but you never see her that she didn't have a chapter to lay before ye.
+I've got 's much feelin' as the next one, but when folks drives in their
+spiggits and wants to draw a bucketful o' compassion every day right
+straight along, there does come times when it seems as if the bar'l was
+getting low."
+
+"The captain, whose eyes were not much better than his ears, always
+refused to go forth after nightfall without his lantern. The old couple
+steered slowly down the uneven sidewalk toward their cousin's house. The
+captain walked with a solemn, rolling gait, learned in his many long
+years at sea, and his wife, who was also short and stout, had caught
+the habit from him. If they kept step all went well; but on this
+occasion, as sometimes happened, they did not take the first step out
+into the world together, so they swayed apart, and then bumped against
+each other as they went along. To see the lantern coming through the
+mist you might have thought it the light of a small craft at sea in
+heavy weather."
+
+"Deaf people hear more things that are worth listening to than people
+with better ears; one likes to have something worth telling in talking
+to a person who misses most of the world's talk."
+
+"Emory Ann," a creation of Mrs. Whitney's, often spoke in epigrams, as:
+"Good looks are a snare; especially to them that haven't got 'em." While
+Mrs. Walker's creed, "I believe in the total depravity of inanimate
+things," is more than an epigram--it is an inspiration.
+
+Charlotte Fiske Bates, who compiled the "Cambridge Book of Poetry," and
+has given us a charming volume of her own verses, which no one runs any
+"Risk" in buying, in spite of the title of the book, has done a good
+deal in this direction, and is fond of giving an epigrammatic turn to a
+bright thought, as in the following couplet:
+
+    "Would you sketch in two words a coquette and deceiver?
+     Name two Irish geniuses, Lover and Lever!"
+
+She also succeeds with the quatrain:
+
+
+ON BEING CALLED A GOOSE.
+
+    A signal name is this, upon my word!
+      Great Juno's geese saved Rome her citadel.
+    Another drowsy Manlius may be stirred
+      And the State saved, if I but cackle well.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I recall a charming _jeu d'esprit_ from Mrs. Barrows, the beloved "Aunt
+Fanny," who writes equally well for children and grown folks, and whose
+big heart ranges from earnest philanthropy to the perpetration of
+exquisite nonsense.
+
+It is but a trifle, sent with a couple of peanut-owls to a niece of
+Bryant's. The aged poet was greatly amused.
+
+    "When great Minerva chose the Owl,
+       That bird of solemn phiz,
+     That truly awful-looking fowl,
+       To represent her wis-
+     Dom, little recked the goddess of
+       The time when she would howl
+     To see a Peanut set on end,
+       And called--Minerva's Owl."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Miss Phelps has given us some sentences which convey an epigram in a
+keen and delicate fashion, as:
+
+"All forms of self-pity, like Prussian blue, should be sparingly used."
+
+"As a rule, a man can't cultivate his mustache and his talents
+impartially."
+
+"As happy as a kind-hearted old lady with a funeral to go to."
+
+"No men are so fussy about what they eat as those who think their brains
+the biggest part of them."
+
+"The professor's sister, a homeless widow, of excellent Vermont
+intentions and high ideals in cup-cake."
+
+And this longer extract has the same characteristics:
+
+"You know how it is with people, Avis; some take to zoölogy, and some
+take to religion. That's the way it is with places. It may be the
+Lancers, and it may be prayer-meetings. Once I went to see my grandmother
+in the country, and everybody had a candy-pull; there were twenty-five
+candy-pulls and taffy-bakes in that town that winter. John Rose says, in
+the Connecticut Valley, where he came from, it was missionary barrels;
+and I heard of a place where it was cold coffee. In Harmouth it's
+improving your mind. And so," added Coy, "we run to reading-clubs, and
+we all go fierce, winter after winter, to see who'll get the 'severest.'
+There's a set outside of the faculty that descends to charades and music
+and inconceivably low intellectual depths; and some of our girls sneak
+off and get in there once in a while, like the little girl that wanted
+to go from heaven to hell to play Saturday afternoons, just as you and I
+used to do, Avis, when we dared. But I find I've got too old for that,"
+said Coy, sadly. "When you're fairly past the college-boys, and as far
+along as the law students--"
+
+"Or the theologues?" interposed Avis.
+
+"Yes, or the theologues, or even the medical department; then there
+positively _is_ nothing for it but to improve your mind."
+
+Listen to Lavinia, one of Mrs. Rose Terry Cooke's sensible Yankee women:
+
+"Land! if you want to know folks, just hire out to 'em. They take their
+wigs off afore the help, so to speak, seemingly."
+
+"Marryin' a man ain't like settin' alongside of him nights and hearin'
+him talk pretty; that's the fust prayer. There's lots an' lots o'
+meetin' after that!"
+
+And what an amount of sense, as well as wit, in Sam Lawson's sayings in
+"Old Town Folks." As this book is not to be as large as Worcester's
+Unabridged Dictionary, I can only give room to one.
+
+"We don't none of us like to have our sins set in order afore us. There
+was _David_, now, he was crank as could be when he thought Nathan was a
+talkin' about _other_ people's sins. Says David: 'The man that did that
+shall surely die.' But come to set it home and say, '_Thou_ art the
+man!' David caved right in. 'Lordy massy, bless your soul and body,
+Nathan!' says he, 'I don't want to die.'"
+
+And Mrs. A.D.T. Whitney must not be forgotten. "As Emory Ann said once
+about thoughts: 'You can't hinder 'em any more than you can the birds
+that fly in the air; but you needn't let 'em light and make a nest in
+your hair.'"
+
+And what a capital hit on the hypocritical apologies of conceited
+housekeepers is this bit from Mrs. Whicher ("Widow Bedott"): "A person
+that didn't know how wimmin always go on at such a place would a thought
+that Miss Gipson had tried to have everything the miserablest she
+possibly could, and that the rest on 'em never had anything to hum but
+what was miserabler yet."
+
+And Marietta Holley, who has caused a tidal-wave of laughter by her
+"Josiah Allen's Wife" series, shall have her say.
+
+"We, too, are posterity, though mebby we don't realize it as we ort to."
+
+"She didn't seem to sense anything, only ruffles and such like. Her mind
+all seemed to be narrowed down and puckered up, just like trimmin'."
+
+But I must have convinced the most sceptical of woman's wit in
+epigrammatic form, and will now return to an older generation, who claim
+a fair share of attention.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+HUMOR OF LITERARY ENGLISHWOMEN.
+
+
+In reviewing the _bon-mots_ of Stella, whom Swift pronounced the most
+witty woman he had ever known, it seems that we are improving. I will
+give but two of her sayings, which were so carefully preserved by her
+friend.
+
+When she was extremely ill her physician said, "Madam, you are near the
+bottom of the hill, but we will endeavor to get you up again;" she
+answered: "Doctor, I fear I shall be out of breath before I get up to
+the top."
+
+After she had been eating some sweet thing a little of it happened to
+stick on her lips. A gentleman told her of it, and offered to lick it
+off. She said: "No, sir, I thank you; I have a tongue of my own."
+
+Compare these with the wit of George Eliot or the irony of Miss Phelps.
+
+Some of Jane Taylor's stories and poems were formerly regarded as
+humorous; for instance, the "Discontented Pendulum" and the
+"Philosopher's Scales." They do not now raise the faintest smile.
+
+Fanny Burney's novels were considered immensely humorous and diverting
+in their day. Burke complimented her on "her natural vein of humor," and
+another eminent critic speaks of "her sarcasm, drollery, and humor;" but
+it would be almost impossible to find a passage for quotation that
+would now satisfy on these points. Even Jane Austen's novels, which
+strangely retain their hold on the public taste, are tedious to those
+who dare to think for themselves and forget Macaulay's verdict.
+
+Mrs. Barbauld, in her poem on "Washing Day," shows a capacity seldom
+exercised for seeing the humorous side of every-day miseries.
+
+                "Woe to the friend
+    Whose evil stars have urged him forth to claim
+    On such a day the hospitable rites!
+    Looks, blank at best, and stinted courtesy
+    Shall he receive. Vainly he feeds his hopes
+    With dinner of roast chicken, savory pie,
+    Or tart, or pudding; pudding he nor tart
+    That day shall eat; nor, though the husband try
+    Mending what can't be helped to kindle mirth
+    From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow
+    Cheer up propitious; the unlucky guest
+    In silence dines, and early slinks away."
+
+But her style is too stiff and stately for every day.
+
+There were many literary Englishwomen who had undoubted humor. Hannah
+More did get unendurably poky, narrow, and solemn in her last days, and
+not a little sanctimonious; and we naturally think of her as an aged
+spinster with black mitts, corkscrew curls, and a mob cap, always
+writing or presenting a tedious tract, forgetting her brilliant youth,
+when she was quite good enough, and lively, too. She was a perennial
+favorite in London, meeting all the notables; the special pet of Dr.
+Johnson, Davy Garrick, and Horace Walpole, who called her his "holy
+Hannah," but admired and honored her, corresponding with her through a
+long life. She was then full of spirit and humor and versatile talent.
+An extract from her sister's lively letter shows that Hannah could hold
+her own with the Ursa Major of literature:
+
+"Tuesday evening we drank tea at Sir Joshua's with Dr. Johnson. Hannah
+is certainly a great favorite. She was placed next him, and they had the
+entire conversation to themselves. They were both in remarkably high
+spirits. It was certainly her lucky night. I never heard her say so many
+good things. The old genius was extremely jocular, and the young one
+very pleasant. You would have imagined we had been at some comedy had
+you heard our peals of laughter. They, indeed, tried which could pepper
+the highest, and it is not clear to me that the lexicographer was really
+the highest seasoner."
+
+And how deliciously does she set out the absurdity then prevailing, and
+seen now in editions of Shakespeare and Chaucer, of writing books, the
+bulk of which consists of notes, with only a line or two at the top of
+each page of the original text.
+
+It seems that a merry party at Dr. Kennicott's had each adopted the name
+of some animal. Dr. K. was the elephant; Mrs. K., dromedary; Miss Adams,
+antelope; and H. More, rhinoceros.
+
+                              "HAMPTON, December 24, 1728.
+
+    "DEAR DROMY (a): Pray, send word if _Ante_
+    (b) is come, and also how _Ele_ (c) does, to your
+    very affectionate         RHYNEY" (d).
+
+The following notes on the above epistle are by a commentator of the
+latter end of the nineteenth century. This epistle is all that is come
+down to us of this voluminous author, and is probably the only thing she
+ever wrote that was worth preserving, or which might reasonably expect
+to reach posterity. Her name is only presented to us in some beautiful
+hendecasyllables written by the best Latin poet of his time (Bishop
+Lowth):
+
+     _Note_ (_a_).
+
+     "_Dromy._--From the termination of this address it
+     seems to have been written to a woman, though there is
+     no internal evidence to support this hypothesis. The
+     best critics are much puzzled about the orthography of
+     this abbreviation. Wartonius and other skilful
+     etymologists contend that it ought to be spelled
+     _drummy_, being addressed to a lady who was probably
+     fond of warlike instruments, and who had a singular
+     predilection for a _canon_. Drummy, say they, was a
+     tender diminutive of drum, as the best authors in their
+     more familiar writings now begin to use gunny for gun.
+     But _Hardius_, a contemporary critic, contends, with
+     more probability, that it ought to be written _Drome_,
+     from hippodrome; a learned leech and elegant bard of
+     Bath having left it on record that this lady spent much
+     of her time at the riding-school, being a very
+     exquisite judge of horsemanship. _Colmanus_ and
+     _Horatius Strawberryensis_ insist that it ought to be
+     written _Dromo_, in reference to the Dromo Sorasius of
+     the Latin dramatist."
+
+     _Note_ (_b_).
+
+     "_Ante._--Scaliger 2d says this name simply signifies
+     the appellation of uncle's wife, and ought to be
+     written _Aunty_. But here, again, are various readings.
+     Philologists of yet greater name affirm that it was
+     meant to designate _pre-eminence_, and therefore ought
+     to be written _ante_, before, from the Latin, a
+     language now pretty well forgotten, though the authors
+     who wrote in it are still preserved in French
+     translations. The younger Madame Dacier insists that
+     this lady was against all men, and that it ought to be
+     spelled _anti_; but this Kennicotus, a rabbi of the
+     most recondite learning, with much critical wrath,
+     vehemently contradicts, affirming it to have been
+     impossible she could have been against mankind whom all
+     mankind admired. He adds that ante is for _antelope_,
+     and is emblematically used to express an elegant and
+     slender animal, or that it is an elongation of _ant_,
+     the _emblem of virtuous citizenship_."
+
+And so she continues her comments to close of notes.
+
+Mrs. Gaskell's "Cranford" is full of the most delicate but veritable
+humor, as her allusion to the genteel and cheerful poverty of the lady
+who, in giving a tea-party, "now sat in state, pretending not to know
+what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and she knew that
+we knew; and we knew that she knew that we knew she had been busy all
+the morning making tea-bread and sponge-cakes."
+
+The humor of Mary Russell Mitford, quiet and delectable, must not be
+forgotten. We will sympathize with her woes as she describes a
+visitation from
+
+
+THE TALKING LADY.
+
+"Ben Jonson has a play called _The Silent Woman_, who turns out, as
+might be expected, to be no woman at all--nothing, as Master Slender
+said, but 'a great lubberly boy,' thereby, as I apprehend,
+discourteously presuming that a silent woman is a nonentity. If the
+learned dramatist, thus happily prepared and predisposed, had happened
+to fall in with such a specimen of female loquacity as I have just
+parted with, he might, perhaps, have given us a pendant to his picture
+in the talking lady. Pity but he had! He would have done her justice,
+which I could not at any time, least of all now; I am too much stunned,
+too much like one escaped from a belfry on a coronation day. I am just
+resting from the fatigue of four days' hard listening--four snowy,
+sleety, rainy days; days of every variety of falling weather, all of
+them too bad to admit the possibility that any petticoated thing, were
+she as hardy as a Scotch fir, should stir out; four days chained by 'sad
+civility' to that fireside, once so quiet, and again--cheering
+thought!--again I trust to be so when the echo of that visitor's
+incessant tongue shall have died away....
+
+"She took us in her way from London to the west of England, and being,
+as she wrote, 'not quite well, not equal to much company, prayed that no
+other guest might be admitted, so that she might have the pleasure of
+our conversation all to herself (_ours!_ as if it were possible for any
+of us to slide in a word edgewise!), and especially enjoy the
+gratification of talking over old times with the master of the house,
+her countryman.'
+
+"Such was the promise of her letter, and to the letter it has been kept.
+All the news and scandal of a large county forty years ago, and a
+hundred years before, and ever since; all the marriages, deaths, births,
+elopements, law-suits, and casualties of her own times, her father's,
+grandfather's, great-grandfather's, nephews', and grandnephews', has she
+detailed with a minuteness, an accuracy, a prodigality of learning, a
+profuseness of proper names, a pedantry of locality, which would excite
+the envy of a county historian, a king-at-arms, or even a Scotch
+novelist.
+
+"Her knowledge is most astonishing; but the most astonishing part of all
+is how she came by that knowledge. It should seem, to listen to her, as
+if at some time of her life she must have listened herself; and yet her
+countryman declares that in the forty years he has known her, no such
+event has occurred; and she knows new news, too! It must be
+intuition!...
+
+"The very weather is not a safe subject. Her memory is a perpetual
+register of hard frosts and long droughts, and high winds and terrible
+storms, with all the evils that followed in their train, and all the
+personal events connected with them; so that, if you happen to remark
+that clouds are come up and you fear it may rain, she replies: 'Ay, it
+is just such a morning as three-and-thirty years ago, when my poor
+cousin was married--you remember my cousin Barbara; she married
+so-and-so, the son of so-and-so;' and then comes the whole pedigree of
+the bridegroom, the amount of the settlements, and the reading and
+signing them overnight; a description of the wedding-dresses in the
+style of Sir Charles Grandison, and how much the bride's gown cost per
+yard; the names, residences, and a short subsequent history of the
+bridesmaids and men, the gentleman who gave the bride away, and the
+clergyman who performed the ceremony, with a learned antiquarian
+digression relative to the church; then the setting out in procession;
+the marriage, the kissing, the crying, the breakfasting, the drawing the
+cake through the ring, and, finally, the bridal excursion, which brings
+us back again, at an hour's end, to the starting-post, the weather, and
+the whole story of the sopping, the drying, the clothes-spoiling, the
+cold-catching, and all the small evils of a summer shower. By this time
+it rains, and she sits down to a pathetic see-saw of conjectures on the
+chance of Mrs. Smith's having set out for her daily walk, or the
+possibility that Dr. Brown may have ventured to visit his patients in
+his gig, and the certainty that Lady Green's new housemaid would come
+from London on the outside of the coach....
+
+"I wonder, if she had happened to be married, how many husbands she
+would have talked to death. It is certain that none of her relatives are
+long-lived, after she comes to reside with them. Father, mother, uncle,
+sister, brother, two nephews, and one niece, all these have
+successively passed away, though a healthy race, and with no visible
+disorder--except--But we must not be uncharitable."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mary Ferrier, the Scotch novelist, was gifted with genial wit and a
+quick sense of the ludicrous. Walter Scott admired her greatly, and as a
+lively guest at Abbotsford she did much to relieve the sadness of his
+last days. He said of her:
+
+   "She is a gifted personage, having, besides her great talents,
+   conversation the least _exigeante_ of any author, female at
+   least, whom I have ever seen, among the long list I have
+   encountered. Simple and full of humor, and exceedingly ready at
+   repartee; and all this without the least affectation of the
+   blue-stocking. The general strain of her writing relates to the
+   foibles and oddities of mankind, and no one has drawn them with
+   greater breadth of comic humor or effect. Her scenes often
+   resemble the style of our best old comedies, and she may boast,
+   like Foote, of adding many new and original characters to the
+   stock of our comic literature."
+
+Here is one of her admirably-drawn portraits:
+
+
+THE SENSIBLE WOMAN.
+
+"Miss Jacky, the senior of the trio, was what is reckoned a very
+sensible woman--which generally means a very disagreeable, obstinate,
+illiberal director of all men, women, and children--a sort of
+superintendent of all actions, time, and place, with unquestioned
+authority to arraign, judge, and condemn upon the statutes of her own
+supposed sense. Most country parishes have their sensible woman, who
+lays down the law on all affairs, spiritual and temporal. Miss Jacky
+stood unrivalled as the sensible woman of Glenfern. She had attained
+this eminence partly from having a little more understanding than her
+sisters, but principally from her dictatorial manner, and the pompous,
+decisive tone in which she delivered the most commonplace truths. At
+home her supremacy in all matters of sense was perfectly established;
+and thence the infection, like other superstitions, had spread over the
+whole neighborhood. As a sensible woman she regulated the family,
+which she took care to let everybody hear; she was a sort of
+postmistress-general, a detector of all abuses and impositions, and
+deemed it her prerogative to be consulted about all the useful and
+useless things which everybody else could have done as well. She was
+liberal of her advice to the poor, always enforcing upon them the
+iniquity of idleness, but doing nothing for them in the way of
+employment, strict economy being one of the many points in which she was
+particularly sensible. The consequence was that, while she was lecturing
+half the poor women in the parish for their idleness, the bread was kept
+out of their mouths by the incessant carding of wool, and knitting of
+stockings, and spinning, and reeling, and winding, and pirning, that
+went on among the ladies themselves. And, by the by, Miss Jacky is not
+the only sensible woman who thinks she is acting a meritorious part when
+she converts what ought to be the portion of the poor into the
+employment of the affluent.
+
+"In short, Min Jacky was all over sense. A skilful physiognomist would
+at a single glance have detected the sensible woman in the erect head,
+the compressed lips, square elbows, and firm, judicious step. Even her
+very garments seemed to partake of the prevailing character of their
+mistress. Her ruff always looked more sensible than any other body's;
+her shawl sat most sensibly on her shoulders; her walking-shoes were
+acknowledged to be very sensible, and she drew on her gloves with an air
+of sense, as if the one arm had been Seneca, the other Socrates. From
+what has been said it may easily be inferred that Miss Jacky was, in
+fact, anything but a sensible woman, as, indeed, no woman can be who
+bears such visible outward marks of what is in reality the most quiet
+and unostentatious of all good qualities."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frederika Bremer, the Swedish novelist, whose novels have been
+translated into English, German, French, and Dutch, had a style
+peculiarly her own. Her humor reminds me of a bed of mignonette, with
+its delicate yet permeating fragrance. One paragraph, like one spray of
+that shy flower, scarcely reveals the dainty flavor.
+
+From the "Neighbors," her best story, and one that still has a moderate
+sale, I take her description of Franziska's first little lover-like
+quarrel with her adoring husband, the "Bear." (Let us remember Miss
+Bremer with appreciation and gratitude, as one of the very few visitors
+we have entertained who have written kindly of our country and our
+"Homes.")
+
+
+THE FIRST QUARREL.
+
+"Here I am again sitting with a pen in my hand, impelled by a desire for
+writing, yet with nothing particular to write about. Everything in the
+house and in the whole household arrangement is in order. Little patties
+are baking in the kitchen, the weather is oppressively hot, and every
+leaf and bird seem as if deprived of motion. The hens lie outside in the
+sand before the window, the cock stands solitarily on one leg, and looks
+upon his harem with the countenance of a sleepy sultan. Bear sits in his
+room writing letters. I hear him yawn; that infects me. Oh! oh! I must
+go and have a little quarrel with him on purpose to awaken us both.
+
+"I want at this moment a quire of writing-paper on which to drop
+sugar-cakes. He is terribly miserly of his writing-paper, and on that
+very account I must have some now.
+
+"_Later._--All is done! A complete quarrel, and how completely lively we
+are after it! You, Maria, must hear all, that you may thus see how it
+goes on among married people.
+
+"I went to my husband and said quite meekly, 'My Angel Bear, you must be
+so very good as to give me a quire of your writing-paper to drop
+sugar-cakes upon.'
+
+"_He_ (_in consternation_). 'A quire of writing-paper?'
+
+"_She._ 'Yes, my dear friend, of your very best writing-paper.'
+
+"_He._ 'Finest writing-paper? Are you mad?'
+
+"_She._ 'Certainly not; but I believe you are a little out of your
+senses.'
+
+"_He._ 'You covetous sea-cat, leave off raging among my papers! You
+shall not have my paper!'
+
+"_She._ 'Miserly beast! I shall and will have the paper.'
+
+"_He._ '"I shall"! Listen a moment. Let's see, now, how you will
+accomplish your will.' And the rough Bear held both my small hands fast
+in his great paws.
+
+"_She._ 'You ugly Bear! You are worse than any of those that walk on
+four legs. Let me loose! Let me loose, else I shall bite you!' And as he
+would not let me loose I bit him. Yes, Maria, I bit him really on the
+hand, at which he only laughed scornfully and said: 'Yes, yes, my little
+wife, that is always the way of those who are forward without the power
+to do. Take the paper. Now, take it!'
+
+"_She._ 'Ah! Let me loose! let me loose!'
+
+"_He._ 'Ask me prettily.'
+
+"_She._ 'Dear Bear!'
+
+"_He._ 'Acknowledge your fault.'
+
+"_She._ 'I do.'
+
+"_He._ 'Pray for forgiveness.'
+
+"_She._ 'Ah, forgiveness!'
+
+"_He._ 'Promise amendment.'
+
+"_She._ 'Oh, yes, amendment!'
+
+"_He._ 'Nay, I'll pardon you. But now, no sour faces, dear wife, but
+throw your arms round my neck and kiss me.'
+
+"I gave him a little box on the ear, stole a quire of paper, and ran off
+with loud exultation. Bear followed into the kitchen growling horribly;
+but then I turned upon him armed with two delicious little patties,
+which I aimed at his mouth, and there they vanished. Bear, all at once,
+was quite still, the paper was forgotten, and reconciliation concluded.
+
+"There is, Maria, no better way of stopping the mouths of these lords of
+the creation than by putting into them something good to eat."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I wish I had room for my favorite Irishwoman, Lady Morgan, and her
+description of her first rout at the house of the eccentric Lady Cork.
+
+The off-hand songs of her sister, Lady Clarke, are fine illustrations of
+rollicking Irish wit and badinage.
+
+At one of Lady Morgan's receptions, given in honor of fifty philosophers
+from England, Lady Clarke sang the following song with "great effect:"
+
+
+FUN AND PHILOSOPHY.
+
+    Heigh for ould Ireland! Oh, would you require a land
+      Where men by nature are all quite the thing,
+    Where pure inspiration has taught the whole nation
+      To fight, love, and reason, talk politics, sing;
+    'Tis Pat's mathematical, chemical, tactical,
+      Knowing and practical, fanciful, gay,
+    Fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry,
+      There's nothing in life that is out of his way.
+
+    He makes light of optics, and sees through dioptrics,
+      He's a dab at projectiles--ne'er misses his man;
+    He's complete in attraction, and quick at reaction,
+      By the doctrine of chances he squares every plan;
+    In hydraulics so frisky, the whole Bay of Biscay,
+      If it flowed but with _whiskey_, he'd store it away.
+    Fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry,
+      There's nothing in life that is out of his way.
+
+    So to him cross over savant and philosopher,
+      Thinking, God help them! to bother us all;
+    But they'll find that for knowledge 'tis at our own college
+      Themselves must inquire for--beds, dinner, or ball.
+    There are lectures to tire, and good lodgings to hire,
+      To all who require and have money to pay;
+    While fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry,
+      Ladies and lecturing fill up the day.
+
+    So at the Rotunda we all sorts of fun do,
+      Hard hearts and pig-iron we melt in one flame;
+    For if Love blows the bellows, our tough college fellows
+      Will thaw into rapture at each lovely dame.
+    There, too, sans apology, tea, tarts, tautology,
+      Are given with zoölogy, to grave and gay;
+    Thus fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry
+      Send all to England home, happy and gay.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From George Eliot, whose humor is seen at its best in "Adam Bede" and
+"Silas Marner," how much we could quote! How some of her searching
+comments cling to the memory!
+
+"I've nothing to say again' her piety, my dear; but I know very well I
+shouldn't like her to cook my victuals. When a man comes in hungry and
+tired, piety won't feed him, I reckon. Hard carrots 'ull lie heavy on
+his stomach, piety or no piety. I called in one day when she was dishin'
+up Mr. Tryan's dinner, an' I could see the potatoes was as watery as
+watery. It's right enough to be speritial, I'm no enemy to that, but I
+like my potatoes mealy."
+
+"You're right there, Tookey; there's allays two 'pinions: there's the
+'pinion a man has of himsen, and there's the 'pinion other folks have on
+him. There'd be two 'pinions about a cracked bell if the bell could hear
+itself."
+
+"You're mighty fond o' Craig; but for my part, I think he's welly like a
+cock as thinks the sun's rose o' purpose to hear him crow."
+
+"When Mr. Brooke had something painful to tell it was usually his way to
+introduce it among a number of disjointed particulars, as if it were a
+medicine that would get a milder flavor by mixing."
+
+"Heaven knows what would become of our sociality if we never visited
+people we speak ill of; we should live like Egyptian hermits, in crowded
+solitude."
+
+"No, I ain't one to see the cat walking into the dairy and wonder what
+she's come after."
+
+"I have nothing to say again' Craig, on'y it is a pity he couldna be
+hatched o'er again, and hatched different."
+
+"I'm not denyin' the women are foolish; God Almighty made 'em to match
+the men."
+
+"It's a waste of time to praise people dead whom you maligned while
+living; for it's but a poor harvest you'll get by watering last year's
+crop."
+
+"I suppose Dinah's like all the rest of the women, and thinks two and
+two will come to make five, if she only cries and makes bother enough
+about it."
+
+"Put a good face on it and don't seem to be looking out for crows, else
+you'll set other people to watchin' for 'em, too."
+
+"I took pretty good care, before I said 'sniff,' to be sure she would
+say 'snaff,' and pretty quick, too. I warn't a-goin' to open my mouth
+like a dog at a fly, and snap it to again wi' nothin' to swaller."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+FROM ANNE BRADSTREET TO MRS. STOWE.
+
+
+The same gratifying progress and improvement noticed in the wit of women
+of other lands is seen in studying the literary annals of our own
+countrywomen.
+
+Think of Anne Bradstreet, Mercy Warren, and Tabitha Tenney, all extolled
+to the skies by their contemporaries.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mercy Warren was a satirist quite in the strain of Juvenal, but in
+cumbrous, artificial fashion.
+
+Hon. John Winthrop consulted her on the proposed suspension of trade
+with England in all but the _necessaries_ of life, and she playfully
+gives a list of articles that would be included in that word:
+
+              "An inventory clear
+    Of all she needs Lamira offers here;
+    Nor does she fear a rigid Cato's frown,
+    When she lays by the rich embroidered gown,
+    And modestly compounds for just enough,
+    Perhaps some dozens of mere flighty stuff;
+    With lawns and lute strings, blonde and Mechlin laces,
+    Fringes and jewels, fans and tweezer-cases;
+    Gay cloaks and hat, of every shape and size,
+    Scarfs, cardinals, and ribands, of all dyes,
+    With ruffles stamped and aprons of tambour,
+    Tippets and handkerchiefs, at least threescore;
+    With finest muslins that fair India boasts,
+    And the choice herbage from Chinesian coasts;
+    Add feathers, furs, rich satin, and ducapes,
+    And head-dresses in pyramidal shapes;
+    Sideboards of plate and porcelain profuse,
+    With fifty dittoes that the ladies use.
+    So weak Lamira and her wants so few
+    Who can refuse? they're but the sex's due."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Sigourney, voluminous and mediocre, is amusing because so
+absolutely destitute of humor, and her style, a feminine _Johnsonese_,
+is absurdly hifalutin and strained.
+
+This is the way in which she alludes to green apples:
+
+"From the time of their first taking on orbicular shape, and when it
+might be supposed their hardness and acidity would repulse all save
+elephantine tusks and ostrich stomachs, they were the prey of roaming
+children."
+
+And in her poem "To a Shred of Linen":
+
+                        "Methinks I scan
+    Some idiosyncrasy that marks thee out
+    A defunct pillow-case."
+
+She preserved, however, a long list of the various solicitations sent
+her to furnish poems for special occasions, and I think this shows that
+she possessed a sense of humor. Let me quote a few:
+
+"Some verses were desired as an elegy on a pet canary accidentally
+drowned in a barrel of swine's food.
+
+"A poem requested on the dog-star Sirius.
+
+"To write an ode for the wedding of people in Maine, of whom I had never
+heard.
+
+"To punctuate a three-volume novel for an author who complained that the
+work of punctuating always brought on a pain in the small of his back.
+
+"Asked to assist a servant-man not very well able to read in getting his
+Sunday-school lessons, and to write out all the answers for him clear
+through the book--to save his time.
+
+"A lady whose husband expects to be absent on a journey for a month or
+two wishes I would write a poem to testify her joy at his return.
+
+"An elegy on a young man, one of the nine children of a judge of
+probate."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Miss Sedgwick, in her letters, occasionally showed a keen sense of
+humor, as, when speaking of a certain novel, she said:
+
+"There is too much force for the subject. It is as if a railroad should
+be built and a locomotive started to transport skeletons, specimens, and
+one bird of Paradise."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Caroline Gilman, born in 1794, and still living, author of
+"Recollections of a Southern Matron," etc., will be represented by one
+playful poem, which has a veritable New England flavor:
+
+
+JOSHUA'S COURTSHIP.
+
+A NEW ENGLAND BALLAD.
+
+    Stout Joshua was a farmer's son,
+      And a pondering he sat
+    One night when the fagots crackling burned,
+      And purred the tabby cat.
+
+    Joshua was a well-grown youth,
+      As one might plainly see
+    By the sleeves that vainly tried to reach
+      His hands upon his knee.
+
+    His splay-feet stood all parrot-toed
+      In cowhide shoes arrayed,
+    And his hair seemed cut across his brow
+      By rule and plummet laid.
+
+    And what was Joshua pondering on,
+      With his widely staring eyes,
+    And his nostrils opening sensibly
+      To ease his frequent sighs?
+
+    Not often will a lover's lips
+      The tender secret tell,
+    But out he spoke before he thought,
+      "My gracious! Nancy Bell!"
+
+    His mother at her spinning-wheel,
+      Good woman, stood and spun,
+    "And what," says she, "is come o'er you,
+      Is't _airnest_ or is't fun?"
+
+    Then Joshua gave a cunning look,
+      Half bashful and half sporting,
+    "Now what did father do," says he,
+      "When first he came a courting?"
+
+    "Why, Josh, the first thing that he did,"
+      With a knowing wink, said she,
+    "He dressed up of a Sunday night,
+      And _cast sheep's eyes_ at me."
+
+    Josh said no more, but straight went out
+      And sought a butcher's pen,
+    Where twelve fat sheep, for market bound,
+      Had lately slaughtered been.
+
+    He bargained with a lover's zeal,
+      Obtained the wished-for prize,
+    And filled his pockets fore and aft
+      With twice twelve bloody eyes.
+
+    The next night was the happy time
+      When all New England sparks,
+    Drest in their best, go out to court,
+      As spruce and gay as larks.
+
+    When floors are nicely sanded o'er,
+      When tins and pewter shine,
+    And milk-pans by the kitchen wall
+      Display their dainty line;
+
+    While the new ribbon decks the waist
+      Of many a waiting lass,
+    Who steals a conscious look of pride
+      Toward her answering glass.
+
+    In pensive mood sat Nancy Bell;
+      Of Joshua thought not she,
+    But of a hearty sailor lad
+      Across the distant sea.
+
+    Her arm upon the table rests,
+      Her hand supports her head,
+    When Joshua enters with a scrape,
+      And somewhat bashful tread.
+
+    No word he spake, but down he sat,
+      And heaved a doleful sigh,
+    Then at the table took his aim
+      And rolled a glassy eye.
+
+    Another and another flew,
+      With quick and strong rebound,
+    They tumbled in poor Nancy's lap,
+      They fell upon the ground.
+
+    While Joshua smirked, and sighed, and smiled
+      Between each tender aim,
+    And still the cold and bloody balls
+      In frightful quickness came.
+
+    Until poor Nancy flew with screams,
+      To shun the amorous sport,
+    And Joshua found to _cast sheep's eyes_
+      Was not the way to court.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Fanny Forrester" and "Fanny Fern" both delighted the public with
+individual styles of writing, vastly successful when a new thing.
+
+When wanting a new dress and bonnet, as every woman will in the spring
+(or any time), Fanny Forrester wrote to Willis, of the _New Mirror_, an
+appeal which he called "very clever, adroit, and fanciful."
+
+    "You know the shops in Broadway are very tempting this season.
+    _Such_ beautiful things! Well, you know (no, you don't know
+    that, but you can guess) what a delightful thing it would be to
+    appear in one of those charming, head-adorning,
+    complexion-softening, hard-feature-subduing Neapolitans, with a
+    little gossamer veil dropping daintily on the shoulder of one of
+    those exquisite _balzarines_, to be seen any day at Stewart's
+    and elsewhere. Well, you know (this you _must_ know) that
+    shopkeepers have the impertinence to demand a trifling exchange
+    for these things, even of a lady; and also that some people have
+    a remarkably small purse, and a remarkably small portion of the
+    yellow "root" in that. And now, to bring the matter home, I am
+    one of that class. I have the most beautiful little purse in the
+    world, but it is only kept for show. I even find myself under
+    the necessity of counterfeiting--that is, filling the void with
+    tissue-paper in lieu of bank-notes, preparatory to a shopping
+    expedition. Well, now to the point. As Bel and I snuggled down
+    on the sofa this morning to read the _New Mirror_ (by the way,
+    Cousin Bel is never obliged to put tissue-paper in her purse),
+    it struck us that you would be a friend in need, and give good
+    counsel in this emergency. Bel, however, insisted on my not
+    telling what I wanted the money for. She even thought that I had
+    better intimate orphanage, extreme suffering from the bursting
+    of some speculative bubble, illness, etc.; but did I not know
+    you better? Have I read the _New Mirror_ so much (to say nothing
+    of the graceful things coined under a bridge, and a thousand
+    other pages flung from the inner heart) and not learned who has
+    an eye for everything pretty? Not so stupid, Cousin Bel, no,
+    no!...
+
+    "And to the point. Maybe you of the _New Mirror_ PAY for
+    acceptable articles, maybe not. _Comprenez vous?_ Oh, I do hope
+    that beautiful _balzarine_ like Bel's will not be gone before
+    another Saturday! You will not forget to answer me in the next
+    _Mirror_; but pray, my dear Editor, let it be done very
+    cautiously, for Bel would pout all day if she should know what I
+    have written.
+
+    "Till Saturday, your anxiously-waiting friend,
+
+                                                   "FANNY FORRESTER."
+
+Such a note received by an editor of this generation would promptly fall
+into the waste-basket. But Willis was captivated, and answered:
+
+"Well, we give in! On _condition_ that you are under twenty-five and
+that you will wear a rose (recognizably) in your bodice the first time
+you appear in Broadway with the hat and _balzarine_, we will pay the
+bills. Write us thereafter a sketch of Bel and yourself as cleverly done
+as this letter, and you may 'snuggle' down on the sofa and consider us
+paid, and the public charmed with you."
+
+This style of ingratiating one's self with an editor is as much a bygone
+as an alliterative pen-name.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fanny Fern (Sarah Willis Parton) also established a style of her own--"a
+new kind of composition; short, pointed paragraphs, without beginning
+and without end--one clear, ringing note, and then silence."
+
+Her talent for humorous composition showed itself in her essays at
+school. I'll give a bit from her "Suggestions on Arithmetic after
+Cramming for an Examination":
+
+"Every incident, every object of sight seemed to produce an arithmetical
+result. I once saw a poor wretch evidently intoxicated; thought I, 'That
+man has overcome three scruples, to say the least, for three scruples
+make one dram.' Even the Sabbath was no day of rest for me--the psalms,
+prayers, and sermons were all translated by me into the language of
+arithmetic. A good man spoke very feelingly upon the manner in which our
+cares and perplexities were multiplied by riches. Muttered I: 'That,
+sir, depends upon whether the multiplier is a fraction or a whole
+number; for if it be a fraction, it makes the product less.' And when
+another, lamenting the various divisions of the Church, pathetically
+exclaimed: 'And how shall we unite these several denominations in one?'
+
+"'Why, reduce them to a common denominator,' exclaimed I, half aloud,
+wondering at his ignorance.
+
+"And when an admiring swain protested his warm 'interest,' he brought
+only one word that chimed with my train of thought.
+
+"'Interest?' exclaimed I, starting from my reverie. 'What per cent,
+sir?'
+
+"'Ma'am?' exclaimed my attendant, in the greatest possible amazement.
+
+"'How much per cent, sir?' said I, repeating my question.
+
+"His reply was lost on my ear save: 'Madam, at any rate do not trifle
+with my feelings.'
+
+"'At any rate, did you say? Then take six per cent; that is the easiest
+to calculate.'"
+
+Her style, too, has gone out of fashion; but in its day it was thought
+very amusing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Stowe needs no introduction, and she is another of those from whom
+we quote little, because she could contribute so much, and one does not
+know where to choose. Her "Sam Lawson" is, perhaps, the most familiar of
+her odd characters and talkers.
+
+
+SAM LAWSON'S SAYINGS.
+
+"Well, Sam, what did you think of the sermon?" said Uncle Bill.
+
+"Well," said Sam, leaning over the fire with his long, bony hands
+alternately raised to catch the warmth, and then dropped with an utter
+laxness when the warmth became too pronounced, "Parson Simpson's a smart
+man; but I tell ye, it's kind o' discouragin'. Why, he said our state
+and condition by natur war just like this: We war clear down in a well
+fifty feet deep, and the sides all round nothin' but glare ice; but we
+war under immediate obligations to get out, 'cause we war free,
+voluntary agents. But nobody ever had got out, and nobody would, unless
+the Lord reached down and took 'em. And whether he would or not nobody
+could tell; it was all sovereignty. He said there warn't one in a
+hundred, not one in a thousand, not one in ten thousand, that would be
+saved. 'Lordy massy,' says I to myself, 'ef that's so they're any of 'em
+welcome to my chance.' And so I kind o' ris up and come out, 'cause I'd
+got a pretty long walk home, and I wanted to go round by South Pond and
+inquire about Aunt Sally Morse's toothache."...
+
+"This 'ere Miss Sphyxy Smith's a rich old gal, and 'mazin' smart to
+work," he began. "Tell you, she holds all she gets. Old Sol, he told me
+a story 'bout her that was a pretty good un."
+
+"What was it?" said my grandmother.
+
+"Wal, ye see, you 'member old Parson Jeduthun Kendall that lives up in
+Stonytown; he lost his wife a year ago last Thanksgivin', and he thought
+'twar about time he hed another; so he comes down and consults our
+Parson Lothrop. Says he: 'I want a good, smart, neat, economical woman,
+with a good property. I don't care nothin' about her bein' handsome. In
+fact, I ain't particular about anything else,' says he. Wal, Parson
+Lothrop, says he: 'I think, if that's the case, I know jest the woman to
+suit ye. She owns a clear, handsome property, and she's neat and
+economical; but she's no beauty!' 'Oh, beauty is nothin' to me,' says
+Parson Kendall; and so he took the direction. Wal, one day he hitched up
+his old one-hoss shay, and kind o' brushed up, and started off
+a-courtin'. Wal, the parson come to the house, and he war tickled to
+pieces with the looks o' things outside, 'cause the house is all well
+shingled and painted, and there ain't a picket loose nor a nail wantin'
+nowhere.
+
+"'This 'ere's the woman for me,' says Parson Kendall. So he goes up and
+raps hard on the front door with his whip-handle. Wal, you see, Miss
+Sphyxy she war jest goin' out to help get in her hay. She had on a pair
+o' clompin' cowhide boots, and a pitchfork in her hand, jest goin' out,
+when she heard the rap. So she come jest as she was to the front door.
+Now, you know Parson Kendall's a little midget of a man, but he stood
+there on the step kind o' smilin' and genteel, lickin' his lips and
+lookin' _so_ agreeable! Wal, the front door kind o' stuck--front doors
+generally do, ye know, 'cause they ain't opened very often--and Miss
+Sphyxy she had to pull and haul and put to all her strength, and finally
+it come open with a bang, and she 'peared to the parson, pitchfork and
+all, sort o' frownin' like.
+
+"'What do you want?' says she; for, you see, Miss Sphyxy ain't no ways
+tender to the men.
+
+"'I want to see Miss Asphyxia Smith,' says he, very civil, thinking she
+war the hired gal.
+
+"'I'm Miss Asphyxia Smith,' says she. 'What do you want o' me?'
+
+"Parson Kendall he jest took one good look on her, from top to toe.
+'NOTHIN',' says he, and turned right round and went down the steps like
+lightnin'."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Years ago Mrs. Stowe published some capital stories of New England life,
+which were collected in a little volume called "The Mayflower," a book
+which is now seldom seen, and almost unknown to the present generation.
+From this I take her "Night in a Canal-Boat." Extremely effective when
+read with enthusiasm and proper variety of tone. I quote it as a boon
+for the boys and girls who are often looking for something "funny" to
+read aloud.
+
+
+THE CANAL-BOAT.
+
+BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
+
+Of all the ways of travelling which obtain among our locomotive nation,
+this said vehicle, the canal-boat, is the most absolutely prosaic and
+inglorious. There is something picturesque, nay, almost sublime, in the
+lordly march of your well-built, high-bred steamboat. Go take your stand
+on some overhanging bluff, where the blue Ohio winds its thread of
+silver, or the sturdy Mississippi tears its path through unbroken
+forests, and it will do your heart good to see the gallant boat walking
+the waters with unbroken and powerful tread, and, like some fabled
+monster of the wave, breathing fire and making the shores resound with
+its deep respirations. Then there is something mysterious--even
+awful--in the power of steam. See it curling up against a blue sky some
+rosy morning, graceful, floating, intangible, and to all appearance the
+softest and gentlest of all spiritual things, and then think that it is
+this fairy spirit that keeps all the world alive and hot with motion;
+think how excellent a servant it is, doing all sorts of gigantic works,
+like the genii of old; and yet, if you let slip the talisman only for a
+moment, what terrible advantage it will take of you! and you will
+confess that steam has some claims both to the beautiful and the
+terrible! For our own part, when we are down among the machinery of a
+steamboat in full play, we conduct ourselves very reverently, for we
+consider it as a very serious neighborhood, and every time the steam
+whizzes with such red-hot determination from the escape-valve, we start
+as if some of the spirits were after us. But in a canal-boat there is no
+power, no mystery, no danger; one cannot blow up, one cannot be
+drowned--unless by some special effort; one sees clearly all there is in
+the case--a horse, a rope, and a muddy strip of water--and that is all.
+
+Did you ever try it, reader? If not, take an imaginary trip with us,
+just for experiment. "There's the boat!" exclaims a passenger in the
+omnibus, as we are rolling down from the Pittsburg Mansion House to the
+canal. "Where?" exclaim a dozen of voices, and forthwith a dozen heads
+go out of the window. "Why, down there, under that bridge; don't you see
+those lights?" "What, that little thing!" exclaims an inexperienced
+traveller; "dear me! we can't half of us get into it!" "We! indeed,"
+says some old hand in the business; "I think you'll find it will hold us
+and a dozen more loads like us." "Impossible!" say some. "You'll see,"
+say the initiated; and as soon as you get out you _do_ see, and hear,
+too, what seems like a general breaking loose from the Tower of Babel,
+amid a perfect hail-storm of trunks, boxes, valises, carpet-bags, and
+every describable and indescribable form of what a Westerner calls
+"plunder."
+
+"That's my trunk!" barks out a big, round man. "That's my bandbox!"
+screams a heart-stricken old lady, in terror for her immaculate Sunday
+caps. "Where's my little red box? I had two carpet-bags and a--My trunk
+had a scarle--Halloo! where are you going with that portmanteau?
+Husband! Husband! do see after the large basket and the little
+hair-trunk--Oh, and the baby's little chair!" "Go below, go below, for
+mercy's sake, my dear; I'll see to the baggage." At last the feminine
+part of creation, perceiving that, in this particular instance, they
+gain nothing by public speaking, are content to be led quietly under
+hatches; and amusing is the look of dismay which each new-comer gives to
+the confined quarters that present themselves. Those who were so
+ignorant of the power of compression as to suppose the boat scarce large
+enough to contain them and theirs, find, with dismay, a respectable
+colony of old ladies, babies, mothers, big baskets, and carpet-bags
+already established. "Mercy on us!" says one, after surveying the little
+room, about ten feet long and six feet high, "where are we all to sleep
+to-night?" "Oh, me, what a sight of children!" says a young lady, in a
+despairing tone. "Pooh!" says an initiated traveller, "children! scarce
+any here; let's see: one; the woman in the corner, two; that child with
+the bread and butter, three; and then there's that other woman with two.
+Really, it's quite moderate for a canal-boat. However, we can't tell
+till they have all come."
+
+"All! for mercy's sake, you don't say there are any more coming!"
+exclaim two or three in a breath; "they _can't_ come; _there is not
+room_!"
+
+Notwithstanding the impressive utterance of this sentence the contrary
+is immediately demonstrated by the appearance of a very corpulent
+elderly lady with three well-grown daughters, who come down looking
+about them most complacently, entirely regardless of the unchristian
+looks of the company. What a mercy it is that fat people are always
+good-natured!
+
+After this follows an indiscriminate raining down of all shapes, sizes,
+sexes, and ages--men, women, children, babies, and nurses. The state of
+feeling becomes perfectly desperate. Darkness gathers on all faces. "We
+shall be smothered! we shall be crowded to death! we _can't stay_ here!"
+are heard faintly from one and another; and yet, though the boat grows
+no wider, the walls no higher, they do live, and do stay there, in spite
+of repeated protestations to the contrary. Truly, as Sam Slick says,
+"there's a _sight of wear_ in human natur'!"
+
+But meanwhile the children grow sleepy, and divers interesting little
+duets and trios arise from one part or another of the cabin.
+
+"Hush, Johnny! be a good boy," says a pale, nursing mamma, to a great,
+bristling, white-headed phenomenon, who is kicking very much at large in
+her lap.
+
+"I won't be a good boy, neither," responds Johnny, with interesting
+explicitness; "I want to go to bed, and so-o-o-o!" and Johnny makes up a
+mouth as big as a tea-cup, and roars with good courage, and his mamma
+asks him "if he ever saw pa do so," and tells him that "he is mamma's
+dear, good little boy, and must not make a noise," with various
+observations of the kind, which are so strikingly efficacious in such
+cases. Meanwhile the domestic concert in other quarters proceeds with
+vigor. "Mamma, I'm tired!" bawls a child. "Where's the baby's
+nightgown?" calls a nurse. "Do take Peter up in your lap, and keep him
+still." "Pray get out some biscuits to stop their mouths." Meanwhile
+sundry babies strike in _con spirito_, as the music-books have it, and
+execute various flourishes; the disconsolate mothers sigh, and look as
+if all was over with them; and the young ladies appear extremely
+disgusted, and wonder "what business women have to be travelling round
+with children."
+
+To these troubles succeeds the turning-out scene, when the whole caravan
+is ejected into the gentlemen's cabin, that the beds may be made. The
+red curtains are put down, and in solemn silence all the last mysterious
+preparations begin. At length it is announced that all is ready.
+Forthwith the whole company rush back, and find the walls embellished by
+a series of little shelves, about a foot wide, each furnished with a
+mattress and bedding, and hooked to the ceiling by a very suspiciously
+slender cord. Direful are the ruminations and exclamations of
+inexperienced travellers, particularly young ones, as they eye these
+very equivocal accommodations. "What, sleep up there! _I_ won't sleep on
+one of those top shelves, _I_ know. The cords will certainly break." The
+chambermaid here takes up the conversation, and solemnly assures them
+that such an accident is not to be thought of at all; that it is a
+natural impossibility--a thing that could not happen without an actual
+miracle; and since it becomes increasingly evident that thirty ladies
+cannot all sleep on the lowest shelf, there is some effort made to
+exercise faith in this doctrine; nevertheless all look on their
+neighbors with fear and trembling; and when the stout lady talks of
+taking a shelf, she is most urgently pressed to change places with her
+alarmed neighbor below. Points of location being after a while adjusted,
+comes the last struggle. Everybody wants to take off a bonnet, or look
+for a shawl, to find a cloak, or get a carpet-bag, and all set about it
+with such zeal that nothing can be done. "Ma'am, you're on my foot!"
+says one. "Will you please to move, ma'am?" says somebody, who is
+gasping and struggling behind you. "Move!" you echo. "Indeed, I should
+be very glad to, but I don't see much prospect of it." "Chambermaid!"
+calls a lady who is struggling among a heap of carpet-bags and children
+at one end of the cabin. "Ma'am!" echoes the poor chambermaid, who is
+wedged fast in a similar situation at the other. "Where's my cloak,
+chambermaid?" "I'd find it, ma'am, if I could move." "Chambermaid, my
+basket!" "Chambermaid, my parasol!" "Chambermaid, my carpet-bag!"
+"Mamma, they push me so!" "Hush, child; crawl under there and lie still
+till I can undress you." At last, however, the various distresses are
+over, the babies sink to sleep, and even that much-enduring being, the
+chambermaid, seeks out some corner for repose. Tired and drowsy, you are
+just sinking into a doze, when bang! goes the boat against the sides of
+a lock; ropes scrape, men run and shout; and up fly the heads of all the
+top-shelfites, who are generally the more juvenile and airy part of the
+company.
+
+"What's that! what's that!" flies from mouth to mouth; and forthwith
+they proceed to awaken their respective relations. "Mother! Aunt Hannah!
+do wake up; what is this awful noise?" "Oh, only a lock." "Pray, be
+still," groan out the sleepy members from below.
+
+"A lock!" exclaim the vivacious creatures, ever on the alert for
+information; "and what _is_ a lock, pray?"
+
+"Don't you know what a lock is, you silly creatures. Do lie down and go
+to sleep."
+
+"But say, there ain't any _danger_ in a lock, is there?" respond the
+querists. "Danger!" exclaims a deaf old lady, poking up her head.
+"What's the matter? There hain't nothing burst, has there?" "No, no,
+no!" exclaim the provoked and despairing opposition party, who find that
+there is no such thing as going to sleep till they have made the old
+lady below and the young ladies above understand exactly the philosophy
+of a lock. After a while the conversation again subsides; again all is
+still; you hear only the trampling of horses and the rippling of the
+rope in the water, and sleep again is stealing over you. You doze, you
+dream, and all of a sudden you are startled by a cry, "Chambermaid! wake
+up the lady that wants to be set ashore." Up jumps chambermaid, and up
+jump the lady and two children, and forthwith form a committee of
+inquiry as to ways and means. "Where's my bonnet?" says the lady, half
+awake and fumbling among the various articles of that name. "I thought I
+hung it up behind the door." "Can't you find it?" says the poor
+chambermaid, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "Oh, yes, here it is," says
+the lady; and then the cloak, the shawl, the gloves, the shoes, receive
+each a separate discussion. At last all seems ready, and they begin to
+move off, when lo! Peter's cap is missing. "Now, where can it be?"
+soliloquizes the lady. "I put it right here by the table-leg; maybe it
+got into some of the berths." At this suggestion the chambermaid takes
+the candle, and goes round deliberately to every berth, poking the light
+directly in the face of every sleeper. "Here it is," she exclaims,
+pulling at something black under one pillow. "No, indeed, those are my
+shoes," says the vexed sleeper. "Maybe it's here," she resumes, darting
+upon something dark in another berth. "No, that's my bag," responds the
+occupant. The chambermaid then proceeds to turn over all the children on
+the floor, to see if it is not under them. In the course of which
+process they are most agreeably waked up and enlivened; and when
+everybody is broad awake, and most uncharitably wishing the cap, and
+Peter too, at the bottom of the canal, the good lady exclaims, "Well, if
+this isn't lucky; here I had it safe in my basket all the time!" And she
+departed amid the--what shall I say? execrations!--of the whole company,
+ladies though they be.
+
+Well, after this follows a hushing up and wiping up among the juvenile
+population, and a series of remarks commences from the various shelves
+of a very edifying and instructive tendency. One says that the woman did
+not seem to know where anything was; another says that she has waked
+them all up; a third adds that she has waked up all the children, too;
+and the elderly ladies make moral reflections on the importance of
+putting your things where you can find them--being always ready; which
+observations, being delivered in an exceedingly doleful and drowsy tone,
+form a sort of sub-bass to the lively chattering of the upper-shelfites,
+who declare that they feel quite awake--that they don't think they shall
+go to sleep again to-night, and discourse over everything in creation,
+until you heartily wish you were enough related to them to give them a
+scolding.
+
+At last, however, voice after voice drops off; you fall into a most
+refreshing slumber; it seems to you that you sleep about a quarter of an
+hour, when the chambermaid pulls you by the sleeve. "Will you please to
+get up, ma'am? We want to make the beds." You start and stare. Sure
+enough, the night is gone. So much for sleeping on board canal-boats!
+
+Let us not enumerate the manifold perplexities of the morning toilet in
+a place where every lady realizes most forcibly the condition of the old
+woman who lived under a broom: "All she wanted was elbow-room." Let us
+not tell how one glass is made to answer for thirty fair faces, one ewer
+and vase for thirty lavations; and--tell it not in Gath--one towel for a
+company! Let us not intimate how ladies' shoes have, in a night,
+clandestinely slid into the gentlemen's cabin, and gentlemen's boots
+elbowed, or, rather, _toed_ their way among ladies' gear, nor recite the
+exclamations after runaway property that are heard.
+
+"I can't find nothing of Johnny's shoe!" "Here's a shoe in the
+water-pitcher--is this it?" "My side-combs are gone!" exclaims a nymph
+with dishevelled curls. "Massy! do look at my bonnet!" exclaims an old
+lady, elevating an article crushed into as many angles as there are
+pieces in a mince-pie. "I never did sleep _so much together_ in my
+life," echoes a poor little French lady, whom despair has driven into
+talking English.
+
+But our shortening paper warns us not to prolong our catalogue of
+distresses beyond reasonable bounds, and therefore we will close with
+advising all our friends, who intend to try this way of travelling for
+_pleasure_, to take a good stock both of patience and clean towels with
+them, for we think that they will find abundant need for both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+"SAMPLES" HERE AND THERE.
+
+
+Next comes Mrs. Caroline M. Kirkland with her Western sketches. Many
+will remember her laughable description of "Borrowing Out West," with
+its two appropriate mottoes: "Lend me your ears," from Shakespeare, and
+from Bacon: "Grant graciously what you cannot refuse safely."
+
+"'Mother wants your sifter,' said Miss Ianthe Howard, a young lady of
+six years' standing, attired in a tattered calico thickened with dirt;
+her unkempt locks straggling from under that hideous substitute for a
+bonnet so universal in the Western country--a dirty cotton
+handkerchief--which is used _ad nauseam_ for all sorts of purposes.
+
+"'Mother wants your sifter, and she says she guesses you can let her
+have some sugar and tea, 'cause you've got plenty.' This excellent
+reason, ''cause you've got plenty,' is conclusive as to sharing with
+neighbors.
+
+"Sieves, smoothing-irons, and churns run about as if they had legs; one
+brass kettle is enough for a whole neighborhood, and I could point to a
+cradle which has rocked half the babies in Montacute.
+
+"For my own part, I have lent my broom, my thread, my tape, my spoons,
+my cat, my thimble, my scissors, my shawl, my shoes, and have been asked
+for my combs and brushes, and my husband for his shaving apparatus and
+pantaloons."
+
+Mrs. Whither, whose "Widow Bedott" is a familiar name, resembles Mrs.
+Kirkland in her comic portraitures, which were especially good of their
+kind, and never betrayed any malice. The "Bedott Papers" first appeared
+in 1846, and became popular at once. They are good examples of what they
+simply profess to be: an amusing series of comicalities.
+
+I shall not quote from them, as every one who enjoys that style of humor
+knows them by heart. It would be as useless as copying "Now I lay me
+down to sleep," or "Mary had a little lamb," for a child's collection of
+verses!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There are many authors whom I cannot represent worthily in these brief
+limits. When, encouraged by the unprecedented popularity of this
+venture, I prepare an encyclopædia of the "Wit and Humor of American
+Women," I can do justice to such writers as "Gail Hamilton" and Miss
+Alcott, whose "Transcendental Wild Oats" cannot be cut. Rose Terry Cooke
+thinks her "Knoware" the only funny thing she has ever done. She is
+greatly mistaken, as I can soon prove. "Knoware" ought to be printed by
+itself to delight thousands, as her "Deacon's Week" has already done. To
+search for a few good things in the works of my witty friends is
+searching not for the time-honored needle in a hay-mow, but for two or
+three needles of just the right size out of a whole paper of needles.
+
+"The Insanity of Cain," by Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge, an inimitable satire
+on the feebleness of our jury system and the absurd pretence of
+"temporary insanity," must wait for that encyclopædia. And her "Miss
+Molony on the Chinese Question" is known and admired by every one,
+including the Prince of Wales, who was fairly convulsed by its fun, when
+brought out by our favorite elocutionist, Miss Sarah Cowell, who had the
+honor of reading before royalty.
+
+I regretfully omit the "Peterkin Letters," by Lucretia P. Hale, and time
+famous "William Henry Letters," by Mrs. Abby Morton Diaz. The very best
+bit from Miss Sallie McLean would be how "Grandma Spicer gets Grandpa
+Ready for Sunday-school," from the "Cape Cod Folks;" but why not save
+space for what is not in everybody's mouth and memory? This is equally
+true of Mrs. Cleaveland's "No Sects in Heaven," which, like Arabella
+Wilson's "Sextant," goes the rounds of all the papers every other year
+as a fresh delight.
+
+Marietta Holley, too, must be allowed only a brief quotation. "Samantha"
+is a family friend from Mexico to Alaska. Mrs. Metta Victoria Victor,
+who died recently, has written an immense amount of humorous sketches.
+Her "Miss Slimmens," the boarding-house keeper, is a marked character,
+and will be remembered by many.
+
+I will select a few "samples," unsatisfactory because there is so much
+more just as good, and then give room for others less familiar.
+
+
+MISS LUCINDA'S PIG.
+
+BY ROSE TERRY COOKE.
+
+"You don't know of any poor person who'd like to have a pig, do you?"
+said Miss Lucinda, wistfully.
+
+"Well, the poorer they was, the quicker they'd eat him up, I guess--ef
+they could eat such a razor-back."
+
+"Oh, I don't like to think of his being eaten! I wish he could be got
+rid of some other way. Don't you think he might be killed in his sleep,
+Israel?"
+
+"I think it's likely it would wake him up," said he, demurely. "Killin'
+'s killin', and a critter can't sleep over it 's though 'twas the
+stomachache. I guess he'd kick some, ef he _was_ asleep--and screech
+some, too!"
+
+"Dear me!" said Miss Lucinda, horrified at the idea. "I wish he could be
+sent out to run in the woods. Are there any good woods near here,
+Israel?"
+
+"I don't know but what he'd as lieves be slartered to once as to starve
+an' be hunted down out in the lots. Besides, there ain't nobody as I
+knows of would like a hog to be a-rootin' round among their turnips and
+young wheat."
+
+"Well, what I shall do with him I don't know!" despairingly exclaimed
+Miss Lucinda. "He was such a dear little thing when you bought him,
+Israel! Do you remember how pink his pretty little nose was--just like a
+rosebud--and how bright his eyes were, and his cunning legs? And now
+he's grown so big and fierce! But I can't help liking him, either."
+
+"He's a cute critter, that's sartain; but he does too much rootin' to
+have a pink nose now, I expect; there's consider'ble on 't, so I guess
+it looks as well to have it gray. But I don't know no more'n you do what
+to do abaout it."
+
+"If I could only get rid of him without knowing what became of him!"
+exclaimed Miss Lucinda, squeezing her forefinger with great earnestness,
+and looking both puzzled and pained.
+
+"If Mees Lucinda would pairmit?" said a voice behind her.
+
+She turned round to see Monsieur Leclerc on his crutches, just in the
+parlor-door.
+
+"I shall, mees, myself dispose of piggie, if it please. I can. I shall
+have no sound; he shall to go away like a silent snow, to trouble you no
+more, never!"
+
+"Oh, sir, if you could! But I don't see how!"
+
+"If mees was to see, it would not be to save her pain. I shall have him
+to go by _magique_ to fiery land."
+
+Fairy-land, probably. But Miss Lucinda did not perceive the _équivoque_.
+
+"Nor yet shall I trouble Meester Israyel. I shall have the aid of myself
+and one good friend that I have; and some night, when you rise of the
+morning, he shall not be there."
+
+Miss Lucinda breathed a deep sigh of relief.
+
+"I am greatly obliged--I mean, I shall be," said she.
+
+"Well, I'm glad enough to wash my hands on 't," said Israel. "I shall
+hanker arter the critter some, but he's a-gettin' too big to be handy;
+'n it's one comfort about critters, you ken git rid on 'em somehaow when
+they're more plague than profit. But folks has got to be let alone,
+excep' the Lord takes 'em; an' He generally don't see fit."--_From
+Somebody's Neighbors._
+
+
+A GIFT HORSE.
+
+BY ROSE TERRY COOKE.
+
+"Well, he no need to ha' done it, Sary. I've told him more'n four times
+he hadn't ought to pull a gun tow'rds him by the muzzle on't. Now he's
+up an' did it once for all."
+
+"He won't never have no chance to do it again, Scotty, if you don't
+hurry up after the doctor," said Sary, wiping her eyes on her dirty
+calico apron, thereby adding an effective shadow under their redness.
+
+"Well, I'm a-goin', ain't I? But ye know yerself 'twon't do to go so fur
+on eend, 'thout ye're vittled consider'ble well."
+
+So saying, he fell to at the meal she had interrupted, hot potatoes,
+cold pork, dried venison, and blueberry pie vanishing down his throat
+with an alacrity and dispatch that augured well for the thorough
+"vittling" he intended, while Sary went about folding chunks of boiled
+ham, thick slices of brown bread, solid rounds of "sody biskit," and
+slab-sided turnovers in a newspaper, filling a flat bottle with whiskey,
+and now and then casting a look at the low bed where young Harry
+McAlister lay, very much whiter than the sheets about him, and quite as
+unconscious of surroundings, the blood oozing slowly through such
+bandages as Scott Peck's rude surgery had twisted about a gunshot-wound
+in his thigh, and brought to close tension by a stick thrust through the
+folds, turned as tight as could be borne, and strapped into place by a
+bit of coarse twine.
+
+It was a long journey paddling up the Racquette River, across creek and
+carry, with the boat on his back, to the lakes, and then from Martin's
+to "Harri'tstown," where he knew a surgeon of repute from a great city
+was spending his vacation. It was touch-and-go with Harry before Scott
+and Dr. Drake got back. Sary had dosed him with venison-broth, hot and
+greasy, weak whiskey and water, and a little milk (only a little), for
+their cow was old and pastured chiefly on leaves and twigs, and she only
+came back to the shanty when she liked or needed to come, so their milk
+supply was uncertain, and Sary dared not leave her patient long enough
+to row to the end of Tupper's Lake, where the nearest cow was kept. But
+youth has a power of recovery that defies circumstance, and Dr. Drake
+was very skilful. Long weeks went by, and the green woods of July had
+brightened and faded into October's dim splendor before Harry McAlister
+could be carried up the river and over to Bartlett's, where his mother
+had been called to meet him. She was a widow, and he her only child;
+and, though she was rather silly and altogether unpractical, she had a
+tender, generous heart, and was ready to do anything possible for Scott
+and Sarah Peck to show her gratitude for their kindness to her boy. She
+did not consult Harry at all. He had lost much blood from his accident
+and recovered strength slowly. She kept everything like thought or
+trouble out of his way as far as she could, and when the family
+physician found her heart was set on taking him to Florida for the
+winter, because he looked pale and her grandmother's aunt had died of
+consumption, Dr. Peet, like a wise man, rubbed his hands together,
+bowed, and assured her it would be the very thing. But something must be
+done for the Pecks before she went away. It occurred to her how
+difficult it must be for them to row everywhere in a small boat. A horse
+would be much better. Even if the roads were not good they could ride,
+Sarah behind Scott. And so useful in farming, too. Her mind was made up
+at once. She dispatched a check for three hundred dollars to Peter Haas,
+her old coachman, who had bought a farm in Vermont with his savings, and
+retired, with the cook for his wife, into the private life of a farmer.
+Mrs. McAlister had much faith in Peter's knowledge of horses and his
+honesty. She wrote him to buy a strong, steady animal, and convey it to
+Scott Peck, either sending him word to come up to Bartlett's after it,
+or taking it down the river; but, at any rate, to make sure he had it.
+If the check would not pay all expenses, he was to draw on her for more.
+Peter took the opportunity to get rid of a horse he had no use for in
+winter; a beast restive as a racer when not in daily use, but strong
+enough for any work, and steady enough if he had work. Two hundred and
+fifty dollars was the price now set on his head, though Peter had bought
+him for seventy-five, and thought him dear at that. The remaining fifty
+was ample for expenses; but Peter was a prudent German and liked a
+margin. There was no difficulty in getting the horse as far as Martin's,
+and by dint of patient insistence Peter contrived to have him conveyed
+to Bartlett's; but here he rested and sent a messenger down to Scott
+Peck, while he himself returned to Bridget at the farm, slowly cursing
+the country and the people as he went his way, for his delays and
+troubles had been numerous.
+
+"Gosh!" said Scott Peck, when he stepped up to the log-house that served
+for the guides, unknowing what awaited him, for the messenger had not
+found him at home, but left word he was to come to Bartlett's for
+something, and the first thing he saw was this gray horse.
+
+"What fool fetched his hoss up here?"
+
+The guides gathered about the door of their hut, burst into a loud
+cackle of laughter; even the beautiful hounds in their rough kennel
+leaped up and bayed.
+
+"W-a-a-l;" drawled lazy Joe Tucker, "the feller 't owns him ain't
+nobody's fool. Be ye, Scotty?"
+
+"Wha-t!" ejaculated Scott.
+
+"It's your'n, man, sure as shootin'!" laughed Hearty Jack, Joe Tucker's
+brother.
+
+"Mine? Jehoshaphat! Blaze that air track, will ye? I'm lost, sure."
+
+"Well, Bartlett's gone out Keeseville way, so't kinder was lef' to me to
+tell ye. 'Member that ar chap that shot hisself in the leg down to your
+shanty this summer?"
+
+"Well, I expect I do, seein' I ain't more'n a hundred year old,"
+sarcastically answered Scott.
+
+"He's cleared out South-aways some'eres, and his ma consaited she was
+dredful obleeged to ye; 'n I'm blessed if she didn't send an old Dutch
+feller up here fur to fetch ye that hoss fur a present. He couldn't
+noways wait to see ye pus'nally, he sed, fur he mistrusted the' was
+snows here sometimes 'bout this season. Ho! ho! ho!"
+
+"Good land!" said Scott, sitting down on a log, and putting his hands in
+his pockets, the image of perplexity, while the men about him roared
+with fresh laughter. "What be I a-goin' to do with the critter?" he
+asked of the crowd.
+
+"Blessed if I know," answered Hearty Jack.
+
+"Can't ye get him out to 'Sable Falls or Keeseville 'n sell him fur what
+he'll fetch?" suggested Joe Tucker.
+
+"I can't go now, noways. Sary's wood-pile's nigh gin out, 'n there was a
+mighty big sundog yesterday; 'nd moreover I smell snow. It'll be suthin'
+to git hum as 'tis. Mabbe Bartlett'll keep him a spell."
+
+"No, he won't; you kin bet your head. His fodder's a-runnin' short for
+the hornid critters. He's bought some up to Martin's, that's a-comin'
+down dyrect; but 'tain't enough. He's put to't for more. Shouldn't
+wonder ef he had to draw from North Elby when sleddin' sets in."
+
+"Well, I dono's there's but one thing for to do; fetch him hum somehow
+or 'nother; 'nd there's my boat over to the carry!"
+
+"You'd better tie the critter on behind an' let him wade down the
+Racket!"
+
+Another shout of laughter greeted this proposal.
+
+"I s'all take ze boat for you!" quietly said a little brown
+Canadian--Jean Poiton. "I am go to Tupper to-morrow. I have one hunt to
+make. I can take her."
+
+"Well said, Gene. I'll owe you a turn. But, fur all, how be I goin' to
+get that animile 'long the trail?"
+
+"I dono!" answered Joe Tucker. "I expect, if it's got to be did, you'll
+fetch it somehow. But I'm mighty glad 'tain't my job!"
+
+Scott Peck thought Joe had good reason for joy in that direction before
+he had gone a mile on his homeward way! The trail was only a trail,
+rough, devious, crossed with roots of trees, brushed with boughs of fir
+and pine, and the horse was restive and unruly. By nightfall he had gone
+only a few miles, and when he had tied the beast to a tree and covered
+him with a blanket brought from Bartlett's for the purpose, and strapped
+on his own back all the way, the light of the camp-fire startled the
+horse so that Scott was forced to blind him with a comforter before he
+would stand still. Then in the middle of the night, a great owl hooting
+from the tree-top just above him was a fresh scare, and but that the
+strap and rope both were new and strong he would have escaped. Scott
+listened to his rearing, trampling, snorts, and wild neigh with the
+composure of a sleepy man; but when he awoke at daylight, and found
+four inches of snow had fallen during the night, he swore.
+
+This was too much. Even to his practised woodcraft it seemed impossible
+to get the horse safe to his clearing without harm. It was only by dint
+of the utmost care and patience, the greatest watchfulness of the way,
+that he got along at all. Every rod or two he stumbled, and all but fell
+himself. Here and there a loaded hemlock bough, weighed out of its
+uprightness by the wet snow, snapped in his face and blinded him with
+its damp burden; and he knew long before nightfall that another night in
+the woods was inevitable. He could feed the horse on young twigs of
+beech and birch; fresh moss, and new-peeled bark (fodder the animal
+would have resented with scorn under any other conditions); but hunger
+has no law concerning food. Scott himself was famished; but his pipe and
+tobacco were a refuge whose value he knew before, and his charge was
+tired enough to be quiet this second night; so the man had an
+undisturbed sleep by his comfortable fire. It was full noon of the next
+day when he reached his cabin. Jean Poiton had tied his boat to its
+stake, and gone on without stopping to speak to Sarah; so her surprise
+was wonderful when she saw Scott emerge from the forest, leading a gray
+creature, with drooping head and shambling gait, tired and dispirited.
+
+"Heaven's to Betsey, Scott Peck! What hev you got theer?"
+
+"The devil!" growled Scott.
+
+Sary screamed.
+
+"Do hold your jaw, gal, an' git me su'thin' hot to eat 'n drink. I'm
+savager'n an Injin. Come, git along." And, tying his horse to a stump,
+the hungry man followed Sarah into the house and helped himself out of
+a keg in the corner to a long, reviving draught.
+
+"Du tell!" said Sarah, when the pork began to frizzle in the pan. "What
+upon airth did you buy a hoss for?" (She had discovered it was a horse.)
+
+"Buy it! I guess not. I ain't no such blamed fool as that comes to. That
+feller you nussed up here a spell back, he up an' sent it roun' to
+Bartlett's, for a present to me."
+
+"Well! Did he think you was a-goin' to set up canawl long o' Racket?"
+
+"I expect he calc'lated I'd go racin'," dryly answered Scott.
+
+"But what be ye a-goin' to feed him with?" said Sary, laying venison
+steaks into the pan.
+
+"Lord knows! I don't. Shut up, Sary! I'm tuckered out with the beast.
+I'd ruther still-hunt three weeks on eend than fetch him in from
+Sar'nac, now I tell ye. Ain't them did enough? I could eat a raw bear."
+
+Sary laughed and asked no more questions till the ravenous man had
+satisfied himself with the savory food; but, if she had asked them,
+Scott would have had no answer, for his mind was perplexed to the last
+degree. He fed the beast for a while on potatoes; but that was taking
+the bread out of his own mouth, though he supplemented it with now and
+then a boat-load of coarse, frost-killed grass, but the horse grew more
+and more gaunt and restive. His eyes glared with hunger and fury. He
+kicked out one side of the cowshed and snapped at Scott whenever he came
+near him. Want of use and food had restored him to the original savagery
+of his race. Hitherto Scott had never acknowledged Mrs McAlister's gift;
+but Sary, who had a vague idea of good manners, caught from the picture
+papers and occasional dime novels the tribe of Adirondack travellers
+strew even in such a wilderness, kept pecking at him.
+
+"Ta'n't no more'n civil to say thank ye, to the least," she said, till
+Scott's temper gave way.
+
+"Stop a-pesterin' of me! I've hed too much. I ain't a speck thankful!
+I'm mightily t'other thing, whatever 'tis. Write to her yourself, if
+you're a mind tu. You can make a better fist at it, anyways. Comes as
+nateral to women to lie as sap to run. I'll be etarnally blessed ef I
+touch paper for to do it." And he flung out of the door with a bang.
+
+Of course Sary wrote the letter, which one balmy day electrified Harry
+and his mother as they sat basking in Southern sunshine:
+
+     "MIS MACALLISTUR: This is fur to say wee is reel
+     obliged to ye fur the HOSS."
+
+"Good gracious, mother! Did you send them a horse?" ejaculated Harry.
+
+"Why, my dear, I wanted to show my sense of their kindness, and I could
+not offer these people money. I thought a horse would be so useful!"
+
+"Useful! in the Adirondack woods!" And Harry burst into a fit of
+laughter that scarcely permitted his mother to go on; but at last she
+proceeded:
+
+     "But Scotty and me ain't ackwainted So to speak with
+     Hoss ways; he seems kinder Hum-sick if you may say that
+     of a Cretur. We air etarnally gratified to You for sech
+     a Valewble Pressent, but if you was Wiling we shood
+     Like to swapp it of in spring fur a kow, ourn Being
+     some in years.
+
+        "yours to Command,      SARY PECK."
+
+But long before Mrs. McAlister's permission to "swap" the horse reached
+Scott Peck, the creature took his destiny into his own hands. Scott had
+gone away on a desperate errand, to fetch some sort of food for the poor
+creature, whose bones stared him in the face, and Sary went out one
+morning to give him her potato-peelings and some scraps of bread, when,
+suddenly, he jerked his head fiercely, snapped his halter in two, and
+wheeled round upon the frightened woman, rearing, snorting, and showing
+his long, yellow teeth. Sary fled at once and barred the door behind
+her; but neither she nor Scott ever saw their "gift horse" again. For
+aught I know he still roams the Adirondack forest, and maybe personates
+the ghostly and ghastly white deer of song and legend. Who can tell? But
+he was lifted off Scott Peck's shoulders, and all Scott said by way of
+epitaph on the departed, when he came home to find his white steed gone,
+was, "Hang presents!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Samantha Allen" will now have "a brief opportunity for remark."
+
+Admire her graphic description of the excitement Josiah caused by
+voting, at a meeting of the "Jonesville Creation Searchers," for his own
+spouse as a delegate from Jonesville to the "Sentinel." She reports
+thus:
+
+"It was a fearful time, but right where the excitement was raining most
+fearfully I felt a motion by the side of me, and my companion got up and
+stood on his feet and says, in _pretty_ firm accents, though _some_
+sheepish:
+
+"'_I_ did, and there's where I stand now; _I_ vote for _Samantha_!'
+
+"And then he sot down again. Oh, the fearful excitement and confusion
+that rained down again! The president got up and tried to speak; the
+editor of the _Auger_ talked wildly; Shakespeare Bobbet talked to
+himself incoherently, but Solomon Cypher's voice drowned 'em all out, as
+he kep' a-smitin' his breast and a hollerin' that he wasn't goin' to be
+infringed upon, or come in contract with _no_ woman!
+
+"No female woman needn't think she was the equal of man; and I should go
+as a woman or stay to home. I was so almost wore out by their talk, that
+I spoke right out, and, says I, '_Good land!_ how did you _s'pose_ I was
+a-goin'?'
+
+"The president then said that he meant, if I went I mustn't look upon
+things with the eye of a 'Creation Searcher' and a man (here he p'inted
+his forefinger right up in the air and waved it round in a real free and
+soarin' way), but look at things with the eye of a private investigator
+and a _woman_ (here he p'inted his finger firm and stiddy right down
+into the wood-box and a pan of ashes). It war impressive--VERY."
+
+
+MISS SLIMMENS SURPRISED.
+
+_A Terrible Accident._
+
+BY METTA VICTORIA VICTOR.
+
+"Dora! Dora! Dora! wake up, wake up, I say! Don't you smell something
+burning? Wake up, child! Don't you smell fire? Good Lord! so do I. I
+thought I wasn't mistaken. The room's full of smoke. Oh, dear! what'll
+we do? Don't stop to put on your petticoat. We'll all be burned to
+death. Fire! fire! fire! fire!
+
+"Yes, there is! I don't know where! It's all over--our room's all in a
+blaze, and Dora won't come out till she gets her dress on. Mr. Little,
+you _shan't_ go in--I'll hold you--you'll be killed just to save that
+chit of a girl, when--I--I--He's gone--rushed right into the flames. Oh,
+my house! my furniture! all my earnings! Can't anything be done? Fire!
+fire! fire! Call the fire-engines! ring the dinner-bell! Be quiet! How
+can I be quiet? Yes, it is all in flames. I saw them myself! Where's my
+silver spoons? Oh, where's my teeth, and my silver soup-ladle? Let me
+be! I'm going out in the street before it's too late! Oh, Mr. Grayson!
+have you got water? have you found the place? are they bringing water?
+
+"Did you say the fire was out? Was that you that spoke, Mr. Little? I
+thought you were burned up, sure; and there's Dora, too. How did they
+get it out? My clothes-closet was on fire, and the room, too! We would
+have been smothered in five minutes more if we hadn't waked up! But it's
+all out now, and no damage done, but my dresses destroyed and the carpet
+spoiled. Thank the Lord, if that's the worst! But it _ain't_ the worst.
+Dora, come along this minute to my room. I don't care if it is cold, and
+wet, and full of smoke. Don't you see--don't you see I'm in my
+night-clothes? I never thought of it before. I'm ruined, ruined
+completely! Go to bed, gentlemen; get out of the way as quick as you can
+Dora, shut the door. Hand me that candle; I want to look at myself in
+the glass. To think that all those gentlemen should have seen me in this
+fix! I'd rather have perished in the flames. It's the very first night
+I've worn these flannel night-caps, and to be seen in 'em! Good
+gracious! how old I do look! Not a spear of hair on my head scarcely,
+and this red nightgown and old petticoat on, and my teeth in the
+tumbler, and the paint all washed off my face, and scarred besides! It's
+no use! I never, never can again make any of _those_ men believe that
+I'm only twenty-five, and I felt so sure of some of them.
+
+"Oh, Dora Adams! _you_ needn't look pale; you've lost nothing. I'll
+warrant Mr. Little thought you never looked so pretty as in that ruffled
+gown, and your hair all down over your shoulders. He says you were
+fainting from the smoke when he dragged you out. You must be a little
+fool to be afraid to come out looking _that_ way. They say that new
+boarder is a drawing-master, and I seen some of his pictures yesterday;
+he had some such ridiculous things. He'll caricature me for the
+amusement of the young men, I know. Only think how my portrait would
+look taken to-night! and he'll have it, I'm sure, for I noticed him
+looking at me--the first that reminded me of my situation after the fire
+was put out. Well, there's but one thing to be done, and that's to put a
+bold face on it. I can't sleep any more to-night; besides, the bed's
+wet, and it's beginning to get daylight. I'll go to work and get myself
+ready for breakfast, and I'll pretend to something--I don't know just
+what--to get myself out of this scrape, if I can....
+
+"Good-morning, gentlemen, good-morning! We had quite a fright last
+night, didn't we? Dora and I came pretty near paying dear for a little
+frolic. You see, we were dressing up in character to amuse ourselves,
+and I was all fixed up for to represent an old woman, and had put on a
+gray wig and an old flannel gown that I found, and we'd set up pretty
+late, having some fun all to ourselves; and I expect Dora must have been
+pretty sleepy when she was putting some of the things away, and set fire
+to a dress in the closet without noticing it. I've lost my whole
+wardrobe, nigh about, by her carelessness; but it's such a mercy we
+wasn't burned in our bed that I don't feel to complain so much on that
+account. Isn't it curious how I got caught dressed up like my
+grandmother? We didn't suppose we were going to appear before so large
+an audience when we planned out our little frolic. What character did
+Dora assume? Really, Mr. Little, I was so scared last night that I
+disremember. She took off _her_ rigging before she went to bed. Don't
+you think I'd personify a pretty good old woman, gentlemen--ha! ha!--for
+a lady of my age? What's that, Mr. Little? You wish I'd make you a
+present of that nightcap, to remember me by? Of course; I've no further
+use for it. Of course I haven't. It's one of Bridget's, that I borrowed
+for the occasion, and I've got to give it back to her. Have some coffee,
+Mr. Grayson--do! I've got cream for it this morning. Mr. Smith, help
+yourself to some of the beefsteak. It's a very cold morning--fine
+weather out of doors. Eat all you can, all of you. Have you any profiles
+to take yet, Mr. Gamboge? I _may_ make up my mind to set for mine before
+you leave us; I've always thought I should have it taken some time. In
+character? He! he! Mr. Little, you're so funny! But you'll excuse _me_
+this morning, as I had such a fright last night. I must go and take up
+that wet carpet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+A BRACE OF WITTY WOMEN.
+
+
+By the courtesy of Harper Brothers I am allowed to give you "Aunt
+Anniky's Teeth," by Sherwood Bonner. The illustrations add much, but the
+story is good enough without pictures.
+
+
+AUNT ANNIKY'S TEETH.
+
+BY SHERWOOD BONNER.
+
+Aunt Anniky was an African dame, fifty years old, and of an imposing
+presence. As a waffle-maker she possessed a gift beyond the common, but
+her unapproachable talent lay in the province of nursing. She seemed
+born for the benefit of sick people. She should have been painted with
+the apple of healing in her hand. For the rest, she was a funny,
+illiterate old darkey, vain, affable, and neat as a pink.
+
+On one occasion my mother had a dangerous illness. Aunt Anniky nursed
+her through it, giving herself no rest, night nor day, until her patient
+had come "back to de walks an' ways ob life," as she expressed the dear
+mother's recovery. My father, overjoyed and grateful, felt that we owed
+this result quite as much to Aunt Anniky as to our family doctor, so he
+announced his intention of making her a handsome present, and, like King
+Herod, left her free to choose what it should be. I shall never forget
+how Aunt Anniky looked as she stood there smiling and bowing, and
+bobbing the funniest little courtesies all the way down to the ground.
+
+And you would never guess what it was the old woman asked for.
+
+"Well, Mars' Charles," said she (she had been one of our old servants,
+and always called my father 'Mars' Charles'), "to tell you de livin'
+trufe, my soul an' body is a-yearnin' fur a han'sum chany set o' teef."
+
+"A set of teeth!" said father, surprised enough. "And have you none left
+of your own?"
+
+"I has gummed it fur a good many ye'rs," said Aunt Anniky, with a sigh;
+"but not wishin' ter be ongrateful ter my obligations, I owns ter havin'
+five nateral teef. But dey is po' sogers; dey shirks battle. One ob
+dem's got a little somethin' in it as lively as a speared worm, an' I
+tell you when anything teches it, hot or cold, it jest makes me _dance_!
+An' anudder is in my top jaw, an' ain't got no match fur it in de bottom
+one; an' one is broke off nearly to de root; an' de las' two is so
+yaller dat I's ashamed ter show 'em in company, an' so I lif's my
+turkey-tail ter my mouf every time I laughs or speaks."
+
+Father turned to mother with a musing air. "The curious student of
+humanity," he remarked, "traces resemblances where they are not
+obviously conspicuous. Now, at the first blush, one would not think of
+any common ground of meeting for our Aunt Anniky and the Empress
+Josephine. Yet that fine French lady introduced the fashion of
+handkerchiefs by continually raising delicate lace _mouchoirs_ to her
+lips to hide her bad teeth. Aunt Anniky lifts her turkey-tail! It
+really seems that human beings should be classed by _strata_, as if
+they were metals in the earth. Instead of dividing by nations, let us
+class by quality. So we might find Turk, Jew, Christian, fashionable
+lady and washerwoman, master and slave, hanging together like cats on a
+clothes-line by some connecting cord of affinity--"
+
+"In the mean time," said my mother, mildly, "Aunt Anniky is waiting to
+know if she is to have her teeth."
+
+"Oh, surely, surely!" cried father, coming out of the clouds with a
+start. "I am going to the village to-morrow, Anniky, in the spring
+wagon. I will take you with me, and we will see what the dentist can do
+for you."
+
+"Bless yo' heart, Mars' Charles!" said the delighted Anniky; "you're
+jest as good as yo' blood and yo' name, and mo' I _couldn't_ say."
+
+The morrow came, and with it Aunt Anniky, gorgeously arrayed in a
+flaming red calico, a bandanna handkerchief, and a string of carved
+yellow beads that glittered on her bosom like fresh buttercups on a
+hill-slope.
+
+I had petitioned to go with the party, for, as we lived on a plantation,
+a visit to the village was something of an event. A brisk drive soon
+brought us to the centre of "the Square." A glittering sign hung
+brazenly from a high window on its western side, bearing, in raised
+black letters, the name, "Doctor Alonzo Babb."
+
+Dr. Babb was the dentist and the odd fish of our village. He beams in my
+memory as a big, round man, with hair and smiles all over his face, who
+talked incessantly, and said things to make your blood run cold.
+
+"Do you see this ring?" he said, as he bustled about, polishing his
+instruments and making his preparations for the sacrifice of Aunt
+Anniky. He held up his right hand, on the forefinger of which glistened
+a ring the size of a dog-collar. "Now, what d'ye s'pose that's made of?"
+
+"Brass," suggested father, who was funny when not philosophical.
+
+"_Brass!_" cried Dr. Babb, with a withering look; "it's virgin gold,
+that ring is. And where d'ye s'pose I found the gold?"
+
+My father ran his hands into his pockets in a retrospective sort of way.
+
+"In the mouths of my patients, every grain of it," said the dentist,
+with a perfectly diabolical smack of the lips. "Old fillings--plugs, you
+know--that I saved, and had made up into this shape. Good deal of
+sentiment about such a ring as this."
+
+"Sentiment of a mixed nature, I should say," murmured my father, with a
+grimace.
+
+"Mixed--rather! A speck here, a speck there. Sometimes an eye, oftener a
+jaw, occasionally a front. More than a hundred men, I s'pose, have
+helped in the cause."
+
+"Law, doctor! you beats de birds, you does," cries Aunt Anniky, whose
+head was as flat as the floor, where her reverence should have been.
+"You know dey snatches de wool from ebery bush to make deir nests."
+
+"Lots of company for me, that ring is," said the doctor, ignoring the
+pertinent or impertinent interruption. "Often as I sit in the twilight,
+I twirl it around and around, a-thinking of the wagon-loads of food it
+has masticated, the blood that has flowed over it, the groans that it
+has cost! Now, old lady, if you will sit just here."
+
+He motioned Aunt Anniky to the chair, into which she dropped in a limp
+sort of way, recovering herself immediately, however, and sitting bolt
+upright in a rigid attitude of defiance. Some moments of persuasion were
+necessary before she could be induced to lean back and allow Dr. Babb's
+fingers on her nose while she breathed the laughing-gas; but, once
+settled, the expression faded from her countenance almost as quickly as
+a magic-lantern picture vanishes. I watched her nervously, my attention
+divided between her vacant-looking face and a dreadful picture on the
+wall. It represented Dr. Babb himself, minus the hair, but with double
+the number of smiles, standing by a patient from whose mouth he had
+apparently just extracted a huge molar that he held triumphantly in his
+forceps. A gray-haired old gentleman regarded the pair with benevolent
+interest. The photograph was entitled, "His First Tooth."
+
+"Attracted by that picture?" said Dr. Alonzo, affably, his fingers on
+Aunt Anniky's pulse. "My par had that struck off the first time I ever
+got a tooth out. That's par with the gray hair and the benediction
+attitude. Tell you, he was proud of me! I had such an awful tussle with
+that tooth! Thought the old fellow's jaw was _bound_ to break! But I got
+it out, and after that my par took me with him round the
+country--starring the provinces, you know--and I practised on the
+natives."
+
+By this time Aunt Anniky was well under the influence of the gas, and in
+an incredibly short space of time her five teeth were out. As she came
+to herself I am sorry to say she was rather silly, and quite mortified
+me by winking at Dr. Babb in the most confidential manner, and
+repeating, over and over again: "Honey, yer ain't harf as smart as yer
+thinks yer is!"
+
+After a few weeks of sore gums, Aunt Anniky appeared, radiant with her
+new teeth. The effect was certainly funny. In the first place, blackness
+itself was not so black as Aunt Anniky. She looked as if she had been
+dipped in ink and polished off with lamp-black. Her very eyes showed but
+the faintest rim of white. But those teeth were white enough to make up
+for everything. She had selected them herself, and the little ridiculous
+milk-white things were more fitted for the mouth of a Titania than for
+the great cavern in which Aunt Anniky's tongue moved and had its being.
+The gums above them were black, and when she spread her wide mouth in a
+laugh, it always reminded me of a piano-lid opening suddenly and showing
+all the black and white ivories at a glance. Aunt Anniky laughed a good
+deal, too, after getting her teeth in, and declared she had never been
+so happy in her life. It was observed, to her credit, that she put on no
+airs of pride, but was as sociable as ever, and made nothing of taking
+out her teeth and handing them around for inspection among her curious
+and admiring visitors. On that principle of human nature which glories
+in calling attention to the weakest part, she delighted in tough meats,
+stale bread, green fruits, and all other eatables that test the biting
+quality of the teeth. But finally destruction came upon them in a way
+that no one could have foreseen. Uncle Ned was an old colored man who
+lived alone in a cabin not very far from Aunt Anniky's, but very
+different from her in point of cleanliness and order. In fact, Uncle
+Ned's wealth, apart from a little corn crop, consisted in a lot of fine
+young pigs, that ran in and out of the house at all times, and were
+treated by their owner as tenderly as if they had been his children.
+One fine day the old man fell sick of a fever, and he sent in haste for
+Aunt Anniky to come and nurse him. He agreed to give her a pig in case
+she brought him through; should she fail to do so, she was to receive no
+pay. Well, Uncle Ned got well, and the next thing we heard was that he
+refused to pay the pig. My father was usually called on to settle all
+the disputes in the neighborhood; so one morning Anniky and Ned appeared
+before him, both looking very indignant.
+
+"I'd jes' like ter tell yer, Mars' Charles," began Uncle Ned, "ob de
+trick dis miser'ble ole nigger played on me."
+
+"Go on, Ned," said my father, with a resigned air.
+
+"Well, it wuz de fift night o' de fever," said Uncle Ned, "an' I wuz
+a-tossin' an' a-moanin', an' old Anniky jes' lay back in her cheer an'
+snored as ef a dozen frogs wuz in her throat. I wuz a-perishin' an'
+a-burnin' wid thirst, an' I hollered to Anniky; but Lor'! I might as
+well 'a hollered to a tombstone! It wuz ice I wanted; an' I knowed dar
+wuz a glass somewhar on my table wid cracked ice in it. Lor'! Lor'! how
+dry I wuz! I neber longed fer whiskey in my born days ez I panted fur
+dat ice. It wuz powerful dark, fur de grease wuz low in de lamp, an' de
+wick spluttered wid a dyin' flame. But I felt aroun', feeble like an'
+slow, till my fingers touched a glass. I pulled it to me, an' I run my
+han' in an' grabbed de ice, as I s'posed, an' flung it in my mouf, an'
+crunched, an' crunched--"
+
+Here there was an awful pause. Uncle Ned pointed his thumb at Anniky,
+looked wildly at my father, and said, in a hollow voice: "_It wuz
+Anniky's teef!_"
+
+My father threw back his head and laughed as I had never heard him
+laugh. Mother from her sofa joined in. I was doubled up like a
+jack-knife in the corner. But as for the principals in the affair,
+neither of their faces moved a muscle. They saw no joke. Aunt Anniky, in
+a dreadful, muffled, squashy sort of voice, took up the tale:
+
+"Nexsh ting I knowed, Marsh Sharles, somebody's sheizin' me by de head,
+a-jammin' it up 'gin de wall, a-jawin' at me like de Angel Gabriel at de
+rish ole sinners in de bad plashe--an' dar wash ole Ned a-spittin' like
+a black cat, an' a-howlin' so dreadful dat I tought he wash de debil;
+an' when I got de light, dar wash my beautiful chany teef a-flung
+aroun', like scattered seed-corn, on de flo', an' Ned a-swarin' he'd
+have de law o' me."
+
+"An' arter all dat," broke in Uncle Ned, "she pretends to lay a claim
+fur my pig. But I says no, sir; I don't pay nobody nothin' who's played
+me a trick like dat."
+
+"Trick!" said Aunt Anniky, scornfully, "whar's de trick? Tink I wanted
+yer ter eat my teef? An' furder-mo', Marsh Sharles, dar's jes' dis about
+it: when dat night set in dar warn't no mo' hope fur old Ned dan fur a
+foundered sheep. Laws-a-massy! dat's why I went ter sleep. I wanted ter
+hev strengt' ter put on his burial clo'es in de mornin'. But don' yer
+see, Marsh Sharles, dat when he got so mad it brought on a sweat dat
+_broke de fever_! It saved him! But, fur all dat, arter munchin' an'
+manglin' my chany teef, he has de imperdence ob tryin' to 'prive me ob
+de pig I honestly 'arned."
+
+It was a hard case. Uncle Ned sat there a very image of injured dignity,
+while Aunt Anniky bound a red handkerchief around her mouth and fanned
+herself with her turkey-tail.
+
+"I am sure I don't know how to settle the matter," said father,
+helplessly. "Ned, I don't see but that you'll have to pay up."
+
+"Neber, Mars' Charles, neber."
+
+"Well, suppose you get married?" suggested father, brilliantly. "That
+will unite your interests, you know."
+
+Aunt Anniky tossed her head. Uncle Ned was old, wizened, wrinkled as a
+raisin, but he eyed Anniky over with a supercilious gaze, and said with
+dignity: "Ef I wanted ter marry, I could git a likely young gal."
+
+All the four points of Anniky's turban shook with indignation. "Pay me
+fur dem chany teef!" she hissed.
+
+Some visitors interrupted the dispute at this time, and the two old
+darkies went away.
+
+A week later Uncle Ned appeared with rather a sheepish look.
+
+"Well, Mars' Charles," he said, "I's about concluded dat I'll marry
+Anniky."
+
+"Ah! is that so?"
+
+"'Pears like it's de onliest way I kin save my pigs," said Uncle Ned,
+with a sigh. "When she's married she boun' ter _'bey_ me. Women 'bey
+your husbands; dat's what de good Book says."
+
+"Yes, she will _bay_ you, I don't doubt," said my father, making a pun
+that Uncle Ned could not appreciate.
+
+"An' ef ever she opens her jaw ter me 'bout dem ar teef," he went on,
+"I'll _mash_ her."
+
+Uncle Ned tottered on his legs like an unscrewed fruit-stand, and I had
+my own opinion as to his "mashing" Aunt Anniky. This opinion was
+confirmed the next day when father offered her his congratulations. "You
+are old enough to know your own mind," he remarked.
+
+"I's ole, maybe," said Anniky, "but so is a oak-tree, an' it's
+vigorous, I reckon. I's a purty vigorous sort o' growth myself, an' I
+reckon I'll have my own way with Ned. I'm gwine ter fatten dem pigs o'
+hisn, an' you see ef I don't sell 'em nex' Christmas fur money 'nouf ter
+git a new string o' chany teef."
+
+"Look here, Anniky," said father, with a burst of generosity, "you and
+Ned will quarrel about those teeth till the day of doom, so I will make
+you a wedding present of another set, that you may begin married life in
+harmony."
+
+Aunt Anniky expressed her gratitude. "An' _dis_ time," she said, with
+sudden fury, "I sleeps wid 'em _in_."
+
+The teeth were presented, and the wedding preparations began. The
+expectant bride went over to Ned's cabin and gave it such a clearing up
+as it had never had. But Ned did not seem happy. He devoted himself
+entirely to his pigs, and wandered about looking more wizened every day.
+Finally he came to our gate and beckoned to me mysteriously.
+
+"Come over to my house, honey," he whispered, "an' bring a pen an' ink
+an' a piece o' paper wid yer. I wants yer ter write me a letter."
+
+I ran into the house for my little writing-desk, and followed Uncle Ned
+to his cabin.
+
+"Now, honey," he said, after barring the door carefully, "don't you ax
+me no questions, but jes' put down de words dat comes out o' my mouf on
+dat ar paper."
+
+"Very well, Uncle Ned, go on."
+
+"Anniky Hobbleston," he began, "dat weddin' ain't a-gwine ter come off.
+You cleans up too much ter suit me. I ain't used ter so much water
+splashin' aroun'. Dirt is warmin'. 'Spec I'd freeze dis winter if you
+wuz here. An' you got too much tongue. Besides, I's got anudder wife
+over in Tipper. An' I ain't a-gwine ter marry. As fur havin' de law, I's
+a leavin' dese parts, an' I takes der pigs wid me. Yer can't fin' _dem_,
+an' yer can't fin' _me_. _Fur I ain't a-gwine ter marry._ I wuz born a
+bachelor, an' a bachelor will I represent myself befo' de judgment-seat.
+If you gives yer promise ter say no mo' 'bout dis marryin' business,
+p'r'aps I'll come back some day. So no mo' at present, from your humble
+worshipper,
+
+                              "NED CUDDY."
+
+"Isn't that last part rather inconsistent?" said I, greatly amused.
+
+"Yes, honey, if yer says so; an' it's kind o' soothin' to de feelin's of
+a woman, yer know."
+
+I wrote it all down and read it aloud to Uncle Ned.
+
+"Now, my chile," he said, "I'm a-gwine ter git on my mule as soon as der
+moon rises, an' drive my pigs ter Col' Water Gap, whar I'll stay an'
+fish. Soon as I am well gone, you take dis letter ter Anniky; but
+_min'_, don't tell whar I's gone. An' if she takes it all right, an'
+promises ter let me alone, you write me a letter, an' I'll git de fust
+Methodis' preacher I run across in der woods ter read it ter me. Den, ef
+it's all right, I'll come back an' weed yer flower-garden fur yer as
+purty as preachin'."
+
+I agreed to do all uncle Ned asked, and we parted like conspirators. The
+next morning Uncle Ned was missing, and, after waiting a reasonable time
+I explained the matter to my parents, and went over with his letter to
+Aunt Anniky.
+
+"Powers above!" was her only comment as I got through the remarkable
+epistle. Then, after a pause to collect her thoughts, she seized me by
+the shoulder, saying: "Run to yo' pappy, honey, quick, an' ax him ef
+he's gwine ter stick ter his bargain 'bout de teef. Yer know he pintedly
+said dey wuz a _weddin'_ gif'."
+
+Of course my father sent word that she must keep the teeth, and my
+mother added a message of sympathy, with a present of a
+pocket-handkerchief to dry Aunt Anniky's tears.
+
+"But it's all right," said that sensible old soul, opening her piano-lid
+with a cheerful laugh. "Bless you, chile, it wuz de teef I wanted, not
+de man! An', honey, you jes' sen' word to dat shif'less old nigger, ef
+you know whar he's gone, to come back home and git his crap in de
+groun'; an', as fur as _I'm_ consarned, yer jes' let him know dat I
+wouldn't pick him up wid a ten-foot pole, not ef he wuz to beg me on his
+knees till de millennial day."--_From "Dialect Tales," published in 1883
+by Harper Brothers._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It is not easy to tell what satire is, or where it originated. "In
+Eden," says Dryden, "the husband and wife excused themselves by laying
+the blame on each other, and gave a beginning to those conjugal
+dialogues in prose which poets have perfected in verse." Whatever it may
+be, we know it when it cuts us, and Sherwood Bonner's hit on the Radical
+Club of Boston was almost inexcusable.
+
+She was admitted as a guest, and her subsequent ridicule was a violation
+of all good breeding. But like so many wicked things it is captivating,
+and while you are shocked, you laugh. While I hold up both hands in
+horror, I intend to give you an idea of it; leaving out the most
+personal verses.
+
+
+THE RADICAL CLUB.
+
+BY SHERWOOD BONNER.
+
+    Dear friends, I crave attention to some facts that I shall mention
+      About a Club called "Radical," you haven't heard before;
+    Got up to teach the nation was this new light federation,
+      To teach the nation how to think, to live, and to adore;
+      To teach it of the heights and depths that all men should explore;
+          Only this and nothing more.
+
+    It is not my inclination, in this brief communication,
+      To produce a false impression--which I greatly would deplore--
+    But a few remarks I'm makin' on some notes a chiel's been takin,'
+      And, if I'm not mistaken, they'll make your soul upsoar,
+      As you bend your eyes with eagerness to scan these verses o'er;
+          Truly this and something more.
+
+    And first, dear friends, the fact is, I'm sadly out of practice,
+      And may fail in doing justice to this literary bore;
+    But when I do begin it, I don't think 'twill take a minute
+      To prove there's nothing in it (as you've doubtless heard before),
+      But a free religious wrangling club--of this I'm very sure--
+          Only this and nothing more!
+
+    'Twas a very cordial greeting, one bright morning of their meeting;
+      Such eager salutations were never heard before.
+    After due deliberation on the importance of the occasion,
+      To begin the organization, Mr. Pompous took the floor
+      With an air quite self-complacent, strutted up and took the floor,
+          As he'd often done before!
+
+    With an air of condescension he bespoke their close attention
+      To an essay from a Wiseman versed in theologic lore;
+    He himself had had the pleasure of a short glance at the treasure,
+      And in no stinted measure said we had a treat in store;
+      Then he waved his hand to Wiseman and resigned to him the floor;
+          Only this and nothing more.
+
+    Quick and nervous, short and wiry, with a look profound, yet fiery,
+      Mr. Wiseman now stepped forward and eyed us darkly o'er,
+    Then an arm-chair, quaint and olden, gay with colors green and golden,
+      By the pretty hostess rolled in from its place behind the door,
+      Was offered to the reader, in the centre of the floor,
+          And he took the chair be sure.
+
+    Then with arguments elastic, and a voice and eye sarcastic,
+      Mr. Wiseman into flinders the Holy Bible tore;
+    And he proved beyond all question that the God of Moses' mention
+      Was a fraudulent invention of some Hebrews, three or four,
+      And the Son of God's ascension an imaginary soar!
+          Only this and nothing more.
+
+    Each member then admitted that his part was well acquitted,
+      For his strong, impassioned reasoning had touched them to the core;
+    He felt sure, as he surveyed them through his specs, that
+            he had "played" them,
+      And was proud that he had made them all astonished by his lore;
+      Not a continental cared he for the fruits such lessons bore,
+          So he bowed and left the floor.
+
+    Then a Colonel, cold and smiling, with a stately air beguiling,
+      Who punctuates his paragraphs on Newport's sounding shore,
+    Said his friend was wise and witty, and yet it seemed a pity
+      To destroy in this old city the belief it had before
+      In the ancient superstitions of the days of yore.
+          This he said, and something more.
+
+    Orthodoxy, he lamented, thought the Christian world demented,
+      Yet still he felt a rev'rence as he read the Bible o'er,
+    And he thought the modern preacher, though a poor stick for a teacher,
+      Or a broken reed, like Beecher, ought to have his claims looked o'er,
+      And the "tyranny of science" was indeed, he felt quite sure,
+          _Our_ danger more and more.
+
+    His remarks our pulses quicken, when a British Lion, stricken
+      With his wondrous self-importance--he knew everything and more--
+    Said he _loathed_ such moderation; and he made his declaration
+      That, in spite of all creation, he found no God to adore;
+      And his voice was like the ocean as its surges loudly roar;
+          Only this and nothing more.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    But the interest now grew lukewarm, for an ancient Concord book-worm
+      With authoritative tramping, forward came and took the floor,
+    And in Orphic mysticisms talked of life and light and prisms,
+      And the Infinite baptisms on a transcendental shore,
+      And the concrete metaphysic, till we yawned in anguish sore;
+          But still he kept the floor.
+
+    Then uprose a kindred spirit almost ready to inherit
+      The rare and radiant Aiden that he begged us to adore;
+    His smile was beaming brightly, and his soft hair floated whitely
+      Round a face as fair and sightly as a pious priest's of yore;
+      And we forgave the arguments worn out years before,
+          For we loved this saintly bore.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Then a lively little charmer, noted as a dress reformer,
+      Because that mystic garment, chemiloon, she wore,
+    Said she had no "views" of Jesus, and therefore would not tease us,
+      But that she thought 'twould please us to look her figure o'er,
+      For she wore no bustles _anywhere_, and corsets, she felt sure,
+          Should squeeze her _nevermore_.
+
+    This pretty little pigeon said of course the true religion
+      Demanded ease of body before the mind could soar;
+    But that no emancipation could come unto our nation
+      Until the aggregation of the clothes that women wore
+      Were suspended from the shoulders, and smooth with many a gore,
+          Plain behind and plain before!
+
+    Her remarks were full of reason, but a little out of season,
+      And the proper tone of talking Mr. Fairman did restore,
+    When he sneered at priests and preaching, and indorsed
+            the _Index_ teaching,
+      And with philanthropic screeching, said he sought for evermore
+      The light of sense and freedom into darkened minds to pour;
+          Truly this, but something more!
+
+    Then with eyes as bright as Phoebus, and hair dark as Erebus,
+      A maid with stunning eye-glass next appeared upon the floor;
+    In her aspect she looked regal, though her words were few and feeble,
+      But she vowed his logic legal and as pure as golden ore,
+      And indorsed the _Index_ editor in every word he swore,
+              And then--said nothing more.
+
+    Then a tall and red-faced member, large and loose and somewhat limber
+      (And though his creed was shaky, he the name of Bishop bore),
+    Said that if he lived forever, he should forget, ah! never,
+      The Radicals so clever, in Boston by the shore;
+      But a bad _gold_ in his 'ead _bust_ stop his saying _bore_,
+              And we all cried _encore_.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Then a rarely gifted mortal, to whom the triple portal
+      Of Music, Art, and Poesy had opened years before,
+    With a look of sombre feeling, depths within his soul revealing,
+      Leaving room for no appealing, he decided o'er and o'er
+      The old, old vexing questions of the _why_ and the _wherefore_,
+              And taught us--nothing more.
+
+    There are others I could mention who took part in this contention,
+      And at first 'twas my intention, but at present I forbear;
+    There's young Look-sharp, and Wriggle, who would make an angel giggle,
+      And a young conceited Zeigel, who was seated near the door;
+      If you could only see them, you'd laugh till you were sore,
+              And then you'd laugh some more.
+
+    But, dear friends, I now must close, of these Radicals dispose,
+      For I am sad and weary as I view their folly o'er;
+    In their wild Utopian dreaming, and impracticable scheming
+      For a sinful world's redeeming, common sense flies out the door,
+      And the long-drawn dissertations come to--words and nothing more;
+              Only words, and nothing more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mary Clemmer Hudson has spoken of Phoebe Cary as "the wittiest woman
+in America." But she truly adds:
+
+"A flash of wit, like a flash of lightning, can only be remembered, it
+cannot be reproduced. Its very marvel lies in its spontaneity and
+evanescence; its power is in being struck from the present. Divorced
+from that, the keenest representation of it seems cold and dead. We read
+over the few remaining sentences which attempt to embody the repartees
+and _bon mots_ of the most famous wits of society, such as Beau Nash,
+Beau Brummel, Madame du Deffand, and Lady Mary Montagu; we wonder at the
+poverty of these memorials of their fame. Thus it must be with Phoebe
+Cary. Her most brilliant sallies were perfectly unpremeditated, and by
+herself never repeated or remembered. When she was in her best moods
+they came like flashes of heat lightning, like a rush of meteors, so
+suddenly and constantly you were dazzled while you were delighted, and
+afterward found it difficult to single out any distinct flash or
+separate meteor from the multitude.... This most wonderful of her gifts
+can only be represented by a few stray sentences gleaned here and there
+from the faithful memories of loving friends....
+
+"One tells how, at a little party, where fun rose to a great height, one
+quiet person was suddenly attacked by a gay lady with the question: 'Why
+don't you laugh? You sit there just like a post!'
+
+"'There! she called you a post; why don't you rail at her?' was Phoebe's
+quick exclamation.
+
+"Mr. Barnum mentioned to her that the skeleton man and the fat woman
+then on exhibition in his 'greatest show on earth' were married.
+
+"'I suppose they loved through thick and thin,' was her comment.
+
+"'On one occasion, when Phoebe was at the Museum looking about at the
+curiosities,' says Mr. Barnum, 'I preceded her and had passed down a
+couple of steps. She, intently watching a big anaconda in a case at the
+top of the stairs, walked off, not noticing them, and fell. I was just
+in time to catch her in my arms and save her from a good bruising'.
+
+"'I am more lucky than that first woman was who fell through the
+influence of the serpent,' said Phoebe, as she recovered herself.
+
+"And when asked by some one at a dinner-party what brand of champagne
+they kept, she replied: 'Oh, we drink Heidsieck, but we keep Mum.'
+
+"Again, a certain well-known actor, then recently deceased, and more
+conspicuous for his professional skill than for his private virtues, was
+discussed. 'We shall never,' remarked some one, 'see ---- again.'
+
+"'No,' quietly responded Phoebe, 'not unless we go to the pit.'"
+
+These stray shots may not fairly represent Miss Cary's brilliancy, but
+we are grateful for what has been preserved, meagre as it would seem to
+those who had the privilege of knowing her intimately and enjoying those
+Sunday evening receptions, where, unrestrained and happy, every one was
+at his best.
+
+Her verses on the subject of Woman's Rights, as discussed in masculine
+fashion, with masculine logic, by Chanticleer Dorking, are capital, and
+her parodies, shockingly literal, have been widely copied. Enjoy these
+as given in her life, written by Mary Clemmer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+GINGER-SNAPS.
+
+
+I will now offer you some good things of various degrees of humor. I do
+not feel it necessary to impress their merits upon you, for they speak
+for themselves Here is a quaint bit of satire from a bright Boston
+woman, which those on her side of the vexed Indian question will enjoy:
+
+
+THE INDIAN AGENT.
+
+BY LOUISA HALL.
+
+He was a long, lean man, with a sad expression, as if weighed down by
+pity for poor humanity. His heart was evidently a great many sizes too
+large for him. He yearned to enfold all tribes and conditions of men in
+his encircling arms. He surveyed his audience with such affectionate
+interest that he seemed to look into the very depths of their pockets.
+
+A few resolute men buttoned their coats, but the majority knew that this
+artifice would not save them, and they rather enjoyed it as a species of
+harmless dissipation. They liked to be talked into a state of
+exhilaration which obliged them to give without thinking much about it,
+and they felt very good and benevolent afterward. So they cheered the
+agent enthusiastically, as a signal for him to begin, and he came
+forward bowing, while the three red brothers who accompanied him
+remained seated on the platform. He appeared to smile on every one
+present as he said:
+
+"Friends and Fellow-Citizens, I have the honor to introduce to you these
+chiefs of the Laughing Dog Nation. Twenty-five years ago this tribe was
+one of the fiercest on our Western plains. Snarling Bear, the most noted
+chief of his tribe, was a great warrior. Fifty scalps adorned his
+wigwam. Some of them had once belonged to his best friends. He was
+murdered while in the prime of life by a white man whose wife he had
+accidentally shot at the door of her cabin. He was one of the first to
+welcome the white men and adopt the improvements they brought with them.
+When he became sufficiently civilized to understand that polygamy was
+unlawful, he separated from his oldest wife. Her scalp was carefully
+preserved among those of the great warriors he had conquered. His son,
+Flying Deer, who is with us to-day, will address you in his own
+language, which I shall interpret for you. The last twenty years have
+made a great change in their condition. These men are not savages, but
+educated gentlemen. They are all graduates of Tomahawk College, at
+Bloody Mountain, near the Gray Wolf country. They are chiefs of their
+tribes, each one holding a position equal to the Governor of our own
+State. Their influence at the West is great. Last year they sent a small
+party of missionaries to the highlands of the Wolf country, where the
+women and children pasture the ponies during the dry season. Not one of
+these noble men ever returned. Unfortunately for the success of this
+mission, the Gray Wolf warriors were at home. The medicine man's dreams
+had been unfavorable, and they dared not set out on their annual hunt.
+This year they will send a larger party well armed.
+
+"These devoted men have left their Western homes and come here to assure
+you of their confidence in your affection, and the love and gratitude
+they feel toward you. They come to ask for churches and schools, that
+their children may grow up like yours. But these things require money.
+On account of the great scarcity of stone in the Rocky Mountains, and
+the necessity of preserving standing timber for the Indian
+hunting-grounds, all building materials for churches and school-houses
+must be carried from the East at great expense. The door-steps of the
+third orthodox Kickapoo church cost one hundred and fifty dollars. But
+it is money well invested. The gradual decrease of crime at the West has
+convinced the most sceptical that a great work can be done among these
+people. The number of murders committed in this country last year was
+one hundred and twenty-five; this year only one hundred and
+twenty-three.
+
+"Although a great deal has been done for these people, you will be
+surprised to learn how much remains to be done. I need not tell you that
+every dollar intrusted to me will be spent, and I hope you will live to
+see the result of your generosity.
+
+"I wish to build at least fifteen churches and school-houses before the
+cold weather sets in. The cost of building has been greatly lessened by
+employing native workmen, who are capable of designing and erecting
+simple edifices. The pulpits will be supplied by native preachers, and
+the expense of light and heat will be paid by the congregation.
+
+"We have at least twenty-five well-qualified native teachers, who will
+require no salary beyond the necessary expense of food and clothing.
+
+"A few boarding-houses must be built and tastefully furnished. We have a
+large number of Laughing Dog widows, who would gladly take charge of
+such establishments.
+
+"The native committee will make a careful selection of such matrons as
+are most capable of guiding and encouraging young people.
+
+"All money for the benefit of these people has been used with the
+strictest economy; and will be while I retain the agency. I have secured
+a slender provision for my declining years, and shall return to spend my
+days with my adopted people.
+
+"But I will let these men who once owned this great country speak for
+themselves. Flying Deer, who will now address you, is about forty years
+of age. He lives with his wife and ten children near the agency, at a
+place called Humanketchet."
+
+Flying Deer came forward and spoke very distinctly, though rapidly.
+
+"O hoo bree-gutchee, gumme maw choo kibbe showain nemeshin. Dawmasse
+choochugah goo waugh; kawboo. Nokka brewis goo, honowin nudwag moonoo
+shugh kawmun menjeis. Babas kwasind waugh muskoday, wawa gessonwon goo.
+Nahna naskeen oza yenadisse mayben mudjo, kenemoosha. Wawconassee
+nushka kahgagoo, jossahut, wabenas ogu winemon jabs. Ahmuck wana
+wayroossen chooponnuk segwan maysen. Opeechee annewayman, kewadoda
+shenghen kad goo tagamengow."
+
+"He says, my friends, that he has always loved and trusted the white
+people. He says that since he has seen the great cities and towns of the
+East, he loves his white brothers more than before. His red brothers,
+White Crow and the Rock on End, wish him to say that they also love you.
+He says the savage Gray Wolf tribe threaten to shoot and scalp them if
+they continue friendly to the whites. He asks for powder, guns, and
+ponies, that they may defend themselves from their enemies. He wants to
+convince you that they are rapidly becoming a civilized nation. The
+assistance you are about to give will only be required for a short time.
+They will soon become self-supporting, and relieve the Government of a
+heavy tax. They thank you for the kindness you have shown, and for the
+generous collection which will now be taken up.
+
+"Will some friend close the doors while we give every one an opportunity
+to contribute to this good cause? Remember that he who shutteth up his
+ears to the cry of the poor, he shall also cry himself and shall not be
+heard. Those who prefer can leave a check with Deacon Meekham at the
+door, or with me at the hotel. These substantial tokens of your regard
+will cause the wilderness to blossom as the rose.
+
+"In the name of our red brethren, let me again thank you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If one inclines to Irish fun, try this burlesque from Mrs. Lippincott.
+
+
+MISTRESS O'RAFFERTY ON THE WOMAN QUESTION.
+
+BY GRACE GREENWOOD.
+
+    No! I wouldn't demane myself, Bridget,
+      Like you, in disputin' with men--
+    Would I fly in the face of the blissed
+      Apostles, an' Father Maginn?
+
+    It isn't the talent I'm wantin'--
+      Sure my father, ould Michael McCrary,
+    Made a beautiful last spache and confession
+      When they hanged him in ould Tipperary.
+
+    So, Bridget Muldoon, howld yer talkin'
+      About Womins' Rights, and all that!
+    Sure all the rights I want is the one right,
+      To be a good helpmate to Pat;
+
+    For he's a good husband--and niver
+      Lays on me the weight of his hand
+    Except when he's far gone in liquor,
+      And I nag him, you'll plase understand.
+
+    Thrue for ye, I've one eye in mournin',
+      That's becaze I disputed his right,
+    To tak' and spind all my week's earnin's
+      At Tim Mulligan's wake, Sunday night.
+
+    But it's sildom when I've done a washin',
+      He'll ask for more'n half of the pay;
+    An' he'll toss me my share, wid a smile, dear,
+      That's like a swate mornin' in May!
+
+    Now where, if I rin to convintions,
+      Will be Patrick's home-comforts and joys?
+    Who'll clane up his broghans for Sunday,
+      Or patch up his ould corduroys.
+
+    If we tak' to the polls, night and mornin',
+      Our dilicate charms will all flee--
+    The dew will be brushed from the rose, dear,
+      The down from the pache--don't you see?
+
+    We'll soon tak' to shillalahs and shindies
+      Whin we get to be sovereign electors,
+    And turn all our husbands' hearts from us,
+      Thin what will we do for protectors?
+
+    We'll have to be crowners an' judges,
+      An' such like ould malefactors,
+    Or they'll make Common Councilmin of us;
+      Thin where will be our char-acters?
+
+    Oh, Bridget, God save us from votin'!
+      For sure as the blissed sun rolls,
+    We'll land in the State House or Congress,
+      Thin what will become of our sowls?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Or the triumphs of a quack, by Miss Amanda T. Jones.
+
+
+DOCHTHER O'FLANNIGAN AND HIS WONDHERFUL CURES.
+
+    I.
+
+    I'm Barney O'Flannigan, lately from Cork;
+    I've crossed the big watther as bould as a shtork.
+    'Tis a dochther I am and well versed in the thrade;
+    I can mix yez a powdher as good as is made.
+    Have yez pains in yer bones or a throublesome ache
+    In yer jints afther dancin' a jig at a wake?
+    Have yez caught a black eye from some blundhering whack?
+    Have yez vertebral twists in the sphine av yer back?
+    Whin ye're walkin' the shtrates are yez likely to fall?
+    Don't whiskey sit well on yer shtomick at all?
+    Sure 'tis botherin' nonsinse to sit down and wape
+    Whin a bit av a powdher ull put yez to shlape.
+    Shtate yer symptoms, me darlins, and niver yez doubt
+    But as sure as a gun I can shtraighten yez out!
+          Thin don't yez be gravin' no more;
+            Arrah! quit all yer sighin' forlorn;
+          Here's Barney O'Flannigan right to the fore,
+            And bedad! he's a gintleman born!
+
+    II.
+
+    Coom thin, ye poor craytures and don't yez be scairt!
+    Have yez batin' and lumberin' thumps at the hairt,
+    Wid ossification, and acceleration,
+    Wid fatty accretion and bad vellication,
+    Wid liver inflation and hapitization,
+    Wid lung inflammation and brain-adumbration,
+    Wid black aruptation and schirrhous formation,
+    Wid nerve irritation and paralyzation,
+    Wid extravasation and acrid sacration,
+    Wid great jactitation and exacerbation,
+    Wid shtrong palpitation and wake circulation,
+    Wid quare titillation and cowld perspiration?
+    Be the powers! but I'll bring all yer woes to complation,
+    Onless yer in love--thin yer past all salvation!
+          Coom, don't yez be gravin' no more!
+            Be quit wid yer sighin' forlorn;
+          Here's the man all yer haling potations to pour,
+            And ye'll prove him a gintleman born
+
+    III.
+
+    Sure, me frinds, 'tis the wondherful luck I have had
+    In the thratement av sickness no matther how bad.
+    All the hundhreds I've cured 'tis not aisy to shpake,
+    And if any sowl dies, faith I'm in at the wake;
+    There was Misthriss O'Toole was tuck down mighty quare,
+    That wild there was niver a one dared to lave her;
+    And phat was the matther? Ye'll like for to hare;
+    'Twas the double quotidian humerous faver.
+    Well, I tuck out me lancet and pricked at a vein,
+    (Och, murther! but didn't she howl at the pain!)
+    Six quarts, not a dhrap less I drew widout sham,
+    And troth she shtopped howlin', and lay like a lamb.
+    Thin for fare sich a method av thratement was risky,
+    I hasthened to fill up the void wid ould whiskey.
+          Och! niver be gravin' no more!
+            Phat use av yer sighin' forlorn?
+          Me patients are proud av me midical lore--
+            They'll shware I'm a gintleman born.
+
+    IV.
+
+    Well, Misthriss O'Toole was tuck betther at once,
+    For she riz up in bed and cried: "Paddy, ye dunce!
+    Give the dochther a dhram." So I sat at me aise
+    A-brewin' the punch jist as fine as ye plaze.
+    Thin I lift a prascription all written down nate
+    Wid ametics and diaphoretics complate;
+    Wid anti-shpasmodics to kape her so quiet,
+    And a toddy so shtiff that ye'd all like to thry it.
+    So Paddy O'Toole mixed 'em well in a cup--
+    All barrin' the toddy, and that be dhrunk up;
+    For he shwore 'twas a shame sich good brandy to waste
+    On a double quotidian faverish taste;
+    And troth we agrade it was not bad to take,
+    Whin we dhrank that same toddy nixt night--at the wake!
+          Arrah! don't yez be gravin' no more,
+            Wid yer moanin' and sighin' forlorn;
+          Here's Barney O'Flannigan thrue to the core
+            Av the hairt of a gintleman born!
+
+    V.
+
+    There was Michael McDonegan down wid a fit
+    Caught av dhrinkin' cowld watther--whin tipsy--a bit.
+    'Twould have done yer hairt good to have heard him cry out
+    For a cup of potheen or a tankard av shtout,
+    Or a wee dhrap av whiskey, new out av the shtill;--
+    And the shnakes that he saw--troth 'twas jist fit to kill!
+    It was Mania Pototororum, bedad!
+    Holy Mither av Moses! the divils he had!
+    Thin to scare 'em away we surroonded his bed,
+    Clapt on forty laches and blisthered his head,
+    Bate all the tin pans and set up sich a howl,
+    That the last fiery divil ran off, be me sowl!
+    And we writ on his tombsthone, "He died av a shpell
+    Caught av dhrinkin' cowld watther shtraight out av a well."
+          Now don't yez be gravin' no more,
+            Surrinder yer sighin' forlorn!
+          'Twill be fine whin ye cross to the Stygian shore,
+            To be sint by a gintleman born.
+
+    VI.
+
+    There was swate Ellen Mulligan, sazed wid a cough,
+    And ivery one said it would carry her off.
+    "Whisht," says I, "thrust to me, now, and don't yez go crazy;
+    If the girlie must die, sure I'll make her die aisy!"
+    So I sairched through me books for the thrue diathesis
+    Of morbus dyscrasia tuburculous phthasis;
+    And I boulsthered her up wid the shtrongest av tonics.
+    Wid iron and copper and hosts av carbonics;
+    Wid whiskey served shtraight in the finest av shtyle,
+    And I grased all her inside wid cod-liver ile!
+    And says she (whin she died), "Och, dochther, me honey,
+    'Tis you as can give us the worth av our money;
+    And begorra, I'll shpake to the divil this day
+    Not to kape yez a-waitin' too long for yer pay."
+          So don't yez be gravin' no more!
+            To the dogs wid yer sighin' forlorn!
+          Here's dhrugs be the handful and pills be the score,
+            And to dale thim a gintleman born.
+
+    VII.
+
+    There was Teddy Maloney who bled at the nose
+    Afther blowin' the fife; and mayhap ye'd suppose
+    'Twas no matther at all; but the books all agrade
+    Twas a serious visceral throuble indade;
+    Wid the blood swimmin' roond in a circle elliptic,
+    The Schneidarian membrane was wantin' a shtyptic;
+    The anterior nares were nadin' a plug,
+    And Teddy himself was in nade av a jug.
+    Thin I rowled out a big pill av sugar av lead,
+    And I dosed him, and shtood him up firm on his head,
+    And says I: "Now, me lad, don't be atin' yer lingth,
+    But dhrink all ye plaze, jist to kape up yer shtringth."
+    Faith! His widdy's a jewel! But whisht! don't ye shpake!
+    She'll be Misthriss O'Flannigan airly nixt wake.
+          Coom, don't yez be gravin' no more!
+            Shmall use av yer sighin' forlorn;
+          For yer widdies, belike, whin their mournin' is o'er,
+            May marry some gintleman born.
+
+    VIII.
+
+    Ould Biddy O'Cardigan lived all alone,
+    And she felt mighty nate wid a house av her own--
+    Shwate-smellin' and houlsome, swaped clane wid a rake,
+    Wid two or thray pigs jist for company's sake.
+    Well, phat should she get but the malady vile
+    Av cholera-phobia-vomitus-bile!
+    And she sint straight for me: "Dochther Barney, me lad,"
+    Says she, "I'm in nade av assistance, bedad!
+    Have yez niver a powdher or bit av a pill?
+    Me shtomick's a rowlin'; jist make it kape shtill!"
+    "I'm the boy can do that," says I; "hould on a minit,
+    Here's me midicine-chist wid me calomel in it,
+    And I'll make yez a bowle full av rid pipper tay
+    So shtrong ye'll be thinkin' the divil's to pay,"
+          Now don't yez be gravin' no more!
+            Be quit wid yer sighin' forlorn,
+          Wid shtrychnine and vitriol and opium galore,
+            Behould me--a gintleman born.
+
+    IX.
+
+    Wid a gallon av rum thin a flip I created,
+    Shwate, wid musthard and shpice; and the poker I hated
+    As rid as a guinea jist out av the mint--
+    And into her shtomick, begorra, it wint!
+    Och, niver belave me, but didn't she roar!
+    I'd have kaped her alive wid a quart or two more;
+    And the thray little pigs in that house av her own
+    Wouldn't now be a-shtarvin' and shqualin' alone.
+    And that gossoon, her boy--the shpalpeen altogither!--
+    Would niver have shworn that I murdhered his mither.
+    Troth, for sayin' that same, but I served him a thrick,
+    Whin I met him by chance wid a bit av a shtick.
+    Faith, I dochthered him well till the cure I complated,
+    And, be jabers! there's one man alive that I thrated!
+          So don't yez be gravin' no more;
+            To the dogs wid yez sighin' forlorn!
+          Arrah! knock whin ye're sick at O'Flannigan's door,
+            And die for a gintleman born!
+
+                              --_Scribner's Magazine._ 1880.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Or, if one prefers to laugh at the experience of a "culled" brother,
+what can be found more irresistible than this?
+
+
+THE OLD-TIME RELIGION.
+
+BY JULIA PICKERING.
+
+_Brother Simon._ I say, Brover Horace, I hearn you give Meriky de
+terriblest beating las' nite. What you and she hab a fallin'-out about?
+
+_Brother Horace._ Well, Brover Simon, you knows yourself I never has no
+dejection to splanifying how I rules my folks at home, and 'stablishes
+order dar when it's p'intedly needed; and 'fore gracious! I leab you to
+say dis time ef 'twant needed, and dat pow'ful bad.
+
+You see, I'se allers been a plain, straight-sided nigger, an' hain't
+never had no use for new fandangles, let it be what it mout; 'ligion,
+polytix, bisness--don't ker what. Ole Horace say: "De ole way am de bes'
+way, an' you niggers dat's all runnin' teetotleum crazy 'bout ebery new
+gimerack dat's started, better jes' stay whar you is and let them things
+alone." But dey won't do it; no 'mount of preaching won't sarve um. And
+dat is jes' at this partickeler pint dat Meriky got dat dressin'. She
+done been off to Richmun town, a-livin' in sarvice dar dis las' winter,
+and Saturday a week ago she camed home ter make a visit. Course we war
+all glad to see our darter. But you b'l'eve dat gal hadn't turned stark
+bodily naked fool? Yes, sir; she wa'n't no more like de Meriky dat went
+away jes' a few munts ago dan chalk's like cheese. Dar she come in wid
+her close pinned tight enuff to hinder her from squattin', an' her ha'r
+a-danglin' right in her eyes, jes' for all de worl' like a ram
+a-looking fru a brush-pile, and you think dat nigger hain't forgot how
+to talk! She jes' rolled up her eyes ebery oder word, and fanned and
+talked like she 'spected to die de nex' breff. She'd toss dat mush-head
+ob hern and talk proper as two dixunarys. 'Stead ob she call-in' ob me
+"daddy" and her mudder "mammy," she say: "Par and mar, how can you bear
+to live in sech a one-hoss town as this? Oh! I think I should die." And
+right about dar she hab all de actions ob an' old drake in a
+thunder-storm. I jes' stared at dat gal tell I make her out, an' says I
+to myself: "It's got to come;" but I don't say nothin' to nobody 'bout
+it--all de same I knowed it had to come fus' as las'. Well, I jes' let
+her hab more rope, as de sayin' is, tell she got whar I 'cluded war
+'bout de end ob her tedder. Dat was on last Sunday mornin', when she
+went to meetin' in sich a rig, a-puttin' on airs, tell she couldn't keep
+a straight track. When she camed home she brung kumpny wid her, and, ob
+course, I couldn't do nuthin' then; but I jes' kept my ears open, an' ef
+dat gal didn't disquollify me dat day, you ken hab my hat. Bimeby dey
+all gits to talkin' 'bout 'ligion and de churches, and den one young
+buck he step up, an' says he: "Miss Meriky, give us your 'pinion 'bout
+de matter." Wid dat she flung up her head proud as de Queen Victory, an'
+says she: "I takes no intelligence in sich matters; dey is all too
+common for _me_. Baptisses is a foot or two below _my_ grade. I 'tends
+de 'Pisclopian Church whar I resides, an' 'specs to jine dat one de nex'
+anniversary ob de bishop. Oh! dey does eberything so lovely, and in so
+much style. I declar' nobody but common folks in de city goes to de
+Babtiss Church. It made me sick 't my stomuck to see so much shoutin'
+and groanin' dis mornin'; 'tis so ungenteel wid us to make so much
+sarcumlocutions in meetin'." And thar she went a-giratin' 'bout de
+preacher a-comin' out in a white shirt, and den a-runnin' back and
+gittin' on a black one, and de people a-jumpin' up and a-jawin' ob de
+preacher outen a book, and a-bowin' ob deir heads, and a-saying long
+rigmaroles o' stuff, tell my head fairly buzzed, and were dat mad at de
+gal I jes' couldn't see nuffin' in dat room. Well, I jes' waited tell
+the kumpny riz to go, and den I steps up, and says I: "Young folks, you
+needn't let what Meriky told you 'bout dat church put no change inter
+you. She's sorter out ob her right mine now, but de nex' time you comes
+she'll be all right on dat and seberal oder subjicks;" and den dey
+stared at Meriky mighty hard and goed away.
+
+Well, I jes' walks up to her, and I says: "Darter," says I, "what chu'ch
+are dat you say you gwine to jine?" And says she, very prompt like: "De
+'Pisclopian, pa." And says I: "Meriky, I'se mighty consarned 'bout you,
+kase I knows your mine ain't right, and I shall jes' hab to bring you
+roun' de shortest way possible." So I retch me a fine bunch of hick'ries
+I done prepared for dat 'casion. And den she jumped up, and says she:
+"What make you think I loss my senses?" "Bekase, darter, you done forgot
+how to walk and to talk, and dem is sure signs." And wid dat I jes' let
+in on her tell I 'stonished her 'siderably. 'Fore I were done wid her
+she got ober dem dying a'rs, and jumped as high as a hopper-grass.
+Bimeby she 'gins to holler: "Oh, Lordy, daddy! daddy! don't give me no
+more."
+
+And says I: "You're improvin', dat's a fac'; done got your natural voice
+back. What chu'ch does you 'long to, Meriky?" And says she, a-cryin':
+"I don't 'long to none, par."
+
+Well, I gib her anodder leetle tetch, and says I: "What chu'ch does you
+'long to, darter?" And says she, all choked like: "I doesn't 'long to
+none."
+
+Den I jes' make dem hick'ries ring for 'bout five minutes, and den I
+say: "What chu'ch you 'longs to now, Meriky?" And says she, fairly
+shoutin': "Baptiss; I'se a deep-water Baptiss." "Berry good," says I.
+"You don't 'spect to hab your name tuck offen dem chu'ch books?" And
+says she: "No, sar; I allus did despise dem stuck-up 'Pisclopians; dey
+ain't got no 'ligion nohow."
+
+Brover Simon, you never see a gal so holpen by a good genteel thrashin'
+in all your days. I boun' she won't neber stick her nose in dem
+new-fandangle chu'ches no more. Why, she jes' walks as straight dis
+morning, and looks as peart as a sunflower. I'll lay a tenpence she'll
+be a-singin' before night dat good ole hyme she usened to be so fond ob.
+You knows, Brover Simon, how de words run:
+
+    "Baptis, Baptis is my name,
+       My name is written on high;
+     'Spects to lib and die de same,
+       My name is written on high."
+
+_Brother Simon._ Yes, dat she will, I be boun'; ef I does say it, Brover
+Horace, you beats any man on church guberment an' family displanement ob
+anybody I ever has seen.
+
+_Brother Horace._ Well, Brover, I does my bes'. You mus' pray for me, so
+dat my han's may be strengthened. Dey feels mighty weak after dat
+conversion I give dat Meriky las' night.--_Scribner's Monthly_,
+_Bric-à-Brac_, 1876.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If it is unadulterated consolation that you need, try
+
+
+AUNTY DOLEFUL'S VISIT.
+
+BY MARY KYLE DALLAS.
+
+How do you do, Cornelia? I heard you were sick, and I stepped in to
+cheer you up a little. My friends often say: "It's such a comfort to see
+you, Aunty Doleful. You have such a flow of conversation, and _are_ so
+lively." Besides, I said to myself, as I came up the stairs: "Perhaps
+it's the last time I'll ever see Cornelia Jane alive."
+
+You don't mean to die yet, eh? Well, now, how do you know? You can't
+tell. You think you are getting better, but there was poor Mrs. Jones
+sitting up, and every one saying how smart she was, and all of a sudden
+she was taken with spasms in the heart, and went off like a flash.
+Parthenia is young to bring the baby up by hand. But you must be
+careful, and not get anxious or excited. Keep quite calm, and don't fret
+about anything. Of course, things can't go on jest as if you were
+down-stairs; and I wondered whether you knew your little Billy was
+sailing about in a tub on the mill-pond, and that your little Sammy was
+letting your little Jimmy down from the veranda-roof in a
+clothes-basket.
+
+Gracious goodness, what's the matter? I guess Providence'll take care of
+'em. Don't look so. You thought Bridget was watching them? Well, no, she
+isn't. I saw her talking to a man at the gate. He looked to me like a
+burglar. No doubt she'll let him take the impression of the door-key in
+wax, and then he'll get in and murder you all. There was a family at
+Bobble Hill all killed last week for fifty dollars. Now, don't fidget
+so; it will be bad for the baby.
+
+Poor, little dear! How singular it is, to be sure, that you can't tell
+whether a child is blind, or deaf and dumb, or a cripple at that age. It
+might be _all_, and you'd never know it.
+
+Most of them that have their senses make bad use of them though; _that_
+ought to be your comfort, if it does turn out to have anything dreadful
+the matter with it. And more don't live a year. I saw a baby's funeral
+down the street as I came along.
+
+How is Mr. Kobble? Well, but finds it warm in town, eh? Well, I should
+think he would. They are dropping down by hundreds there with
+sun-stroke. You must prepare your mind to have him brought home any day.
+Anyhow, a trip on these railroad trains is just risking your life every
+time you take one. Back and forth every day as he is, it's just trifling
+with danger.
+
+Dear! dear! now to think what dreadful things hang over us all the time!
+Dear! dear!
+
+Scarlet fever has broken out in the village, Cornelia. Little Isaac
+Potter has it, and I saw your Jimmy playing with him last Saturday.
+
+Well, I must be going now. I've got another sick friend, and I sha'n't
+think my duty done unless I cheer her up a little before I sleep.
+Good-by. How pale you look, Cornelia! I don't believe you have a good
+doctor. Do send him away and try some one else. You don't look so well
+as you did when I came in. But if anything happens, send for me at once.
+If I can't do anything else, I can cheer you up a little.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Dallas, who lives in New York City, is a regular correspondent of
+the New York _Ledger_, having taken Fanny Fern's place on that widely
+circulated paper, is a prominent member of "Sorosis," and her Tuesday
+evening receptions draw about her some of the brightest society of that
+cosmopolitan centre.
+
+All these selections are prizes for the long-suffering elocutionist who
+is expected to entertain his friends with something new,
+laughter-provoking, and fully up to the mark.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Ames, of Brooklyn, known to the public as "Eleanor Kirk," has
+revealed in her "Thanksgiving Growl" a bit of honest experience,
+refreshing with its plain Saxon and homely realism, which, when recited
+with proper spirit, is most effective.
+
+
+A THANKSGIVING GROWL.
+
+    Oh, dear! do put some more chips on the fire,
+      And hurry up that oven! Just my luck--
+    To have the bread slack. Set that plate up higher!
+      And for goodness' sake do clear this truck
+    Away! Frogs' legs and marbles on my moulding-board!
+      What next I wonder? John Henry, wash your face;
+    And do get out from under foot, "Afford more
+      Cream?" Used all you had? If that's the case,
+    Skim all the pans. Do step a little spryer!
+      I wish I hadn't asked so many folks
+    To spend Thanksgiving. Good gracious! poke the fire
+      And put some water on. Lord, how it smokes!
+    I never was so tired in all my life!
+      And there's the cake to frost, and dough to mix
+    For tarts. I can't cut pumpkin with this knife!
+      Some women's husbands know enough to fix
+    The kitchen tools; but, for all mine would care,
+      I might tear pumpkin with my teeth. John Henry,
+    If you don't plant yourself on that 'ere chair,
+      I'll set you down so hard that you'll agree
+    You're stuck for good. Them cranberries are sour,
+    And taste like gall beside. Hand me some flour,
+    And do fly round. John Henry, wipe your nose!
+      I wonder how 'twill be when I am dead?
+      "How my nose'll be?" Yes, how _your nose'll_ be,
+      And how _your back_'ll be. If that ain't red
+    I'll miss my guess. I don't expect you'll see--
+      You nor your father neither--what I've done
+    And suffered in this house. As true's I live
+      Them pesky fowl ain't stuffed! The biggest one
+    Will hold two loaves of bread. Say, wipe that sieve,
+      And hand it here. You are the slowest poke
+    In all Fairmount. Lor'! there's Deacon Gubben's wife!
+      She'll be here to-morrow. That pan can soak
+    A little while. I never in my life
+      Saw such a lazy critter as she is.
+    If she stayed home, there wouldn't be a thing
+      To eat. You bet she'll fill up here! "It's riz?"
+    Well, so it has. John Henry! Good king!
+      How did that boy get out? You saw him go
+    With both fists full of raisins and a pile
+      Behind him, and you never let me know!
+    There! you've talked so much I clean forgot the rye.
+      I wonder if the Governor had to slave
+    As I do, if he would be so pesky fresh about
+      Thanksgiving Day? He'd been in his grave
+    With half my work. What, get along without
+      An Indian pudding? Well, that would be
+    A novelty. No friend or foe shall say
+      I'm close, or haven't as much variety
+    As other folks. There! I think I see my way
+      Quite clear. The onions are to peel. Let's see:
+    Turnips, potatoes, apples there to stew,
+      This squash to bake, and lick John Henry!
+    And after that--I really think I'm through.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+PROSE, BUT NOT PROSY.
+
+
+Mrs. Alice Wellington Rollins, in those interesting articles in the
+_Critic_ which induced me to look further, says:
+
+"We claim high rank for the humor of women because it is almost
+exclusively of this higher, imaginative type. A woman rarely tells an
+anecdote, or hoards up a good story, or comes in and describes to you
+something funny that she has seen. Her humor is like a flash of
+lightning from a clear sky, coming when you least expect it, when it
+could not have been premeditated, and when, to the average
+consciousness, there is not the slightest provocation to humor,
+possessing thus in the very highest degree that element of surprise
+which is not only a factor in all humor, but to our mind the most
+important factor. You tell her that you cannot spend the winter with her
+because you have promised to spend it with some one else, and she
+exclaims: 'Oh, Ellen! why were you not born twins!' She has, perhaps,
+recently built for herself a most charming home, and coming to see
+yours, which happens to be just a trifle more luxurious and charming,
+she remarks as she turns away: 'All I can say is, when you want to see
+_squalor_, come and visit me in Oxford Street!' She puts down her heavy
+coffee-cup of stone-china with its untasted coffee at a little country
+inn, saying, with a sigh: 'It's no use; I can't get at it; it's like
+trying to drink over a stone wall.' She writes in a letter: 'We parted
+this morning with mutual satisfaction; that is, I suppose we did; I know
+my satisfaction was mutual enough for two.' She asks her little restless
+daughter in the most insinuating tones if she would not like to sit in
+papa's lap and have him tell her a story; and when the little daughter
+responds with a most uncompromising 'no!' turns her inducement into a
+threat, and remarks with severity: 'Well, be a good girl, or you will
+have to!' She complains, when you have kept her waiting while you were
+buying undersleeves, that you must have bought 'undersleeves enough for
+a centipede.' You ask how poor Mr. X---- is--the disconsolate widower
+who a fortnight ago was completely prostrated by his wife's death, and
+are told in calm and even tones that he is 'beginning to take notice.'
+You tell her that one of the best fellows in the class has been unjustly
+expelled, and that the class are to wear crape on their left arms for
+thirty days, and that you only hope that the President will meet you in
+the college-yard and ask why you wear it; to all of which she replies
+soothingly, 'I wouldn't do that, Henry; for the President might tell you
+not to mourn, as your friend was not lost, only _gone before_.' You tell
+her of your stunned sensation on finding some of your literary work
+complimented in the _Nation_, and she exclaims: 'I should think so! It
+must be like meeting an Indian and seeing him put his hand into his
+no-pocket to draw out a scented pocket-handkerchief, instead of a
+tomahawk.' Or she writes that two Sunday-schools are trying to do all
+the good they can, but that each is determined at any cost to do more
+good than the other."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have selected several specimens of this higher type of humor.
+
+Mrs. Ellen H. Rollins was pre-eminently gifted in this direction. The
+humor in her exquisite "New England Bygones" is so interwoven with the
+simple pathos of her memories that it cannot be detached without
+detriment to both. But I will venture to select three sketches from
+
+
+OLD-TIME CHILD LIFE.
+
+BY E.H. ARR.
+
+Betsy had the reddest hair of any girl I ever knew. It was quite short
+in front, and she had a way of twisting it, on either temple, into two
+little buttons, which she fastened with pins. The rest of it she brought
+quite far up on the top of her head, where she kept it in place with a
+large-sized horn comb. Her face was covered with freckles, and her eyes,
+in winter, were apt to be inflamed. She always seemed to have a mop in
+her hand, and she had no respect for paint. She was as neat as old Dame
+Safford herself, and was continually "straightening things out," as she
+called it. Her temper, like her hair, was somewhat fiery; and when her
+work did not suit her, she was prone to a gloomy view of life. If she
+was to be believed, things were always "going to wrack and ruin" about
+the house; and she had a queer way of taking time by the forelock. In
+the morning it was "going on to twelve o'clock," and at noon it was
+"going on to midnight."
+
+She kept her six kitchen chairs in a row on one side of the room, and
+as many flatirons in a line on the mantelpiece. Everything where she was
+had, she said, to "stand just so;" and woe to the child who carried
+crookedness into her straight lines! Betsy had a manner of her own, and
+made a wonderful kind of a courtesy, with which her skirts puffed out
+all around like a cheese. She always courtesied to Parson Meeker when
+she met him, and said: "I hope to see you well, sir." Once she
+courtesied in a prayer-meeting to a man who offered her a chair, and
+told him, in a shrill voice, to "keep his setting," though she was "ever
+so much obleeged" to him. This was when she was under conviction, and
+Parson Meeker said he thought she had met with a change of heart. Father
+Lathem's wife hoped so too, for then "there would be a chance of having
+some Long-noses and Pudding-sweets left over in the orchard."
+
+It was in time of the long drought, when fire ran over Grayface, and a
+great comet appeared in the sky. Some of the people of Whitefield
+thought the world was coming to an end. The comet stayed for weeks,
+visible even at noon-day, stretching its tail from the zenith far toward
+the western horizon, and at night staring in at windows with its eye of
+fire. It was the talk of the people, who pondered over it with a
+helpless wonder. I recall two Whitefield women as they stood, one
+morning, bare-armed in a doorway, staring at and chattering about it.
+One says they "might as well stop work" and "take it easy" while they
+can. The other thinks the better way is to "keep on a stiddy jog until
+it comes." They wish they knew "how near it is," and "what the tail
+means anyway."
+
+Betsy comes along with a pail, which she sets down, and then looks up to
+the comet. The air is dense with smoke from Grayface, and the dry earth
+is full of cracks. Betsy declares that it is "going on two months since
+there has been any rain." Everything is "going to wrack and ruin," and
+"if that thing up there should burst, there'll be an end to Whitefield."
+
+Then she catches sight of me listening wide-mouthed, and she tells me
+that I needn't suppose she is "going home to iron my pink muslin," for
+she thinks the tail of the comet "has started, and is coming right down
+to whisk it off from the line." I believe her, and distinctly remember
+the terror that took hold of me as I rushed home and tore the pink
+muslin from the line, lest it should be whisked off by the comet's tail.
+
+When the drought broke, a single day's rain washed all the smoke from
+the air. Directly, the tail of the comet began to fade, and all of a
+sudden its fiery eye went out of the sky.
+
+Some of the villagers thought it had "burst," others that it had "burned
+out." Betsy said: "Whatever it was, it was a humbug;" and the wisest man
+in Whitefield could neither tell whence it came nor whither it went. One
+thing, however, was certain: Farmer Lathem said that never, since his
+orchard began to bear, had he gathered such a crop of apples as he did,
+despite the drought, in the year of the great comet.
+
+
+MRS. MEEKER.
+
+BY E.H. ARR.
+
+When I read of Roman matrons I always think of Mrs. Meeker. Her features
+were marked, and her eyes of deepest blue. She wore her hair combed
+closely down over her ears, so that her forehead seemed to run up in a
+point high upon her head: Its color was of reddish-brown, and, I am
+sorry to say, so far as it was seen, it was not her own. It was called a
+scratch, and Betsy said Mrs. Meeker "would look enough sight better if
+she would leave it off." Whether any hair at all grew upon Mrs. Meeker's
+head was a great problem with the village children, and nothing could
+better illustrate the dignity of this woman than the fact that for more
+than thirty years the whole neighborhood tried in vain to find out.
+
+
+PARSON MEEKER.
+
+BY E.H. ARR.
+
+Every Sunday he preached two long sermons, each with five heads, and
+each head itself divided. After the fifthly came an application, with an
+exhortation at its close. The sermons were called very able, or, more
+often, "strong discourses." I used to think this was because Mrs. Meeker
+had stitched their leaves fast together. Betsy said they were just like
+Deacon Saunders's breaking-up plough, "and went tearing right through
+sin." The parson, when I knew him, was a little slow of speech and dull
+of sight. He sometimes lost his place on his page. How afraid I used to
+be lest, not finding it, he should repeat his heads! He always brought
+himself up with a jerk, however, and sailed safely through to the
+application.
+
+When that came, Benny almost always gave me a jog with his elbow or
+foot. Once he stuck a pin into my arm, which made me jump so that Deacon
+Saunders, who sat behind, waked up with a loud snort. The deacon was
+always talking about the sermons being "powerful in doctrine." When
+Benny asked Betsy what doctrines were, she told him to "let doctrines
+alone;" that they were "pizen things, only fit for hardened old
+sinners."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There are many delightful articles which must be merely alluded to in
+passing, as the "Old Salem Shops," by Eleanor Putnam, so delicate and
+delicious that, once read, it will ever be a fragrant memory; Louise
+Stockton's "Woman in the Restaurant" I want to give you, and Mrs.
+Barrow's "Pennikitty People;" a chapter from Miss Baylor's "On This
+Side," and the opening chapters of Miss Phelps's "Old Maids' Paradise;"
+also the description of "Joppa," by Grace Denio Litchfield, in "Only an
+Incident." There are others from which it is not possible to make
+extracts. Miss Woolson's admirable "For the Major," though pathetic,
+almost tragic, in its underlying feeling, is, at the same time, a story
+of exquisite humor, from which, nevertheless, not a single sentence
+could be quoted that would be called "funny." Her work, and that of
+Frances Hodgson Burnett, as well as that of Miss Phelps and Mrs.
+Spofford, shine with a silver thread of humor, worked too intimately
+into the whole warp and woof to be extracted without injuring both the
+solid material and the tinsel. To appreciate the point and delicacy of
+their finest wit, you must read the whole story and grasp the entire
+character or situation.
+
+Mrs. E.W. Bellamy, a Southern lady, published in last year's _Atlantic
+Monthly_ a sketch called "At Bent's Hotel," which ought to have a place
+in this volume; but my publisher says authoritatively that there must be
+a limit somewhere; so this gem must be included in--a second series!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is so much truth as well as humor in the following article, that
+it must be included. It gives in prose the agonies which Saxe told so
+feelingly in verse:
+
+
+A FATAL REPUTATION.
+
+BY ISABEL FRANCES BELLOWS.
+
+I am impelled to write this as an awful warning to young men and women
+who are just entering upon life and its responsibilities. Years ago I
+thoughtlessly took a false step, which at the time seemed trivial and of
+little import, but which has since assumed colossal proportions that
+threaten to overshadow much of the innocent happiness of my otherwise
+placid existence. What wonder, then, that I try to avert this danger
+from young and inexperienced minds who in their gay thoughtlessness rush
+into the very jaws of the disaster, and before they are well aware find
+they are entrapped for life, as there is no escape for those who have
+thus brought their doom upon themselves.
+
+I will try and relate how, like the Lady of Shalott, when I first began
+to gaze upon the world of realities "the curse" came upon me. It was in
+this wise:
+
+I lived in my youth an almost cloistral life of seclusion and
+self-absorption, from which I was suddenly shaken by circumstances, and
+forced to mingle in the busy world; to which, after the first shock, I
+was not at all averse, but found very interesting, and also--and there
+was the weight that pulled me down--tolerably amusing. For I met some
+curious people, and saw and heard some remarkable things; and as I went
+among my friends I often used to give an account of my observations,
+until at last I discovered that wherever I went, and under whatever
+circumstances (except, of course, at the funeral of a member of the
+family), I was expected to be amusing! I found myself in the same
+relation to society that the clown bears to the circus-master who has
+engaged him--he must either be funny or leave the troupe.
+
+Now, I am unfortunate in having no particular accomplishments. I cannot
+sing either the old songs or the new; neither am I a performer on divers
+instruments. I can paint a little, but my paintings do not seem to rouse
+any enthusiasm in the beholder, nor do they add an inspiring strain to
+conversation. I can, indeed, make gingerbread and six different kinds of
+pudding, but I hesitate to mention it, because the cook is far in
+advance of me in all these particulars, not to mention numerous other
+ways in which she excels. I have thus but one resource in life; and when
+I give one or two instances of the humiliation and distress of mind to
+which I have been subjected on its account I am sure I shall win a
+sympathizing thought even from those who are more favored by nature, and
+possibly save a few young spirits from the pain of treading in my
+footsteps.
+
+In the first place, I am not naturally witty. Epigrams do not rise
+spontaneously to my lips, and it sometimes takes days and even weeks of
+consideration after an opportunity of making one has occurred before the
+appropriate words finally dawn upon me. By that time, of course, the
+retort is what the Catholics call "a work of supererogation." I perhaps
+possess a slight "sense of the humorous," which has undoubtedly given
+rise to the fatal demand upon me, but I do not remember ever having been
+very funny. There never was any danger of my experiencing difficulties
+like Dr. Holmes on that famous occasion when he was as funny as he could
+be. I have often been as funny as I could be, but the smallest of
+buttons on the slenderest of threads never detached itself on my
+account. I have never had to restrain my humorous remarks in the
+slightest degree, but on the contrary have sometimes been driven into
+making the most atrocious jokes, and even puns, because it was evident
+something of the sort was expected from me--only, of course, something
+better.
+
+One occurrence of this kind will remain forever fixed in my memory. I
+was invited to a picnic, that most ghastly device of the human mind for
+playing at having a good time. At first I had declined to go, but it was
+represented to me that no less than three families had company for whose
+entertainment something must be done; that two young and interesting
+friends of mine just about to be engaged to each other would be simply
+inconsolable if the plan were given up; and, in short, that I should
+show by not going an extremely hateful and unseemly spirit--"besides, it
+wouldn't do to have it without you, my dear," continued my amiable
+friend, "because you know you are always the life of the party." So I
+sighed and consented.
+
+The day arrived, and before nine o'clock in the morning the mercury
+stood at ninety degrees in the shade. The cook overslept herself, and
+breakfast was so late that William Henry missed the train into the city,
+which didn't make it pleasanter for any of us. I had made an especially
+delicate cake to take with me as my share of the feast, and while we
+were at breakfast I heard a crash in the direction of the kitchen, and
+hastening tremblingly to discover the origin of it I found the cake and
+the plate containing it in one indistinguishable heap on the floor.
+
+"It slipped between me two hands as if it was alive, bad luck to it,"
+said the cook; "and it was meself that saw the heavy crack in the plate
+before you set the cake onto it, mum!"
+
+I took cookies and boiled eggs to the picnic.
+
+The wreck had hardly been cleared away before my son and heir appeared
+in the doorway with a hole of unimagined dimensions in his third worst
+trousers. His second worst were already in the mending basket, so
+nothing remained for me but to clothe him in his best suit and wonder
+all day in which part of them I should find the largest hole when I came
+home.
+
+Lastly, I had just put on my hat, and was preparing to set forth, warm,
+tired and demoralized, when my youngest, in her anxiety to bid me a
+sufficiently affectionate farewell, lost her small balance, and came
+rolling down-stairs after me. No serious harm was done, but it took
+nearly an hour before I succeeded in soothing and comforting her
+sufficiently to be able to leave her, with two brown-paper patches on
+her head and elbow, in the care of the nurse.
+
+When I arrived late, discouraged and with a headache, at the picnic
+grounds, I found the assembled company sitting vapidly about among
+mosquitoes and beetles, already looking bored to death, and I soon
+perceived that it was expected of me to provide amusement and
+entertainment for the crowd. I tried to rally, therefore, and proposed a
+few games, which went off in a spiritless manner enough, and apparently
+in consequence I began to be assailed with questions and remarks of a
+reproachful character.
+
+"Don't you feel well to-day?" "Has anything happened?" "You don't seem
+as lively as usual!" No one took the slightest notice of my
+explanations, until at last, goaded into desperation by one evil-minded
+old woman, who asked me if it were true that my husband was involved in
+the failure of Smith, Jones & Co., I launched out and became wildly and
+disgracefully silly. Nothing seemed too foolish, too senseless to say if
+it only answered the great purpose of keeping off the attack of personal
+questions.
+
+Thus the wretched day wore on, until at last it was time to go home, and
+the first feeling approaching content was stealing into my weary bosom
+as I gathered up my basket and shawls, when it was rudely dashed by the
+following conversation, conducted by two ladies to whom I had been
+introduced that day. They were standing at a little distance from the
+rest of the company and from me, and evidently thought themselves far
+enough away to talk quite loud, so that these words were plainly borne
+to my ears:
+
+"I hate to see people try to make themselves so conspicuous, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, indeed; and to try to be funny when they haven't any fun in them."
+
+"I can't imagine what Maria was thinking about to call her witty!"
+
+"I know it. I should think such people had better keep quiet when they
+haven't anything to say. I'm glad it's time to go home. Picnics are such
+stupid things!"
+
+What more was said I do not know, for I left the spot as quickly as
+possible, making an inward resolution to avoid all picnics in the
+future till I should arrive at my second childhood.
+
+I cannot refrain from giving one other little instance of my sufferings
+from this cause. I was again invited out; this time to a lunch party,
+specially to meet the friend of a friend of mine. The very morning of
+the day it was to take place I received a telegram stating that my
+great-aunt had died suddenly in California. Now people don't usually
+care much about their great-aunts. They can bear to be chastened in this
+direction very comfortably; but I did care about mine. She had been very
+kind to me, and though the width of a continent had separated us for the
+last ten years her memory was still dear to me.
+
+I sat down immediately to write a note excusing myself from my friend's
+lunch party, when, just as I took the paper, it occurred to me that it
+was rather a selfish thing to do. My friend's guests were invited, and
+her arrangements all made; and as the visit of her friend was to be very
+short the opportunity of our meeting would probably be lost. So I wrote
+instead a note to the daughter of my great aunt, and when the time came
+I went to the lunch party with a heavy heart. I had no opportunity of
+telling my friend of the sad news I had received that morning, and I
+suppose I may have been quiet; perhaps I even seemed indifferent, though
+I tried not to be. I could not have been very successful, however, for I
+was just going up-stairs to put on my "things" to go home, when I heard
+this little conversation in the dressing-room:
+
+"It's too bad she wasn't more interesting to-day, but you never can tell
+how it will be. She will do as she likes, and that's the end of it."
+
+"Yes," said another voice, "I think she is rather a moody person anyway;
+she won't say a word if she doesn't feel like it."
+
+"'Sh--'sh--here she comes," said another, with the tone and look that
+told me it was I of whom they were talking.
+
+And so I adjure all youthful and hopeful persons, who have a tendency to
+be funny, to keep it a profound secret from the world. Indulge in your
+propensities to any extent in your family circle; keep your immediate
+relatives, if you like, in convulsions of inextinguishable laughter all
+the time; but when you mingle in society guard your secret with your
+life. Never make a joke, and, if necessary, never take one; and by so
+doing you shall peradventure escape that wrath to come to which I have
+fallen an innocent victim, and which I doubt not will bring me to an
+untimely end.--_The Independent._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And a few pages from Miss Murfree, who has shown such rare power in her
+short character sketches.
+
+
+A BLACKSMITH IN LOVE.
+
+BY CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK.
+
+The pine-knots flamed and glistened under the great wash-kettle. A
+tree-toad was persistently calling for rain in the dry distance. The
+girl, gravely impassive, beat the clothes with the heavy paddle. Her
+mother shortly ceased to prod the white heaps in the boiling water, and
+presently took up the thread of her discourse.
+
+"An' 'Vander hev got ter be a mighty suddint man. I hearn tell, when I
+war down ter M'ria's house ter the quiltin', ez how in that sorter
+fight an' scrimmage they hed at the mill las' month, he war powerful
+ill-conducted. Nobody hed thought of hevin' much of a fight--thar hed
+been jes' a few licks passed atwixt the men thar; but the fust finger ez
+war laid on this boy, he jes' lit out, an' fit like a catamount. Right
+an' lef' he lay about him with his fists, an' he drawed his
+huntin'-knife on some of 'em. The men at the mill war in no wise pleased
+with him."
+
+"'Pears like ter me ez 'Vander air a peaceable boy enough, ef he ain't
+jawed at an' air lef' be," drawled Cynthia.
+
+Her mother was embarrassed for a moment. Then, with a look both sly and
+wise, she made an admission--a qualified admission. "Waal,
+wimmen--ef--ef--ef they air young an' toler'ble hard-headed _yit_, air
+likely ter jaw _some_, ennyhow. An' a gal oughtn't ter marry a man ez
+hev sot his heart on bein' lef' in peace. He is apt ter be a mighty sour
+an' disapp'inted critter."
+
+This sudden turn to the conversation invested all that had been said
+with new meaning, and revealed a subtle diplomatic intention. The girl
+seemed deliberately to review it as she paused in her work. Then, with a
+rising flush: "I ain't studyin' 'bout marryin' nobody," she asserted
+staidly. "I hev laid off ter live single."
+
+Mrs. Ware had overshot the mark, but she retorted, gallantly reckless:
+"That's what yer Aunt Malviny useter declar' fur gospel sure, when she
+war a gal. An' she hev got ten chil'ren, an' hev buried two husbands;
+an' ef all they say air true, she's tollin' in the third man now. She's
+a mighty spry, good-featured woman, an' a fust-rate manager, yer Aunt
+Malviny air, an' both her husbands lef' her suthin--cows, or wagons, or
+land. An' they war quiet men when they war alive, an' stays whar they
+air put now that they air dead; not like old Parson Hoodenpyle, what his
+wife hears stumpin' round the house an' preachin' every night, though
+she air ez deef ez a post, an' he hev been in glory twenty year--twenty
+year an' better. Yer Aunt Malviny hed luck, so mebbe 'tain't no killin'
+complaint fur a gal ter git ter talking like a fool about marryin' an'
+sech. Leastwise I ain't minded ter sorrow."
+
+She looked at her daughter with a gay grin, which, distorted by her
+toothless gums and the wreathing steam from the kettle, enhanced her
+witch-like aspect and was spuriously malevolent. She did not notice the
+stir of an approach through the brambly tangles of the heights above
+until it was close at hand; as she turned, she thought only of the
+mountain cattle and to see the red cow's picturesque head and crumpled
+horns thrust over the sassafras bushes, or to hear the brindle's
+clanking bell. It was certainly less unexpected to Cynthia when a young
+mountaineer, clad in brown jean trousers and a checked homespun shirt,
+emerged upon the rocky slope. He still wore his blacksmith's leather
+apron, and his powerful corded hammer-arm was bare beneath his
+tightly-rolled sleeve. He was tall and heavily built; his sunburned face
+was square, with a strong lower jaw, and his features were accented by
+fine lines of charcoal, as if the whole were a clever sketch.
+
+His black eyes held fierce intimations, but there was mobility of
+expression about them that suggested changing impulses, strong but
+fleeting. He was like his forge-fire; though the heat might be intense
+for a time, it fluctuated with the breath of the bellows. Just now he
+was meekly quailing before the old woman, whom he evidently had not
+thought to find here. It was as apt an illustration as might be,
+perhaps, of the inferiority of strength to finesse. She seemed an
+inconsiderable adversary, as, haggard, lean, and prematurely aged, she
+swayed on her prodding-stick about the huge kettle; but she was as a
+veritable David to this big young Goliath, though she, too, flung hardly
+more than a pebble at him.
+
+"Laws-a-me!" she cried, in shrill, toothless glee; "ef hyar ain't
+'Vander Price! What brung ye down hyar along o' we-uns, 'Vander?" she
+continued, with simulated anxiety. "Hev that thar red heifer o' ourn
+lept over the fence agin, an' got inter Pete's corn? Waal, sir, ef she
+ain't the headin'est heifer!"
+
+"I hain't seen none o' yer heifer, ez I knows on," replied the young
+blacksmith, with gruff, drawling deprecation. Then he tried to regain
+his natural manner. "I kem down hyar," he remarked, in an off-hand way,
+"ter git a drink o' water." He glanced furtively at the girl, then
+looked quickly away at the gallant red-bird, still gayly parading among
+the leaves.
+
+The old woman grinned with delight. "Now, ef that ain't s'prisin'," she
+declared. "Ef we hed knowed ez Lost Creek war a-goin' dry over yander
+a-nigh the shop, so ye an' Pete would hev ter kem hyar thirstin' fur
+water, we-uns would hev brung suthin' down hyar ter drink out'n. We-uns
+hain't got no gourd hyar, hev we, Cynthy?"
+
+"'Thout it air the little gourd with the saft-soap in it," said Cynthia,
+confused and blushing. Her mother broke into a high, loud laugh.
+
+"Ye ain't wantin' ter gin 'Vander the soap-gourd ter drink out'n,
+Cynthy! Leastwise, I ain't goin' ter gin it ter Pete. Fur I s'pose ef ye
+hev ter kem a haffen mile ter git a drink, 'Vander, ez surely Pete'll
+hev ter kem, too. Waal, waal, who would hev b'lieved ez Lost Creek would
+go dry nigh the shop, an' yit be a-scuttlin' along like that
+hyarabouts!" and she pointed with her bony finger at the swift flow of
+the water.
+
+He was forced to abandon his clumsy pretence of thirst. "Lost Creek
+ain't gone dry nowhar, ez I knows on," he admitted, mechanically rolling
+the sleeve of his hammer-arm up and down as he talked.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From Miss Woolson's story of "Anne," I give the pen-portrait of the
+precise
+
+"MISS LOIS."
+
+"Codfish balls for breakfast on Sunday morning, of course," said Miss
+Lois, "and fried hasty-pudding. On Wednesdays, a boiled dinner. Pies on
+Tuesdays and Saturdays."
+
+The pins stood in straight rows on her pincushion; three times each week
+every room in the house was swept, and the floors, as well as the
+furniture, dusted. Beans were baked in an iron pot on Saturday night,
+and sweet-cake was made on Thursday. Winter or summer, through scarcity
+or plenty, Miss Lois never varied her established routine, thereby
+setting an example, she said, to the idle and shiftless. And certainly
+she was a faithful guide-post, continually pointing out an industrious
+and systematic way, which, however, to the end of time, no
+French-blooded, French-hearted person will ever travel, unless dragged
+by force. The villagers preferred their lake trout to Miss Lois's salt
+codfish, their tartines to her corn-meal puddings, and their
+_eau-de-vie_ to her green tea; they loved their disorder and their
+comfort; her bar soap and scrubbing-brush were a horror to their eyes.
+They washed the household clothes two or three times a year. Was not
+that enough? Of what use the endless labor of this sharp-nosed woman,
+with glasses over her eyes, at the church-house? Were not, perhaps, the
+glasses the consequence of such toil? And her figure of a long leanness
+also?
+
+The element of real heroism, however, came into Miss Lois's life in her
+persistent effort to employ Indian servants. Through long years had she
+persisted, through long years would she continue to persist. A
+succession of Chippewa squaws broke, stole, and skirmished their way
+through her kitchen, with various degrees of success, generally in the
+end departing suddenly at night with whatever booty they could lay their
+hands on. It is but justice to add, however, that this was not much, a
+rigid system of keys and excellent locks prevailing in the well-watched
+household. Miss Lois's conscience would not allow her to employ
+half-breeds, who were sometimes endurable servants; duty required, she
+said, that she should have full-blooded natives. And she had them. She
+always began to teach them the alphabet within three days after their
+arrival, and the spectacle of a tearful, freshly-caught Indian girl,
+very wretched in her calico dress and white apron, worn out with the
+ways of the kettles and the brasses, dejected over the fish-balls, and
+appalled by the pudding, standing confronted by a large alphabet on the
+well-scoured table, and Miss Lois by her side with a pointer, was
+frequent and even regular in its occurrence, the only change being in
+the personality of the learners. No one of them had ever gone through
+the letters, but Miss Lois was not discouraged.
+
+
+THE CIRCUS AT DENBY.
+
+BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT.
+
+I cannot truthfully say that it was a good show; it was somewhat dreary,
+now that I think of it quietly and without excitement. The creatures
+looked tired, and as if they had been on the road for a great many
+years. The animals were all old, and there was a shabby great elephant
+whose look of general discouragement went to my heart, for it seemed as
+if he were miserably conscious of a misspent life. He stood dejected and
+motionless at one side of the tent, and it was hard to believe that
+there was a spark of vitality left in him. A great number of the people
+had never seen an elephant before, and we heard a thin, little old man,
+who stood near us, say delightedly: "There's the old creatur', and no
+mistake, Ann 'Liza. I wanted to see him most of anything. My sakes
+alive, ain't he big!"
+
+And Ann 'Liza, who was stout and sleepy-looking, droned out: "Ye-es,
+there's consider'ble of him; but he looks as if he ain't got no
+animation."
+
+Kate and I turned away and laughed, while Mrs. Kew said, confidentially,
+as the couple moved away: "_She_ needn't be a reflectin' on the poor
+beast. That's Mis' Seth Tanner, and there isn't a woman in Deep Haven
+nor East Parish to be named the same day with her for laziness. I'm glad
+she didn't catch sight of me; she'd have talked about nothing for a
+fortnight." There was a picture of a huge snake in Deep Haven, and I
+was just wondering where he could be, or if there ever had been one,
+when we heard a boy ask the same question of the man whose thankless
+task it was to stir up the lions with a stick to make them roar. "The
+snake's dead," he answered, good-naturedly. "Didn't you have to dig an
+awful long grave for him?" asked the boy; but the man said he reckoned
+they curled him up some, and smiled as he turned to his lions, that
+looked as if they needed a tonic. Everybody lingered longest before the
+monkeys, that seemed to be the only lively creatures in the whole
+collection....
+
+Coming out of the great tent was disagreeable enough, and we seemed to
+have chosen the worst time, for the crowd pushed fiercely, though I
+suppose nobody was in the least hurry, and we were all severely jammed,
+while from somewhere underneath came the wails of a deserted dog. We had
+not meant to see the side shows; but when we came in sight of the
+picture of the Kentucky giantess, we noticed that Mrs. Kew looked at it
+wistfully, and we immediately asked if she cared anything about going to
+see the wonder, whereupon she confessed that she never heard of such a
+thing as a woman's weighing six hundred and fifty pounds; so we all
+three went in. There were only two or three persons inside the tent,
+beside a little boy who played the hand-organ.
+
+The Kentucky giantess sat in two chairs on a platform, and there was a
+large cage of monkeys just beyond, toward which Kate and I went at once.
+"Why, she isn't more than two thirds as big as the picture," said Mrs.
+Kew, in a regretful whisper; "but I guess she's big enough; doesn't she
+look discouraged, poor creatur'?" Kate and I felt ashamed of ourselves
+for being there. No matter if she had consented to be carried round for
+a show, it must have been horrible to be stared at and joked about day
+after day; and we gravely looked at the monkeys, and in a few minutes
+turned to see if Mrs. Kew were not ready to come away, when, to our
+surprise, we saw that she was talking to the giantess with great
+interest, and we went nearer.
+
+"I thought your face looked natural the minute I set foot inside the
+door," said Mrs. Kew; "but you've altered some since I saw you, and I
+couldn't place you till I heard you speak. Why, you used to be spare. I
+am amazed, Marilly! Where are your folks?"
+
+"I don't wonder you are surprised," said the giantess. "I was a good
+ways from this when you knew me, wasn't I? But father, he ran through
+with every cent he had before he died, and 'he' took to drink, and it
+killed him after a while; and then I begun to grow worse and worse, till
+I couldn't do nothing to earn a dollar, and everybody was a-coming to
+see me, till at last I used to ask 'em ten cents apiece, and I scratched
+along somehow till this man came round and heard of me; and he offered
+me my keep and good pay to go along with him. He had another giantess
+before me, but she had begun to fall away considerable, so he paid her
+off and let her go. This other giantess was an awful expense to him, she
+was such an eater; now, I don't have no great of an appetite"--this was
+said plaintively--"and he's raised my pay since I've been with him
+because we did so well."...
+
+"Have you been living in Kentucky long?" asked Mrs. Kew. "I saw it on
+the picture outside."
+
+"No," said the giantess; "that was a picture the man bought cheap from
+another show that broke up last year. It says six hundred and fifty
+pounds, but I don't weigh more than four hundred. I haven't been weighed
+for some time past. Between you and me, I don't weigh as much as that,
+but you mustn't mention it, for it would spoil my reputation and might
+hinder my getting another engagement."
+
+Then they shook hands in a way that meant a great deal, and when Kate
+and I said good-afternoon, the giantess looked at us gratefully, and
+said: "I'm very much obliged to you for coming in, young ladies."
+
+"Walk in! Walk in!" the man was shouting as we came away. "Walk in and
+see the wonder of the world, ladies and gentlemen--the largest woman
+ever seen in America--the great Kentucky giantess!"
+
+
+NEW YORK TO NEWPORT.
+
+_A Trip of Trials_.
+
+BY LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.
+
+The Jane Moseley was a disappointment--most Janes are. If they had
+called her Samuel, no doubt she would have behaved better; but they
+called her Jane, and the natural consequences of our mistakes cannot be
+averted from ourselves or others. A band was playing wild strains of
+welcome as we approached. Come and sail with us, it said--it is summer,
+and the days are long. Care is of the land--here the waves flow, and the
+winds blow, and captain smiles, and stewardess beguiles, and all is
+music, music, music. How the wild, exultant strains rose and fell--but
+everything rose and fell on that boat, as we found out afterward. Just
+here a spirit of justice falls on me, like the gentle dew from heaven,
+and forces me to admit that it rained like a young deluge; that it had
+been raining for two days, and the bosom of the deep was heaving with
+responsive sympathy; as what bosom would not on which so many tears had
+been shed? Perhaps responsive sympathy was the secret of the Jane
+Moseley's behavior; but I would her heart had been less tender. Then,
+too, the passengers were few; and of course as we had to divide the roll
+and tumble between us, there was a great deal for each one.
+
+There was a Pretty Girl, and she had a sister who was not pretty. It
+seemed to me that even the sad sea waves were kinder to the Pretty Girl,
+such is the influence of youth and beauty. There were various men--heavy
+swells I should call some of them, only that that would be slang; but
+heavy swells were the order of the day. Then there was a benevolent old
+lady who believed in everything--in the music, and the Jane Moseley, and
+the long days, and the summer. There was another old lady of restless
+mind, who evidently believed in nothing, hoped for nothing, expected
+nothing. She tried all the lounges and all the corners, and found each
+one a separate disappointment. There was a fat, fair one, of friendly
+face, and beside her her grim guardian, a man so thin that you at once
+cast him for the part of Starveling in this Midsummer Day's Dream of
+Delusion.
+
+We put out from shore--quite out of sight of shore, in short--and then
+the perfidious music ceased. To the people on land it had sung, "Come
+and make merry with us," but from us, trying in vain to make merry, it
+withheld its deceitful inspiration. For the exceeding weight of sorrow
+that presently settled down upon us it had no balm. When you are on a
+pleasure trip it is unpleasant to be miserable; so I tried hard to shake
+off the mild melancholy that began to steal over me. I said to myself, I
+will not affront the great deep with my personal woes. I am but a woman,
+yet perhaps on this so great occasion magnanimity of soul will be
+possible even to me. I will consider my neighbors and be wise. At one
+end of the long saloon a banquet-board was spread. Its hospitality was,
+like the other attractions of the Jane Moseley, a perfidious pageant.
+Nobody sought its soup or claimed its clams. One or two sad-eyed young
+men made their way in that direction from time to time--after their
+sea-legs, perhaps. From their gait when they came back I inferred they
+did not find them. The human nature in the saloon became a weariness to
+me. Even the gentle gambols of the dog Thaddeus, a sportive and spotted
+pointer in whom I had been interested, failed to soothe my perturbed
+spirits. De Quincey speaks somewhere of "the awful solitariness of every
+human soul." No wonder, then, that I should be solitary among the
+festive few on board the Jane Moseley--no wonder I felt myself darkly,
+deeply, desperately blue. I thought I would go on deck. I clung to my
+companion with an ardor which would have been flattering had it been
+voluntary. My faltering steps were guided to a seat just within the
+guards. I sat there thinking that I had never nursed a dear gazelle, so
+I could not be quite sure whether it would have died or not, but I
+thought it would. I mused on the changing fortunes of this unsteady
+world, and the ingratitude of man. I thought it would be easier going to
+the Promised Land if Jordan did not roll between. Rolling had long
+ceased to be a pleasant figure of speech with me. How frail are all
+things here below, how false, and yet how fair! My mind is naturally
+picturesque. In the midst of my sadness the force of nature compelled me
+to grope after an illustration. I could only think that my own foothold
+was frail, that the Jane Moseley was false, that the Pretty Girl was
+fair. A dizziness of brain resulted from this rhetorical effort. I
+silently confided my sorrows to the sympathizing bosom of the sea. I was
+soothed by the kindred melancholy of the sad sea waves. If the size of
+the waves were remarkable, other sighs abounded also, and other things
+waved--many of them.
+
+True to my purpose of studying my fellow-beings, and learning wisdom by
+observation, I surveyed the Pretty Girl and her sister, who had by that
+time come on deck. They were surrounded by a group of audacious male
+creatures, who surrounded most on the side where the Pretty Girl sat.
+She did not look feeble. She was like the red, red rose. It was a
+conundrum to me why so much greater anxiety should be bestowed upon her
+health than upon her sister's. It needed some moral reflection to make
+it out; but I concluded that pretty girls were, by some law of nature,
+more subject to sea-sickness than plain ones; therefore, all these
+careful cares were quite in order. I saw the two old ladies--the
+benevolent one who had believed so implicitly in all things, but over
+whose benign visage doubt had now begun to settle like a cloud; and the
+other, who had hoped nothing from the first, and therefore over whom no
+disappointment could prevail--and, seeing, I mildly wondered whether,
+indeed, 'twere better to have loved and lost, or never to have loved at
+all.
+
+My thoughts grew solemn. The green shores beyond the swelling flood
+seemed farther off than ever. The Jane Moseley had promised to land us
+at Newport pier at seven o'clock. It was already half-past seven; oh,
+perfidious Jane! Darkness had settled upon the face of the deep. We went
+inside. The sad-eyed young men had evidently been hunting for their
+sea-legs again, in the neighborhood of the banqueting-table, where
+nobody banqueted. Failing to find the secret of correct locomotion, they
+had laid themselves down to sleep, but in that sleep at sea what dreams
+did come, and how noisy they were! The dog Thaddeus walked by
+dejectedly, sniffing at the ghost of some half-forgotten joy. At last
+there rose a cry--Newport! The sleepers started to their feet. I started
+to mine, but I discreetly and quietly sat down again. Was it Newport, at
+last? Not at all. The harbor lights were gleaming from afar; and the cry
+was of the bandmaster shouting to his emissaries, arousing fiddle and
+flute and bassoon to their deceitful duty. They had played us out of
+port--they would play us in again. They had promised us that all should
+go merry as a marriage-bell, and--I would not be understood to complain,
+but it had been a sad occasion. Now the deceitful strains rose and fell
+again upon the salt sea wind. The many lights glowed and twinkled from
+the near shore. We are all at play, come and play with us, screamed the
+soft waltz music. It is summer, and the days are long, and trouble is
+not, and care is banished. If the waves sigh, it is with bliss. Our
+voyage is ended. It is sad that you did not sail with us, but we will
+invite you again to-morrow, and the band shall play, and the crowd be
+gay, and airs beguile, and blue skies smile, and all shall be music,
+music, music. But I have sailed with you, on a summer day, bland master
+of a faithless band; and I know how soon your pipes are dumb--I know the
+tricks and manners of the clouds and the wind, and the swelling sea, and
+Jane Moseley, the perfidious.
+
+I must, after all, have strong local attachments, for when at last the
+time came to land I left the ship with lingering reluctance. My feet
+seemed fastened to the deck where I had made my brief home on the much
+rolling deep. I had grown used to pain and resigned to fate. I walked
+the plank unsteadily. I stood on shore amid the rain and the mist. A
+hackman preyed upon me. I was put into an ancient ark and trundled on
+through the queer, irresolute, contradictory old streets, beside the
+lovely bay, all aglow with the lighted yachts, as a Southern swamp is
+with fire-flies. A torchlight procession met and escorted me. To this
+hour I am at a loss to know whether this attention was a delicate
+tribute on the part of the city of Newport to a distinguished guest, or
+a parting attention from the company who sail the Jane Moseley, and
+advertise in the _Tribune_--a final subterfuge to persuade a tortured
+passenger, by means of this transitory glory, that the sail upon a
+summer sea had been a pleasure trip.--_Letter to New York Tribune._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+HUMOROUS POEMS.
+
+
+I will next group a score of poems and doggerel rhymes with their
+various degrees of humor.
+
+
+THE FIRST NEEDLE.
+
+BY LUCRETIA P. HALE.
+
+    "Have you heard the new invention, my dears,
+     That a man has invented?" said she.
+         "It's a stick with an eye
+         Through which you can tie
+     A thread so long, it acts like a thong,
+         And the men have such fun,
+         To see the thing run!
+     A firm, strong thread, through that eye at the head,
+     Is pulled over the edges most craftily,
+     And makes a beautiful seam to see!"
+
+    "What, instead of those wearisome thorns, my dear,
+     Those wearisome thorns?" cried they.
+         "The seam we pin
+         Driving them in,
+     But where are they by the end of the day,
+     With dancing, and jumping, and leaps by the sea?
+         For wintry weather
+         They won't hold together,
+     Seal-skins and bear-skins all dropping round
+     Off from our shoulders down to the ground.
+     The thorns, the tiresome thorns, will prick,
+     But none of them ever consented to stick!
+     Oh, won't the men let us this new thing use?
+     If we mend their clothes they can't refuse.
+     Ah, to sew up a seam for them to see--
+     What a treat, a delightful treat, 'twill be!"
+
+    "Yes, a nice thing, too, for the babies, my dears--
+     But, alas, there is but one!" cried she.
+    "I saw them passing it round, and then
+     They said it was fit for only men!
+         What woman would know
+         How to make the thing go?
+     There was not a man so foolish to dream
+     That any woman could sew up a seam!"
+     Oh, then there was babbling and scrabbling, my dears!
+    "At least they might let us do that!" cried they.
+         "Let them shout and fight
+         And kill bears all night;
+     We'll leave them their spears and hatchets of stone
+     If they'll give us this thing for our very own.
+     It will be like a joy above all we could scheme,
+     To sit up all night and sew such a seam."
+
+    "Beware! take care!" cried an aged old crone,
+    "Take care what you promise," said she.
+         "At first 'twill be fun,
+         But, in the long run,
+     You'll wish you had let the thing be.
+         Through this stick with an eye
+         I look and espy
+     That for ages and ages you'll sit and you'll sew,
+     And longer and longer the seams will grow,
+     And you'll wish you never had asked to sew.
+         But naught that I say
+         Can keep back the day,
+     For the men will return to their hunting and rowing,
+     And leave to the women forever the sewing."
+
+     Ah, what are the words of an aged crone?
+     For all have left her muttering alone;
+     And the needle and thread that they got with such pains,
+     They forever must keep as dagger and chains.
+
+
+THE FUNNY STORY.
+
+BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.
+
+    It was such a funny story! how I wish you could have heard it,
+      For it set us all a-laughing, from the little to the big;
+    I'd really like to tell it, but I don't know how to word it,
+      Though it travels to the music of a very lively jig.
+
+    If Sally just began it, then Amelia Jane would giggle,
+      And Mehetable and Susan try their very broadest grin;
+    And the infant Zachariah on his mother's lap would wriggle,
+      And add a lusty chorus to the very merry din.
+
+    It was such a funny story, with its cheery snap and crackle,
+      And Sally always told it with so much dramatic art,
+    That the chickens in the door-yard would begin to "cackle-cackle,"
+      As if in such a frolic they were anxious to take part.
+
+    It was all about a--ha! ha!--and a--ho! ho! ho!--well really,
+      It is--he! he! he!--I never could begin to tell you half
+    Of the nonsense there was in it, for I just remember clearly
+      It began with--ha! ha! ha! ha! and it ended with a laugh.
+
+    But Sally--she could tell it, looking at us so demurely,
+      With a woe-begone expression that no actress would despise;
+    And if you'd never heard it, why you would imagine surely
+      That you'd need your pocket-handkerchief to wipe your weeping eyes.
+
+    When age my hair has silvered, and my step has grown unsteady,
+      And the nearest to my vision are the scenes of long ago,
+    I shall see the pretty picture, and the tears may come as ready
+      As the laugh did, when I used to--ha! ha! ha! and--ho! ho! ho!
+
+
+A SONNET.
+
+BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.
+
+    Once a poet wrote a sonnet
+    All about a pretty bonnet,
+    And a critic sat upon it
+        (On the sonnet,
+        Not the bonnet),
+          Nothing loath.
+
+    And as if it were high treason,
+    He said: "Neither rhyme nor reason
+    Has it; and it's out of season,"
+        Which? the sonnet
+        Or the bonnet?
+          Maybe both.
+
+    "'Tis a feeble imitation
+    Of a worthier creation;
+    An æsthetic innovation!"
+        Of a sonnet
+        Or a bonnet?
+          This was hard.
+
+    Both were put together neatly,
+    Harmonizing very sweetly,
+    But the critic crushed completely
+        Not the bonnet,
+        Or the sonnet,
+          But the bard.
+
+
+WANTED, A MINISTER.
+
+BY MRS. M.E.W. SKEELS.
+
+    We've a church, tho' the belfry is leaning,
+      They are talking I think of repair,
+    And the _bell_, oh, pray but excuse us,
+      'Twas _talked of_, but never's been there.
+    Now, "Wanted, a _real live minister_,"
+      And to settle the same for _life_,
+    We've an organ and some one to play it,
+      So we don't care a fig for his wife.
+
+    We once had a pastor (don't tell it),
+      But we chanced on a time to discover
+    That his sermons were writ long ago,
+      And he had preached them twice over.
+    How sad this mistake, tho' unmeaning,
+      Oh, it made such a desperate muss!
+    Both deacon and laymen were vexed,
+      And decided, "He's no man for us."
+
+    And then the "old nick" was to pay,
+      "Truth indeed is stranger than fiction,"
+    His _prayers_ were so tedious and long,
+      People slept, till the benediction.
+    And then came another, on trial,
+      Who _actually preached in his gloves_,
+    His manner so _awkward_ and _queer_,
+      That we _settled him off_ and he moved.
+
+    And then came another so meek,
+      That his name really ought to 've been _Moses_;
+    We almost considered him _settled_,
+      When lo! the secret discloses,
+    He'd attacks of nervous disease,
+      That unfit him for every-day duty;
+    His sermons, oh, never can please,
+      They lack both in force and beauty.
+
+    Now, "wanted, a minister," really,
+      That won't preach his _old sermons over_,
+    That will make _short prayers_ while in church,
+      With no fault that the ear can discover,
+    That is very forbearing, yes very,
+      That blesses wherever he moves--
+    Not too zealous, nor lacking for zeal,
+      That _preaches without any gloves!_
+
+    Now, "wanted, a minister," really,
+      "That was born ere nerves came in fashion,"
+    That never complains of the "headache,"
+      That never is roused to a passion.
+    He must add to the wisdom of Solomon
+      The unwearied patience of Job,
+    Must be _mute in political matters_,
+      Or doff his clerical robe.
+
+    If he pray for the present Congress,
+      He must speak in an undertone;
+    If he pray for President Johnson,
+      _He_ NEEDS _'em_, why let him go on.
+    He must touch upon doctrines so lightly,
+      That no one can take an offence,
+    Mustn't meddle with _predestination_--
+    In short, must preach "common sense."
+
+    Now really wanted a minister,
+      With religion enough to sustain him,
+    For the _salary's exceedingly_ small,
+      And _faith alone_ must _maintain him_.
+    He must visit the sick and afflicted,
+      Must mourn with those that mourn,
+    Must preach the "funeral sermons"
+      With a very _peculiar_ turn.
+
+    He must preach at the north-west school-house
+      On every Thursday eve,
+    And things too numerous to mention
+      He must do, and must believe.
+    He must be of careful demeanor,
+      Both graceful and eloquent too,
+    Must adjust his cravat "a la mode,"
+      Wear his beaver, decidedly, so.
+
+    Now if _some one_ will deign to be shepherd
+      To this "our _peculiar people_,"
+    Will be first to subscribe for a bell,
+      And help us to right up the steeple,
+    If _correct_ in doctrinal points
+      (We've _a committee of investigation_),
+    If possessed of these requisite graces,
+      We'll accept him perhaps on probation.
+
+    Then if two-thirds of the church can agree,
+      We'll settle him here for life;
+    Now, we advertise, "_Wanted, a Minister_,"
+      And not a minister's wife.
+
+
+THE MIDDY OF 1881.
+
+BY MAY CROLY ROPER.
+
+    I'm the dearest, I'm the sweetest little mid
+      To be found in journeying from here to Hades,
+    I am also, nat-u-rally, _a prodid-_
+      Gious favorite with all the pretty ladies.
+    I _know_ nothing, but say a mighty deal;
+      My elevated nose, likewise, comes handy;
+    I stalk around, my great importance feel--
+      In short, I'm a brainless little dandy.
+
+    My hair is light, and waves above my brow,
+      My mustache can just be seen through opera-glasses;
+    I originate but flee from every row,
+      And no one knows as well as I what "sass" is!
+    The officers look down on me with scorn,
+      The sailors jeer at me--behind my jacket,
+    But still my heart is not "with anguish torn,"
+      And life with me is one continued racket.
+
+    Whene'er the captain sends me with a boat,
+      The seamen know an idiot has got 'em;
+    They make their wills and are prepared to die,
+      Quite certain they are going to the bottom.
+    But what care I! For when I go ashore,
+      In uniform with buttons bright and shining,
+    The girls all cluster 'round me to adore,
+      And lots of 'em for love of me are pining.
+
+    I strut and dance, and fool my life away;
+      I'm nautical in past and future tenses!
+    Long as I know an ocean from a bay,
+      I'll shy the rest, and take the consequences.
+    I'm the dearest, I'm the sweetest little mid
+      That ever graced the tail-end of his classes,
+    And through a four years' course of study slid,
+      First am I in the list of Nature's--donkeys!
+
+                              --_Scribner's Magazine Bric-à-Brac, 1881._
+
+
+INDIGNANT POLLY WOG.
+
+BY MARGARET EYTINGE.
+
+     A tree-toad dressed in apple-green
+       Sat on a mossy log
+     Beside a pond, and shrilly sang,
+       "Come forth, my Polly Wog--
+     My Pol, my Ly,--my Wog,
+       My pretty Polly Wog,
+     I've something very sweet to say,
+       My slender Polly Wog!
+
+    "The air is moist, the moon is hid
+       Behind a heavy fog;
+     No stars are out to wink and blink
+       At you, my Polly Wog--
+     My Pol, my Ly--my Wog,
+       My graceful Polly Wog;
+     Oh, tarry not, beloved one!
+       My precious Polly Wog!"
+
+     Just then away went clouds, and there
+       A sitting on the log--
+     The other end I mean--the moon
+       Showed angry Polly Wog.
+
+     Her small eyes flashed, she swelled until
+       She looked almost a frog;
+     "How _dare_ you, sir, call _me_," she asked,
+       "Your _precious_ Polly Wog?
+
+    "Why, one would think you'd spent your life
+       In some low, muddy bog.
+     I'd have you know--to _strange_ young men
+       My name's Miss Mary Wog."
+
+     One wild, wild laugh that tree-toad gave,
+       And tumbled off the log,
+     And on the ground he kicked and screamed,
+       "Oh, Mary, Mary Wog.
+       Oh, May! oh, Ry--oh, Wog!
+       Oh, proud Miss Mary Wog!
+     Oh, goodness gracious! what a joke!
+       Hurrah for Mary Wog!"
+
+
+"KISS PRETTY POLL!"
+
+BY MARY D. BRINE.
+
+    "Kiss Pretty Poll!" the parrot screamed,
+       And "Pretty Poll," repeated I,
+     The while I stole a merry glance
+       Across the room all on the sly,
+     Where some one plied her needle fast,
+       Demurely by the window sitting;
+     But I beheld upon her cheek
+       A multitude of blushes flitting.
+
+    "Kiss Pretty Poll," the parrot coaxed:
+       "I would, but dare not try," I said,
+     And stole another glance to see
+       How some one drooped her golden head,
+     And sought for something on the floor
+       (The loss was only feigned, I knew)--
+     And still, "Kiss Poll," the parrot screamed,
+       The very thing I longed to do.
+
+     But some one turned to me at last,
+       "Please, won't you keep that parrot still?"
+     "Why, yes," said I, "at least--you see
+       If you will let me, dear, I will."
+     And so--well, never mind the rest;
+       But some one said it was a shame
+     To take advantage just because
+       A foolish parrot bore her name.
+
+                              --_Harper's Weekly._
+
+
+THANKSGIVING-DAY (THEN AND NOW).
+
+BY MARY D. BRINE.
+
+    Thanksgiving-day, a year ago,
+      A bachelor was I,
+    Free as the winds that whirl and blow,
+      Or clouds that sail on high:
+    I smoked my meerschaum blissfully,
+      And tilted back my chair,
+    And on the mantel placed my feet,
+      For who would heed or care?
+
+    The fellows gathered in my room
+      For many an hour of fun,
+    Or I would meet them at the club
+      For cards, till night was done.
+    I came or went as pleased me best,
+      Myself the first and last.
+    One year ago! Ah, can it be
+      That freedom's age is past?
+
+    Now, here's a note just come from Fred:
+      "Old fellow, will you dine
+    With me to-day? and meet the boys,
+      A jolly number--nine?"
+    Ah, Fred is quite as free to-day
+      As just a year ago,
+    And ignorant, happily, I may say,
+      Of things _I've_ learned to know.
+
+    I'd like, yes, if the truth were known,
+      I'd like to join the boys,
+    But then a Benedick must learn
+      To cleave to other joys.
+    So, here's my answer: "Fred, old chum,
+      I much regret--oh, pshaw!
+    To tell the truth, I've got to dine
+      With--_my dear mother-in-law!_"
+
+                              --_Harper's Weekly._
+
+
+CONCERNING MOSQUITOES.
+
+_Feelingly Dedicated to their Discounted Bills._
+
+BY MISS ANNA A. GORDON.
+
+    Skeeters have the reputation
+    Of continuous application
+    To their poisonous profession;
+    Never missing nightly session,
+    Wearing out your life's existence
+    By their practical persistence.
+
+    Would I had the power to veto
+    Bills of every mosquito;
+    Then I'd pass a peaceful summer,
+    With no small nocturnal hummer
+    Feasting on my circulation,
+    For his regular potation.
+
+    Oh, that rascally mosquito!
+    He's a fellow you must see to;
+    Which you can't do if you're napping,
+    But must evermore be slapping
+    Quite promiscuous on your features;
+    For you'll seldom hit the creatures.
+
+    But the thing most aggravating
+    Is the cool and calculating
+    Way in which he tunes his harpstring
+    To the melody of sharp sting;
+    Then proceeds to serenade you,
+    And successfully evade you.
+
+    When a skeeter gets through stealing,
+    He sails upward to the ceiling,
+    Where he sits in deep reflection
+    How he perched on your complexion,
+    Filled with solid satisfaction
+    At results of his extraction.
+
+    Would you know, in this connection,
+    How you may secure protection
+    For yourself and city cousins
+    From these bites and from these buzzin's?
+    Show your sense by quickly getting
+    For each window--skeeter netting.
+
+
+THE STILTS OF GOLD.
+
+BY METTA VICTORIA VICTOR.
+
+    Mrs. Mackerel sat in her little room,
+      Back of her husband's grocery store,
+    Trying to see through the evening gloom,
+      To finish the baby's pinafore.
+    She stitched away with a steady hand,
+      Though her heart was sore, to the very core,
+    To think of the troublesome little band,
+        (There were seven, or more),
+    And the trousers, frocks, and aprons they wore,
+    Made and mended by her alone.
+    "Slave, slave!" she said, in a mournful tone;
+    "And let us slave, and contrive, and fret,
+    I don't suppose we shall ever get
+    A little home which is all our own,
+        With my own front door
+        Apart from the store,
+    And the smell of fish and tallow no more."
+
+    These words to herself she sadly spoke,
+      Breaking the thread from the last-set stitch,
+    When Mackerel into her presence broke--
+      "Wife, we're--we're--we're, wife, we're--we're _rich_!"
+    "_We_ rich! ha, ha! I'd like to see;
+    I'll pull your hair if you're fooling me."
+    "Oh, don't, love, don't! the letter is here--
+    You can read the news for yourself, my dear.
+    The one who sent you that white crape shawl--
+    There'll be no end to our gold--he's dead;
+      You know you always would call him stingy,
+      Because he didn't invite us to Injy;
+    And I am his only heir, 'tis said.
+    A million of pounds, at the very least,
+      And pearls and diamonds, likely, beside!"
+    Mrs. Mackerel's spirits rose like yeast--
+      "How lucky I married you, Mac," she cried.
+    Then the two broke forth into frantic glee.
+      A customer hearing the strange commotion,
+    Peeped into the little back-room, and he
+      Was seized with the very natural notion
+    That the Mackerel family had gone insane;
+    So he ran away with might and main.
+
+    Mac shook his partner by both her hands;
+      They dance, they giggle, they laugh, they stare;
+    And now on his head the grocer stands,
+      Dancing a jig with his feet in air--
+    Remarkable feat for a man of his age,
+    Who never had danced upon any stage
+    But the High-Bridge stage, when he set on top,
+    And whose green-room had been a green-grocer's shop.
+    But that Mrs. Mac should perform so well
+    Is not very strange, if the tales they tell
+    Of her youthful days have any foundation.
+      But let that pass with her former life--
+      An opera-girl may make a good wife,
+    If she happens to get such a nice situation.
+
+    A million pounds of solid gold
+      One would have thought would have crushed them dead;
+    But dear they bobbed, and courtesied, and rolled
+      Like a couple of corks to a plummet of lead.
+    'Twas enough the soberest fancy to tickle
+    To see the two Mackerels in such a pickle!
+    It was three o'clock when they got to bed;
+    Even then through Mrs. Mackerel's head
+    Such gorgeous dreams went whirling away,
+    "Like a Catherine-wheel," she declared next day,
+    "That her brain seemed made of sparkles of fire
+    Shot off in spokes, with a ruby tire."
+
+      Mrs. Mackerel had ever been
+          One of the upward-tending kind,
+        Regarded by husband and by kin
+        As a female of very ambitious mind.
+    It had fretted her long and fretted her sore
+    To live in the rear of the grocery-store.
+      And several times she was heard to say
+        She would sell her soul for a year and a day
+        To the King of Brimstone, Fire, and Pitch,
+        For the power and pleasure of being rich.
+
+    Now her ambition had scope to work--
+      Riches, they say, are a burden at best;
+    Her onerous burden she did not shirk,
+      But carried it all with commendable zest;
+    Leaving her husband with nothing in life
+    But to smoke, eat, drink, and obey his wife.
+    She built a house with a double front-door,
+      A marble house in the modern style,
+    With silver planks in the entry floor,
+      And carpets of extra-magnificent pile.
+    And in the hall, in the usual manner,
+    "A statue," she said, "of the chased Diana;
+    Though who it was chased her, or whether they
+    Caught her or not, she could, really, not say."
+    A carriage with curtains of yellow satin--
+      A coat-of-arms with these rare devices:
+      "A mackerel sky and the starry Pisces--"
+    And underneath, in the purest fish-latin,
+          _If fishibus flyabus
+          They may reach the skyabus!_
+
+    Yet it was not in common affairs like these
+      She showed her original powers of mind;
+    Her soul was fired, her ardor inspired,
+      To stand apart from the rest of mankind;
+    "To be A No. one," her husband said;
+    At which she turned very angrily red,
+    For she couldn't endure the remotest hint
+    Of the grocery-store, and the mackerels in't.
+    Weeks and months she plotted and planned
+      To raise herself from the common level;
+    Apart from even the few to stand
+      Who'd hundreds of thousands on which to revel.
+    Her genius, at last, spread forth its wings--
+    Stilts, golden stilts, are the very things--
+    "I'll walk on stilts," Mrs. Mackerel cried,
+    In the height of her overtowering pride.
+    Her husband timidly shook his head;
+    But she did not care--"For why," as she said,
+    "Should the owner of more than a million pounds
+          Be going the rounds
+          On the very same grounds
+    As those low people, she couldn't tell who,
+    They might keep a shop, for all she knew."
+
+    She had a pair of the articles made,
+    Of solid gold, gorgeously overlaid
+    With every color of precious stone
+    Which ever flashed in the Indian zone.
+    She privately practised many a day
+      Before she ventured from home at all;
+    She had lost her girlish skill, and they say
+      That she suffered many a fearful fall;
+    But pride is stubborn, and she was bound
+    On her golden stilts to go around,
+    Three feet, at least, from the plebeian ground.
+          'Twas an exquisite day,
+          In the month of May,
+    That the stilts came out for a promenade;
+          Their first _entrée_
+    Was made on the shilling side of Broadway;
+    The carmen whistled, the boys went mad,
+    The omnibus-drivers their horses stopped.
+    The chestnut-roaster his chestnuts dropped,
+    The popper of corn no longer popped;
+    The daintiest dandies deigned to stare,
+    And even the heads of women fair
+    Were turned by the vision meeting them there.
+    The stilts they sparkled and flashed and shone
+    Like the tremulous lights of the frigid zone,
+    Crimson and yellow and sapphire and green,
+    Bright as the rainbows in summer seen;
+    While the lady she strode along between
+    With a majesty too supremely serene
+    For anything _but_ an American queen.
+    A lady with jewels superb as those,
+    And wearing such very expensive clothes,
+    Might certainly do whatever she chose!
+    And thus, in despite of the jeering noise,
+    And the frantic delight of the little boys,
+      The stilts were a very decided success.
+    The _crême de la crême_ paid profoundest attention,
+      The merchants' clerks bowed in such wild excess,
+    When she entered their shops, that they strained their spines,
+    And afterward went into rapid declines.
+    The papers, next day, gave her flattering mention;
+    "The wife of our highly-esteemed fellow-citizen,
+      A Mackerel, of Codfish Square, in this city,
+    Scorning French fashions, herself has hit on one
+      So very piquant and stylish and pretty,
+    We trust our fair friends will consider it treason
+    _Not_ to walk upon stilts, by the close of the season."
+
+    Mrs. Mackerel, now, was never seen
+      Out of her chamber, day or night,
+    Unless her stilts were along--her mien
+      Was very imposing from such a height,
+      It imposed upon many a dazzled wight,
+    Who snuffed the perfume floating down
+    From the rustling folds of her gorgeous gown,
+    But never could smell through these bouquets
+          The fishy odor of former days.
+    She went on her golden stilts to pray,
+      Which never became her better than then,
+    When her murmuring lips were heard to say,
+      "Thank God, I am not as my fellow-men!"
+    Her pastor loved as a pastor might--
+      His house that was built on a golden rock;
+    He pointed it out as a shining light
+      To the lesser lambs of his fleecy flock.
+    The stilts were a help to the church, no doubt,
+      They kindled its self-expiring embers,
+    So that before the season was out
+      It gained a dozen excellent members.
+
+    Mrs. Mackerel gave a superb soirée,
+      Standing on stilts to receive her guests;
+    The gas-lights mimicked the glowing day
+      So well, that the birds, in their flowery nests,
+      Almost burst their beautiful breasts,
+    Trilling away their musical stories
+    In Mrs. Mackerel's conservatories.
+    She received on stilts; a distant bow
+      Was all the loftiest could attain--
+    Though some of her friends she did allow
+      To kiss the hem of her jewelled train.
+    One gentleman screamed himself quite hoarse
+    Requesting her to dance; which, of course,
+    Couldn't be done on stilts, as she
+    Halloed down to him rather scornfully.
+
+    The fact is, when Mackerel kept a shop,
+    His wife was very fond of a hop,
+    And now, as the music swelled and rose,
+    She felt a tingling in her toes,
+    A restless, tickling, funny sensation
+    Which didn't agree with her exaltation.
+
+    When the maddened music was at its height,
+    And the waltz was wildest--behold, a sight!
+    The stilts began to hop and twirl
+    Like the saucy feet of a ballet-girl.
+    And their haughty owner, through the air,
+    Was spin, spin, spinning everywhere.
+    Everybody got out of the way
+    To give the dangerous stilts fair play.
+      In every corner, at every door,
+    With faces looking like unfilled blanks,
+    They watched the stilts at their airy pranks,
+      Giving them, unrequested, the floor.
+      They never had glittered so bright before;
+    The light it flew in flashing splinters
+    Away from those burning, revolving centres;
+    While the gems on the lady's flying skirts
+    Gave out their light in jets and spirts.
+    Poor Mackerel gazed in mute dismay
+    At this unprecedented display.
+    "Oh, stop, love, stop!" he cried at last;
+    But she only flew more wild and fast,
+    While the flutes and fiddles, bugle and drum,
+    Followed as if their time had come.
+
+    She went at such a bewildering pace
+    Nobody saw the lady's face,
+    But only a ring of emerald light
+    From the crown she wore on that fatal night.
+    Whether the stilts were propelling her,
+    Or she the stilts, none could aver.
+    Around and around the magnificent hall
+    Mrs. Mackerel danced at her own grand ball.
+
+    "As the twig is bent the tree's inclined;"
+    This must have been a case in kind.
+    "What's in the blood will sometimes show--"
+    'Round and around the wild stilts go.
+
+    It had been whispered many a time
+    That when poor Mack was in his prime
+      Keeping that little retail store,
+    He had fallen in love with a ballet-girl,
+    Who gave up fame's entrancing whirl
+      To be his own, and the world's no more.
+    She made him a faithful, prudent wife--
+    Ambitious, however, all her life.
+    Could it be that the soft, alluring waltz
+      Had carried her back to a former age,
+    Making her memory play her false,
+      Till she dreamed herself on the gaudy stage?
+    Her crown a tinsel crown--her guests
+    The pit that gazes with praise and jests?
+
+    "Pride," they say, "must have a fall--"
+      Mrs. Mackerel was very proud--
+    And now she danced at her own grand ball,
+      While the music swelled more fast and loud.
+
+    The gazers shuddered with mute affright,
+    For the stilts burned now with a bluish light,
+    While a glimmering, phosphorescent glow
+    Did out of the lady's garments flow.
+    And what was that very peculiar smell?
+    Fish, or brimstone? no one could tell.
+    Stronger and stronger the odor grew,
+    And the stilts and the lady burned more blue;
+    'Round and around the long saloon,
+    While Mackerel gazed in a partial swoon,
+    She approached the throng, or circled from it,
+    With a flaming train like the last great comet;
+          Till at length the crowd
+          All groaned aloud.
+    For her exit she made from her own grand ball
+    Out of the window, stilts and all.
+
+    None of the guests can really say
+    How she looked when she vanished away.
+    Some declare that she carried sail
+    On a flying fish with a lambent tail;
+    And some are sure she went out of the room
+    Riding her stilts like a witch a broom,
+    While a phosphorent odor followed her track:
+    Be this as it may, she never came back.
+    Since then, her friends of the gold-fish fry
+      Are in a state of unpleasant suspense,
+    Afraid, that unless they unselfishly try
+      To make better use of their dollars and sense
+    To chasten their pride, and their manners mend,
+    They may meet a similar shocking end.
+
+                              --_Cosmopolitan Art Journal._
+
+
+JUST SO.
+
+BY METTA VICTORIA VICTOR.
+
+    A youth and maid, one winter night,
+      Were sitting in the corner;
+    His name, we're told, was Joshua White,
+      And hers was Patience Warner.
+
+    Not much the pretty maiden said,
+      Beside the young man sitting;
+    Her cheeks were flushed a rosy red,
+      Her eyes bent on her knitting.
+
+    Nor could he guess what thoughts of him
+      Were to her bosom flocking,
+    As her fair fingers, swift and slim,
+      Flew round and round the stocking.
+
+    While, as for Joshua, bashful youth,
+      His words grew few and fewer;
+    Though all the time, to tell the truth,
+      His chair edged nearer to her.
+
+    Meantime her ball of yarn gave out,
+      She knit so fast and steady;
+    And he must give his aid, no doubt,
+      To get another ready.
+
+    He held the skein; of course the thread
+      Got tangled, snarled and twisted;
+    "Have Patience!" cried the artless maid,
+      To him who her assisted.
+
+    Good chance was this for tongue-tied churl
+      To shorten all palaver;
+    "Have Patience!" cried he, "dearest girl!
+      And may I really have her?"
+
+    The deed was done; no more, that night,
+      Clicked needles in the corner:--
+    And she is Mrs. Joshua White
+      That once was Patience Warner.
+
+
+THE INVENTOR'S WIFE.
+
+BY E.T. CORBETT.
+
+    It's easy to talk of the patience of Job. Humph! Job had nothin'
+            to try him;
+    Ef he'd been married to 'Bijah Brown, folks wouldn't have dared
+            come nigh him.
+    Trials, indeed! Now I'll tell you what--ef you want to be sick
+            of your life,
+    Jest come and change places with me a spell, for I'm an
+            inventor's wife.
+    And sech inventions! I'm never sure when I take up my coffee-pot,
+    That 'Bijah hain't been "improvin'" it, and it mayn't go off
+            like a shot.
+    Why, didn't he make me a cradle once that would keep itself
+            a-rockin',
+    And didn't it pitch the baby out, and wasn't his head bruised
+            shockin'?
+    And there was his "patent peeler," too, a wonderful thing I'll say;
+    But it hed one fault--it never stopped till the apple was peeled away.
+    As for locks and clocks, and mowin' machines, and reapers, and all
+            such trash,
+    Why, 'Bijah's invented heaps of them, but they don't bring in no cash!
+    Law! that don't worry him--not at all; he's the aggravatinest man--
+    He'll set in his little workshop there, and whistle and think and plan,
+    Inventin' a Jews harp to go by steam, or a new-fangled powder-horn,
+    While the children's goin' barefoot to school, and the weeds is
+            chokin' our corn.
+    When 'Bijah and me kep' company, he wasn't like this, you know;
+    Our folks all thought he was dreadful smart--but that was years ago.
+    He was handsome as any pictur' then, and he had such a glib,
+            bright way--
+    I never thought that a time would come when I'd rue my weddin'-day;
+    But when I've been forced to chop the wood, and tend to the
+            farm beside,
+    And look at 'Bijah a-settin' there, I've jest dropped down and cried.
+    We lost the hull of our turnip crop while he was inventin' a gun,
+    But I counted it one of my marcies when it bust before 'twas done.
+    So he turned it into a "burglar alarm." It ought to give
+            thieves a fright--
+    'Twould scare an honest man out of his wits, ef he sot it
+            off at night.
+    Sometimes I wonder ef 'Bijah's crazy, he does such curious things.
+    Have I told you about his bedstead yit? 'Twas full of wheels
+            and springs;
+    It hed a key to wind it up, and a clock-face at the head;
+    All you did was to turn them hands, and at any hour you said
+    That bed got up and shook itself, and bounced you on the floor,
+    And then shet up, jest like a box, so you couldn't sleep any more.
+    Wa'al, 'Bijah he fixed it all complete, and he sot it at
+            half-past five,
+    But he hadn't more 'n got into it, when--dear me! sakes alive!
+    Them wheels began to whizz and whirr! I heard a fearful snap,
+    And there was that bedstead with 'Bijah inside shet up jest
+            like a trap!
+    I screamed, of course, but 'twant no use. Then I worked that
+            hull long night
+    A-tryin' to open the pesky thing. At last I got in a fright:
+    I couldn't hear his voice inside, and I thought he might be dyin',
+    So I took a crowbar and smashed it in. There was 'Bijah
+            peacefully lyin',
+    Inventin' a way to git out agin. That was all very well to say,
+    But I don't believe he'd have found it out if I'd left him in all day.
+    Now, since I've told you my story, do you wonder I'm tired of life,
+    Or think it strange I often wish I warn't an inventor's wife?
+
+
+AN UNRUFFLED BOSOM.
+
+(_Story of an old Woman who knew Washington._)
+
+BY LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY.
+
+    An aged negress at her door
+      Is sitting in the sun;
+    Her day of work is almost o'er,
+      Her day of rest begun.
+    Her face is black as darkest night,
+      Her form is bent and thin,
+    And o'er her bony visage tight
+      Is stretched her wrinkled skin.
+    Her dress is scant and mean; yet still
+      About her ebon face
+    There flows a soft and creamy frill
+      Of costly Mechlin lace.
+    What means the contrast strange and wide?
+      Its like is seldom seen--
+    A pauper's aged face beside
+      The laces of a queen.
+    Her mien is stately, proud, and high,
+      And yet her look is kind,
+    And the calm light within her eye
+      Speaks an unruffled mind.
+    "Dar comes anodder ob dem tramps,"
+      She mumbles low in wrath,
+    "I know dose sleek Centennial chaps
+      Quick as dey mounts de path."
+    A-axing ob a lady's age
+      I tink is impolite,
+    And when dey gins to interview
+      I disremembers quite.
+    Dar was dat spruce photometer
+      Dat tried to take my head,
+    And Mr. Squibbs, de porterer,
+      Wrote down each word I said.
+    Six hundred years I t'ought it was,
+      Or else it was sixteen--
+    Yes; I'd shook hands wid Washington
+      And likewise General Greene.
+    I tole him all de generals' names
+      Dar ebber was, I guess,
+    From General Lee and La Fayette
+      To General Distress.
+    Den dar's dem high-flown ladies
+      My _old_ tings came to see;
+    Wanted to buy dem some heirlooms
+      Of real Aunt Tiquity.
+    Says I, "Dat isn't dis chile's name,
+      Dey calls me Auntie Scraggs,"
+    And den I axed dem, by de pound
+      How much dey gabe for rags?
+    De missionary had de mose
+      Insurance of dem all;
+    He tole me I was ole, and said,
+      Leabes had dar time to fall.
+    He simply wished to ax, he said,
+      As pastor and as friend,
+    If wid unruffled bosom I
+      Approached my latter end.
+    Now how he knew dat story I
+      Should mightily like to know.
+
+    I 'clar to goodness, Massa Guy,
+      If dat ain't really you!
+    You say dat in your wash I sent
+      You only one white vest;
+    And as you'se passin' by you t'ought
+      You'd call and get de rest.
+    Now, Massa Guy, about your shirts,
+      At least, it seems to me
+    Dat you is more particular
+      Dan what you used to be.
+    Your family pride is stiff as starch,
+      Your blood is mighty blue--
+    I nebber spares de indigo
+      To make your shirts so, too.
+    I uses candle ends, and wax,
+      And satin-gloss and paints,
+    Until your wristbands shine like to
+      De pathway ob de saints.
+    But when a gemman sends to me
+      Eight white vests eberry week,
+    A stain ob har-oil on each one,
+      I tinks it's time to speak.
+
+    When snarled around a button dar's
+      A golden har or so,
+    Dat young man's going to be wed,
+      Or someting's wrong, I know.
+    You needn't laugh, and turn it off
+      By axing 'bout my cap;
+    You didn't use to know nice lace,
+      And never cared a snap
+    What 'twas a lady wore. But folks
+      Wid teaching learn a lot,
+    And dey do say Miss Bella buys
+      De best dat's to be got.
+    But if you really want to know,
+      I don't mind telling you
+    Jus' how I come by dis yere lace--
+      It's cur'us, but it's true.
+    My mother washed for Washington
+      When I warn't more'n dat tall;
+    I cut one of his shirt-frills off
+      To dress my corn-cob doll;
+    And when de General saw de shirt,
+      He jus' was mad enough
+    To tink he got to hold review
+      Widout his best Dutch ruff.
+    Ma'am said she 'lowed it was de calf
+      Dat had done chawed it off;
+    But when de General heard dat ar,
+      He answered with a scoff;
+    He said de marks warn't don' of teef,
+      But plainly dose ob shears;
+    An' den he showed her to de do'
+      And cuffed me on ye years.
+    And when my ma'am arribed at home
+      She stretched me 'cross her lap,
+    Den took de lace away from me
+      An' sewed it on her cap.
+    And when I dies I hope dat dey
+      Wid it my shroud will trim.
+
+    Den when we meets on Judgment Day,
+      I'll gib it back to him.
+    So dat's my story, Massa Guy,
+      Maybe I's little wit;
+    But I has larned to, when I'm wrong,
+      Make a clean breast ob it.
+    Den keep a conscience smooth and white
+      (You can't if much you flirt),
+    And an unruffled bosom, like
+      De General's Sunday shirt.
+
+
+HAT, ULSTER AND ALL.
+
+BY CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES.
+
+_John Verity's Experience._
+
+    I saw the congregation rise,
+    And in it, to my great surprise,
+        A Kossuth-covered head.
+    I looked and looked, and looked again,
+    To make quite sure my sight was plain,
+        Then to myself I said:
+
+    That fellow surely is a Jew,
+    To whom the Christian faith is new,
+        Nor is it strange, indeed,
+    If used to wear his hat in church,
+    His manners leave him in the lurch
+        Upon a change of creed.
+
+    Joining my friend on going out,
+    Conjecture soon was put to rout
+        By smothered laugh of his:
+    Ha! ha! too good, too good, no Jew,
+    Dear fellow, but Miss Moll Carew,
+        Good Christian that she is!
+
+    Bad blunder all I have to say,
+    It is a most unchristian way
+        To rig Miss Moll Carew--
+    She has my hat, my cut of hair,
+    Just such an ulster as I wear,
+        And heaven knows what else, too.
+
+
+AUCTION EXTRAORDINARY.
+
+BY LUCRETIA DAVIDSON.
+
+    I dreamed a dream in the midst of my slumbers,
+    And as fast as I dreamed it, it came into numbers;
+    My thoughts ran along in such beautiful meter,
+    I'm sure I ne'er saw any poetry sweeter:
+    It seemed that a law had been recently made
+    That a tax on old bachelors' pates should be laid;
+    And in order to make them all willing to marry,
+    The tax was as large as a man could well carry.
+    The bachelors grumbled and said 'twas no use--
+    'Twas horrid injustice and horrid abuse,
+    And declared that to save their own hearts' blood from spilling,
+    Of such a vile tax they would not pay a shilling.
+    But the rulers determined them still to pursue,
+    So they set all the old bachelors up at vendue:
+    A crier was sent through the town to and fro,
+    To rattle his bell and a trumpet to blow,
+    And to call out to all he might meet in his way,
+    "Ho! forty old bachelors sold here to-day!"
+    And presently all the old maids in the town,
+    Each in her very best bonnet and gown,
+    From thirty to sixty, fair, plain, red and pale,
+    Of every description, all flocked to the sale.
+    The auctioneer then in his labor began,
+    And called out aloud, as he held up a man,
+    "How much for a bachelor? Who wants to buy?"
+    In a twink, every maiden responsed, "I--I!"
+    In short, at a highly extravagant price,
+    The bachelors all were sold off in a trice:
+    And forty old maidens, some younger, some older,
+    Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder.
+
+
+A APELE FOR ARE TO THE SEXTANT.
+
+BY ARABELLA WILSON.
+
+    O Sextant of the meetinouse which sweeps
+    And dusts, or is supposed to! and makes fiers,
+    And lites the gas, and sumtimes leaves a screw loose,
+    In which case it smells orful--wus than lampile;
+    And wrings the Bel and toles it when men dies
+    To the grief of survivin' pardners, and sweeps paths,
+    And for these servaces gits $100 per annum;
+    Wich them that thinks deer let 'em try it;
+    Gittin up before starlite in all wethers, and
+    Kindlin' fiers when the wether is as cold
+    As zero, and like as not green wood for kindlins
+    (I wouldn't be hierd to do it for no sum);
+    But o Sextant there are one kermodity
+    Wuth more than gold which don't cost nuthin;
+    Wuth more than anything except the Sole of man!
+    I mean pewer Are, Sextant, I mean pewer Are!
+    O it is plenty out o' dores, so plenty it doant no
+    What on airth to do with itself, but flize about
+    Scatterin leaves and bloin off men's hats;
+    In short its jest as free as Are out dores;
+    But O Sextant! in our church its scarce as piety,
+    Scarce as bankbills when ajunts beg for mishuns,
+    Which sum say is purty often, taint nuthin to me,
+    What I give aint nuthing to nobody; but O Sextant!
+    You shet 500 men women and children
+    Speshily the latter, up in a tite place,
+    Sum has bad breths, none of em aint too sweet,
+    Sum is fevery, sum is scroflus, sum has bad teeth
+    And sum haint none, and sum aint over clean;
+    But evry one of em brethes in and out and in
+    Say 50 times a minnet, or 1 million and a half breths an hour;
+    Now how long will a church full of are last at that rate?
+    I ask you; say fifteen minnets, and then what's to be did?
+    Why then they must breth it all over agin,
+    And then agin and so on, till each has took it down
+    At least ten times and let it up agin, and what's more,
+    The same individible doant have the privilege
+    Of breathin his own are and no one else,
+    Each one must take wotever comes to him,
+    O Sextant! doant you know our lungs is belluses
+    To blo the fier of life and keep it from
+    Going out: und how can bellusses blo without wind?
+    And aint wind are? I put it to your konshens,
+    Are is the same to us as milk to babies,
+    Or water is to fish, or pendlums to clox,
+    Or roots and airbs unto an Injun doctor,
+    Or little pills unto an omepath,
+    Or Boze to girls. Are is for us to brethe.
+    What signifize who preaches ef I cant brethe?
+    What's Pol? What's Pollus to sinners who are ded?
+    Ded for want of breth! Why Sextant when we dye
+    Its only coz we cant brethe no more--that's all.
+    And now O Sextant? let me beg of you
+    To let a little are into our cherch
+    (Pewer are is sertin proper for the pews);
+    And dew it week days and on Sundays tew--
+    It aint much trobble--only make a hoal,
+    And then the are will come in of itself
+    (It love to come in where it can git warm).
+    And O how it will rouze the people up
+    And sperrit up the preacher, and stop garps
+    And yorns and fijits as effectool
+    As wind on the dry boans the Profit tels of.
+
+                              --_Christian Weekly._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+GOOD-NATURED SATIRE.
+
+
+Women show their sense of humor in ridiculing the foibles of their own
+sex, as Miss Carlotta Perry seeing the danger of "higher education," and
+Helen Gray Cone laughing over the exaggerated ravings and moanings of a
+stage-struck girl, or the very one-sided sermon of a sentimental goose.
+
+
+A MODERN MINERVA.
+
+BY CARLOTTA PERRY.
+
+    'Twas the height of the gay season, and I cannot tell the reason,
+      But at a dinner party given by Mrs. Major Thwing
+    It became my pleasant duty to take out a famous beauty--
+      The prettiest woman present. I was happy as a king.
+
+    Her dress beyond a question was an artist's best creation;
+      A miracle of loveliness was she from crown to toe.
+    Her smile was sweet as could be, her voice just as it should be--
+      Not high, and sharp, and wiry, but musical and low.
+
+    Her hair was soft and flossy, golden, plentiful and glossy;
+      Her eyes, so blue and sunny, shone with every inward grace;
+    I could see that every fellow in the room was really yellow
+      With jealousy, and wished himself that moment in my place.
+
+    As the turtle soup we tasted, like a gallant man I hasted
+      To pay some pretty tribute to this muslin, silk, and gauze;
+    But she turned and softly asked me--and I own the question tasked me--
+      What were my fixed opinions on the present Suffrage laws.
+
+    I admired a lovely blossom resting on her gentle bosom;
+      The remark I thought a safe one--I could hardly made a worse;
+    With a smile like any Venus, she gave me its name and genus,
+      And opened very calmly a botanical discourse.
+
+    But I speedily recovered. As her taper fingers hovered,
+      Like a tender benediction, in a little bit of fish,
+    Further to impair digestion, she brought up the Eastern Question.
+      By that time I fully echoed that other fellow's wish.
+
+    And, as sure as I'm a sinner, right on through that endless dinner
+      Did she talk of moral science, of politics and law,
+    Of natural selection, of Free Trade and Protection,
+      Till I came to look upon her with a sort of solemn awe.
+
+    Just to hear the lovely woman, looking more divine than human,
+      Talk with such discrimination of Ingersoll and Cook,
+    With such a childish, sweet smile, quoting Huxley, Mill, and Carlyle--
+      It was quite a revelation--it was better than a book.
+
+    Chemistry and mathematics, agriculture and chromatics,
+      Music, painting, sculpture--she knew all the tricks of speech;
+    Bas-relief and chiaroscuro, and at last the Indian Bureau--
+      She discussed it quite serenely, as she trifled with a peach.
+
+    I have seen some dreadful creatures, with vinegary features,
+      With their fearful store of learning set me sadly in eclipse;
+    But I'm ready quite to swear if I have ever heard the Tariff
+      Or the Eastern Question settled by such a pair of lips.
+
+    Never saw I a dainty maiden so remarkably o'erladen
+      From lip to tip of finger with the love of books and men;
+    Quite in confidence I say it, and I trust you'll not betray it,
+      But I pray to gracious heaven that I never may again.
+
+                              --_Chicago Tribune._
+
+
+THE BALLAD OF CASSANDRA BROWN.
+
+BY HELEN GRAY CONE.
+
+    Though I met her in the summer, when one's heart lies 'round at ease,
+    As it were in tennis costume, and a man's not hard to please;
+    Yet I think at any season to have met her was to love,
+    While her tones, unspoiled, unstudied, had the softness of the dove.
+
+    At request she read us poems, in a nook among the pines,
+    And her artless voice lent music to the least melodious lines;
+    Though she lowered her shadowing lashes, in an earnest reader's wise,
+    Yet we caught blue gracious glimpses of the heavens that were her eyes.
+
+    As in Paradise I listened. Ah, I did not understand
+    That a little cloud, no larger than the average human hand,
+    Might, as stated oft in fiction, spread into a sable pall,
+    When she said that she should study elocution in the fall.
+
+    I admit her earliest efforts were not in the Ercles vein:
+    She began with "Lit-tle Maaybel, with her faayce against the paayne,
+    And the beacon-light a-trrremble--" which, although it made me wince,
+    Is a thing of cheerful nature to the things she's rendered since.
+
+    Having learned the Soulful Quiver, she acquired the Melting Mo-o-an,
+    And the way she gave "Young Grayhead" would have liquefied a stone;
+    Then the Sanguinary Tragic did her energies employ,
+    And she tore my taste to tatters when she slew "The Polish Boy."
+
+    It's not pleasant for a fellow when the jewel of his soul
+    Wades through slaughter on the carpet, while her orbs in frenzy roll:
+    What was I that I should murmur? Yet it gave me grievous pain
+    When she rose in social gatherings and searched among the slain.
+
+    I was forced to look upon her, in my desperation dumb--
+    Knowing well that when her awful opportunity was come
+    She would give us battle, murder, sudden death at very least--
+    As a skeleton of warning, and a blight upon the feast.
+
+    Once, ah! once I fell a-dreaming; some one played a polonaise
+    I associated strongly with those happier August days;
+    And I mused, "I'll speak this evening," recent pangs forgotten quite.
+    Sudden shrilled a scream of anguish: "Curfew SHALL not ring to-night!"
+
+    Ah, that sound was as a curfew, quenching rosy warm romance!
+    Were it safe to wed a woman one so oft would wish in France?
+    Oh, as she "cull-imbed!" that ladder, swift my mounting hope came down.
+    I am still a single cynic; she is still Cassandra Brown!
+
+
+THE TENDER HEART.
+
+BY HELEN GRAY CONE.
+
+    She gazed upon the burnished brace
+      Of plump, ruffed grouse he showed with pride,
+    Angelic grief was in her face:
+      "How _could_ you do it, dear?" she sighed.
+    "The poor, pathetic moveless wings!"
+      The songs all hushed--"Oh, cruel shame!"
+    Said he, "The partridge never sings,"
+      Said she, "The sin is quite the same."
+
+    "You men are savage, through and through,
+      A boy is always bringing in
+    Some string of birds' eggs, white and blue,
+      Or butterfly upon a pin.
+    The angle-worm in anguish dies,
+      Impaled, the pretty trout to tease--"
+    "My own, we fish for trout with flies--"
+      "Don't wander from the question, please."
+
+    She quoted Burns's "Wounded Hare,"
+      And certain burning lines of Blake's,
+    And Ruskin on the fowls of air,
+      And Coleridge on the water-snakes.
+    At Emerson's "Forbearance" he
+      Began to feel his will benumbed;
+    At Browning's "Donald" utterly
+      His soul surrendered and succumbed.
+
+    "Oh, gentlest of all gentle girls!
+      He thought, beneath the blessed sun!"
+    He saw her lashes hang with pearls,
+      And swore to give away his gun.
+    She smiled to find her point was gained
+      And went, with happy parting words
+    (He subsequently ascertained),
+      To trim her hat with humming birds.
+
+                              --_From the Century._
+
+
+A dozen others equally good must be reserved for that encyclopædia! This
+specimen, of _vers de société_ rivals Locker or Baker:
+
+
+PLIGHTED: A.D. 1874.
+
+BY ALICE WILLIAMS.
+
+    "Two souls with but a single thought,
+     Two hearts that beat as one."
+
+
+    NELLIE, _loquitur_.
+
+    Bless my heart! You've come at last,
+      Awful glad to see you, dear!
+    Thought you'd died or something, Belle--
+      _Such_ an age since you've been here!
+    My engagement? Gracious! Yes.
+      Rumor's hit the mark this time.
+    And the victim? Charley Gray.
+      Know him, don't you? Well, he's _prime_.
+    Such mustachios! splendid style!
+      Then he's not so horrid fast--
+    Waltzes like a seraph, too;
+      Has some fortune--best and last.
+    Love him? Nonsense. Don't be "soft;"
+      Pretty much as love now goes;
+    He's devoted, and in time
+      I'll get used to him, I 'spose.
+    First love? Humbug. Don't talk stuff!
+      Bella Brown, don't be a fool!
+    Next you'd rave of flames and darts,
+      Like a chit at boarding-school;
+    Don't be "miffed." I talked just so
+      Some two years back. Fact, my dear!
+    But two seasons kill romance,
+      Leave one's views of life quite clear.
+    Why, if Will Latrobe had asked
+      When he left two years ago,
+    I'd have thrown up all and gone
+      Out to Kansas, do you know?
+    Fancy me a settler's wife!
+      Blest escape, dear, was it not?
+    Yes; it's hardly in my line
+      To enact "Love in a Cot."
+    Well, you see, I'd had my swing,
+      Been engaged to eight or ten,
+    Got to stop some time, of course,
+      So it don't much matter when.
+    Auntie hates old maids, and thinks
+      Every girl should marry young--
+    On that theme my whole life long
+      I have heard the changes sung.
+    So, _ma belle_, what could I do?
+      Charley wants a stylish wife.
+    We'll suit well enough, no fear,
+      When we settle down for life.
+    But for love-stuff! See my ring!
+      Lovely, isn't it? Solitaire.
+    Nearly made Maud Hinton turn
+      Green with envy and despair.
+    Her's ain't half so nice, you see.
+      _Did_ I write you, Belle, about
+    How she tried for Charley, till
+      I sailed in and cut her out?
+    Now, she's taken Jack McBride,
+      I believe it's all from pique--
+    Threw him over once, you know--
+      Hates me so she'll scarcely speak.
+    Oh, yes! Grace Church, Brown, and that--
+      Pa won't mind expense at last
+    I'll be off his hands for good;
+      Cost a fortune two years past.
+    My trousseau shall outdo Maud's,
+      I've _carte blanche_ from Pa, you know--
+    Mean to have my dress from Worth!
+      Won't she be just RAVING though!
+
+                              --_Scribner's Monthly Magazine, 1874._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Women are often extremely humorous in their newspaper letters, excelling
+in that department. As critics they incline to satire. No one who read
+them at the time will ever forget Mrs. Runkle's review of "St. Elmo," or
+Gail Hamilton's criticism of "The Story of Avis," while Mrs. Rollins, in
+the _Critic_, often uses a scimitar instead of a quill, though a smile
+always tempers the severity. She thus beheads a poetaster who tells the
+public that his "solemn song" is
+
+    "Attempt ambitious, with a ray of hope
+     To pierce the dark abysms of thought, to guide
+     Its dim ghosts o'er the towering crags of Doubt
+     Unto the land where Peace and Love abide,
+     Of flowers and streams, and sun and stars."
+
+"His 'solemn song' is certainly very solemn for a song with so cheerful
+a purpose. We have rarely read, indeed, a book with so large a
+proportion of unhappy words in it. Frozen shrouds, souls a-chill with
+agony, things wan and gray, icy demons, scourging willow-branches,
+snow-heaped mounds, black and freezing nights, cups of sorrow drained to
+the lees, etc., are presented in such profusion that to struggle through
+the 'dark abyss' in search of the 'ray of hope' is much like taking a
+cup of poison to learn the sweetness of its antidote. Mr. ---- in one of
+his stanzas invites his soul to 'come and walk abroad' with him. If he
+ever found it possible to walk abroad without his soul, the fact would
+have been worth chronicling; but if it is true that he only desires to
+have his soul with him occasionally, we should advise him to walk abroad
+alone, and invite his soul to sit beside him in the hours he devotes to
+composition."
+
+Then humor is displayed in the excellent parodies by women--as Grace
+Greenwood's imitations of various authors, written in her young days,
+but quite equal to the "Echo Club" of Bayard Taylor. How perfect her
+mimicry of Mrs. Sigourney!
+
+
+A FRAGMENT.
+
+BY L.H.S.
+
+    How hardly doth the cold and careless world
+    Requite the toil divine of genius-souls,
+    Their wasting cares and agonizing throes!
+      I had a friend, a sweet and precious friend,
+    One passing rich in all the strange and rare,
+    And fearful gifts of song.
+                               On one great work,
+    A poem in twelve cantos, she had toiled
+    From early girlhood, e'en till she became
+    An olden maid.
+                   Worn with intensest thought,
+    She sunk at last, just at the "finis" sunk!
+    And closed her eyes forever! The soul-gem
+    Had fretted through its casket!
+                                    As I stood
+    Beside her tomb, I made a solemn vow
+    To take in charge that poor, lone orphan work,
+    And edit it!
+                 My publisher I sought,
+    A learned man and good. He took the work,
+    Read here and there a line, then laid it down,
+    And said, "It would not pay." I slowly turned,
+    And went my way with troubled brow, "but more
+    In sorrow than in anger."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Phoebe Cary's parody on "Maud Muller" I never fancied; it seems almost
+wicked to burlesque anything so perfect. But so many parodies have been
+made on Kingsley's "Three Fishers" that now I can enjoy a really good
+one, like this from Miss Lilian Whiting, of the Boston _Daily
+Traveller_, the well-known correspondent of various Western papers:
+
+
+THE THREE POETS.
+
+_After Kingsley._
+
+BY LILIAN WHITING.
+
+    Three poets went sailing down Boston streets,
+      All into the East as the sun went down,
+    Each felt that the editor loved him best
+      And would welcome spring poetry in Boston town.
+    For poets must write tho' the editors frown,
+    Their æsthetic natures will not be put down,
+            While the harbor bar is moaning!
+
+    Three editors climbed to the highest tower
+      That they could find in all Boston town,
+    And they planned to conceal themselves, hour after hour,
+      Till the sun or the poets had both gone down.
+    For Spring poets must write, though the editors rage,
+    The artistic spirit must thus be engaged--
+            Though the editors all were groaning.
+
+    Three corpses lay out on the Back Bay sand,
+      Just after the first spring sun went down,
+    And the Press sat down to a banquet grand,
+      In honor of poets no more in the town.
+    For poets will write while editors sleep,
+    Though they've nothing to earn and no one to keep;
+            And the harbor bar keeps moaning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The humor of women is constantly seen in their poems for children, such
+as "The Dead Doll," by Margaret Vandergrift, and the "Motherless
+Turkeys," by Marian Douglas. Here are some less known:
+
+
+BEDTIME.
+
+BY NELLIE K. KELLOGG.
+
+    'Twas sunset-time, when grandma called
+        To lively little Fred:
+    "Come, dearie, put your toys away,
+        It's time to go to bed."
+
+    But Fred demurred. "He wasn't tired,
+        He didn't think 'twas right
+    That he should go so early, when
+        Some folks sat up all night."
+
+    Then grandma said, in pleading tone,
+        "The little chickens go
+    To bed at sunset ev'ry night,
+        All summer long, you know."
+
+    Then Freddie laughed, and turned to her
+        His eyes of roguish blue,
+    "Oh, yes, I know," he said; "but then,
+        Old hen goes with them, too."
+
+                              --_Good Cheer_.
+
+
+THE ROBIN AND THE CHICKEN.
+
+BY GRACE F. COOLIDGE.
+
+    A plump little robin flew down from a tree,
+    To hunt for a worm, which he happened to see;
+    A frisky young chicken came scampering by,
+    And gazed at the robin with wondering eye.
+
+    Said the chick, "What a queer-looking chicken is that!
+    Its wings are so long and its body so fat!"
+    While the robin remarked, loud enough to be heard:
+    "Dear me! an exceedingly strange-looking bird!"
+
+    "Can you sing?" robin asked, and the chicken said "No;"
+    But asked in its turn if the robin could crow.
+    So the bird sought a tree and the chicken a wall,
+    And each thought the other knew nothing at all.
+
+                              --_St. Nicholas._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Harriette W. Lothrop, wife of the popular publisher--better known by her
+pen name of "Margaret Sidney"--has done much in a humorous way to amuse
+and instruct little folks. She has much quiet humor.
+
+
+WHY POLLY DOESN'T LOVE CAKE!
+
+BY MARGARET SIDNEY.
+
+          They all said "No!"
+          As they stood in a row,
+    The poodle, and the parrot, and the little yellow cat,
+          And they looked very solemn,
+          This straight, indignant column,
+    And rolled their eyes, and shook their heads, a-standing on the mat.
+
+          Then I took a goodly stick,
+          Very short and very thick,
+    And I said, "Dear friends, you really now shall rue it,
+          For one of you did take
+          That bit of wedding-cake,
+    And so I'm going to whip you all. I honestly will do it."
+
+          Then Polly raised her claw!
+          "I never, never saw
+    That stuff. _I'd_ rather have a cracker,
+          And so it would be folly,"
+          Said this naughty, naughty Polly,
+    "To punish me; but Pussy, you can whack her."
+
+          The cat rolled up her eyes
+          In innocent surprise,
+    And waved each trembling whisker end.
+          "A crumb I have not taken,
+          But Bose ought to be shaken.
+    And then, perhaps, his thieving, awful ways he'll mend."
+
+          "I'll begin right here
+          With you, Polly, dear,"
+    And my stick I raised with righteous good intent.
+          "Oh, dear!" and "Oh, dear!"
+          The groans that filled my ear.
+    As over head and heels the frightened column went!
+
+          The cat flew out of window,
+            The dog flew under bed,
+          And Polly flapped and beat the air,
+            Then settled on my head;
+          When underneath her wing,
+            From feathered corner deep,
+          A bit of wedding-cake fell down,
+            That made poor Polly weep.
+
+    The cat raced off to cat-land, and was never seen again,
+    And the dog sneaked out beneath the bed to scud with might and main;
+    While Polly sits upon her roost, and rolls her eyes in fear,
+    And when she sees a bit of cake, she always says, "Oh, dear!"
+
+
+KITTEN TACTICS.
+
+BY ADELAIDE CILLEY WALDRON.
+
+          Four little kittens in a heap,
+          One wide awake and three asleep.
+    Open-eyes crowded, pushed the rest over,
+    While the gray mother-cat went playing rover.
+
+          Three little kittens stretched and mewed;
+          Cried out, "Open-eyes, you're too rude!"
+    Open-eyes, winking, purred so demurely,
+    All the rest stared at him, thinking "surely
+
+          _We_ were the ones that were so rude,
+          _We_ were the ones that cried and mewed;
+    Let us lie here like good little kittens;
+    We cannot sleep, so we'll wash our mittens."
+
+          Four little kittens, very sleek,
+          Purred so demurely, looked so meek,
+    When the gray mother came home from roving--
+    "What good kittens!" said she; "and how loving!"
+
+
+BOTH SIDES.
+
+BY GAIL HAMILTON.
+
+    "Kitty, Kitty, you mischievous elf,
+     What have you, pray, to say for yourself?"
+
+             But Kitty was now
+             Asleep on the mow,
+     And only drawled dreamily, "Ma-e-ow!"
+
+    "Kitty, Kitty, come here to me,--
+     The naughtiest Kitty I ever did see!
+     I know very well what you've been about;
+     Don't try to conceal it, murder will out.
+     Why do you lie so lazily there?"
+
+    "Oh, I have had a breakfast rare!"
+    "Why don't you go and hunt for a mouse?"
+    "Oh, there's nothing fit to eat in the house."
+
+            "Dear me! Miss Kitty,
+             This is a pity;
+     But I guess the cause of your change of ditty.
+     What has become of the beautiful thrush
+     That built her nest in the heap of brush?
+     A brace of young robins as good as the best;
+     A round little, brown little, snug little nest;
+     Four little eggs all green and gay,
+     Four little birds all bare and gray,
+     And Papa Robin went foraging round,
+     Aloft on the trees, and alight on the ground.
+     North wind or south wind, he cared not a groat,
+     So he popped a fat worm down each wide-open throat;
+     And Mamma Robin through sun and storm
+     Hugged them up close, and kept them all warm;
+     And me, I watched the dear little things
+     Till the feathers pricked out on their pretty wings,
+     And their eyes peeped up o'er the rim of the nest.
+     Kitty, Kitty, you know the rest.
+     The nest is empty, and silent and lone;
+     Where are the four little robins gone?
+     Oh, puss, you have done a cruel deed!
+     Your eyes, do they weep? your heart, does it bleed?
+     Do you not feel your bold cheeks turning pale?
+     Not you! you are chasing your wicked tail.
+     Or you just cuddle down in the hay and purr,
+     Curl up in a ball, and refuse to stir,
+     But you need not try to look good and wise:
+     I see little robins, old puss, in your eyes.
+     And this morning, just as the clock struck four,
+     There was some one opening the kitchen door,
+     And caught you creeping the wood-pile over,--
+     Make a clean breast of it, Kitty Clover!"
+
+             Then Kitty arose,
+             Rubbed up her nose,
+     And looked very much as if coming to blows;
+             Rounded her back,
+             Leaped from the stack,
+     On _her_ feet, at _my_ feet, came down with a whack,
+     Then, fairly awake, she stretched out her paws,
+     Smoothed down her whiskers, and unsheathed her claws,
+             Winked her green eyes
+             With an air of surprise,
+     And spoke rather plainly for one of her size.
+
+    "Killed a few robins; well, what of that?
+     What's virtue in man can't be vice in a cat.
+     There's a thing or two I should like to know,--
+     Who killed the chicken a week ago,
+     For nothing at all that I could spy,
+     But to make an overgrown chicken-pie?
+             'Twixt you and me,
+             'Tis plain to see,
+     The odds is, you like fricassee,
+              While my brave maw
+              Owns no such law,
+     Content with viands _a la_ raw.
+
+    "Who killed the robins? Oh, yes! oh, yes!
+     I _would_ get the cat now into a mess!
+             Who was it put
+             An old stocking-foot,
+             Tied up with strings
+             And such shabby things,
+     On to the end of a sharp, slender pole,
+     Dipped it in oil and set fire to the whole,
+     And burnt all the way from here to the miller's
+     The nests of the sweet young caterpillars?
+             Grilled fowl, indeed!
+             Why, as I read,
+     You had not even the plea of need;
+             For all you boast
+             Such wholesome roast,
+     I saw no sign at tea or roast,
+     Of even a caterpillar's ghost.
+
+    "Who killed the robins? Well, I _should_ think!
+     Hadn't somebody better wink
+     At my peccadillos, if houses of glass
+     Won't do to throw stones from at those who pass?
+     I had four little kittens a month ago--
+     Black, and Malta, and white as snow;
+     And not a very long while before
+     I could have shown you three kittens more.
+     And so in batches of fours and threes,
+     Looking back as long as you please,
+     You would find, if you read my story all,
+     There were kittens from time immemorial.
+
+    "But what am I now? A cat bereft,
+     Of all my kittens, but one is left.
+     I make no charges, but this I ask,--
+     What made such a splurge in the waste-water cask?
+     You are quite tender-hearted. Oh, not a doubt!
+     But only suppose old Black Pond could speak out.
+     Oh, bother! don't mutter excuses to me:
+     _Qui facit per alium facit per se_."
+
+    "Well, Kitty, I think full enough has been said,
+     And the best thing for you is go straight back to bed.
+             A very fine pass
+             Things have come to, my lass,
+             If men must be meek
+             While pussy-cats speak
+     Great moral reflections in Latin and Greek!"
+
+                              --_Our Young Folks._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+PARODIES--REVIEWS--CHILDREN'S POEMS--COMEDIES BY WOMEN--A DRAMATIC
+TRIFLE--A STRING OF FIRECRACKERS.
+
+
+It is surprising that we have so few comedies from women. Dr. Doran
+mentions five Englishwomen who wrote successful comedies. Of these,
+three are now forgotten; one, Aphra Behn, is remembered only to be
+despised for her vulgarity. She was an undoubted wit, and was never
+dull, but so wicked and coarse that she forfeited all right to fame.
+
+Susanna Centlivre left nineteen plays full of vivacity and fun and
+lively incident. The _Bold Stroke for a Wife_ is now considered her
+best. The _Basset Table_ is also a superior comedy, especially
+interesting because it anticipates the modern blue-stocking in Valeria,
+a philosophical girl who supports vivisection, and has also a prophecy
+of exclusive colleges for women.
+
+There is nothing worthy of quotation in any of these comedies. Some
+sentences from Mrs. Centlivre's plays are given in magazine articles to
+prove her wit, but we say so much brighter things in these days that
+they must be considered stale platitudes, as:
+
+"You may cheat widows, orphans, and tradesmen without a blush, but a
+debt of honor, sir, must be paid."
+
+"Quarrels, like mushrooms, spring up in a moment."
+
+"Woman is the greatest sovereign power in the world."
+
+Hans Andersen in his Autobiography mentions a Madame von Weissenthurn,
+who was a successful actress and dramatist. Her comedies are published
+in fourteen volumes. In our country several comedies written by women,
+but published anonymously, have been decided hits. Mrs. Verplanck's
+_Sealed Instructions_ was a marked success, and years ago _Fashion_, by
+Anna Cora Mowatt, had a remarkable run. By the way, those roaring
+farces, _Belles of the Kitchen_ and _Fun in a Fog_, were written for the
+Vokes family by an aunt of theirs. And I must not forget to state that
+Gilbert's _Palace of Truth_ was cribbed almost bodily from Madame de
+Genlis's "Tales of an Old Castle." Mrs. Julia Schayer, of Washington,
+has given us a domestic drama in one act, entitled _Struggling Genius_.
+
+
+STRUGGLING GENIUS.
+
+_Dramatis Personæ._
+
+    MRS. ANASTASIUS.
+    GIRL OF TEN YEARS.
+    GIRL OF TWO YEARS.
+    MR. ANASTASIUS.
+    GIRL OF EIGHT YEARS.
+    INFANT OF THREE MONTHS.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. NURSERY.
+
+[_Time, eight o'clock A.M. In the background nurse making bed, etc.;
+Girl of Two amusing herself surreptitiously with pins, buttons,
+scissors, etc.; Girl of Eight practising piano in adjoining room; Mrs.
+A. in foreground performing toilet of infant. Having lain awake half the
+preceding night wrestling with the plot of a new novel for which rival
+publishers are waiting with outstretched hands (full of checks), Mrs. A.
+believes she has hit upon an effective scene, and burns to commit it to
+paper. Washes infant with feverish haste._]
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_soliloquizing_). Let me see! How was it? Oh! "Olga raised
+her eyes with a sweetly serious expression. Harold gazed moodily at her
+calm face. It was not the expression that he longed to see there. He
+would have preferred to see--" Good gracious, Maria! That child's mouth
+is full of buttons! "He would have preferred--preferred--" (_Loudly._)
+Leonora! That F's to be sharped! There, there, mother's sonny boy! Did
+mamma drop the soap into his mouth instead of the wash-bowl? There,
+there! (_Sings._) "There's a land that is fairer than this," etc.
+
+    [_Infant quiet._
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_resuming_). "He would have preferred--preferred--" Maria,
+don't you see that child has got the scissors? "He would have--" There
+now, let mamma put on its little socks. Now it's all dressed so nice and
+clean. Don'ty ky! No, don'ty! Leonora! Put more accent on the first
+beat. "Harold gazed moodily into--" His bottle, Maria! Quick! He'll
+scream himself into fits!
+
+    [_Exit nurse. Baby having got both fists into his mouth beguiles
+    himself into quiet._
+
+_Mrs. A._ Let me see! How was it? Oh! "Harold gazed moodily into her
+calm, sweet face. It was not the expression he would have liked to find
+there. He would have preferred--" (_Shriek from girl of two._) Oh, dear
+me! She has shut her darling fingers in the drawer! Come to mamma,
+precious love, and sit on mamma's lap, and we'll sing about little
+pussy.
+
+    _Enter nurse with bottle. Curtain falls._
+
+
+SCENE II. STUDY.
+
+[_Three hours later; infant and Girl of Two asleep; house in order;
+lunch and dinner arranged; buttons sewed on Girl of Eight's boots,
+string on Girl of Ten's hood, and both dispatched to school, etc. Enter
+Mrs. A. Draws a long sigh of relief and seats herself at desk. Reads a
+page of Dickens and a poem or two to attune herself for work. Seizes
+pen, scribbles erratically a few seconds and begins to write._]
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_after some moments_). I think that is good. Let us hear how
+it reads. (_Reads aloud._) "He would have preferred to find more passion
+in those deep, dark eyes. Had he then no part in the maiden meditations
+of this fair, innocent girl--he whom proud beauties of society vied with
+each other to win? He could not guess. A stray breeze laden with violet
+and hyacinth perfume stole in at the open window, ruffling the soft
+waves of auburn hair which shaded her alabaster forehead." It seems to
+me I have read something similar before, but it is good, anyhow. "Harold
+could not endure this placid, unruffled calm. His own veins were full of
+molten lava. With a wild and passionate cry he--"
+
+    _Enter cook bearing a large, dripping piece of corned beef._
+
+_Cook._ Please, Miss Anastasy, is dis de kin' of a piece ye done
+wanted? I thought I'd save ye de trouble o' comin' down.
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_desperately_). It is!
+
+    [_Exit cook, staring wildly._
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_resuming_). "With a wild, passionate cry, he--"
+
+    _Re-enter cook._
+
+_Cook._ Ten cents for de boy what put in de wood, please, ma'am!
+
+[_Mrs. A. gives money; exit cook. Mrs. A., sighing, takes up MS. Clock
+strikes twelve; soon after the lunch-bell rings._]
+
+Voice of Girl of Ten, calling: Mamma, why _don't_ you come to lunch?
+
+
+SCENE III. DINING-ROOM.
+
+    _Enter Mrs. A._
+
+_Girl of Ten._ Oh, what a mean lunch! Nothing but bread and ham. I hate
+bread and ham! All the girls have jelly-cake. Why don't _we_ have
+jelly-cake? We _used_ to have jelly-cake.
+
+_Mrs. A._ You can have some pennies to buy ginger-snaps.
+
+_Girl of Ten._ I hate ginger-snaps! When are you going to make
+jelly-cake?
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_sternly_). When my book is done.
+
+_Girl of Ten_ (_with inexpressible meaning_): Hm!
+
+    _Curtain falls._
+
+
+SCENE IV. STUDY.
+
+    _Enter Mrs. A. Children, still asleep; girls at school; deck again
+    cleared for action._
+
+_Mrs. A._ It is one o'clock. If I can be let alone until three I can
+finish that last chapter.
+
+[_Takes up pen; lays it down; reads a poem of Mrs. Browning to take the
+taste of ham-sandwiches out of her mouth, then resumes pen, and writes
+with increasing interest for fifteen minutes. Everything is steeped in
+quiet. Suddenly a faint murmur of voices is heard; it increases, it
+approaches, mingled with the tread of many feet, and a rumbling as of
+mighty chariot-wheels. It is only Barnum's steam orchestrion, Barnum's
+steam chimes, and Barnum's steam calliope, followed by an array of
+ruff-scruff. They stop exactly opposite the house. The orchestrion
+blares, the chimes ring a knell to peace and harmony, the calliope
+shrieks to heaven. The infants wake and shriek likewise. Exit Mrs. A.
+Curtain falls._]
+
+
+SCENE V. STUDY.
+
+    _Enter Mrs. A. Peace restored; children happy with nurse. Seizes
+    pen and writes rapidly. Doorbell rings, cook announces caller;
+    nobody Mrs. A. wants to see, but somebody she MUST see. Exit
+    Mrs. A. in a state of rigid despair._
+
+
+SCENE VI. HALL.
+
+[_Visitor gone; Mrs. A. starts for study. Enter Girl of Eight followed
+by Girl of Ten._]
+
+    _Duettino._
+
+_Girl of Ten._ Mamma, _please_ give me my music lesson now, so I can go
+and skate; and then won't you _please_ make some jelly-cake? And see, my
+dress is torn, and my slate-frame needs covering.
+
+_Girl of Eight._ Where are my roller-skates? Where is the strap? Can I
+have a pickle? Please give me a cent. A girl said _her_ mother wouldn't
+let her wear darned stockings to school. I'm _ashamed_ of my stockings.
+You might let me wear my new ones.
+
+[_Mrs. A. gives music lesson; mends dress; covers slate-frame; makes
+jelly-cake and a pudding; goes to nursery and sends nurse down to finish
+ironing._]
+
+
+SCENE VII. NURSERY.
+
+[_Mrs. A. with babies on her lap. Enter husband and father with hands
+full of papers and general air of having finished his day's work._]
+
+_Mr. A._ Well, how is everything? Children all right, I see. You must
+have had a nice, quiet day. Written much?
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_faintly_). Not very much.
+
+_Mr. A._ (_complacently_). Oh, well, you can't force these things. It
+will be all right in time.
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_in a burst of repressed feeling_). We need the money so
+much, Charles!
+
+_Mr. A._ (_with an air of offended dignity_). Oh, bother! You are not
+expected to support the family.
+
+[_Mrs. A., thinking of that dentist's bill, that shoe bill, and the
+summer outfit for a family of six, says nothing. Exit Mr. A., who
+re-enters a moment later._]
+
+_Mr. A._ You--a--haven't fixed my coat, I see.
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_with a guilty start_). I--I forgot it!
+
+_Gibbering Fiend Conscience._ Ha, ha! Ho, ho!
+
+    _Curtain falls amid chorus of exulting demons._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have reserved for the close numerous instances of woman's facility at
+badinage and repartee. It is there, after all, that she shines perennial
+and pre-eminent. You will excuse me if I give them to you one after
+another without comment, like a closing display of fireworks.
+
+And first let me quote from Mrs. Rollins, as an instance of the way in
+which women often react upon each other in repartee, a little
+conversation which it was once her privilege to overhear:
+
+"_Margaret._ I wonder you never have been married, Kate. Of course
+you've had lots of chances. Won't you tell us how many?
+
+"_Kate._ No, indeed! I could not so cruelly betray my rejected lovers.
+
+"_Helen._ Of course you wouldn't tell us _exactly_; but would you mind
+giving it to us in round numbers?
+
+"_Kate._ Certainly not; the roundest number of all exactly expresses the
+chances I have had.
+
+"_Charlotte_ (_with a sigh_). Now I know what people mean by Kate's
+_circle of admirers_!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A lady was discussing the relative merits and demerits of the two sexes
+with a gentleman of her acquaintance. After much badinage on one side
+and the other, he said: "Well, you never yet heard of casting seven
+devils out of a man." "No," was the quick retort, "_they've got 'em
+yet_!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What would you do in time of war if you had the suffrage?" said Horace
+Greeley to Mrs. Stanton.
+
+"Just what you have done, Mr. Greeley," replied the ready lady; "stay at
+home and urge others to go and fight!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was Margaret Fuller who worsted Mrs. Greeley in a verbal encounter.
+The latter had a decided aversion to kid gloves, and on meeting Margaret
+shrank from her extended hand with a shudder, saying: "Ugh! Skin of a
+beast! skin of a beast!"
+
+"Why," said Miss Fuller, in surprise, "what do you wear?"
+
+"_Silk_," said Mrs. Greeley, stretching out her palm with satisfaction.
+
+Miss Fuller just touched it, saying, with a disgusted expression, "Ugh!
+entrails of a worm! entrails of a worm!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mademoiselle de Mars, the former favorite of the Théâtre de Français,
+had in some way offended the Gardes du Corps. So one night they came in
+full force to the theatre and tried to hiss her down.
+
+The actress, unabashed, came to the front of the stage, and alluding to
+the fact that the Gardes du Corps never went to war, said: "What has
+Mars to do with the Gardes du Corps?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Madame Louis de Ségur is daughter of the late Casimir Périer, who was
+Minister of the Interior during Thiers's administration. When once out
+of office, but still an influential member of the House, he once tried
+to form a new Moderate Republican party, meeting with but little
+success.
+
+Once his daughter, who was sitting in the gallery, saw him entering the
+House _all alone_.
+
+"Here comes my father with his party," she said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was greatly amused at the quiet reprimand given by a literary lady of
+New York to a stranger at her receptions, who, with hands crossed
+complacently under his coat-tails, was critically examining the various
+treasures in her room, humming obtrusively as he passed along.
+
+The hostess paused near him, surveyed him critically, and then inquired,
+in a gentle tone: "Do you play also?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A young girl being asked why she had not been more frequently to Lenten
+services, excused herself in this fashion, severe, but truthful: "Oh,
+Dr. ---- is on such intimate terms with the Almighty that I felt _de
+trop_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At a reception in Washington this spring an admirable answer was given
+by a level-headed woman--we are all proud of Miss Cleveland--to a
+fine-looking army officer, who has been doing guard duty in that
+magnificent city for the past seventeen years. "Pray," said he, "what do
+ladies find to think about besides dress and parties?"
+
+"They can think of the heroic deeds of our modern army officers," was
+her smiling reply.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Do you remember Lydia Maria Child's reply to her husband when he wished
+he was as rich as Croesus: "At any rate, you are King of Lydia;" and
+Lucretia Mott's humorous comment when she entered a room where her
+husband and his brother Richard were sitting, both of them remarkable
+for their taciturnity and reticence: "I thought you must both be
+here--it was so still!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In my own home I recall a sensible old maid of Scotch descent with her
+cosey cottage and the dear old-fashioned garden where she loved to work.
+Our physician, a man of infinite humor, who honestly admired her
+sterling worth, and was attracted by her individuality, leaned over her
+fence one bright spring morning, with the direct question: "Miss Sharp,
+why did you never get married?"
+
+She looked up from her weeding, rested on her hoe-handle, and looking
+steadily at his hair, which was of a sandy hue, answered: "I'll tell you
+all about it, Doctor. I made up my mind, when I was a girl, that, come
+what would, I would never marry a red-headed man, and none but men with
+red hair have ever offered themselves."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We all know women whose capacity for monologue exhausts all around them.
+So that the remark will be appreciated of a lady to whom I said,
+alluding to such a talker: "Have you seen Mrs. ---- lately?"
+
+"No, I really had to give up her acquaintance in despair, for I had been
+trying two years to tell her something in particular."
+
+A lady once told me she could always know when she had taken too much
+wine at dinner--her husband's jokes began to seem funny!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lastly and--_finally_, there is a reason for our apparent lack of humor,
+which it may seem ungracious to mention. Women do not find it politic to
+cultivate or express their wit. No man likes to have his story capped
+by a better and fresher from a lady's lips. What woman does not risk
+being called sarcastic and hateful if she throws back the merry dart, or
+indulges in a little sharp-shooting? No, no, it's dangerous--if not
+fatal.
+
+    "Though you're bright, and though you're pretty,
+     They'll not love you if you're witty."
+
+Madame de Staël and Madame Récamier are good illustrations of this
+point. The former, by her fearless expressions of wit, exposed herself
+to the detestation of the majority of mankind. "She has shafts," said
+Napoleon, "which would hit a man if he were seated on a rainbow."
+
+But the sweetly fawning, almost servile adulation of the _listening_
+beauty brought her a corresponding throng of admirers. It sometimes
+seems that what is pronounced wit, if uttered by a distinguished man,
+would be considered commonplace if expressed by a woman.
+
+Parker's illustration of Choate's _rare humor_ never struck me as
+felicitous. "Thus, a friend meeting him one ten-degrees-below-zero
+morning in the winter, said: 'How cold it is, Mr. Choate.' 'Well, it is
+not absolutely tropical,' he replied, with a most mirthful emphasis."
+
+And do you recollect the only time that Wordsworth was _really_ witty?
+He told the story himself at a dinner. "Gentlemen, I never was really
+witty but once in my life." Of course there was a general call for the
+bright but solitary instance. And the contemplative bard continued:
+"Well, gentlemen, I was standing at the door of my cottage on Rydal
+Mount, one fine summer morning, and a laborer said to me: 'Sir, have you
+seen my wife go by this way?' And I replied: 'My good man, I did not
+know until this moment that you _had_ a wife!'"
+
+He paused; the company waited for the promised witticism, but
+discovering that he had finished, burst into a long and hearty roar,
+which the old gentleman accepted complacently as a tribute to his
+brilliancy.
+
+The wit of women is like the airy froth of champagne, or the witching
+iridescence of the soap-bubble, blown for a moment's sport. The sparkle,
+the life, the fascinating foam, the gay tints vanish with the occasion,
+because there is no listening Boswell with unfailing memory and
+capacious note-book to preserve them.
+
+Then, unlike men, women do not write out their impromptus beforehand and
+carefully hoard them for the publisher--and posterity!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now, dear friends, a cordial _au revoir_.
+
+My heartiest thanks to the women who have so generously allowed me to
+ransack their treasuries, filching here and there as I chose, always
+modestly declaiming against the existence of wit in what they had
+written.
+
+To various publishers in New York and Boston, who have been most
+courteous and liberal, credit is given elsewhere.
+
+Touched by the occasion, I "drop into" doggerel:
+
+    If you pronounce this book not funny,
+    And wish you hadn't spent your money,
+    There soon will be a general rumor
+    That you're no judge of Wit or Humor.
+
+
+
+
+    INDEX.
+
+                                                                    PAGE.
+
+    INTRODUCTION                                                     iii.
+
+    CONTENTS                                                           v.
+
+    DEDICATION                                                       vii.
+
+    ARGUMENT                                                          ix.
+
+    PROEM                                                             xi.
+
+                                                              CHAP. PAGE.
+
+    Alcott, Louisa: "Transcendental Wild Oats"                  IV.   68
+
+    American Early Writers: Some of them who were thought
+      Witty--Anne Bradstreet; Mercy Warren; Tabitha Tenney     III.   47
+      Satirical Poem, by Mercy Warren                          III.   47
+      Mrs. Sigourney's Johnsonese Humor; Extracts from her
+        Note-Book                                              III.   48
+      Miss Sedgwick's Witty Imagination,                       III.   49
+      Mrs. Caroline Gilman's humorous Poem, "Joshua's
+        Courtship"                                             III.   49
+
+    Andersen, Hans, Reference to Woman Dramatist in his
+      Autobiography                                              X.  196
+
+    Aphorisms by the Queen of Roumania (Carmen Sylva)            I.   24
+
+    "Auction Extraordinary"                                   VIII.  176
+
+    "Aunty Doleful's Visit," by M.K.D.--"If I can't do
+      anything else, I can cheer you up a little"               VI.  118
+
+
+    Barnum and Phoebe Cary                                     V.  102
+
+    Bates, Charlotte Fiske: "Hat, Ulster and All," Satirical
+      Poem, Quatrain and Epigram                              VIII.  175
+
+    "Beechers," Old Family Epigram applied to the                I.   22
+
+    Behn, Aphra: Wrote Comedies; her unsavory Wit                X.  195
+
+    Bellows, Isabel Frances: "A Fatal Reputation" (for
+      wit)--"A picnic, that most ghastly device of the human
+      mind"                                                    VII.  129
+
+    Bremer, Frederika, her genuine Humor; First Quarrel with
+      her "Bear"                                                II.   41
+
+    Brine, Mary D.: Poems, "Kiss Pretty Poll"                 VIII.  158
+
+      "     "      "Thanksgiving Day--Then and Now"           VIII.  159
+
+    Burleigh, Pun on, by Queen Elizabeth                         I.   16
+
+    Butter, Punning Poem on, by Caroline B. Le Row               I.   18
+
+
+    Cary, Phoebe, "The wittiest woman in America": Her
+      quick retorts and merry repartees; her parodies and
+      humorous poems                                             V.  101
+
+    Champney, Lizzie W.: "An Unruffled Bosom"--a Tragical
+      Tale of a Negress who "knew Washington"                 VIII.  171
+
+    Clarke, Lady, and her Irish Songs                           II.   44
+
+    Cleveland's, Elizabeth Rose, Pun                             I.   21
+
+    Cleaveland's, Mrs., "No Sects in Heaven"                    IV.   69
+
+    Clemmer, Mary: Her Life of Phoebe Cary                       V.  102
+
+    Comedies--Few written by Women; Five Englishwomen
+      produced successful; Susanna Centlivre wrote nearly
+      a score--contain some wit, but old-fashioned; Aphra
+      Behn wrote several comedies, witty but coarse              X.  195
+
+    Cooke's, Rose Terry, "Knoware"                              IV.   68
+      "        "    "    "Miss Lucinda's Pig"                   IV.   69
+      "        "    "    Story of "A Gift Horse"                IV.   71
+
+    Coolidge, Grace F.: "The Robin and Chicken"                 IX.  188
+
+    Conclusion. _See_ "Fireworks."
+
+    Cone, Helen Gray: Satirical Poems--"Cassandra Brown"        IX.  180
+      "     "    "    "The Tender Heart"                        IX.  182
+
+    Corbett, E.T.: "The Inventor's Wife," a Poetical Lament   VIII.  170
+
+    _Critic_, article in, on "Woman's Sense of Humor"            I.   13
+
+    Cynicism of Frenchwomen                                      I.   23
+
+
+    Davidson, Lucretia: "Auction Extraordinary" (Sale of
+      Old Bachelors)                                          VIII.  176
+
+    Deffand, Madame du                                           I.   23
+
+    Diaz, Mrs. Abby M., writer of the famous "William
+      Henry Letters"                                            IV.   69
+
+    Dodge, Mary Mapes--"inimitable satirist": "The Insanity
+                                              of Cain"          IV.   68
+      "     "     "    "Miss Molony on the Chinese Question"
+                       (read before the Prince of Wales)        IV.   69
+
+    "Dromy," Satirical Notes on Derivation of                   II.   35
+
+
+    "Eliot's, George," Humor; Examples from "Adam Bede"
+      and "Silas Marner"                                        II.   45
+
+    Epigrams, Makers of                                          I.   21
+       "      by Jane Austen: on the Name of "Wake"              I.   21
+       "      "  Lady Townsend: on the Herveys--applied to
+                 the Beechers; on Walpole                        I.   22
+       "      "  Miss Evans: on a Musical Woman                  I.   22
+       "      "  Hannah More                                     I.   22
+       "      "  "Ouida"                                         I.   22
+       "      "  Miss Phelps                                     I.   29
+       "      "  Mrs. Rose Terry Cooke                           I.   30
+       "      "  Mrs. A.D.T. Whitney                             I.   31
+       "      "  Marguerite de Valois; by Madame de Lambert;
+                 by Sophie Arnould; by Madame de Sévigné         I.   24
+       "      "  Lady Harriet Ashburton                          I.   25
+       "      "  Mrs. Carlyle, "herself an epigram;" by Hannah
+                 F. Gould, on Caleb Cushing                      I.   26
+       "      "  "Gail Hamilton"                                 I.   27
+       "      "  Kate Field                                      I.   27
+       "      Mrs. Whicher's "Widow Bedott"                      I.   31
+       "      Marietta Holley's "Josiah Allen's Wife"            I.   31
+
+    Eytinge, Margaret: "Indignant Polly Wog"                  VIII.  157
+
+
+    "Fanny, Aunt": _Jeu d'esprit_ on Minerva                     I.   29
+
+    "Fanny Fern's" Arithmetical Mania                          III.   54
+
+    "Fanny Forrester's" Letter to N.P. Willis                  III.   52
+
+    Ferrier's, Mary, Genial Wit; Scott's Description of her;
+      her "Sensible Woman," Satirical                           II.   39
+
+    "Fireworks": Miscellaneous Closing Display of Wit:
+      Mrs. Rollins' illustration of woman's quickness
+        at repartee                                              X.  202
+      Mrs. Stanton's Reply to Horace Greeley; Miss Margaret
+        Fuller; Mademoiselle Mars                                X.  203
+      Madame Louisa Ségur; Miss Cleveland; Lydia Maria Child     X.  204
+      Madame de Staël; Madame Récamier                           X.  206
+
+    French Women's Cynicism                                      I.   23
+
+
+    "Gail Hamilton"                                             IV.   68
+
+    Gaskell's, Mrs., Humor                                      II.   36
+
+    "Gell and Gill"                                              I.   21
+
+    Genlis, Madame de                                            X.  196
+
+    Genuine Fun--Sketches from C.M. Kirkland                    IV.   67
+
+    Gilman, Mrs. Caroline: A New England Ballad, "Joshua's
+      Courtship"                                               III.   49
+
+    Gordon, Anna A.: "'Skeeters have the Reputation"          VIII.  160
+
+    "Grace Greenwood's" many Puns                                I.   17
+
+       "       "       "Mistress O'Rafferty on the Woman
+                       Question"                                VI.  108
+
+    Greek Lady's Wit                                             I.   15
+
+
+    Hale, Lucretia P.: "Peterkin Letters"                       IV.   69
+
+      "      "     "   "The First Needle," a poetical Bit
+                       of History                             VIII.  150
+
+    Hall, Louisa: "The Indian Agent"--"With affectionate
+      interest he looked into the very depths of their
+      pockets"                                                  VI.  103
+
+    "Hamilton, Gail": "Both Sides," an amusing poetical
+      Satire                                                    IX.  191
+
+    Holley's, Miss, "Samantha"                                  IV.   69
+
+    Hudson's, Mary Clemmer, Opinions on Wit; her Anecdotes
+      of Phoebe Cary                                             V.  100
+
+    Humor, Miss Jewett's                                         I.   27
+
+
+    Irish Fun                                                   VI.  107
+
+
+    Jewett, Sarah Orne: "The Circus at Denby"                  VII.  141
+
+    Jones', Amanda T., Poem, "Dochther O'Flannigan and his
+      Wondherful Cures"                                         VI.  109
+
+
+    Kirkland, Caroline M.: "Borrowing Out West"                 IV.   67
+
+
+    Le Row, Caroline B.: Poetic Pun on the "Butter Woman"        I.   18
+
+    Lothrop, Harriette W. (_nom de plume_ "Margaret Sidney"):
+      "Why Polly Doesn't Love Cake"                             IX.  189
+
+    "Lover and Lever," Epigram on, by C.F. Bates                 I.   28
+
+
+    McDowell, Mrs., "Sherwood Bonner:" "Aunt Anniky's Teeth"     V.   85
+      "My soul and body is a-yearnin' fur a han'sum chaney set
+        o' teef"                                                 V.   86
+      Pen-Portrait of Dr. Alonzo Babb                            V.   87
+      His first Tooth                                            V.   89
+      How Anniky Lost her "Teef"                                 V.   91
+      Ned Cuddy's Letter                                         V.   94
+      Specimens of her Wit: The Radical Club--a Satirical Poem   V.   97
+
+    McLean, Miss Sallie: "Cape Cod Folks"                       IV.   69
+
+    Mitford's, Mary Russell, "Talking Lady"                     II.   36
+
+    Mohl, Madame                                                 I.   25
+
+    Montagu's, Lady, Famous Speech                               I.   14
+
+    More's, Hannah, Contest of Wit with Johnson                 II.   34
+
+    Morgan's, Lady, A "Fast Horse"                               I.   16
+
+      "        "    Receptions                                  II.   44
+
+    Mott, Lucretia                                               X.  204
+
+    Moulton, Louisa Chandler: "The Jane Moseley was a
+      Disappointment"                                          VII.  144
+
+    Mowatt, Anna Cora: Her Popular Play of "Fashion"             X.  196
+
+    Murfree, Miss (_nom de plume_ "Charles Egbert Craddock"):
+      "A Blacksmith in Love"                                   VII.  135
+
+
+    "New York to Newport"--a Trip of Trials                    VII.  144
+
+
+    Old-fashioned Wit--Examples: Bon-mots of "Stella"; Jane
+        Taylor; Miss Burney; Mrs. Barbauld                      II.   32
+      Hannah More                                               II.   33
+
+    "Ouida's" Epigrams                                           I.   22
+
+
+    Parodies: Phoebe Cary's on "Maud Muller" not justifiable;
+        Grace Greenwood on Mrs. Sigourney                       IX.  186
+      Lilian Whiting's on Kingsley's "Three Fishers"            IX.  187
+
+    Perry, Carlotta: "A Modern Minerva"                         IX.  179
+
+    Pickering, Julia: "The Old-Time Religion"--"I allus did
+      dispise dem stuck-up 'Piscopalians"                       VI.  114
+
+    Poems, Laughable and Satirical:
+      "The First Needle," L.P. Hale                           VIII.  150
+      "The Funny Story," J. Pollard                           VIII.  152
+      "Wanted, a Minister," M.E.W. Skeels                     VIII.  153
+      "The Middy of 1881," May Croly Roper                    VIII.  156
+      "Indignant Polly Wog," M. Eytinge                       VIII.  157
+      "Kiss Pretty Poll," M.D. Brine                          VIII.  158
+      "Thanksgiving Day--Then and Now," M.D. Brine            VIII.  159
+      "Concerning Mosquitoes," A.A. Gordon                    VIII.  160
+      "The Stilts of Gold;" "Just So," M.V. Victor            VIII.  161
+      "The Inventor's Wife," E.T. Corbett                     VIII.  170
+      "An Unruffled Bosom," L.W. Champney                     VIII.  171
+      "Hat, Ulster and All," C.F. Bates                       VIII.  175
+      "Auction Extraordinary," L. Davidson                    VIII.  176
+      "A Sonnet," J. Pollard                                  VIII.  152
+
+    Puns:
+      Miss Mary Wadsworth's; Louisa Alcott's; Grace
+        Greenwood prolific in; a Mushroom Pun;
+        a Pillar-sham Pun                                        I.   17
+      Horseshoe Pun                                              I.   18
+      Miss Cleveland's                                           I.   21
+      Queen Elizabeth's                                          I.   16
+
+
+    "Radical Club," Satirical Poem                               V.   97
+
+    Rollins, Mrs. Alice Wellington, article in _Critic_          I.   13
+
+      "       "     "       "                                  VII.  122
+
+    Rollins, Mrs. Ellen H. (_nom de plume_ "E.H. Arr"),
+        pre-eminently gifted as a humorist--Extracts from her
+        "Old-Time Child Life"                                  VII.  124
+      "Effect of the Comet"                                    VII.  126
+      "Doctrines are pizen things"                             VII.  128
+
+    Roper, May Croly: Poem                                    VIII.  156
+
+
+    Schayer, Mrs. Julia, Author of "Struggling Genius," an
+      amusing Domestic Drama; Extracts from the Play,
+      "Nursery," "Study," and "Dining-Room" Scenes               X.  196
+
+    "Sherwood Bonner." _See_ McDowell, Mrs.
+
+    Sigourney, Mrs., her melancholy Style                       IX.  186
+
+    Skeels, Mrs. M.E.W.: Satirical Poem                       VIII.  153
+
+
+    Thanksgiving Growl, A (poetical)                            VI.  120
+
+
+    Verplanck's, Mrs., Comedy, "Sealed Instructions"             X.  196
+
+    Victor, Metta Victoria: "Miss Slimmins Surprised"           IV.   81
+
+      "       "      "      "The Stilts of Gold" (a
+                            reminiscence of Hood's "Miss
+                            Kilmansegg and her Precious
+                            Leg")                             VIII.  161
+
+    "Vokes Family" Farces (written by an aunt of the
+      performers), "Belles of the Kitchen" and "Fun in a Fog"    X.  196
+
+
+    Waldron, Adelaide Cilley, "Kitten Tactics"                  IX.  190
+
+    Walker's, Mrs., famous Epigram                               I.   28
+
+    Weissenthurn, Madame von: her Comedies fill fourteen
+      volumes                                                    X.  196
+
+    Whicher, Mrs., "Widow Bedott"                               IV.   68
+
+    White's, Richard Grant. Opinion of Woman's Wit               I.   13
+
+    Whiting, Miss Lilian: "The Three Poets"                     IX.  187
+
+    Williams, Alice: "Plighted,"                                IX.  183
+
+    Wilson, Arabella: "O Sextant of the Meetinouse"           VIII.  177
+
+    Woman's Wit, Search for, Neglected by Men                    I.   13
+
+    Women Poets generally Despondent                             I.   14
+
+      "   Humorous Newspaper Correspondents: Mrs. Runkle;
+          Mrs. Rollins; Gail Hamilton                           IX.  185
+
+    Women Inclined to Ridicule Foibles of their Sex             IX.  186
+
+    Woolson, Constance Fenimore: Her "Miss Lois"
+      (housekeeping, with Chippewa squaws for servants)        VII.  139
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIT OF WOMEN***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 28503-8.txt or 28503-8.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/0/28503
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/28503-8.zip b/28503-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c27d7f4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-8.zip
diff --git a/28503-h.zip b/28503-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9663906
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-h.zip
diff --git a/28503-h/28503-h.htm b/28503-h/28503-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..98e9a2c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-h/28503-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,9056 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Wit of Women, by Kate Sanborn</title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+body {
+    margin-left: 10%;
+    margin-right: 10%;
+}
+
+    h1,h2,h3,h4 {
+    text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+    clear: both;
+}
+
+a  {
+    text-decoration: none;
+    font-weight: 800;
+}
+
+h1 {
+    margin-top: 3em;
+    font-size: 300%;
+    font-weight: 300;
+}
+
+h1.pg {
+    margin-top: 0em;
+    font-size: 190%;
+    font-weight: bold;
+}
+
+h3 {
+   margin-top: 3em;
+}
+
+p {
+    margin-top: .75em;
+    text-align: justify;
+    margin-bottom: .75em;
+}
+
+.p2 {
+    margin-top: .75em;
+    text-align: right;
+    margin-bottom: .75em;
+    font-variant: small-caps;
+}
+
+.p3 {
+    margin-top: .75em;
+    text-align: right;
+    margin-right: 5em;
+    margin-bottom: .75em;
+    font-variant: small-caps;
+}
+
+.p6 {
+    margin-top: .75em;
+    text-align: right;
+    margin-bottom: .75em;
+    font-variant: normal;
+}
+
+dt {
+   margin-top: 1em;
+   font-weight: 600;
+   margin-left: .5em;
+   font-size: 110%
+}
+
+hr {
+    margin-top: 2em;
+    margin-bottom: 2em;
+    margin-left: auto;
+    margin-right: auto;
+    clear: both;
+}
+
+hr.hr25 {width: 25%;}
+hr.hr45 {width: 45%;}
+hr.hr3 {
+   width: 15%;
+   margin-top: .5em;
+   margin-bottom: .5em;
+   margin-left: 8em;
+   margin-right: auto;
+   clear: both;
+}
+
+table {
+    margin-left: auto;
+    margin-right: auto;
+}
+
+.little {
+   font-size: 100%;
+   text-align: center;
+}
+
+.litbold {
+   font-size: 150%;
+   text-align: center;
+   font-weight: 700;
+}
+
+.weefont {
+   font-size: 120%;
+   text-align: center;
+}
+
+.teenyfont {
+   font-size: 75%;
+}
+.medbold {
+   font-size: 150%;
+   text-align: center;
+   font-weight: 700;
+}
+
+.td1 {
+    vertical-align: top;
+    text-align: center;
+    padding-left: 1em;
+    padding-right: 1em;
+}
+
+.td2plain {
+    vertical-align: top;
+    text-align: left;
+    padding-left: 3em;
+    padding-bottom: 1.5em;
+    margin-left: 0em;
+    text-indent: -2.5em;
+}
+
+.td2ltrtop {
+    vertical-align: top;
+    text-align: left;
+    padding-left: 3em;
+    padding-bottom: 1.5em;
+    padding-top: 2em;
+    margin-left: 0em;
+    text-indent: -2.5em;
+}
+
+.td2indent {
+    vertical-align: top;
+    text-align: left;
+    padding-left: 3em;
+    padding-bottom: .5em;
+    padding-top: 0em;
+    margin-left: 0em;
+    text-indent: -1em;
+}
+
+.td2 {
+    vertical-align: top;
+    text-align: left;
+    padding-left: 3em;
+    padding-bottom: 1.5em;
+    margin-left: 0em;
+    text-indent: -1em;
+    font-variant: small-caps;
+}
+
+.td3 {
+    vertical-align: bottom;
+    text-align: right;
+    padding-left: 1em;
+    padding-bottom: 1.5em;
+}
+
+.td4 {
+    vertical-align: bottom;
+    text-align: right;
+    padding-left: 1em;
+    padding-bottom: 0em;
+}
+
+.pagenum  {/* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */
+    /*visibility: hidden;*/
+    position: absolute;
+    left: 95%;
+    font-size: 10px;
+    font-weight: normal;
+    font-variant: normal;
+    font-style: normal;
+    letter-spacing: normal;
+    text-indent: 0em;
+    text-align: right;
+    color: #999999;
+    background-color: #ffffff;
+} /* page numbers */
+
+.blockquot {
+    margin-left: 5%;
+    margin-right: 10%;
+}
+
+.blockquot2 {
+    margin-top: 5em;
+    margin-left: 10%;
+    margin-right: 15%;
+    font-size: 110%;
+    font-weight: 600;
+    text-indent: -.75em;
+}
+
+.blockintro {
+    margin-left: 1em;
+    margin-right: 0%;
+    text-indent: -1em;
+    margin-top: .75em;
+    text-align: justify;
+    margin-bottom: .75em;
+}
+
+.center   {text-align: center;}
+
+.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+/* Images */
+
+/* Footnotes */
+.footnote         {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;}
+
+.footnote .label  {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;}
+
+.fnanchor {
+    vertical-align: super;
+    font-size: .8em;
+    text-decoration:
+    none;
+}
+
+.proem {margin: auto; text-align: left; width: 24em;}
+
+/* Poetry */
+.poem {
+    margin-left: 10%;
+    margin-right: 10%;
+    text-align: left;
+}
+
+.poemcent {
+    margin-left: 6em;
+    margin-right: 6em;
+    text-align: left;
+}
+
+.poem br {display: none;}
+
+.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+
+    .poem span.i0  {display: block; margin-left:  0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i1  {display: block; margin-left:  .5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i2  {display: block; margin-left:  1.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i3  {display: block; margin-left:  3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i4  {display: block; margin-left:  4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i5  {display: block; margin-left:  5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i6  {display: block; margin-left:  6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i8  {display: block; margin-left:  8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i9  {display: block; margin-left:  9em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i11 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i15 {display: block; margin-left: 15em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i16 {display: block; margin-left: 16em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i19 {display: block; margin-left: 19em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i21 {display: block; margin-left: 21em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i22 {display: block; margin-left: 22em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i23 {display: block; margin-left: 23em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i24 {display: block; margin-left: 24em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i26 {display: block; margin-left: 26em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i28 {display: block; margin-left: 28em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i31 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; font-size: 120%; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poemcent span.i0  {display: block; margin-left:  0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poemcent span.i1  {display: block; margin-left:  1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+
+.bbox     {border: solid 2px;
+           padding: 5%;
+}
+
+    hr.full { width: 100%;
+              margin-top: 3em;
+              margin-bottom: 0em;
+              margin-left: auto;
+              margin-right: auto;
+              height: 4px;
+              border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */
+              border-style: solid;
+              border-color: #000000;
+              clear: both; }
+    pre      {font-size: 85%;}
+    </style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Wit of Women, by Kate Sanborn</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The Wit of Women</p>
+<p>       Fourth Edition</p>
+<p>Author: Kate Sanborn</p>
+<p>Release Date: April 5, 2009  [eBook #28503]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIT OF WOMEN***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by Bryan Ness, Jen Haines,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br />
+    from digital material generously made available by<br />
+    Internet Archive/American Libraries<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/witofwomen00sanbiala">
+      http://www.archive.org/details/witofwomen00sanbiala</a>
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div class="blockquot2"><p>"The Wit of Women," by Miss Kate Sanborn, [Funk
+&amp; Wagnalls,] proves that the authoress is one of those
+rare women who are gifted with a sense of humor. Fortunately
+for her, the female sense of humor, when it does
+exist, is not affected by such trifles as "chestnuts." Therefore,
+women will read with pleasure Miss Sanborn's
+choice collection of these dainties. There are, however,
+many new anecdotes in Miss Sanborn's collection, and,
+taken as a whole, it may fairly be said to establish the
+fact that there have been feminine wits not inferior to the
+best of the opposite sex.<br />
+<br />
+[Newspaper clipping pasted into front cover]</p></div>
+
+<h1>THE WIT OF WOMEN</h1>
+<p class="little"><br /><br /><br />BY</p>
+<p class="medbold">KATE SANBORN</p>
+
+<p class="little"><br /><br /><br />    <i>FOURTH EDITION</i></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="litbold"><br /><br /><br /> NEW YORK<br />
+    FUNK &amp; WAGNALLS COMPANY<br />
+    LONDON AND TORONTO<br />
+    1895<br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p class="weefont">    Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1885, by<br />
+    FUNK &amp; WAGNALLS,<br />
+    In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D.C.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot2"><p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Miss Addie Boyd, of the Cincinnati
+"Commercial," and Miss Anna M.T.
+Rossiter, alias Lilla M. Cushman, of the
+Meriden "Recorder," will probably represent
+the gentler sex in the convention
+of paragraphers which meets next month.
+They are a pair o' graphic writers and
+equal to the best in the profession.&mdash;Waterloo
+Observer.<br />
+<br />
+[Newspaper clipping pasted into book]</p></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION.</h2>
+<hr class="hr25" />
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>It is refreshing to find an unworked field all ready for
+harvesting.</p>
+
+<p>While the wit of men, as a subject for admiration and
+discussion, is now threadbare, the wit of women has been
+almost utterly ignored and unrecognized.</p>
+
+<p>With the joy and honest pride of a discoverer, I present
+the results of a summer's gleaning.</p>
+
+<p>And I feel a cheerful and Colonel Sellers-y confidence in
+the success of the book, for every woman will want to own
+it, as a matter of pride and interest, and many men will
+buy it just to see what women think they can do in this
+line. In fact, I expect a call for a second volume!</p>
+
+<p class="p2">Kate Sanborn.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: .5em;">
+<span class="smcap">Hanover, N.H.</span>, August, 1885.</span><br /><br /><br /><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>My thanks are due to so many publishers, magazine
+editors, and personal friends for material for this book,
+that a formal note of acknowledgment seems meagre and
+unsatisfactory. Proper credit, however, has been given
+all through the volume, and with special indebtedness to
+Messrs. Harper &amp; Brothers and Charles Scribner's Sons of
+New York, and Houghton, Mifflin &amp; Co. of Boston.
+I add sincere gratitude to all who have so generously
+contributed whatever was requested.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td class="td4" colspan="2"><span class="teenyfont">PAGE</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2">The Melancholy Tone of Women's Poetry&mdash;Puns, Good and Bad&mdash;Epigrams and Laconics&mdash;Cynicism of French Women&mdash;Sentences Crisp and Sparkling</td>
+    <td class="td3">13</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">Humor of Literary Englishwomen</td>
+    <td class="td3">32</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">From Anne Bradstreet to Mrs. Stowe</td>
+    <td class="td3">47</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">"Samples" Here and There</td>
+    <td class="td3">67</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">A Brace of Witty Women</td>
+    <td class="td3">85</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">Ginger-Snaps</td>
+    <td class="td3">103</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">Prose, but not Prosy</td>
+    <td class="td3">122</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">Humorous Poems</td>
+    <td class="td3">150</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">Good-Natured Satire</td>
+    <td class="td3">179</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2">Parodies&mdash;Reviews&mdash;Children's Poems&mdash;Comedies by Women &mdash;A Dramatic Trifle&mdash;A String of Firecrackers</td>
+    <td class="td3">195</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p class="little"><br /><br /><br />TO<br /></p>
+<p class="medbold">G.W.B.<br />
+In Grateful Memory.<br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot2"><p><i>"There was in her soul a sense of delicacy mingled with that rarest of
+qualities in woman&mdash;a sense of humor," writes Richard Grant White in
+"The Fate of Mansfield Humphreys." I have noticed that when a
+novelist sets out to portray an uncommonly fine type of heroine, he invariably
+adds to her other intellectual and moral graces the above-mentioned
+"rarest of qualities." I may be over-sanguine, but I anticipate that
+some sagacious genius will discover that woman as well as man has been
+endowed with this excellent gift from the gods, and that the gift pertains
+to the large, generous, sympathetic nature, quite irrespective of the individual's
+sex. In any case, having heard so repeatedly that woman has no
+sense of humor, it would be refreshing to have a contrariety of opinion on
+that subject.</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">The Critic.</span></p></div>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="PROEMA" id="PROEMA"></a>PROEM.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[a]</a></h2>
+
+<div class="proem">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We are coming to the rescue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Just a hundred strong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With fun and pun and epigram,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And laughter, wit, and song;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With badinage and repartee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And humor quaint or bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stories that <i>are</i> stories,<br /></span>
+<span class="i">Not several &aelig;ons old;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With parody and nondescript,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Burlesque and satire keen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And irony and playful jest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So that it may be seen<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That women are not quite so dull:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We come&mdash;a merry throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, we're coming to the rescue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And just a hundred strong.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="p3">Kate Sanborn.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a>
+<a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[a]</span></a>
+<i>Not&nbsp;</i>Poem!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg&nbsp;13]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+<h2><a name="THE_WIT_OF_WOMEN" id="THE_WIT_OF_WOMEN"></a>THE WIT OF WOMEN.</h2>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<p class="blockintro">THE MELANCHOLY TONE OF WOMEN'S POETRY&mdash;PUNS, GOOD
+AND BAD&mdash;EPIGRAMS AND LACONICS&mdash;CYNICISM OF FRENCH
+WOMEN&mdash;SENTENCES CRISP AND SPARKLING.</p>
+
+<p>To begin a deliberate search for wit seems almost like
+trying to be witty: a task quite certain to brush the bloom
+from even the most fruitful results. But the statement of
+Richard Grant White, that humor is the "rarest of qualities
+in woman," roused such a host of brilliant recollections that
+it was a temptation to try to materialize the ghosts that
+were haunting me; to lay forever the suspicion that they did
+not exist. Two articles by Alice Wellington Rollins in the
+<i>Critic</i>, on "Woman's Sense of Humor" and "The Humor
+of Women," convinced me that the deliberate task might
+not be impossible to carry out, although I felt, as she did,
+that the humor and wit of women are difficult to analyze,
+and select examples, precisely because they possess in the
+highest degree that almost essential quality of wit, the unpremeditated
+glow which exists only with the occasion that
+calls it forth. Even from the humor of women found in
+books it is hard to quote&mdash;not because there is so little, but
+because there is so much.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg&nbsp;14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The encouragement to attempt this novel enterprise of
+proving ("by their fruits ye shall know them") that women
+are not deficient in either wit or humor has not been great.
+Wise librarians have, with a smile, regretted the paucity of
+proper material; literary men have predicted rather a thin
+volume; in short, the general opinion of men is condensed
+in the sly question of a peddler who comes to our door,
+summer and winter, his stock varying with the season:
+sage-cheese and home-made socks, suspenders and cheap
+note-paper, early-rose potatoes and the solid pearmain.
+This shrewd old fellow remarked roguishly "You're
+gittin' up a book, I see, 'baout women's wit. 'Twon't be
+no great of an undertakin', will it?" The outlook at first
+was certainly discouraging. In Parton's "Collection of
+Humorous Poetry" there was not one woman's name, nor
+in Dodd's large volume of epigrams of all ages, nor in
+any of the humorous departments of volumes of selected
+poetry.</p>
+
+<p>Griswold's "Female Poets of America" was next examined.
+The general air of gloom&mdash;hopeless gloom&mdash;was depressing.
+Such mawkish sentimentality and despair; such
+inane and mortifying confessions; such longings for a lover
+to come; such sighings over a lover departed; such cravings
+for "only"&mdash;"only" a <i>grave</i> in some dark, dank solitude.
+As Mrs. Dodge puts it, "Pegasus generally feels
+inclined to pace toward a graveyard the moment he feels a
+side-saddle on his back."</p>
+
+<p>The subjects of their lucubrations suggest Lady Montagu's
+famous speech: "There was only one reason she
+was glad she was a woman: she should never have to <i>marry</i>
+one."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg&nbsp;15]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>From the "Female Poets" I copy this "Song," representing
+the average woman's versifying as regards buoyancy
+and an optimistic view of this "Wale of Tears":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ask not from me the sportive jest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The mirthful jibe, the gay reflection;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">These social baubles fly the breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That owns the sway of pale Dejection.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ask not from me the changing smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hope's sunny glow, Joy's glittering token;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It cannot now my griefs beguile&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My soul is dark, my heart is broken!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Wit cannot cheat my heart of woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flattery wakes no exultation;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Fancy's flash but serves to show<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The darkness of my desolation!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By me no more in masking guise<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall thoughtless repartee be spoken;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My mind a hopeless ruin lies&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My soul is dark, my heart is broken!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>In recalling the witty women of the world, I must surely
+go back, familiar as is the story, to the Grecian dame who,
+when given some choice old wine in a tiny glass by her
+miserly host, who boasted of the years since it had been
+bottled, inquired, "Isn't it very small of its age?"</p>
+
+<p>This ancient story is too much in the style of the male
+story-monger&mdash;you all know him&mdash;who repeats with undiminished
+gusto for the forty-ninth time a story that was
+tottering in senile imbecility when Methuselah was teething,
+and is now in a sad condition of anec<i>dotage</i>.</p>
+
+<p>It is affirmed that "women seldom repeat an anecdote."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg&nbsp;16]</a></span>That is well, and no proof of their lack of wit. The discipline
+of life would be largely increased if they did insist on
+being "reminded" constantly of anecdotes as familiar as
+the hand-organ repertoire of "Captain Jinks" and "Beautiful
+Spring." Their sense of humor is too keen to allow
+them to aid these aged wanderers in their endless migrations.
+It is sufficiently trying to their sense of the ludicrous
+to be obliged to listen with an admiring, rapt expression
+to some anecdote heard in childhood, and restrain the
+laugh until the oft-repeated crisis has been duly reached.
+Still, I know several women who, as brilliant <i>raconteurs</i>,
+have fully equalled the efforts of celebrated after-dinner
+wits.</p>
+
+<p>It is also affirmed that "women cannot make a pun,"
+which, if true, would be greatly to their honor. But, alas!
+their puns are almost as frequent and quite as execrable as
+are ever perpetrated. It was Queen Elizabeth who said:
+"Though ye be burly, my Lord Burleigh, ye make less stir
+than my Lord Leicester."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Morgan, the Irish novelist, witty and captivating,
+who wrote "Kate Kearney" and the "Wild Irish Girl,"
+made several good puns. Some one, speaking of the laxity
+of a certain bishop in regard to Lenten fasting, said: "I
+believe he would eat a horse on Ash Wednesday." "And
+very proper diet," said her ladyship, "if it were a <i>fast</i>
+horse."</p>
+
+<p>Her special enemy, Croker, had declared that Wellington's
+success at Waterloo was only a fortunate accident, and
+intimated that he could have done better himself, under
+similar circumstances. "Oh, yes," exclaimed her ladyship,
+"he had his secret for winning the battle. He had
+only to put his notes on Boswell's Johnson in front of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg&nbsp;17]</a></span>
+British lines, and all the Bonapartes that ever existed could
+never <i>get through</i> them!"</p>
+
+<p>"Grace Greenwood" has probably made more puns in
+print than any other woman, and her conversation is full of
+them. It was Grace Greenwood who, at a tea-drinking at
+the Woman's Club in Boston, was begged to tell one more
+story, but excused herself in this way: "No, I cannot get
+more than one story high on a cup of tea!"</p>
+
+<p>You see puns are allowed at that rarely intellectual assemblage&mdash;indeed,
+they are sometimes <i>very</i> bad; as when the
+question was brought up whether better speeches could be
+made after simple tea and toast, or under the influence of
+champagne and oysters. Miss Mary Wadsworth replied
+that it would depend entirely upon whether the oysters
+were cooked or raw; and seeing all look blank, she explained:
+"Because, if raw, we should be sure to have a
+raw-oyster-ing time."</p>
+
+<p>Louisa Alcott's puns deserve "honorable mention." I
+will quote one. "Query&mdash;If steamers are named the Asia,
+the Russia, and the Scotia, why not call one the <i>Nausea</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>At a Chicago dinner-party a physician received a menu
+card with the device of a mushroom, and showing it to the
+lady next him, said: "I hope nothing invidious is intended."
+"Oh, no," was the answer, "it only alludes to
+the fact that you spring up in the night."</p>
+
+<p>A gentleman, noticeable on the porch of the sanctuary as
+the pretty girls came in on Sabbath mornings, but <i>not</i>
+regarded as a devout attendant on the services within,
+declared that he was one of the "pillars of the church!"
+"Pillar-sham, I am inclined to think," was the retort of a
+lady friend.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg&nbsp;18]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>To a lady who, in reply to a gentleman's assertion that
+women sometimes made a good pun, but required time to
+think about it, had said that <i>she</i> could make a pun as
+quickly as any man, the gentleman threw down this challenge:
+"Make a pun, then, on horse-shoe." "If you talk
+until you're horse-shoe can't convince me," was the instant
+answer.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>The best punning poem from a woman's pen was written
+by Miss Caroline B. Le Row, of Brooklyn, N.Y., a teacher
+of elocution, and the writer of many charming stories and
+verses. It was suggested by a study in butter of "The
+Dreaming Iolanthe," moulded by Caroline S. Brooks on a
+kitchen-table, and exhibited at the Centennial in Philadelphia.
+I do not remember any other poem in the language
+that rings so many changes on a single word. It was published
+first in <i>Baldwin's Monthly</i>, but ran the rounds of
+the papers all over the country.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">I.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"One of the Centennial buildings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shows us many a wondrous thing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which the women of our country<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From their homes were proud to bring.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In a little corner, guarded<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By Policeman Twenty-eight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stands a crowd, all eyes and elbows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Seeing butter butter-plate<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">II.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Tis not 'butter faded flower'<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That the people throng to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Butter crowd comes every hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nothing butter crowd we see.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg&nbsp;19]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">Butter little pushing brings us<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where we find, to our surprise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That within the crowded corner<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Butter dreaming woman lies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">III.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Though she lies, she don't deceive us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As it might at first be thought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This fair maid is made of butter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On a kitchen-table wrought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nothing butter butter-paddle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sticks and straws were used to bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out of just nine pounds of butter<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Butter fascinating thing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">IV.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Butter maid or made of butter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She is butter wonder rare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Butter sweet eyes closed in slumber,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Butter soft and yellow hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were the work of butter woman<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Just two thousand miles away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Butter fortune's in the features<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That she made in butter stay.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">V.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Maid of all work, maid of honor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whatsoever she may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She is butter wondrous worker,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As the crowd can plainly see.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And 'tis butter woman shows us<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What with butter can be done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nothing butter hands producing<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Something new beneath the sun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">VI.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Butter line we add in closing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which none butter could refuse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">May her work be butter pleasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nothing butter butter use;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg&nbsp;20]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">May she never need for butter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though she'll often knead for bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And may every churning bring her<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Butter blessing on her head."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>The second and last example is much more common in its
+form, but is just as good as most of the verses of this style
+in Parton's "Humorous Poetry." I don't pretend that it is
+remarkable, but it is equally worthy of presentation with
+many efforts of this sort from men with a reputation for
+wit.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_VEGETABLE_GIRL" id="THE_VEGETABLE_GIRL"></a>THE VEGETABLE GIRL.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY MAY TAYLOR.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Behind a market-stall installed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I mark it every day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stands at her stand the fairest girl<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I've met within the bay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her two lips are of cherry red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her hands a pretty pair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With such a charming turn-up nose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And lovely reddish hair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis there she stands from morn till night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her customers to please,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to appease their appetite<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She sells them beans and peas.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Attracted by the glances from<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The apple of her eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by her Chili apples, too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Each passer-by will buy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She stands upon her little feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Throughout the livelong day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sells her celery and things&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A big feat, by the way.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg&nbsp;21]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">She changes off her stock for change,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Attending to each call;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when she has but one beet left,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She says, "Now, that beats all."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>As to puns in conversation, my only fear is that they are
+too generally indulged in. Only one of this sort can be
+allowed, and that from the highest lady in the land, who is
+distinguished for culture and good sense, as well as wit. A
+friend said to her as she was leaving Buffalo for Washington:
+"I hope you will hail from Buffalo."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see you expect me to hail from Buffalo and reign
+in Washington," said the quick-witted sister of our President.</p>
+
+<p>In epigrams there is little to offer. But as it is stated
+that "women cannot achieve a well-rounded epigram," a
+few specimens must be produced.</p>
+
+<p>Jane Austen has left two on record. The first was suggested
+by reading in a newspaper the marriage of a Mr.
+Gell to Miss Gill, of Eastborne.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"At Eastborne, Mr. Gell, from being perfectly well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Became dreadfully ill for love of Miss Gill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So he said, with some sighs, 'I'm the slave of your iis;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, restore, if you please, by accepting my ees.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The second is on the marriage of a middle-aged flirt with
+a Mr. Wake, whom gossips averred she would have scorned
+in her prime.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Maria, good-humored and handsome and tall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For a husband was at her last stake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And having in vain danced at many a ball,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is now happy to jump at a Wake."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg&nbsp;22]</a></span></p><p>It was Lady Townsend who said that the human race was
+divided into men, women, and <i>Herveys</i>. This epigram has
+been borrowed in our day, substituting for Herveys the
+<i>Beecher</i> family.</p>
+
+<p>When some one said of a lady she must be in spirits, for
+she lives with Mr. Walpole, "Yes," replied Lady Townsend,
+"spirits of hartshorn."</p>
+
+<p>Walpole, caustic and critical, regarded this lady as undeniably
+witty.</p>
+
+<p>It was Hannah More who said: "There are but two bad
+things in this world&mdash;sin and bile."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Thackeray quotes several epigrammatic definitions
+from her friend Miss Evans, as:</p>
+
+<p>"A privileged person: one who is so much a savage
+when thwarted that civilized persons avoid thwarting him."</p>
+
+<p>"A musical woman: one who has strength enough to
+make much noise and obtuseness enough not to mind it."</p>
+
+<p>"Ouida" has given us some excellent examples of epigram,
+as:</p>
+
+<p>"A pipe is a pocket philosopher, a truer one than Socrates,
+for it never asks questions. Socrates must have been very
+tiresome, when one thinks of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Dinna ye meddle, Tam; it's niver no good a threshin'
+other folks' corn; ye allays gits the flail agin' i' yer own
+eye somehow."</p>
+
+<p>"Epigrams are the salts of life; but they wither up the
+grasses of foolishness, and naturally the grasses hate to be
+sprinkled therewith."</p>
+
+<p>"A man never is so honest as when he speaks well of himself.
+Men are always optimists when they look inward,
+and pessimists when they look round them."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg&nbsp;23]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Nothing is so pleasant as to display your worldly wisdom
+in epigram and dissertation, but it is a trifle tedious to hear
+another person display theirs."</p>
+
+<p>"When you talk yourself you think how witty, how original,
+how acute you are; but when another does so, you are
+very apt to think only, 'What a crib from Rochefoucauld!'"</p>
+
+<p>"Boredom is the ill-natured pebble that always <i>will</i> get in
+the golden slipper of the pilgrim of pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>"It makes all the difference in life whether hope is left
+or&mdash;left out!"</p>
+
+<p>"A frog that dwelt in a ditch spat at a worm that bore a
+lamp.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why do you do that?' said the glow-worm.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why do you shine?' said the frog."</p>
+
+<p>"Calumny is the homage of our contemporaries, as some
+South Sea Islanders spit on those they honor."</p>
+
+<p>"Hived bees get sugar because they will give back honey.
+All existence is a series of equivalents."</p>
+
+<p>"'Men are always like Horace,' said the Princess.
+'They admire rural life, but they remain, for all that, with
+Augustus.'"</p>
+
+<p>"If the Venus de Medici could be animated into life,
+women would only remark that her waist was large."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>The brilliant Frenchwomen whose very names seem
+to sparkle as we write them, yet of whose wit so little
+has been preserved, had an especial facility for condensed
+cynicism.</p>
+
+<p>Think of Madame du Deffand, sceptical, sarcastic; feared
+and hated even in her blind old age for her scathing criticisms.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg&nbsp;24]</a></span>When the celebrated work of Helvetius appeared
+he was blamed in her presence for having made selfishness
+the great motive of human action.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" said she, "he has only revealed every one's
+secret."</p>
+
+<p>And listen to this trio of laconics, with their saddening
+knowledge of human frailty and their bitter Voltaireish
+flavor:</p>
+
+<p>We shall all be perfectly virtuous when there is no longer
+any flesh on our bones.&mdash;<i>Marguerite de Valois.</i></p>
+
+<p>We like to know the weakness of eminent persons; it
+consoles us for our inferiority.&mdash;<i>Mme. de Lambert.</i></p>
+
+<p>Women give themselves to God when the devil wants
+nothing more to do with them.&mdash;<i>Sophie Arnould.</i></p>
+
+<p>Madame de S&eacute;vign&eacute;'s letters present detached thoughts
+worthy of Rochefoucauld without his cynicism. She writes:
+"One loves so much to talk of one's self that one never tires
+of a <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> with a lover for years. That is the reason
+that a devotee likes to be with her confessor. It is for the
+pleasure of talking of one's self&mdash;even though speaking evil."
+And she remarks to a lady who amused her friends by always
+going into mourning for some prince, or duke, or member of
+some royal family, and who at last appeared in bright colors,
+"Madame, I congratulate myself on the health of Europe."</p>
+
+<p>I find, too, many fine aphorisms from "Carmen Sylva"
+(Queen of Roumania):</p>
+
+<p>"Il vaut mieux avoir pour confesseur un m&eacute;decin qu'un
+pr&ecirc;tre. Vous dites au pr&ecirc;tre que vous d&eacute;testez les hommes,
+il vous r&eacute;ponds que vous n'&ecirc;tes pas chr&eacute;tien. Le m&eacute;decin
+vous donne de la rhubarbe, et voil&agrave; que vous aimez votre
+semblable."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg&nbsp;25]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Vous dites au pr&ecirc;tre que vous &ecirc;tes fatigu&eacute; de vivre; il vous r&eacute;ponds
+que le suicide est un crime. Le m&eacute;decin vous
+donne un stimulant, et voil&agrave; que vous trouvez la vie supportable."</p>
+
+<p>"La contradiction anime la conversation; voil&agrave; pourquoi
+les cours sont si ennuyeuses."</p>
+
+<p>"Quand on veut affirmer quelque chose, on appelle toujours
+Dieu &agrave; t&eacute;moin, parce qu'il ne contredit jamais."</p>
+
+<p>"On ne peut jamais &ecirc;tre fatigu&eacute; de la vie, on n'est fatigu&eacute;
+que de soi-m&ecirc;me."</p>
+
+<p>"Il faut &ecirc;tre ou tr&egrave;s-pieux ou tr&egrave;s-philosophe! il faut
+dire: Seigneur, que ta volont&eacute; soit faite! ou: Nature,
+j'admets tes lois, m&ecirc;me lorsqu'elles m'&eacute;crasent."</p>
+
+<p>"L'homme est un violon. Ce n'est que lorsque sa
+derni&egrave;re corde se brise qu'il devient un morceau de bois."</p>
+
+<p>In the recently published sketch of Madame Mohl there
+are several sentences which show trenchant wit, as: "Nations
+squint in looking at one another; we must discount
+what Germany and France say of each other."</p>
+
+<p>Several Englishwomen can be recalled who were noted
+for their epigrammatic wit: as Harriet, Lady Ashburton.
+On some one saying that liars generally speak good-naturedly
+of others, she replied: "Why, if you don't speak a
+word of truth, it is not so difficult to speak well of your
+neighbor."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't speak so hardly of &mdash;&mdash;," some one said to her;
+"he lives on your good graces."</p>
+
+<p>"That accounts," she answered, "for his being so thin."</p>
+
+<p>Again: "I don't mind the canvas of a man's mind being
+good, if only it is completely hidden by the worsted and
+floss."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg&nbsp;26]</a></span></p>
+<p>Or: "She never speaks to any one, which is, of course,
+a great advantage to any one."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Carlyle <i>was</i> an epigram herself&mdash;small, sweet, yet
+possessing a sting&mdash;and her letters give us many sharp and
+original sayings.</p>
+
+<p>She speaks in one place of "Mrs. &mdash;&mdash;, an insupportable
+bore; her neck and arms were as naked as if she had
+never eaten of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil."</p>
+
+<p>And what a comical phrase is hers when she writes to her
+"Dearest"&mdash;"I take time by the <i>pig-tail</i> and write at
+night, after post-hours"&mdash;that growling, surly "dearest,"
+of whom she said, "The amount of bile that he brings
+home is awfully grand."</p>
+
+<p>For a veritable epigram from an American woman's pen
+we must rely on Hannah F. Gould, who wrote many verses
+that were rather graceful and arch than witty. But her
+epitaph on her friend, the active and aggressive Caleb
+Cushing, is as good as any made by Saxe.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Lay aside, all ye dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For in the next bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Reposes the body of Cushing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He has crowded his way<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the world, they say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And even though dead will be pushing."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Such a hit from a bright woman is refreshing.</p>
+
+<p>Our literary foremothers seemed to prefer to be pedantic,
+didactic, and tedious on the printed page.</p>
+
+<p>Catharine Sedgwick dealt somewhat in epigram, as when
+she says: "He was not one of those convenient single people
+who are used, as we use straw and cotton in packing, to
+fill up vacant places."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg&nbsp;27]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Eliza Leslie (famed for her cook-books and her satiric
+sketches), when speaking of people silent from stupidity,
+supposed kindly to be full of reserved power, says: "We
+cannot help thinking that when a head is full of ideas some
+of them must involuntarily <i>ooze</i> out."</p>
+
+<p>And is not this epigrammatic advice? "Avoid giving
+invitations to bores&mdash;they will come without."</p>
+
+<p>Some of our later literary women prefer the epigrammatic
+form in sentences, crisp and laconic; short sayings full of
+pith, of which I have made a collection.</p>
+
+<p>Gail Hamilton's books fairly bristle with epigrams in
+condensed style, and Kate Field has many a good thought
+in this shape, as: "Judge no one by his relations, whatever
+criticism you pass upon his companions. Relations, like
+features, are thrust upon us; companions, like clothes, are
+more or less our own selection."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Jewett's style is less epigrammatic, but just as full of
+humor. Speaking of a person who was always complaining,
+she says: "Nothing ever suits her. She ain't had no more
+troubles to bear than the rest of us; but you never see her
+that she didn't have a chapter to lay before ye. I've got 's
+much feelin' as the next one, but when folks drives in their
+spiggits and wants to draw a bucketful o' compassion every
+day right straight along, there does come times when it
+seems as if the bar'l was getting low."</p>
+
+<p>"The captain, whose eyes were not much better than his
+ears, always refused to go forth after nightfall without his
+lantern. The old couple steered slowly down the uneven
+sidewalk toward their cousin's house. The captain walked
+with a solemn, rolling gait, learned in his many long years
+at sea, and his wife, who was also short and stout, had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg&nbsp;28]</a></span>
+caught the habit from him. If they kept step all went
+well; but on this occasion, as sometimes happened, they
+did not take the first step out into the world together, so
+they swayed apart, and then bumped against each other as
+they went along. To see the lantern coming through the
+mist you might have thought it the light of a small craft at
+sea in heavy weather."</p>
+
+<p>"Deaf people hear more things that are worth listening
+to than people with better ears; one likes to have something
+worth telling in talking to a person who misses most
+of the world's talk."</p>
+
+<p>"Emory Ann," a creation of Mrs. Whitney's, often spoke
+in epigrams, as: "Good looks are a snare; especially to
+them that haven't got 'em." While Mrs. Walker's creed,
+"I believe in the total depravity of inanimate things," is
+more than an epigram&mdash;it is an inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte Fiske Bates, who compiled the "Cambridge
+Book of Poetry," and has given us a charming volume of
+her own verses, which no one runs any "Risk" in buying,
+in spite of the title of the book, has done a good deal
+in this direction, and is fond of giving an epigrammatic
+turn to a bright thought, as in the following couplet:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Would you sketch in two words a coquette and deceiver?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Name two Irish geniuses, Lover and Lever!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>She also succeeds with the quatrain:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">ON BEING CALLED A GOOSE.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">A signal name is this, upon my word!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Great Juno's geese saved Rome her citadel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Another drowsy Manlius may be stirred<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the State saved, if I but cackle well.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg&nbsp;29]</a></span></p><p>I recall a charming <i>jeu d'esprit</i> from Mrs. Barrows, the
+beloved "Aunt Fanny," who writes equally well for children
+and grown folks, and whose big heart ranges from
+earnest philanthropy to the perpetration of exquisite nonsense.</p>
+
+<p>It is but a trifle, sent with a couple of peanut-owls to a
+niece of Bryant's. The aged poet was greatly amused.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"When great Minerva chose the Owl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That bird of solemn phiz,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That truly awful-looking fowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To represent her wis-<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dom, little recked the goddess of<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The time when she would howl<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To see a Peanut set on end,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And called&mdash;Minerva's Owl."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Miss Phelps has given us some sentences which convey
+an epigram in a keen and delicate fashion, as:</p>
+
+<p>"All forms of self-pity, like Prussian blue, should be
+sparingly used."</p>
+
+<p>"As a rule, a man can't cultivate his mustache and his
+talents impartially."</p>
+
+<p>"As happy as a kind-hearted old lady with a funeral to
+go to."</p>
+
+<p>"No men are so fussy about what they eat as those who
+think their brains the biggest part of them."</p>
+
+<p>"The professor's sister, a homeless widow, of excellent
+Vermont intentions and high ideals in cup-cake."</p>
+
+<p>And this longer extract has the same characteristics:</p>
+
+<p>"You know how it is with people, Avis; some take to
+zo&ouml;logy, and some take to religion. That's the way it is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg&nbsp;30]</a></span>with places. It may be the Lancers, and it may be prayer-meetings.
+Once I went to see my grandmother in the
+country, and everybody had a candy-pull; there were
+twenty-five candy-pulls and taffy-bakes in that town that
+winter. John Rose says, in the Connecticut Valley, where
+he came from, it was missionary barrels; and I heard of a
+place where it was cold coffee. In Harmouth it's improving
+your mind. And so," added Coy, "we run to reading-clubs,
+and we all go fierce, winter after winter, to see
+who'll get the 'severest.' There's a set outside of the
+faculty that descends to charades and music and inconceivably
+low intellectual depths; and some of our girls sneak
+off and get in there once in a while, like the little girl that
+wanted to go from heaven to hell to play Saturday afternoons,
+just as you and I used to do, Avis, when we dared.
+But I find I've got too old for that," said Coy, sadly.
+"When you're fairly past the college-boys, and as far along
+as the law students&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Or the theologues?" interposed Avis.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, or the theologues, or even the medical department;
+then there positively <i>is</i> nothing for it but to improve
+your mind."</p>
+
+<p>Listen to Lavinia, one of Mrs. Rose Terry Cooke's sensible
+Yankee women:</p>
+
+<p>"Land! if you want to know folks, just hire out to 'em.
+They take their wigs off afore the help, so to speak, seemingly."</p>
+
+<p>"Marryin' a man ain't like settin' alongside of him
+nights and hearin' him talk pretty; that's the fust prayer.
+There's lots an' lots o' meetin' after that!"</p>
+
+<p>And what an amount of sense, as well as wit, in Sam
+Lawson's sayings in "Old Town Folks." As this book is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg&nbsp;31]</a></span>
+not to be as large as Worcester's Unabridged Dictionary, I
+can only give room to one.</p>
+
+<p>"We don't none of us like to have our sins set in order
+afore us. There was <i>David</i>, now, he was crank as could
+be when he thought Nathan was a talkin' about <i>other</i> people's
+sins. Says David: 'The man that did that shall
+surely die.' But come to set it home and say, '<i>Thou</i> art the
+man!' David caved right in. 'Lordy massy, bless your
+soul and body, Nathan!' says he, 'I don't want to die.'"</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. A.D.T. Whitney must not be forgotten. "As
+Emory Ann said once about thoughts: 'You can't hinder
+'em any more than you can the birds that fly in the air; but
+you needn't let 'em light and make a nest in your hair.'"</p>
+
+<p>And what a capital hit on the hypocritical apologies of
+conceited housekeepers is this bit from Mrs. Whicher
+("Widow Bedott"): "A person that didn't know how
+wimmin always go on at such a place would a thought that
+Miss Gipson had tried to have everything the miserablest
+she possibly could, and that the rest on 'em never had anything
+to hum but what was miserabler yet."</p>
+
+<p>And Marietta Holley, who has caused a tidal-wave of
+laughter by her "Josiah Allen's Wife" series, shall have
+her say.</p>
+
+<p>"We, too, are posterity, though mebby we don't realize
+it as we ort to."</p>
+
+<p>"She didn't seem to sense anything, only ruffles and
+such like. Her mind all seemed to be narrowed down and
+puckered up, just like trimmin'."</p>
+
+<p>But I must have convinced the most sceptical of woman's
+wit in epigrammatic form, and will now return to an older
+generation, who claim a fair share of attention.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg&nbsp;32]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">HUMOR OF LITERARY ENGLISHWOMEN.</p>
+
+<p>In reviewing the <i>bon-mots</i> of Stella, whom Swift pronounced
+the most witty woman he had ever known, it
+seems that we are improving. I will give but two of her
+sayings, which were so carefully preserved by her friend.</p>
+
+<p>When she was extremely ill her physician said,
+"Madam, you are near the bottom of the hill, but we will
+endeavor to get you up again;" she answered: "Doctor, I
+fear I shall be out of breath before I get up to the top."</p>
+
+<p>After she had been eating some sweet thing a little of it
+happened to stick on her lips. A gentleman told her of it,
+and offered to lick it off. She said: "No, sir, I thank
+you; I have a tongue of my own."</p>
+
+<p>Compare these with the wit of George Eliot or the irony
+of Miss Phelps.</p>
+
+<p>Some of Jane Taylor's stories and poems were formerly
+regarded as humorous; for instance, the "Discontented
+Pendulum" and the "Philosopher's Scales." They do
+not now raise the faintest smile.</p>
+
+<p>Fanny Burney's novels were considered immensely
+humorous and diverting in their day. Burke complimented
+her on "her natural vein of humor," and another eminent
+critic speaks of "her sarcasm, drollery, and humor;" but
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg&nbsp;33]</a></span>it would be almost impossible to find a passage for quotation
+that would now satisfy on these points. Even Jane
+Austen's novels, which strangely retain their hold on the
+public taste, are tedious to those who dare to think for
+themselves and forget Macaulay's verdict.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Barbauld, in her poem on "Washing Day," shows
+a capacity seldom exercised for seeing the humorous side of
+every-day miseries.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">"Woe to the friend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose evil stars have urged him forth to claim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On such a day the hospitable rites!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looks, blank at best, and stinted courtesy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall he receive. Vainly he feeds his hopes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With dinner of roast chicken, savory pie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or tart, or pudding; pudding he nor tart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That day shall eat; nor, though the husband try<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mending what can't be helped to kindle mirth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cheer up propitious; the unlucky guest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In silence dines, and early slinks away."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>But her style is too stiff and stately for every day.</p>
+
+<p>There were many literary Englishwomen who had undoubted
+humor. Hannah More did get unendurably poky,
+narrow, and solemn in her last days, and not a little sanctimonious;
+and we naturally think of her as an aged spinster
+with black mitts, corkscrew curls, and a mob cap, always
+writing or presenting a tedious tract, forgetting her brilliant
+youth, when she was quite good enough, and lively, too.
+She was a perennial favorite in London, meeting all the
+notables; the special pet of Dr. Johnson, Davy Garrick,
+and Horace Walpole, who called her his "holy Hannah,"
+but admired and honored her, corresponding with her
+through a long life. She was then full of spirit and humor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg&nbsp;34]</a></span>
+and versatile talent. An extract from her sister's lively
+letter shows that Hannah could hold her own with the Ursa
+Major of literature:</p>
+
+<p>"Tuesday evening we drank tea at Sir Joshua's with
+Dr. Johnson. Hannah is certainly a great favorite. She
+was placed next him, and they had the entire conversation
+to themselves. They were both in remarkably high spirits.
+It was certainly her lucky night. I never heard her say so
+many good things. The old genius was extremely jocular,
+and the young one very pleasant. You would have imagined
+we had been at some comedy had you heard our peals of
+laughter. They, indeed, tried which could pepper the highest,
+and it is not clear to me that the lexicographer was really
+the highest seasoner."</p>
+
+<p>And how deliciously does she set out the absurdity then
+prevailing, and seen now in editions of Shakespeare and
+Chaucer, of writing books, the bulk of which consists of
+notes, with only a line or two at the top of each page of the
+original text.</p>
+
+<p>It seems that a merry party at Dr. Kennicott's had each
+adopted the name of some animal. Dr. K. was the elephant;
+Mrs. K., dromedary; Miss Adams, antelope; and
+H. More, rhinoceros.</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">
+<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"<span class="smcap">Hampton</span>, December 24, 1728.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<span class="smcap">Dear Dromy</span>
+(a): Pray, send word if <i>Ante</i>(b) is come,
+and also how <i>Ele</i> (c) does, to your very affectionate</span></p>
+<p class="p3">Rhyney"<span class="p6"> (d).</span></p>
+
+<p>The following notes on the above epistle are by a commentator
+of the latter end of the nineteenth century. This
+epistle is all that is come down to us of this voluminous
+author, and is probably the only thing she ever wrote that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg&nbsp;35]</a></span>
+was worth preserving, or which might reasonably expect to
+reach posterity. Her name is only presented to us in some
+beautiful hendecasyllables written by the best Latin poet
+of his time (Bishop Lowth):</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="center"><i>Note</i> (<i>a</i>).</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Dromy.</i>&mdash;From the termination of this address it seems to have been
+written to a woman, though there is no internal evidence to support this
+hypothesis. The best critics are much puzzled about the orthography of
+this abbreviation. Wartonius and other skilful etymologists contend
+that it ought to be spelled <i>drummy</i>, being addressed to a lady who was
+probably fond of warlike instruments, and who had a singular predilection
+for a <i>canon</i>. Drummy, say they, was a tender diminutive of drum,
+as the best authors in their more familiar writings now begin to use
+gunny for gun. But <i>Hardius</i>, a contemporary critic, contends, with
+more probability, that it ought to be written <i>Drome</i>, from hippodrome;
+a learned leech and elegant bard of Bath having left it on record that
+this lady spent much of her time at the riding-school, being a very exquisite
+judge of horsemanship. <i>Colmanus</i> and <i>Horatius Strawberryensis</i>
+insist that it ought to be written <i>Dromo</i>, in reference to the Dromo Sorasius
+of the Latin dramatist."</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Note</i> (<i>b</i>).</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ante.</i>&mdash;Scaliger 2d says this name simply signifies the appellation of
+uncle's wife, and ought to be written <i>Aunty</i>. But here, again, are various
+readings. Philologists of yet greater name affirm that it was meant to
+designate <i>pre-eminence</i>, and therefore ought to be written <i>ante</i>, before,
+from the Latin, a language now pretty well forgotten, though the authors
+who wrote in it are still preserved in French translations. The younger
+Madame Dacier insists that this lady was against all men, and that it
+ought to be spelled <i>anti</i>; but this Kennicotus, a rabbi of the most recondite
+learning, with much critical wrath, vehemently contradicts, affirming
+it to have been impossible she could have been against mankind
+whom all mankind admired. He adds that ante is for <i>antelope</i>, and is
+emblematically used to express an elegant and slender animal, or that it
+is an elongation of <i>ant</i>, the <i>emblem of virtuous citizenship</i>."</p></div>
+
+<p>And so she continues her comments to close of notes.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg&nbsp;36]</a></span></p>
+<p>Mrs. Gaskell's "Cranford" is full of the most delicate
+but veritable humor, as her allusion to the genteel and
+cheerful poverty of the lady who, in giving a tea-party,
+"now sat in state, pretending not to know what cakes were
+sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and she knew that
+we knew; and we knew that she knew that we knew she
+had been busy all the morning making tea-bread and
+sponge-cakes."</p>
+
+<p>The humor of Mary Russell Mitford, quiet and delectable,
+must not be forgotten. We will sympathize with her woes
+as she describes a visitation from</p>
+
+<h3>THE TALKING LADY.</h3>
+
+<p>"Ben Jonson has a play called <i>The Silent Woman</i>, who
+turns out, as might be expected, to be no woman at all&mdash;nothing,
+as Master Slender said, but 'a great lubberly boy,'
+thereby, as I apprehend, discourteously presuming that a
+silent woman is a nonentity. If the learned dramatist, thus
+happily prepared and predisposed, had happened to fall in
+with such a specimen of female loquacity as I have just
+parted with, he might, perhaps, have given us a pendant to
+his picture in the talking lady. Pity but he had! He
+would have done her justice, which I could not at any
+time, least of all now; I am too much stunned, too much
+like one escaped from a belfry on a coronation day. I am
+just resting from the fatigue of four days' hard listening&mdash;four
+snowy, sleety, rainy days; days of every variety of
+falling weather, all of them too bad to admit the possibility
+that any petticoated thing, were she as hardy as a Scotch
+fir, should stir out; four days chained by 'sad civility' to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg&nbsp;37]</a></span>that fireside, once so quiet, and again&mdash;cheering thought!&mdash;again
+I trust to be so when the echo of that visitor's incessant
+tongue shall have died away....</p>
+
+<p>"She took us in her way from London to the west of
+England, and being, as she wrote, 'not quite well, not
+equal to much company, prayed that no other guest might
+be admitted, so that she might have the pleasure of our
+conversation all to herself (<i>ours!</i> as if it were possible for
+any of us to slide in a word edgewise!), and especially
+enjoy the gratification of talking over old times with the
+master of the house, her countryman.'</p>
+
+<p>"Such was the promise of her letter, and to the letter it
+has been kept. All the news and scandal of a large county
+forty years ago, and a hundred years before, and ever
+since; all the marriages, deaths, births, elopements, law-suits,
+and casualties of her own times, her father's, grandfather's,
+great-grandfather's, nephews', and grandnephews',
+has she detailed with a minuteness, an accuracy, a prodigality
+of learning, a profuseness of proper names, a pedantry
+of locality, which would excite the envy of a county historian,
+a king-at-arms, or even a Scotch novelist.</p>
+
+<p>"Her knowledge is most astonishing; but the most
+astonishing part of all is how she came by that knowledge.
+It should seem, to listen to her, as if at some time of her
+life she must have listened herself; and yet her countryman
+declares that in the forty years he has known her, no such
+event has occurred; and she knows new news, too! It
+must be intuition!...</p>
+
+<p>"The very weather is not a safe subject. Her memory
+is a perpetual register of hard frosts and long droughts, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg&nbsp;38]</a></span>high winds and terrible storms, with all the evils that followed
+in their train, and all the personal events connected
+with them; so that, if you happen to remark that clouds
+are come up and you fear it may rain, she replies: 'Ay, it
+is just such a morning as three-and-thirty years ago, when
+my poor cousin was married&mdash;you remember my cousin
+Barbara; she married so-and-so, the son of so-and-so;' and
+then comes the whole pedigree of the bridegroom, the
+amount of the settlements, and the reading and signing
+them overnight; a description of the wedding-dresses in
+the style of Sir Charles Grandison, and how much the
+bride's gown cost per yard; the names, residences, and a
+short subsequent history of the bridesmaids and men, the
+gentleman who gave the bride away, and the clergyman
+who performed the ceremony, with a learned antiquarian
+digression relative to the church; then the setting out in
+procession; the marriage, the kissing, the crying, the breakfasting,
+the drawing the cake through the ring, and, finally,
+the bridal excursion, which brings us back again, at an hour's
+end, to the starting-post, the weather, and the whole story
+of the sopping, the drying, the clothes-spoiling, the cold-catching,
+and all the small evils of a summer shower. By
+this time it rains, and she sits down to a pathetic see-saw of
+conjectures on the chance of Mrs. Smith's having set out
+for her daily walk, or the possibility that Dr. Brown may
+have ventured to visit his patients in his gig, and the certainty
+that Lady Green's new housemaid would come from
+London on the outside of the coach....</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder, if she had happened to be married, how
+many husbands she would have talked to death. It is certain
+that none of her relatives are long-lived, after she
+comes to reside with them. Father, mother, uncle, sister,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg&nbsp;39]</a></span>brother, two nephews, and one niece, all these have successively
+passed away, though a healthy race, and with no
+visible disorder&mdash;except&mdash;But we must not be uncharitable."</p>
+
+<p>Mary Ferrier, the Scotch novelist, was gifted with genial
+wit and a quick sense of the ludicrous. Walter Scott admired
+her greatly, and as a lively guest at Abbotsford she
+did much to relieve the sadness of his last days. He said
+of her:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"She is a gifted personage, having, besides her great
+talents, conversation the least <i>exigeante</i> of any author,
+female at least, whom I have ever seen, among the long list
+I have encountered. Simple and full of humor, and exceedingly
+ready at repartee; and all this without the least
+affectation of the blue-stocking. The general strain of her
+writing relates to the foibles and oddities of mankind, and
+no one has drawn them with greater breadth of comic
+humor or effect. Her scenes often resemble the style of our
+best old comedies, and she may boast, like Foote, of adding
+many new and original characters to the stock of our comic
+literature."</p></div>
+
+<p>Here is one of her admirably-drawn portraits:</p>
+
+<h3>THE SENSIBLE WOMAN.</h3>
+
+<p>"Miss Jacky, the senior of the trio, was what is reckoned
+a very sensible woman&mdash;which generally means a very
+disagreeable, obstinate, illiberal director of all men, women,
+and children&mdash;a sort of superintendent of all actions, time,
+and place, with unquestioned authority to arraign, judge,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg&nbsp;40]</a></span>and condemn upon the statutes of her own supposed sense.
+Most country parishes have their sensible woman, who lays
+down the law on all affairs, spiritual and temporal. Miss
+Jacky stood unrivalled as the sensible woman of Glenfern.
+She had attained this eminence partly from having a little
+more understanding than her sisters, but principally from
+her dictatorial manner, and the pompous, decisive tone in
+which she delivered the most commonplace truths. At
+home her supremacy in all matters of sense was perfectly
+established; and thence the infection, like other superstitions,
+had spread over the whole neighborhood. As a
+sensible woman she regulated the family, which she took
+care to let everybody hear; she was a sort of postmistress-general,
+a detector of all abuses and impositions, and deemed
+it her prerogative to be consulted about all the useful and
+useless things which everybody else could have done as well.
+She was liberal of her advice to the poor, always enforcing
+upon them the iniquity of idleness, but doing nothing for
+them in the way of employment, strict economy being one
+of the many points in which she was particularly sensible.
+The consequence was that, while she was lecturing half the
+poor women in the parish for their idleness, the bread was
+kept out of their mouths by the incessant carding of wool,
+and knitting of stockings, and spinning, and reeling, and
+winding, and pirning, that went on among the ladies themselves.
+And, by the by, Miss Jacky is not the only sensible
+woman who thinks she is acting a meritorious part when
+she converts what ought to be the portion of the poor into
+the employment of the affluent.</p>
+
+<p>"In short, Min Jacky was all over sense. A skilful
+physiognomist would at a single glance have detected the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg&nbsp;41]</a></span>sensible woman in the erect head, the compressed lips,
+square elbows, and firm, judicious step. Even her very
+garments seemed to partake of the prevailing character of
+their mistress. Her ruff always looked more sensible than
+any other body's; her shawl sat most sensibly on her shoulders;
+her walking-shoes were acknowledged to be very
+sensible, and she drew on her gloves with an air of sense, as
+if the one arm had been Seneca, the other Socrates. From
+what has been said it may easily be inferred that Miss Jacky
+was, in fact, anything but a sensible woman, as, indeed, no
+woman can be who bears such visible outward marks of
+what is in reality the most quiet and unostentatious of all
+good qualities."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Frederika Bremer, the Swedish novelist, whose novels
+have been translated into English, German, French, and
+Dutch, had a style peculiarly her own. Her humor reminds
+me of a bed of mignonette, with its delicate yet permeating
+fragrance. One paragraph, like one spray of that shy
+flower, scarcely reveals the dainty flavor.</p>
+
+<p>From the "Neighbors," her best story, and one that still
+has a moderate sale, I take her description of Franziska's
+first little lover-like quarrel with her adoring husband, the
+"Bear." (Let us remember Miss Bremer with appreciation
+and gratitude, as one of the very few visitors we have entertained
+who have written kindly of our country and our
+"Homes.")</p>
+
+<h3>THE FIRST QUARREL.</h3>
+
+<p>"Here I am again sitting with a pen in my hand, impelled
+by a desire for writing, yet with nothing particular
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg&nbsp;42]</a></span>to write about. Everything in the house and in the whole
+household arrangement is in order. Little patties are baking
+in the kitchen, the weather is oppressively hot, and
+every leaf and bird seem as if deprived of motion. The
+hens lie outside in the sand before the window, the cock
+stands solitarily on one leg, and looks upon his harem with
+the countenance of a sleepy sultan. Bear sits in his room
+writing letters. I hear him yawn; that infects me. Oh!
+oh! I must go and have a little quarrel with him on purpose
+to awaken us both.</p>
+
+<p>"I want at this moment a quire of writing-paper on
+which to drop sugar-cakes. He is terribly miserly of his
+writing-paper, and on that very account I must have some
+now.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Later.</i>&mdash;All is done! A complete quarrel, and how
+completely lively we are after it! You, Maria, must hear
+all, that you may thus see how it goes on among married
+people.</p>
+
+<p>"I went to my husband and said quite meekly, 'My
+Angel Bear, you must be so very good as to give me a quire
+of your writing-paper to drop sugar-cakes upon.'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He</i> (<i>in consternation</i>). 'A quire of writing-paper?'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She.</i> 'Yes, my dear friend, of your very best writing-paper.'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He.</i> 'Finest writing-paper? Are you mad?'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She.</i> 'Certainly not; but I believe you are a little out
+of your senses.'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He.</i> 'You covetous sea-cat, leave off raging among my
+papers! You shall not have my paper!'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She.</i> 'Miserly beast! I shall and will have the paper.'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He.</i> '"I shall"! Listen a moment. Let's see, now,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg&nbsp;43]</a></span>how you will accomplish your will.' And the rough Bear
+held both my small hands fast in his great paws.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She.</i> 'You ugly Bear! You are worse than any of
+those that walk on four legs. Let me loose! Let me
+loose, else I shall bite you!' And as he would not let me
+loose I bit him. Yes, Maria, I bit him really on the hand,
+at which he only laughed scornfully and said: 'Yes, yes,
+my little wife, that is always the way of those who are forward
+without the power to do. Take the paper. Now,
+take it!'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She.</i> 'Ah! Let me loose! let me loose!'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He.</i> 'Ask me prettily.'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She.</i> 'Dear Bear!'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He.</i> 'Acknowledge your fault.'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She.</i> 'I do.'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He.</i> 'Pray for forgiveness.'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She.</i> 'Ah, forgiveness!'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He..</i> 'Promise amendment.'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She.</i> 'Oh, yes, amendment!'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He.</i> 'Nay, I'll pardon you. But now, no sour faces,
+dear wife, but throw your arms round my neck and kiss me.'</p>
+
+<p>"I gave him a little box on the ear, stole a quire of
+paper, and ran off with loud exultation. Bear followed into
+the kitchen growling horribly; but then I turned upon him
+armed with two delicious little patties, which I aimed at his
+mouth, and there they vanished. Bear, all at once, was
+quite still, the paper was forgotten, and reconciliation concluded.</p>
+
+<p>"There is, Maria, no better way of stopping the mouths
+of these lords of the creation than by putting into them
+something good to eat."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg&nbsp;44]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I wish I had room for my favorite Irishwoman, Lady
+Morgan, and her description of her first rout at the house of
+the eccentric Lady Cork.</p>
+
+<p>The off-hand songs of her sister, Lady Clarke, are fine
+illustrations of rollicking Irish wit and badinage.</p>
+
+<p>At one of Lady Morgan's receptions, given in honor of
+fifty philosophers from England, Lady Clarke sang the following
+song with "great effect:"</p>
+
+<h3><a name="FUN_AND_PHILOSOPHY" id="FUN_AND_PHILOSOPHY"></a>FUN AND PHILOSOPHY.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Heigh for ould Ireland! Oh, would you require a land<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where men by nature are all quite the thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where pure inspiration has taught the whole nation<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To fight, love, and reason, talk politics, sing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis Pat's mathematical, chemical, tactical,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Knowing and practical, fanciful, gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There's nothing in life that is out of his way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">He makes light of optics, and sees through dioptrics,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He's a dab at projectiles&mdash;ne'er misses his man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He's complete in attraction, and quick at reaction,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the doctrine of chances he squares every plan;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In hydraulics so frisky, the whole Bay of Biscay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If it flowed but with <i>whiskey</i>, he'd store it away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There's nothing in life that is out of his way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">So to him cross over savant and philosopher,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thinking, God help them! to bother us all;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But they'll find that for knowledge 'tis at our own college<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Themselves must inquire for&mdash;beds, dinner, or ball.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There are lectures to tire, and good lodgings to hire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To all who require and have money to pay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ladies and lecturing fill up the day.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg&nbsp;45]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">So at the Rotunda we all sorts of fun do,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hard hearts and pig-iron we melt in one flame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For if Love blows the bellows, our tough college fellows<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will thaw into rapture at each lovely dame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There, too, sans apology, tea, tarts, tautology,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are given with zo&ouml;logy, to grave and gay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thus fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Send all to England home, happy and gay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>From George Eliot, whose humor is seen at its best in
+"Adam Bede" and "Silas Marner," how much we could
+quote! How some of her searching comments cling to the
+memory!</p>
+
+<p>"I've nothing to say again' her piety, my dear; but I
+know very well I shouldn't like her to cook my victuals.
+When a man comes in hungry and tired, piety won't feed
+him, I reckon. Hard carrots 'ull lie heavy on his stomach,
+piety or no piety. I called in one day when she was dishin'
+up Mr. Tryan's dinner, an' I could see the potatoes was
+as watery as watery. It's right enough to be speritial, I'm
+no enemy to that, but I like my potatoes mealy."</p>
+
+<p>"You're right there, Tookey; there's allays two 'pinions:
+there's the 'pinion a man has of himsen, and there's
+the 'pinion other folks have on him. There'd be two 'pinions
+about a cracked bell if the bell could hear itself."</p>
+
+<p>"You're mighty fond o' Craig; but for my part, I think
+he's welly like a cock as thinks the sun's rose o' purpose to
+hear him crow."</p>
+
+<p>"When Mr. Brooke had something painful to tell it was
+usually his way to introduce it among a number of disjointed
+particulars, as if it were a medicine that would get
+a milder flavor by mixing."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg&nbsp;46]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Heaven knows what would become of our sociality if
+we never visited people we speak ill of; we should live like
+Egyptian hermits, in crowded solitude."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I ain't one to see the cat walking into the dairy
+and wonder what she's come after."</p>
+
+<p>"I have nothing to say again' Craig, on'y it is a pity he
+couldna be hatched o'er again, and hatched different."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not denyin' the women are foolish; God Almighty
+made 'em to match the men."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a waste of time to praise people dead whom you
+maligned while living; for it's but a poor harvest you'll
+get by watering last year's crop."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose Dinah's like all the rest of the women, and
+thinks two and two will come to make five, if she only cries
+and makes bother enough about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Put a good face on it and don't seem to be looking out
+for crows, else you'll set other people to watchin' for 'em,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>"I took pretty good care, before I said 'sniff,' to be sure
+she would say 'snaff,' and pretty quick, too. I warn't
+a-goin' to open my mouth like a dog at a fly, and snap it to
+again wi' nothin' to swaller."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg&nbsp;47]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">FROM ANNE BRADSTREET TO MRS. STOWE.</p>
+
+<p>The same gratifying progress and improvement noticed
+in the wit of women of other lands is seen in studying the
+literary annals of our own countrywomen.</p>
+
+<p>Think of Anne Bradstreet, Mercy Warren, and Tabitha
+Tenney, all extolled to the skies by their contemporaries.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Mercy Warren was a satirist quite in the strain of Juvenal,
+but in cumbrous, artificial fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Hon. John Winthrop consulted her on the proposed suspension
+of trade with England in all but the <i>necessaries</i> of
+life, and she playfully gives a list of articles that would be
+included in that word:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"An inventory clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all she needs Lamira offers here;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor does she fear a rigid Cato's frown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When she lays by the rich embroidered gown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And modestly compounds for just enough,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps some dozens of mere flighty stuff;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lawns and lute strings, blonde and Mechlin laces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fringes and jewels, fans and tweezer-cases;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gay cloaks and hat, of every shape and size,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarfs, cardinals, and ribands, of all dyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With ruffles stamped and aprons of tambour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tippets and handkerchiefs, at least threescore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With finest muslins that fair India boasts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the choice herbage from Chinesian coasts;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg&nbsp;48]</a></span><span class="i0">Add feathers, furs, rich satin, and ducapes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And head-dresses in pyramidal shapes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sideboards of plate and porcelain profuse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With fifty dittoes that the ladies use.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So weak Lamira and her wants so few<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who can refuse? they're but the sex's due."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Mrs. Sigourney, voluminous and mediocre, is amusing
+because so absolutely destitute of humor, and her style, a
+feminine <i>Johnsonese</i>, is absurdly hifalutin and strained.</p>
+
+<p>This is the way in which she alludes to green apples:</p>
+
+<p>"From the time of their first taking on orbicular shape,
+and when it might be supposed their hardness and acidity
+would repulse all save elephantine tusks and ostrich stomachs,
+they were the prey of roaming children."</p>
+
+<p>And in her poem "To a Shred of Linen":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16">"Methinks I scan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some idiosyncrasy that marks thee out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A defunct pillow-case."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>She preserved, however, a long list of the various solicitations
+sent her to furnish poems for special occasions, and I
+think this shows that she possessed a sense of humor. Let
+me quote a few:</p>
+
+<p>"Some verses were desired as an elegy on a pet canary
+accidentally drowned in a barrel of swine's food.</p>
+
+<p>"A poem requested on the dog-star Sirius.</p>
+
+<p>"To write an ode for the wedding of people in Maine,
+of whom I had never heard.</p>
+
+<p>"To punctuate a three-volume novel for an author who
+complained that the work of punctuating always brought
+on a pain in the small of his back.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg&nbsp;49]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Asked to assist a servant-man not very well able to read
+in getting his Sunday-school lessons, and to write out all
+the answers for him clear through the book&mdash;to save his
+time.</p>
+
+<p>"A lady whose husband expects to be absent on a journey
+for a month or two wishes I would write a poem to
+testify her joy at his return.</p>
+
+<p>"An elegy on a young man, one of the nine children of
+a judge of probate."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Miss Sedgwick, in her letters, occasionally showed a keen
+sense of humor, as, when speaking of a certain novel, she
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"There is too much force for the subject. It is as if a
+railroad should be built and a locomotive started to transport
+skeletons, specimens, and one bird of Paradise."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Mrs. Caroline Gilman, born in 1794, and still living,
+author of "Recollections of a Southern Matron," etc., will
+be represented by one playful poem, which has a veritable
+New England flavor:</p>
+
+<h3><a name="JOSHUAS_COURTSHIP" id="JOSHUAS_COURTSHIP"></a>JOSHUA'S COURTSHIP.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">A NEW ENGLAND BALLAD.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Stout Joshua was a farmer's son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And a pondering he sat<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One night when the fagots crackling burned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And purred the tabby cat.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Joshua was a well-grown youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As one might plainly see<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By the sleeves that vainly tried to reach<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His hands upon his knee.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg&nbsp;50]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">His splay-feet stood all parrot-toed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In cowhide shoes arrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And his hair seemed cut across his brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By rule and plummet laid.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And what was Joshua pondering on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With his widely staring eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And his nostrils opening sensibly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To ease his frequent sighs?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Not often will a lover's lips<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The tender secret tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But out he spoke before he thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"My gracious! Nancy Bell!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">His mother at her spinning-wheel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Good woman, stood and spun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"And what," says she, "is come o'er you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is't <i>airnest</i> or is't fun?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then Joshua gave a cunning look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Half bashful and half sporting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Now what did father do," says he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"When first he came a courting?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Why, Josh, the first thing that he did,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a knowing wink, said she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"He dressed up of a Sunday night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And <i>cast sheep's eyes</i> at me."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Josh said no more, but straight went out<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And sought a butcher's pen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where twelve fat sheep, for market bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had lately slaughtered been.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">He bargained with a lover's zeal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Obtained the wished-for prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And filled his pockets fore and aft<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With twice twelve bloody eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg&nbsp;51]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The next night was the happy time<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When all New England sparks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Drest in their best, go out to court,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As spruce and gay as larks.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">When floors are nicely sanded o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When tins and pewter shine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And milk-pans by the kitchen wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Display their dainty line;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">While the new ribbon decks the waist<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of many a waiting lass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who steals a conscious look of pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Toward her answering glass.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">In pensive mood sat Nancy Bell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Joshua thought not she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But of a hearty sailor lad<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Across the distant sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Her arm upon the table rests,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her hand supports her head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When Joshua enters with a scrape,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And somewhat bashful tread.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">No word he spake, but down he sat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And heaved a doleful sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then at the table took his aim<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And rolled a glassy eye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Another and another flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With quick and strong rebound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They tumbled in poor Nancy's lap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They fell upon the ground.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">While Joshua smirked, and sighed, and smiled<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Between each tender aim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And still the cold and bloody balls<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In frightful quickness came.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg&nbsp;52]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Until poor Nancy flew with screams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To shun the amorous sport,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Joshua found to <i>cast sheep's eyes</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was not the way to court.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>"Fanny Forrester" and "Fanny Fern" both delighted
+the public with individual styles of writing, vastly successful
+when a new thing.</p>
+
+<p>When wanting a new dress and bonnet, as every woman
+will in the spring (or any time), Fanny Forrester wrote to
+Willis, of the <i>New Mirror</i>, an appeal which he called
+"very clever, adroit, and fanciful."</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"You know the shops in Broadway are very tempting
+this season. <i>Such</i> beautiful things! Well, you know
+(no, you don't know that, but you can guess) what a delightful
+thing it would be to appear in one of those
+charming, head-adorning, complexion-softening, hard-feature-subduing
+Neapolitans, with a little gossamer veil dropping
+daintily on the shoulder of one of those exquisite <i>balzarines</i>,
+to be seen any day at Stewart's and elsewhere.
+Well, you know (this you <i>must</i> know) that shopkeepers
+have the impertinence to demand a trifling exchange for
+these things, even of a lady; and also that some people
+have a remarkably small purse, and a remarkably small
+portion of the yellow "root" in that. And now, to bring
+the matter home, I am one of that class. I have the
+most beautiful little purse in the world, but it is only kept
+for show. I even find myself under the necessity of counterfeiting&mdash;that
+is, filling the void with tissue-paper in lieu
+of bank-notes, preparatory to a shopping expedition. Well,
+now to the point. As Bel and I snuggled down on the sofa
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg&nbsp;53]</a></span>this morning to read the <i>New Mirror</i> (by the way, Cousin
+Bel is never obliged to put tissue-paper in her purse), it
+struck us that you would be a friend in need, and give good
+counsel in this emergency. Bel, however, insisted on my
+not telling what I wanted the money for. She even
+thought that I had better intimate orphanage, extreme
+suffering from the bursting of some speculative bubble,
+illness, etc.; but did I not know you better? Have I read
+the <i>New Mirror</i> so much (to say nothing of the graceful
+things coined under a bridge, and a thousand other pages
+flung from the inner heart) and not learned who has an eye
+for everything pretty? Not so stupid, Cousin Bel, no,
+no!...</p>
+
+<p>"And to the point. Maybe you of the <i>New Mirror</i>
+PAY for acceptable articles, maybe not. <i>Comprenez
+vous?</i> Oh, I do hope that beautiful <i>balzarine</i> like Bel's
+will not be gone before another Saturday! You will not
+forget to answer me in the next <i>Mirror</i>; but pray, my
+dear Editor, let it be done very cautiously, for Bel would
+pout all day if she should know what I have written.</p>
+
+<p>"Till Saturday, your anxiously-waiting friend,</p></div>
+
+<p class="p3">"Fanny Forrester."</p>
+
+<p>Such a note received by an editor of this generation
+would promptly fall into the waste-basket. But Willis was
+captivated, and answered:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we give in! On <i>condition</i> that you are under
+twenty-five and that you will wear a rose (recognizably) in
+your bodice the first time you appear in Broadway with the
+hat and <i>balzarine</i>, we will pay the bills. Write us thereafter
+a sketch of Bel and yourself as cleverly done as this
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg&nbsp;54]</a></span>letter, and you may 'snuggle' down on the sofa and consider
+us paid, and the public charmed with you."</p>
+
+<p>This style of ingratiating one's self with an editor is as
+much a bygone as an alliterative pen-name.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Fanny Fern (Sarah Willis Parton) also established a style
+of her own&mdash;"a new kind of composition; short, pointed
+paragraphs, without beginning and without end&mdash;one clear,
+ringing note, and then silence."</p>
+
+<p>Her talent for humorous composition showed itself in her
+essays at school. I'll give a bit from her "Suggestions on
+Arithmetic after Cramming for an Examination":</p>
+
+<p>"Every incident, every object of sight seemed to produce
+an arithmetical result. I once saw a poor wretch evidently
+intoxicated; thought I, 'That man has overcome
+three scruples, to say the least, for three scruples make one
+dram.' Even the Sabbath was no day of rest for me&mdash;the
+psalms, prayers, and sermons were all translated by me into
+the language of arithmetic. A good man spoke very feelingly
+upon the manner in which our cares and perplexities
+were multiplied by riches. Muttered I: 'That, sir, depends
+upon whether the multiplier is a fraction or a whole
+number; for if it be a fraction, it makes the product less.'
+And when another, lamenting the various divisions of the
+Church, pathetically exclaimed: 'And how shall we unite
+these several denominations in one?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Why, reduce them to a common denominator,' exclaimed
+I, half aloud, wondering at his ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>"And when an admiring swain protested his warm 'interest,'
+he brought only one word that chimed with my
+train of thought.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg&nbsp;55]</a></span></p>
+<p>"'Interest?' exclaimed I, starting from my reverie.
+'What per cent, sir?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Ma'am?' exclaimed my attendant, in the greatest
+possible amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"'How much per cent, sir?' said I, repeating my question.</p>
+
+<p>"His reply was lost on my ear save: 'Madam, at any
+rate do not trifle with my feelings.'</p>
+
+<p>"'At any rate, did you say? Then take six per cent;
+that is the easiest to calculate.'"</p>
+
+<p>Her style, too, has gone out of fashion; but in its day it
+was thought very amusing.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Mrs. Stowe needs no introduction, and she is another of
+those from whom we quote little, because she could contribute
+so much, and one does not know where to choose.
+Her "Sam Lawson" is, perhaps, the most familiar of her
+odd characters and talkers.</p>
+
+<h3>SAM LAWSON'S SAYINGS.</h3>
+
+<p>"Well, Sam, what did you think of the sermon?" said
+Uncle Bill.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Sam, leaning over the fire with his long,
+bony hands alternately raised to catch the warmth, and then
+dropped with an utter laxness when the warmth became too
+pronounced, "Parson Simpson's a smart man; but I tell
+ye, it's kind o' discouragin'. Why, he said our state and
+condition by natur war just like this: We war clear down
+in a well fifty feet deep, and the sides all round nothin' but
+glare ice; but we war under immediate obligations to get
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg&nbsp;56]</a></span>
+out, 'cause we war free, voluntary agents. But nobody ever
+had got out, and nobody would, unless the Lord reached
+down and took 'em. And whether he would or not nobody
+could tell; it was all sovereignty. He said there warn't
+one in a hundred, not one in a thousand, not one in ten
+thousand, that would be saved. 'Lordy massy,' says I to
+myself, 'ef that's so they're any of 'em welcome to my
+chance.' And so I kind o' ris up and come out, 'cause
+I'd got a pretty long walk home, and I wanted to go round
+by South Pond and inquire about Aunt Sally Morse's
+toothache." ...</p>
+
+<p>"This 'ere Miss Sphyxy Smith's a rich old gal, and
+'mazin' smart to work," he began. "Tell you, she holds
+all she gets. Old Sol, he told me a story 'bout her that
+was a pretty good un."</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?" said my grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, ye see, you 'member old Parson Jeduthun Kendall
+that lives up in Stonytown; he lost his wife a year ago
+last Thanksgivin', and he thought 'twar about time he hed
+another; so he comes down and consults our Parson
+Lothrop. Says he: 'I want a good, smart, neat, economical
+woman, with a good property. I don't care nothin'
+about her bein' handsome. In fact, I ain't particular
+about anything else,' says he. Wal, Parson Lothrop, says
+he: 'I think, if that's the case, I know jest the woman to
+suit ye. She owns a clear, handsome property, and she's
+neat and economical; but she's no beauty!' 'Oh, beauty
+is nothin' to me,' says Parson Kendall; and so he took the
+direction. Wal, one day he hitched up his old one-hoss
+shay, and kind o' brushed up, and started off a-courtin'.
+Wal, the parson come to the house, and he war tickled to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg&nbsp;57]</a></span>pieces with the looks o' things outside, 'cause the house is
+all well shingled and painted, and there ain't a picket loose
+nor a nail wantin' nowhere.</p>
+
+<p>"'This 'ere's the woman for me,' says Parson Kendall.
+So he goes up and raps hard on the front door with his
+whip-handle. Wal, you see, Miss Sphyxy she war jest
+goin' out to help get in her hay. She had on a pair o'
+clompin' cowhide boots, and a pitchfork in her hand, jest
+goin' out, when she heard the rap. So she come jest as she
+was to the front door. Now, you know Parson Kendall's a
+little midget of a man, but he stood there on the step kind
+o' smilin' and genteel, lickin' his lips and lookin' <i>so</i> agreeable!
+Wal, the front door kind o' stuck&mdash;front doors generally
+do, ye know, 'cause they ain't opened very often&mdash;and
+Miss Sphyxy she had to pull and haul and put to all
+her strength, and finally it come open with a bang, and she
+'peared to the parson, pitchfork and all, sort o' frownin'
+like.</p>
+
+<p>"'What do you want?' says she; for, you see, Miss
+Sphyxy ain't no ways tender to the men.</p>
+
+<p>"'I want to see Miss Asphyxia Smith,' says he, very
+civil, thinking she war the hired gal.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'm Miss Asphyxia Smith,' says she. 'What do you
+want o' me?'</p>
+
+<p>"Parson Kendall he jest took one good look on her,
+from top to toe. '<span class="smcap">Nothin'</span>,' says he, and turned right
+round and went down the steps like lightnin'."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Years ago Mrs. Stowe published some capital stories of
+New England life, which were collected in a little volume
+called "The Mayflower," a book which is now seldom seen,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg&nbsp;58]</a></span>and almost unknown to the present generation. From this I
+take her "Night in a Canal-Boat." Extremely effective
+when read with enthusiasm and proper variety of tone.
+I quote it as a boon for the boys and girls who are often
+looking for something "funny" to read aloud.</p>
+
+<h3>THE CANAL-BOAT.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.</p>
+
+<p>Of all the ways of travelling which obtain among our
+locomotive nation, this said vehicle, the canal-boat, is the
+most absolutely prosaic and inglorious. There is something
+picturesque, nay, almost sublime, in the lordly march of
+your well-built, high-bred steamboat. Go take your stand
+on some overhanging bluff, where the blue Ohio winds its
+thread of silver, or the sturdy Mississippi tears its path
+through unbroken forests, and it will do your heart good to
+see the gallant boat walking the waters with unbroken and
+powerful tread, and, like some fabled monster of the wave,
+breathing fire and making the shores resound with its deep
+respirations. Then there is something mysterious&mdash;even
+awful&mdash;in the power of steam. See it curling up against a
+blue sky some rosy morning, graceful, floating, intangible,
+and to all appearance the softest and gentlest of all spiritual
+things, and then think that it is this fairy spirit that keeps
+all the world alive and hot with motion; think how excellent
+a servant it is, doing all sorts of gigantic works, like
+the genii of old; and yet, if you let slip the talisman only
+for a moment, what terrible advantage it will take of you!
+and you will confess that steam has some claims both to the
+beautiful and the terrible! For our own part, when we are
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg&nbsp;59]</a></span>down among the machinery of a steamboat in full play, we
+conduct ourselves very reverently, for we consider it as
+a very serious neighborhood, and every time the steam
+whizzes with such red-hot determination from the escape-valve,
+we start as if some of the spirits were after us. But
+in a canal-boat there is no power, no mystery, no danger;
+one cannot blow up, one cannot be drowned&mdash;unless by
+some special effort; one sees clearly all there is in the
+case&mdash;a horse, a rope, and a muddy strip of water&mdash;and
+that is all.</p>
+
+<p>Did you ever try it, reader? If not, take an imaginary
+trip with us, just for experiment. "There's the boat!"
+exclaims a passenger in the omnibus, as we are rolling
+down from the Pittsburg Mansion House to the canal.
+"Where?" exclaim a dozen of voices, and forthwith a
+dozen heads go out of the window. "Why, down there,
+under that bridge; don't you see those lights?" "What,
+that little thing!" exclaims an inexperienced traveller;
+"dear me! we can't half of us get into it!" "We! indeed,"
+says some old hand in the business; "I think you'll
+find it will hold us and a dozen more loads like us." "Impossible!"
+say some. "You'll see," say the initiated; and
+as soon as you get out you <i>do</i> see, and hear, too, what seems
+like a general breaking loose from the Tower of Babel,
+amid a perfect hail-storm of trunks, boxes, valises, carpet-bags,
+and every describable and indescribable form of what
+a Westerner calls "plunder."</p>
+
+<p>"That's my trunk!" barks out a big, round man.
+"That's my bandbox!" screams a heart-stricken old lady,
+in terror for her immaculate Sunday caps. "Where's my
+little red box? I had two carpet-bags and a&mdash;My trunk
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg&nbsp;60]</a></span>had a scarle&mdash;Halloo! where are you going with that
+portmanteau? Husband! Husband! do see after the
+large basket and the little hair-trunk&mdash;Oh, and the
+baby's little chair!" "Go below, go below, for mercy's
+sake, my dear; I'll see to the baggage." At last the feminine
+part of creation, perceiving that, in this particular instance,
+they gain nothing by public speaking, are content
+to be led quietly under hatches; and amusing is the look of
+dismay which each new-comer gives to the confined quarters
+that present themselves. Those who were so ignorant
+of the power of compression as to suppose the boat scarce
+large enough to contain them and theirs, find, with dismay,
+a respectable colony of old ladies, babies, mothers, big
+baskets, and carpet-bags already established. "Mercy on
+us!" says one, after surveying the little room, about ten
+feet long and six feet high, "where are we all to sleep to-night?"
+"Oh, me, what a sight of children!" says a
+young lady, in a despairing tone. "Pooh!" says an initiated
+traveller, "children! scarce any here; let's see: one;
+the woman in the corner, two; that child with the bread
+and butter, three; and then there's that other woman with
+two. Really, it's quite moderate for a canal-boat. However,
+we can't tell till they have all come."</p>
+
+<p>"All! for mercy's sake, you don't say there are any
+more coming!" exclaim two or three in a breath; "they
+<i>can't</i> come; <i>there is not room</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the impressive utterance of this sentence
+the contrary is immediately demonstrated by the appearance
+of a very corpulent elderly lady with three well-grown
+daughters, who come down looking about them most complacently,
+entirely regardless of the unchristian looks of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg&nbsp;61]</a></span>
+company. What a mercy it is that fat people are always
+good-natured!</p>
+
+<p>After this follows an indiscriminate raining down of all
+shapes, sizes, sexes, and ages&mdash;men, women, children,
+babies, and nurses. The state of feeling becomes perfectly
+desperate. Darkness gathers on all faces. "We shall be
+smothered! we shall be crowded to death! we <i>can't stay</i>
+here!" are heard faintly from one and another; and yet,
+though the boat grows no wider, the walls no higher, they
+do live, and do stay there, in spite of repeated protestations
+to the contrary. Truly, as Sam Slick says, "there's a <i>sight
+of wear</i> in human natur'!"</p>
+
+<p>But meanwhile the children grow sleepy, and divers interesting
+little duets and trios arise from one part or another
+of the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Johnny! be a good boy," says a pale, nursing
+mamma, to a great, bristling, white-headed phenomenon,
+who is kicking very much at large in her lap.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't be a good boy, neither," responds Johnny,
+with interesting explicitness; "I want to go to bed, and
+so-o-o-o!" and Johnny makes up a mouth as big as a tea-cup,
+and roars with good courage, and his mamma asks him
+"if he ever saw pa do so," and tells him that "he is
+mamma's dear, good little boy, and must not make a
+noise," with various observations of the kind, which are so
+strikingly efficacious in such cases. Meanwhile the domestic
+concert in other quarters proceeds with vigor.
+"Mamma, I'm tired!" bawls a child. "Where's the
+baby's nightgown?" calls a nurse. "Do take Peter up in
+your lap, and keep him still." "Pray get out some biscuits
+to stop their mouths." Meanwhile sundry babies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg&nbsp;62]</a></span>
+strike in <i>con spirito</i>, as the music-books have it, and execute
+various flourishes; the disconsolate mothers sigh, and look
+as if all was over with them; and the young ladies appear
+extremely disgusted, and wonder "what business women
+have to be travelling round with children."</p>
+
+<p>To these troubles succeeds the turning-out scene, when
+the whole caravan is ejected into the gentlemen's cabin,
+that the beds may be made. The red curtains are put
+down, and in solemn silence all the last mysterious preparations
+begin. At length it is announced that all is ready.
+Forthwith the whole company rush back, and find the walls
+embellished by a series of little shelves, about a foot wide,
+each furnished with a mattress and bedding, and hooked to
+the ceiling by a very suspiciously slender cord. Direful
+are the ruminations and exclamations of inexperienced
+travellers, particularly young ones, as they eye these very
+equivocal accommodations. "What, sleep up there! <i>I</i>
+won't sleep on one of those top shelves, <i>I</i> know. The
+cords will certainly break." The chambermaid here takes
+up the conversation, and solemnly assures them that such
+an accident is not to be thought of at all; that it is a natural
+impossibility&mdash;a thing that could not happen without an
+actual miracle; and since it becomes increasingly evident
+that thirty ladies cannot all sleep on the lowest shelf, there
+is some effort made to exercise faith in this doctrine; nevertheless
+all look on their neighbors with fear and trembling;
+and when the stout lady talks of taking a shelf, she is most
+urgently pressed to change places with her alarmed neighbor
+below. Points of location being after a while adjusted,
+comes the last struggle. Everybody wants to take off a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg&nbsp;63]</a></span>bonnet, or look for a shawl, to find a cloak, or get a carpet-bag,
+and all set about it with such zeal that nothing can be
+done. "Ma'am, you're on my foot!" says one. "Will
+you please to move, ma'am?" says somebody, who is gasping
+and struggling behind you. "Move!" you echo.
+"Indeed, I should be very glad to, but I don't see much
+prospect of it." "Chambermaid!" calls a lady who is
+struggling among a heap of carpet-bags and children at one
+end of the cabin. "Ma'am!" echoes the poor chambermaid,
+who is wedged fast in a similar situation at the other.
+"Where's my cloak, chambermaid?" "I'd find it,
+ma'am, if I could move." "Chambermaid, my basket!"
+"Chambermaid, my parasol!" "Chambermaid, my carpet-bag!"
+"Mamma, they push me so!" "Hush, child;
+crawl under there and lie still till I can undress you." At
+last, however, the various distresses are over, the babies
+sink to sleep, and even that much-enduring being, the
+chambermaid, seeks out some corner for repose. Tired
+and drowsy, you are just sinking into a doze, when bang!
+goes the boat against the sides of a lock; ropes scrape, men
+run and shout; and up fly the heads of all the top-shelfites,
+who are generally the more juvenile and airy part of the
+company.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that! what's that!" flies from mouth to
+mouth; and forthwith they proceed to awaken their respective
+relations. "Mother! Aunt Hannah! do wake
+up; what is this awful noise?" "Oh, only a lock."
+"Pray, be still," groan out the sleepy members from below.</p>
+
+<p>"A lock!" exclaim the vivacious creatures, ever on the
+alert for information; "and what <i>is</i> a lock, pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know what a lock is, you silly creatures.
+Do lie down and go to sleep."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg&nbsp;64]</a></span></p>
+<p>"But say, there ain't any <i>danger</i> in a lock, is there?"
+respond the querists. "Danger!" exclaims a deaf old
+lady, poking up her head. "What's the matter? There
+hain't nothing burst, has there?" "No, no, no!" exclaim
+the provoked and despairing opposition party, who find that
+there is no such thing as going to sleep till they have made
+the old lady below and the young ladies above understand
+exactly the philosophy of a lock. After a while the conversation
+again subsides; again all is still; you hear only
+the trampling of horses and the rippling of the rope in the
+water, and sleep again is stealing over you. You doze, you
+dream, and all of a sudden you are startled by a cry,
+"Chambermaid! wake up the lady that wants to be set
+ashore." Up jumps chambermaid, and up jump the lady
+and two children, and forthwith form a committee of inquiry
+as to ways and means. "Where's my bonnet?" says
+the lady, half awake and fumbling among the various articles
+of that name. "I thought I hung it up behind the door."
+"Can't you find it?" says the poor chambermaid, yawning
+and rubbing her eyes. "Oh, yes, here it is," says the
+lady; and then the cloak, the shawl, the gloves, the shoes,
+receive each a separate discussion. At last all seems ready,
+and they begin to move off, when lo! Peter's cap is missing.
+"Now, where can it be?" soliloquizes the lady. "I
+put it right here by the table-leg; maybe it got into some
+of the berths." At this suggestion the chambermaid takes
+the candle, and goes round deliberately to every berth,
+poking the light directly in the face of every sleeper.
+"Here it is," she exclaims, pulling at something black
+under one pillow. "No, indeed, those are my shoes,"
+says the vexed sleeper. "Maybe it's here," she resumes,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg&nbsp;65]</a></span>darting upon something dark in another berth. "No,
+that's my bag," responds the occupant. The chambermaid
+then proceeds to turn over all the children on the floor, to
+see if it is not under them. In the course of which process
+they are most agreeably waked up and enlivened; and
+when everybody is broad awake, and most uncharitably
+wishing the cap, and Peter too, at the bottom of the canal,
+the good lady exclaims, "Well, if this isn't lucky; here I
+had it safe in my basket all the time!" And she departed
+amid the&mdash;what shall I say? execrations!&mdash;of the whole
+company, ladies though they be.</p>
+
+<p>Well, after this follows a hushing up and wiping up
+among the juvenile population, and a series of remarks
+commences from the various shelves of a very edifying and
+instructive tendency. One says that the woman did not
+seem to know where anything was; another says that she has
+waked them all up; a third adds that she has waked up all
+the children, too; and the elderly ladies make moral reflections
+on the importance of putting your things where you
+can find them&mdash;being always ready; which observations,
+being delivered in an exceedingly doleful and drowsy tone,
+form a sort of sub-bass to the lively chattering of the upper-shelfites,
+who declare that they feel quite awake&mdash;that they
+don't think they shall go to sleep again to-night, and discourse
+over everything in creation, until you heartily wish
+you were enough related to them to give them a scolding.</p>
+
+<p>At last, however, voice after voice drops off; you fall
+into a most refreshing slumber; it seems to you that you
+sleep about a quarter of an hour, when the chambermaid
+pulls you by the sleeve. "Will you please to get up,
+ma'am? We want to make the beds." You start and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg&nbsp;66]</a></span>stare. Sure enough, the night is gone. So much for
+sleeping on board canal-boats!</p>
+
+<p>Let us not enumerate the manifold perplexities of the
+morning toilet in a place where every lady realizes most
+forcibly the condition of the old woman who lived under a
+broom: "All she wanted was elbow-room." Let us not
+tell how one glass is made to answer for thirty fair faces,
+one ewer and vase for thirty lavations; and&mdash;tell it not in
+Gath&mdash;one towel for a company! Let us not intimate how
+ladies' shoes have, in a night, clandestinely slid into the
+gentlemen's cabin, and gentlemen's boots elbowed, or,
+rather, <i>toed</i> their way among ladies' gear, nor recite the exclamations
+after runaway property that are heard.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't find nothing of Johnny's shoe!" "Here's a
+shoe in the water-pitcher&mdash;is this it?" "My side-combs
+are gone!" exclaims a nymph with dishevelled curls.
+"Massy! do look at my bonnet!" exclaims an old lady,
+elevating an article crushed into as many angles as there are
+pieces in a mince-pie. "I never did sleep <i>so much together</i>
+in my life," echoes a poor little French lady, whom
+despair has driven into talking English.</p>
+
+<p>But our shortening paper warns us not to prolong our
+catalogue of distresses beyond reasonable bounds, and therefore
+we will close with advising all our friends, who intend
+to try this way of travelling for <i>pleasure</i>, to take a good
+stock both of patience and clean towels with them, for we
+think that they will find abundant need for both.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg&nbsp;67]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">"SAMPLES" HERE AND THERE.</p>
+
+<p>Next comes Mrs. Caroline M. Kirkland with her Western
+sketches. Many will remember her laughable description of
+"Borrowing Out West," with its two appropriate mottoes:
+"Lend me your ears," from Shakespeare, and from Bacon:
+"Grant graciously what you cannot refuse safely."</p>
+
+<p>"'Mother wants your sifter,' said Miss Ianthe Howard,
+a young lady of six years' standing, attired in a tattered
+calico thickened with dirt; her unkempt locks straggling
+from under that hideous substitute for a bonnet so universal
+in the Western country&mdash;a dirty cotton handkerchief&mdash;which
+is used <i>ad nauseam</i> for all sorts of purposes.</p>
+
+<p>"'Mother wants your sifter, and she says she guesses
+you can let her have some sugar and tea, 'cause you've got
+plenty.' This excellent reason, ''cause you've got plenty,'
+is conclusive as to sharing with neighbors.</p>
+
+<p>"Sieves, smoothing-irons, and churns run about as if
+they had legs; one brass kettle is enough for a whole
+neighborhood, and I could point to a cradle which has
+rocked half the babies in Montacute.</p>
+
+<p>"For my own part, I have lent my broom, my thread,
+my tape, my spoons, my cat, my thimble, my scissors, my
+shawl, my shoes, and have been asked for my combs and
+brushes, and my husband for his shaving apparatus and
+pantaloons."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg&nbsp;68]</a></span></p>
+<p>Mrs. Whither, whose "Widow Bedott" is a familiar
+name, resembles Mrs. Kirkland in her comic portraitures,
+which were especially good of their kind, and never betrayed
+any malice. The "Bedott Papers" first appeared
+in 1846, and became popular at once. They are good
+examples of what they simply profess to be: an amusing
+series of comicalities.</p>
+
+<p>I shall not quote from them, as every one who enjoys
+that style of humor knows them by heart. It would be as
+useless as copying "Now I lay me down to sleep," or
+"Mary had a little lamb," for a child's collection of
+verses!</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>There are many authors whom I cannot represent worthily
+in these brief limits. When, encouraged by the unprecedented
+popularity of this venture, I prepare an
+encyclop&aelig;dia of the "Wit and Humor of American
+Women," I can do justice to such writers as "Gail Hamilton"
+and Miss Alcott, whose "Transcendental Wild Oats"
+cannot be cut. Rose Terry Cooke thinks her "Knoware"
+the only funny thing she has ever done. She is greatly
+mistaken, as I can soon prove. "Knoware" ought to be
+printed by itself to delight thousands, as her "Deacon's
+Week" has already done. To search for a few good things
+in the works of my witty friends is searching not for the
+time-honored needle in a hay-mow, but for two or three
+needles of just the right size out of a whole paper of
+needles.</p>
+
+<p>"The Insanity of Cain," by Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge,
+an inimitable satire on the feebleness of our jury system
+and the absurd pretence of "temporary insanity," must
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg&nbsp;69]</a></span>wait for that encyclop&aelig;dia. And her "Miss Molony on
+the Chinese Question" is known and admired by every one,
+including the Prince of Wales, who was fairly convulsed by
+its fun, when brought out by our favorite elocutionist, Miss
+Sarah Cowell, who had the honor of reading before royalty.</p>
+
+<p>I regretfully omit the "Peterkin Letters," by Lucretia P.
+Hale, and time famous "William Henry Letters," by Mrs.
+Abby Morton Diaz. The very best bit from Miss Sallie
+McLean would be how "Grandma Spicer gets Grandpa
+Ready for Sunday-school," from the "Cape Cod Folks;"
+but why not save space for what is not in everybody's
+mouth and memory? This is equally true of Mrs. Cleaveland's
+"No Sects in Heaven," which, like Arabella Wilson's
+"Sextant," goes the rounds of all the papers every
+other year as a fresh delight.</p>
+
+<p>Marietta Holley, too, must be allowed only a brief quotation.
+"Samantha" is a family friend from Mexico to
+Alaska. Mrs. Metta Victoria Victor, who died recently, has
+written an immense amount of humorous sketches. Her
+"Miss Slimmens," the boarding-house keeper, is a marked
+character, and will be remembered by many.</p>
+
+<p>I will select a few "samples," unsatisfactory because there
+is so much more just as good, and then give room for others
+less familiar.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="MISS_LUCINDAS_PIG" id="MISS_LUCINDAS_PIG"></a>MISS LUCINDA'S PIG.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY ROSE TERRY COOKE.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know of any poor person who'd like to
+have a pig, do you?" said Miss Lucinda, wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the poorer they was, the quicker they'd eat him
+up, I guess&mdash;ef they could eat such a razor-back."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg&nbsp;70]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Oh, I don't like to think of his being eaten! I wish
+he could be got rid of some other way. Don't you think
+he might be killed in his sleep, Israel?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think it's likely it would wake him up," said he,
+demurely. "Killin' 's killin', and a critter can't sleep
+over it 's though 'twas the stomachache. I guess he'd kick
+some, ef he <i>was</i> asleep&mdash;and screech some, too!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me!" said Miss Lucinda, horrified at the idea.
+"I wish he could be sent out to run in the woods. Are
+there any good woods near here, Israel?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know but what he'd as lieves be slartered to
+once as to starve an' be hunted down out in the lots. Besides,
+there ain't nobody as I knows of would like a hog to
+be a-rootin' round among their turnips and young wheat."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what I shall do with him I don't know!" despairingly
+exclaimed Miss Lucinda. "He was such a dear
+little thing when you bought him, Israel! Do you remember
+how pink his pretty little nose was&mdash;just like a rosebud&mdash;and
+how bright his eyes were, and his cunning legs?
+And now he's grown so big and fierce! But I can't help
+liking him, either."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a cute critter, that's sartain; but he does too much
+rootin' to have a pink nose now, I expect; there's consider'ble
+on 't, so I guess it looks as well to have it gray. But
+I don't know no more'n you do what to do abaout it."</p>
+
+<p>"If I could only get rid of him without knowing what
+became of him!" exclaimed Miss Lucinda, squeezing her
+forefinger with great earnestness, and looking both puzzled
+and pained.</p>
+
+<p>"If Mees Lucinda would pairmit?" said a voice behind
+her.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg&nbsp;71]</a></span></p>
+<p>She turned round to see Monsieur Leclerc on his crutches,
+just in the parlor-door.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall, mees, myself dispose of piggie, if it please. I
+can. I shall have no sound; he shall to go away like a
+silent snow, to trouble you no more, never!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir, if you could! But I don't see how!"</p>
+
+<p>"If mees was to see, it would not be to save her pain.
+I shall have him to go by <i>magique</i> to fiery land."</p>
+
+<p>Fairy-land, probably. But Miss Lucinda did not perceive
+the <i>&eacute;quivoque</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor yet shall I trouble Meester Israyel. I shall have
+the aid of myself and one good friend that I have; and
+some night, when you rise of the morning, he shall not be
+there."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Lucinda breathed a deep sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>"I am greatly obliged&mdash;I mean, I shall be," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm glad enough to wash my hands on 't," said
+Israel. "I shall hanker arter the critter some, but he's
+a-gettin' too big to be handy; 'n it's one comfort about
+critters, you ken git rid on 'em somehaow when they're
+more plague than profit. But folks has got to be let alone,
+excep' the Lord takes 'em; an' He generally don't see fit."&mdash;<i>From
+Somebody's Neighbors.</i></p>
+
+<h3><a name="A_GIFT_HORSE" id="A_GIFT_HORSE"></a>A GIFT HORSE.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY ROSE TERRY COOKE.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he no need to ha' done it, Sary. I've told him
+more'n four times he hadn't ought to pull a gun tow'rds him
+by the muzzle on't. Now he's up an' did it once for all."</p>
+
+<p>"He won't never have no chance to do it again, Scotty,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg&nbsp;72]</a></span>if you don't hurry up after the doctor," said Sary, wiping
+her eyes on her dirty calico apron, thereby adding an
+effective shadow under their redness.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm a-goin', ain't I? But ye know yerself
+'twon't do to go so fur on eend, 'thout ye're vittled consider'ble
+well."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he fell to at the meal she had interrupted, hot
+potatoes, cold pork, dried venison, and blueberry pie vanishing
+down his throat with an alacrity and dispatch that
+augured well for the thorough "vittling" he intended,
+while Sary went about folding chunks of boiled ham, thick
+slices of brown bread, solid rounds of "sody biskit," and
+slab-sided turnovers in a newspaper, filling a flat bottle
+with whiskey, and now and then casting a look at the low
+bed where young Harry McAlister lay, very much whiter
+than the sheets about him, and quite as unconscious of surroundings,
+the blood oozing slowly through such bandages
+as Scott Peck's rude surgery had twisted about a gunshot-wound
+in his thigh, and brought to close tension by a stick
+thrust through the folds, turned as tight as could be borne,
+and strapped into place by a bit of coarse twine.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long journey paddling up the Racquette River,
+across creek and carry, with the boat on his back, to the
+lakes, and then from Martin's to "Harri'tstown," where
+he knew a surgeon of repute from a great city was spending
+his vacation. It was touch-and-go with Harry before Scott
+and Dr. Drake got back. Sary had dosed him with venison-broth,
+hot and greasy, weak whiskey and water, and a
+little milk (only a little), for their cow was old and pastured
+chiefly on leaves and twigs, and she only came back to the
+shanty when she liked or needed to come, so their milk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg&nbsp;73]</a></span>
+supply was uncertain, and Sary dared not leave her patient
+long enough to row to the end of Tupper's Lake, where
+the nearest cow was kept. But youth has a power of
+recovery that defies circumstance, and Dr. Drake was very
+skilful. Long weeks went by, and the green woods of July
+had brightened and faded into October's dim splendor before
+Harry McAlister could be carried up the river and
+over to Bartlett's, where his mother had been called to
+meet him. She was a widow, and he her only child; and,
+though she was rather silly and altogether unpractical, she
+had a tender, generous heart, and was ready to do anything
+possible for Scott and Sarah Peck to show her gratitude for
+their kindness to her boy. She did not consult Harry at
+all. He had lost much blood from his accident and recovered
+strength slowly. She kept everything like thought or
+trouble out of his way as far as she could, and when the
+family physician found her heart was set on taking him to
+Florida for the winter, because he looked pale and her
+grandmother's aunt had died of consumption, Dr. Peet,
+like a wise man, rubbed his hands together, bowed, and
+assured her it would be the very thing. But something
+must be done for the Pecks before she went away. It
+occurred to her how difficult it must be for them to row
+everywhere in a small boat. A horse would be much better.
+Even if the roads were not good they could ride,
+Sarah behind Scott. And so useful in farming, too. Her
+mind was made up at once. She dispatched a check for
+three hundred dollars to Peter Haas, her old coachman,
+who had bought a farm in Vermont with his savings, and
+retired, with the cook for his wife, into the private life of a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg&nbsp;74]</a></span>farmer. Mrs. McAlister had much faith in Peter's knowledge<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">of horses and his honesty. She wrote him to buy a</span><br />
+strong, steady animal, and convey it to Scott Peck, either
+sending him word to come up to Bartlett's after it, or taking
+it down the river; but, at any rate, to make sure he
+had it. If the check would not pay all expenses, he was to
+draw on her for more. Peter took the opportunity to get
+rid of a horse he had no use for in winter; a beast restive
+as a racer when not in daily use, but strong enough for any
+work, and steady enough if he had work. Two hundred
+and fifty dollars was the price now set on his head, though
+Peter had bought him for seventy-five, and thought him
+dear at that. The remaining fifty was ample for expenses;
+but Peter was a prudent German and liked a margin.
+There was no difficulty in getting the horse as far as
+Martin's, and by dint of patient insistence Peter contrived
+to have him conveyed to Bartlett's; but here he rested and
+sent a messenger down to Scott Peck, while he himself
+returned to Bridget at the farm, slowly cursing the country
+and the people as he went his way, for his delays and
+troubles had been numerous.</p>
+
+<p>"Gosh!" said Scott Peck, when he stepped up to the
+log-house that served for the guides, unknowing what
+awaited him, for the messenger had not found him at home,
+but left word he was to come to Bartlett's for something,
+and the first thing he saw was this gray horse.</p>
+
+<p>"What fool fetched his hoss up here?"</p>
+
+<p>The guides gathered about the door of their hut, burst
+into a loud cackle of laughter; even the beautiful hounds
+in their rough kennel leaped up and bayed.</p>
+
+<p>"W-a-a-l;" drawled lazy Joe Tucker, "the feller 't
+owns him ain't nobody's fool. Be ye, Scotty?"</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg&nbsp;75]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Wha-t!" ejaculated Scott.</p>
+
+<p>"It's your'n, man, sure as shootin'!" laughed Hearty
+Jack, Joe Tucker's brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Mine? Jehoshaphat! Blaze that air track, will ye?
+I'm lost, sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Bartlett's gone out Keeseville way, so't kinder
+was lef' to me to tell ye. 'Member that ar chap that shot
+hisself in the leg down to your shanty this summer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I expect I do, seein' I ain't more'n a hundred
+year old," sarcastically answered Scott.</p>
+
+<p>"He's cleared out South-aways some'eres, and his ma
+consaited she was dredful obleeged to ye; 'n I'm blessed if
+she didn't send an old Dutch feller up here fur to fetch ye
+that hoss fur a present. He couldn't noways wait to see ye
+pus'nally, he sed, fur he mistrusted the' was snows here
+sometimes 'bout this season. Ho! ho! ho!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good land!" said Scott, sitting down on a log, and
+putting his hands in his pockets, the image of perplexity,
+while the men about him roared with fresh laughter.
+"What be I a-goin' to do with the critter?" he asked of
+the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>"Blessed if I know," answered Hearty Jack.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't ye get him out to 'Sable Falls or Keeseville 'n
+sell him fur what he'll fetch?" suggested Joe Tucker.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't go now, noways. Sary's wood-pile's nigh gin
+out, 'n there was a mighty big sundog yesterday; 'nd
+moreover I smell snow. It'll be suthin' to git hum as 'tis.
+Mabbe Bartlett'll keep him a spell."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he won't; you kin bet your head. His fodder's
+a-runnin' short for the hornid critters. He's bought some
+up to Martin's, that's a-comin' down dyrect; but 'tain't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg&nbsp;76]</a></span>
+enough. He's put to't for more. Shouldn't wonder ef he
+had to draw from North Elby when sleddin' sets in."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I dono's there's but one thing for to do; fetch
+him hum somehow or 'nother; 'nd there's my boat over to
+the carry!"</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better tie the critter on behind an' let him wade
+down the Racket!"</p>
+
+<p>Another shout of laughter greeted this proposal.</p>
+
+<p>"I s'all take ze boat for you!" quietly said a little
+brown Canadian&mdash;Jean Poiton. "I am go to Tupper to-morrow.
+I have one hunt to make. I can take her."</p>
+
+<p>"Well said, Gene. I'll owe you a turn. But, fur all,
+how be I goin' to get that animile 'long the trail?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dono!" answered Joe Tucker. "I expect, if it's
+got to be did, you'll fetch it somehow. But I'm mighty
+glad 'tain't my job!"</p>
+
+<p>Scott Peck thought Joe had good reason for joy in that
+direction before he had gone a mile on his homeward way!
+The trail was only a trail, rough, devious, crossed with
+roots of trees, brushed with boughs of fir and pine, and the
+horse was restive and unruly. By nightfall he had gone
+only a few miles, and when he had tied the beast to a tree
+and covered him with a blanket brought from Bartlett's for
+the purpose, and strapped on his own back all the way, the
+light of the camp-fire startled the horse so that Scott was
+forced to blind him with a comforter before he would stand
+still. Then in the middle of the night, a great owl hooting
+from the tree-top just above him was a fresh scare, and but
+that the strap and rope both were new and strong he would
+have escaped. Scott listened to his rearing, trampling,
+snorts, and wild neigh with the composure of a sleepy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg&nbsp;77]</a></span>
+man; but when he awoke at daylight, and found four
+inches of snow had fallen during the night, he swore.</p>
+
+<p>This was too much. Even to his practised woodcraft it
+seemed impossible to get the horse safe to his clearing without
+harm. It was only by dint of the utmost care and
+patience, the greatest watchfulness of the way, that he got
+along at all. Every rod or two he stumbled, and all but
+fell himself. Here and there a loaded hemlock bough,
+weighed out of its uprightness by the wet snow, snapped in
+his face and blinded him with its damp burden; and he
+knew long before nightfall that another night in the woods
+was inevitable. He could feed the horse on young twigs of
+beech and birch; fresh moss, and new-peeled bark (fodder
+the animal would have resented with scorn under any other
+conditions); but hunger has no law concerning food. Scott
+himself was famished; but his pipe and tobacco were a refuge
+whose value he knew before, and his charge was tired
+enough to be quiet this second night; so the man had an
+undisturbed sleep by his comfortable fire. It was full noon
+of the next day when he reached his cabin. Jean Poiton
+had tied his boat to its stake, and gone on without stopping
+to speak to Sarah; so her surprise was wonderful when she
+saw Scott emerge from the forest, leading a gray creature,
+with drooping head and shambling gait, tired and dispirited.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven's to Betsey, Scott Peck! What hev you got
+theer?"</p>
+
+<p>"The devil!" growled Scott.</p>
+
+<p>Sary screamed.</p>
+
+<p>"Do hold your jaw, gal, an' git me su'thin' hot to eat 'n
+drink. I'm savager'n an Injin. Come, git along." And,
+tying his horse to a stump, the hungry man followed Sarah<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg&nbsp;78]</a></span>
+into the house and helped himself out of a keg in the corner
+to a long, reviving draught.</p>
+
+<p>"Du tell!" said Sarah, when the pork began to frizzle
+in the pan. "What upon airth did you buy a hoss for?"
+(She had discovered it was a horse.)</p>
+
+<p>"Buy it! I guess not. I ain't no such blamed fool as
+that comes to. That feller you nussed up here a spell back,
+he up an' sent it roun' to Bartlett's, for a present to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well! Did he think you was a-goin' to set up canawl
+long o' Racket?"</p>
+
+<p>"I expect he calc'lated I'd go racin'," dryly answered
+Scott.</p>
+
+<p>"But what be ye a-goin' to feed him with?" said Sary,
+laying venison steaks into the pan.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord knows! I don't. Shut up, Sary! I'm tuckered
+out with the beast. I'd ruther still-hunt three weeks
+on eend than fetch him in from Sar'nac, now I tell ye.
+Ain't them did enough? I could eat a raw bear."</p>
+
+<p>Sary laughed and asked no more questions till the ravenous
+man had satisfied himself with the savory food; but, if
+she had asked them, Scott would have had no answer, for
+his mind was perplexed to the last degree. He fed the
+beast for a while on potatoes; but that was taking the bread
+out of his own mouth, though he supplemented it with now
+and then a boat-load of coarse, frost-killed grass, but the
+horse grew more and more gaunt and restive. His eyes
+glared with hunger and fury. He kicked out one side of
+the cowshed and snapped at Scott whenever he came near
+him. Want of use and food had restored him to the original
+savagery of his race. Hitherto Scott had never acknowledged
+Mrs McAlister's gift; but Sary, who had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg&nbsp;79]</a></span>
+vague idea of good manners, caught from the picture papers
+and occasional dime novels the tribe of Adirondack travellers
+strew even in such a wilderness, kept pecking at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ta'n't no more'n civil to say thank ye, to the least,"
+she said, till Scott's temper gave way.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop a-pesterin' of me! I've hed too much. I ain't
+a speck thankful! I'm mightily t'other thing, whatever
+'tis. Write to her yourself, if you're a mind tu. You can
+make a better fist at it, anyways. Comes as nateral to
+women to lie as sap to run. I'll be etarnally blessed ef I
+touch paper for to do it." And he flung out of the door
+with a bang.</p>
+
+<p>Of course Sary wrote the letter, which one balmy day
+electrified Harry and his mother as they sat basking in
+Southern sunshine:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Mis Macallistur</span>: This is fur to say wee is reel obliged to ye fur the
+<span class="smcap">Hoss</span>."</p></div>
+
+<p>"Good gracious, mother! Did you send them a horse?"
+ejaculated Harry.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my dear, I wanted to show my sense of their
+kindness, and I could not offer these people money. I
+thought a horse would be so useful!"</p>
+
+<p>"Useful! in the Adirondack woods!" And Harry
+burst into a fit of laughter that scarcely permitted his
+mother to go on; but at last she proceeded:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"But Scotty and me ain't ackwainted So to speak with Hoss ways;
+he seems kinder Hum-sick if you may say that of a Cretur. We air
+etarnally gratified to You for sech a Valewble Pressent, but if you was
+Wiling we shood Like to swapp it of in spring fur a kow, ourn Being
+some in years.</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 11em;">"yours to Command,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <span class="smcap">Sary Peck</span>."</span><br />
+</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg&nbsp;80]</a></span></p>
+<p>But long before Mrs. McAlister's permission to "swap"
+the horse reached Scott Peck, the creature took his destiny
+into his own hands. Scott had gone away on a desperate
+errand, to fetch some sort of food for the poor creature,
+whose bones stared him in the face, and Sary went out one
+morning to give him her potato-peelings and some scraps of
+bread, when, suddenly, he jerked his head fiercely, snapped
+his halter in two, and wheeled round upon the frightened
+woman, rearing, snorting, and showing his long, yellow
+teeth. Sary fled at once and barred the door behind her;
+but neither she nor Scott ever saw their "gift horse" again.
+For aught I know he still roams the Adirondack forest, and
+maybe personates the ghostly and ghastly white deer of
+song and legend. Who can tell? But he was lifted off
+Scott Peck's shoulders, and all Scott said by way of epitaph
+on the departed, when he came home to find his white steed
+gone, was, "Hang presents!"</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>"Samantha Allen" will now have "a brief opportunity
+for remark."</p>
+
+<p>Admire her graphic description of the excitement Josiah
+caused by voting, at a meeting of the "Jonesville Creation
+Searchers," for his own spouse as a delegate from
+Jonesville to the "Sentinel." She reports thus:</p>
+
+<p>"It was a fearful time, but right where the excitement
+was raining most fearfully I felt a motion by the side of me,
+and my companion got up and stood on his feet and says,
+in <i>pretty</i> firm accents, though <i>some</i> sheepish:</p>
+
+<p>"'<i>I</i> did, and there's where I stand now; <i>I</i> vote for
+<i>Samantha</i>!'</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg&nbsp;81]</a></span></p><p>"And then he sot down again. Oh, the fearful excitement
+and confusion that rained down again! The president
+got up and tried to speak; the editor of the <i>Auger</i> talked
+wildly; Shakespeare Bobbet talked to himself incoherently,
+but Solomon Cypher's voice drowned 'em all out, as he
+kep' a-smitin' his breast and a hollerin' that he wasn't goin'
+to be infringed upon, or come in contract with <i>no</i> woman!</p>
+
+<p>"No female woman needn't think she was the equal of
+man; and I should go as a woman or stay to home. I was
+so almost wore out by their talk, that I spoke right out, and,
+says I, '<i>Good land!</i> how did you <i>s'pose</i> I was a-goin'?'</p>
+
+<p>"The president then said that he meant, if I went I
+mustn't look upon things with the eye of a 'Creation
+Searcher' and a man (here he p'inted his forefinger right up
+in the air and waved it round in a real free and soarin' way),
+but look at things with the eye of a private investigator and
+a <i>woman</i> (here he p'inted his finger firm and stiddy right
+down into the wood-box and a pan of ashes). It war impressive&mdash;<span class="smcap">VERY</span>."</p>
+
+<h3><a name="MISS_SLIMMENS_SURPRISED" id="MISS_SLIMMENS_SURPRISED"></a>MISS SLIMMENS SURPRISED.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Terrible Accident.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">BY METTA VICTORIA VICTOR.</p>
+
+<p>"Dora! Dora! Dora! wake up, wake up, I say! Don't
+you smell something burning? Wake up, child! Don't
+you smell fire? Good Lord! so do I. I thought I wasn't
+mistaken. The room's full of smoke. Oh, dear! what'll
+we do? Don't stop to put on your petticoat. We'll all be
+burned to death. Fire! fire! fire! fire!</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there is! I don't know where! It's all over&mdash;our
+room's all in a blaze, and Dora won't come out till she gets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg&nbsp;82]</a></span>
+her dress on. Mr. Little, you <i>shan't</i> go in&mdash;I'll hold you&mdash;you'll
+be killed just to save that chit of a girl, when&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;He's
+gone&mdash;rushed right into the flames. Oh, my
+house! my furniture! all my earnings! Can't anything
+be done? Fire! fire! fire! Call the fire-engines! ring
+the dinner-bell! Be quiet! How can I be quiet? Yes,
+it is all in flames. I saw them myself! Where's my silver
+spoons? Oh, where's my teeth, and my silver soup-ladle?
+Let me be! I'm going out in the street before it's too
+late! Oh, Mr. Grayson! have you got water? have you
+found the place? are they bringing water?</p>
+
+<p>"Did you say the fire was out? Was that you that spoke,
+Mr. Little? I thought you were burned up, sure; and
+there's Dora, too. How did they get it out? My clothes-closet
+was on fire, and the room, too! We would have
+been smothered in five minutes more if we hadn't waked
+up! But it's all out now, and no damage done, but my
+dresses destroyed and the carpet spoiled. Thank the Lord,
+if that's the worst! But it <i>ain't</i> the worst. Dora, come
+along this minute to my room. I don't care if it is cold,
+and wet, and full of smoke. Don't you see&mdash;don't you see
+I'm in my night-clothes? I never thought of it before.
+I'm ruined, ruined completely! Go to bed, gentlemen;
+get out of the way as quick as you can Dora, shut the
+door. Hand me that candle; I want to look at myself in
+the glass. To think that all those gentlemen should have
+seen me in this fix! I'd rather have perished in the flames.
+It's the very first night I've worn these flannel night-caps,
+and to be seen in 'em! Good gracious! how old I do
+look! Not a spear of hair on my head scarcely, and this
+red nightgown and old petticoat on, and my teeth in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg&nbsp;83]</a></span>
+tumbler, and the paint all washed off my face, and scarred
+besides! It's no use! I never, never can again make any
+of <i>those</i> men believe that I'm only twenty-five, and I felt so
+sure of some of them.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Dora Adams! <i>you</i> needn't look pale; you've lost
+nothing. I'll warrant Mr. Little thought you never looked
+so pretty as in that ruffled gown, and your hair all down
+over your shoulders. He says you were fainting from the
+smoke when he dragged you out. You must be a little fool
+to be afraid to come out looking <i>that</i> way. They say that
+new boarder is a drawing-master, and I seen some of his
+pictures yesterday; he had some such ridiculous things.
+He'll caricature me for the amusement of the young men,
+I know. Only think how my portrait would look taken to-night!
+and he'll have it, I'm sure, for I noticed him looking
+at me&mdash;the first that reminded me of my situation after
+the fire was put out. Well, there's but one thing to be
+done, and that's to put a bold face on it. I can't sleep any
+more to-night; besides, the bed's wet, and it's beginning
+to get daylight. I'll go to work and get myself ready for
+breakfast, and I'll pretend to something&mdash;I don't know just
+what&mdash;to get myself out of this scrape, if I can....</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning, gentlemen, good-morning! We had
+quite a fright last night, didn't we? Dora and I came
+pretty near paying dear for a little frolic. You see, we
+were dressing up in character to amuse ourselves, and I was
+all fixed up for to represent an old woman, and had put on
+a gray wig and an old flannel gown that I found, and we'd
+set up pretty late, having some fun all to ourselves; and I
+expect Dora must have been pretty sleepy when she was
+putting some of the things away, and set fire to a dress in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg&nbsp;84]</a></span>
+the closet without noticing it. I've lost my whole wardrobe,
+nigh about, by her carelessness; but it's such a mercy
+we wasn't burned in our bed that I don't feel to complain
+so much on that account. Isn't it curious how I got caught
+dressed up like my grandmother? We didn't suppose we
+were going to appear before so large an audience when we
+planned out our little frolic. What character did Dora
+assume? Really, Mr. Little, I was so scared last night
+that I disremember. She took off <i>her</i> rigging before she
+went to bed. Don't you think I'd personify a pretty good
+old woman, gentlemen&mdash;ha! ha!&mdash;for a lady of my age?
+What's that, Mr. Little? You wish I'd make you a present
+of that nightcap, to remember me by? Of course;
+I've no further use for it. Of course I haven't. It's one
+of Bridget's, that I borrowed for the occasion, and I've got
+to give it back to her. Have some coffee, Mr. Grayson&mdash;do!
+I've got cream for it this morning. Mr. Smith, help
+yourself to some of the beefsteak. It's a very cold morning&mdash;fine
+weather out of doors. Eat all you can, all of you.
+Have you any profiles to take yet, Mr. Gamboge? I <i>may</i>
+make up my mind to set for mine before you leave us;
+I've always thought I should have it taken some time. In
+character? He! he! Mr. Little, you're so funny! But
+you'll excuse <i>me</i> this morning, as I had such a fright last
+night. I must go and take up that wet carpet."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg&nbsp;85]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">A BRACE OF WITTY WOMEN.</p>
+
+<p>By the courtesy of Harper Brothers I am allowed to give
+you "Aunt Anniky's Teeth," by Sherwood Bonner. The
+illustrations add much, but the story is good enough without
+pictures.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="AUNT_ANNIKYS_TEETH" id="AUNT_ANNIKYS_TEETH"></a>AUNT ANNIKY'S TEETH.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY SHERWOOD BONNER.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Anniky was an African dame, fifty years old, and
+of an imposing presence. As a waffle-maker she possessed
+a gift beyond the common, but her unapproachable talent
+lay in the province of nursing. She seemed born for the
+benefit of sick people. She should have been painted with
+the apple of healing in her hand. For the rest, she was a
+funny, illiterate old darkey, vain, affable, and neat as a pink.</p>
+
+<p>On one occasion my mother had a dangerous illness.
+Aunt Anniky nursed her through it, giving herself no rest,
+night nor day, until her patient had come "back to de
+walks an' ways ob life," as she expressed the dear mother's
+recovery. My father, overjoyed and grateful, felt that we
+owed this result quite as much to Aunt Anniky as to our
+family doctor, so he announced his intention of making her
+a handsome present, and, like King Herod, left her free to
+choose what it should be. I shall never forget how Aunt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg&nbsp;86]</a></span>
+Anniky looked as she stood there smiling and bowing, and
+bobbing the funniest little courtesies all the way down to
+the ground.</p>
+
+<p>And you would never guess what it was the old woman
+asked for.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mars' Charles," said she (she had been one of
+our old servants, and always called my father 'Mars'
+Charles'), "to tell you de livin' trufe, my soul an' body is
+a-yearnin' fur a han'sum chany set o' teef."</p>
+
+<p>"A set of teeth!" said father, surprised enough. "And
+have you none left of your own?"</p>
+
+<p>"I has gummed it fur a good many ye'rs," said Aunt
+Anniky, with a sigh; "but not wishin' ter be ongrateful
+ter my obligations, I owns ter havin' five nateral teef. But
+dey is po' sogers; dey shirks battle. One ob dem's got a
+little somethin' in it as lively as a speared worm, an' I tell
+you when anything teches it, hot or cold, it jest makes me
+<i>dance</i>! An' anudder is in my top jaw, an' ain't got no
+match fur it in de bottom one; an' one is broke off nearly
+to de root; an' de las' two is so yaller dat I's ashamed ter
+show 'em in company, an' so I lif's my turkey-tail ter my
+mouf every time I laughs or speaks."</p>
+
+<p>Father turned to mother with a musing air. "The curious
+student of humanity," he remarked, "traces resemblances
+where they are not obviously conspicuous. Now,
+at the first blush, one would not think of any common
+ground of meeting for our Aunt Anniky and the Empress
+Josephine. Yet that fine French lady introduced the fashion
+of handkerchiefs by continually raising delicate lace
+<i>mouchoirs</i> to her lips to hide her bad teeth. Aunt Anniky
+lifts her turkey-tail! It really seems that human beings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg&nbsp;87]</a></span>
+should be classed by <i>strata</i>, as if they were metals in the
+earth. Instead of dividing by nations, let us class by
+quality. So we might find Turk, Jew, Christian, fashionable
+lady and washerwoman, master and slave, hanging
+together like cats on a clothes-line by some connecting cord
+of affinity&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"In the mean time," said my mother, mildly, "Aunt
+Anniky is waiting to know if she is to have her teeth."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, surely, surely!" cried father, coming out of the
+clouds with a start. "I am going to the village to-morrow,
+Anniky, in the spring wagon. I will take you with me,
+and we will see what the dentist can do for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless yo' heart, Mars' Charles!" said the delighted
+Anniky; "you're jest as good as yo' blood and yo' name,
+and mo' I <i>couldn't</i> say."</p>
+
+<p>The morrow came, and with it Aunt Anniky, gorgeously
+arrayed in a flaming red calico, a bandanna handkerchief,
+and a string of carved yellow beads that glittered on her
+bosom like fresh buttercups on a hill-slope.</p>
+
+<p>I had petitioned to go with the party, for, as we lived on
+a plantation, a visit to the village was something of an
+event. A brisk drive soon brought us to the centre of
+"the Square." A glittering sign hung brazenly from a
+high window on its western side, bearing, in raised black
+letters, the name, "Doctor Alonzo Babb."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Babb was the dentist and the odd fish of our village.
+He beams in my memory as a big, round man, with hair and
+smiles all over his face, who talked incessantly, and said
+things to make your blood run cold.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you see this ring?" he said, as he bustled about,
+polishing his instruments and making his preparations for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg&nbsp;88]</a></span>
+the sacrifice of Aunt Anniky. He held up his right hand,
+on the forefinger of which glistened a ring the size of a dog-collar.
+"Now, what d'ye s'pose that's made of?"</p>
+
+<p>"Brass," suggested father, who was funny when not
+philosophical.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Brass!</i>" cried Dr. Babb, with a withering look; "it's
+virgin gold, that ring is. And where d'ye s'pose I found
+the gold?"</p>
+
+<p>My father ran his hands into his pockets in a retrospective
+sort of way.</p>
+
+<p>"In the mouths of my patients, every grain of it," said
+the dentist, with a perfectly diabolical smack of the lips.
+"Old fillings&mdash;plugs, you know&mdash;that I saved, and had
+made up into this shape. Good deal of sentiment about
+such a ring as this."</p>
+
+<p>"Sentiment of a mixed nature, I should say," murmured
+my father, with a grimace.</p>
+
+<p>"Mixed&mdash;rather! A speck here, a speck there. Sometimes
+an eye, oftener a jaw, occasionally a front. More than
+a hundred men, I s'pose, have helped in the cause."</p>
+
+<p>"Law, doctor! you beats de birds, you does," cries
+Aunt Anniky, whose head was as flat as the floor, where
+her reverence should have been. "You know dey snatches
+de wool from ebery bush to make deir nests."</p>
+
+<p>"Lots of company for me, that ring is," said the doctor,
+ignoring the pertinent or impertinent interruption. "Often
+as I sit in the twilight, I twirl it around and around,
+a-thinking of the wagon-loads of food it has masticated, the
+blood that has flowed over it, the groans that it has cost!
+Now, old lady, if you will sit just here."</p>
+
+<p>He motioned Aunt Anniky to the chair, into which she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg&nbsp;89]</a></span>
+dropped in a limp sort of way, recovering herself immediately,
+however, and sitting bolt upright in a rigid attitude
+of defiance. Some moments of persuasion were necessary
+before she could be induced to lean back and allow Dr.
+Babb's fingers on her nose while she breathed the laughing-gas;
+but, once settled, the expression faded from her countenance
+almost as quickly as a magic-lantern picture vanishes.
+I watched her nervously, my attention divided
+between her vacant-looking face and a dreadful picture on
+the wall. It represented Dr. Babb himself, minus the hair,
+but with double the number of smiles, standing by a patient
+from whose mouth he had apparently just extracted a huge
+molar that he held triumphantly in his forceps. A gray-haired
+old gentleman regarded the pair with benevolent
+interest. The photograph was entitled, "His First Tooth."</p>
+
+<p>"Attracted by that picture?" said Dr. Alonzo, affably,
+his fingers on Aunt Anniky's pulse. "My par had that
+struck off the first time I ever got a tooth out. That's par
+with the gray hair and the benediction attitude. Tell you,
+he was proud of me! I had such an awful tussle with that
+tooth! Thought the old fellow's jaw was <i>bound</i> to break!
+But I got it out, and after that my par took me with him
+round the country&mdash;starring the provinces, you know&mdash;and
+I practised on the natives."</p>
+
+<p>By this time Aunt Anniky was well under the influence
+of the gas, and in an incredibly short space of time her five
+teeth were out. As she came to herself I am sorry to say
+she was rather silly, and quite mortified me by winking at
+Dr. Babb in the most confidential manner, and repeating,
+over and over again: "Honey, yer ain't harf as smart as
+yer thinks yer is!"</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg&nbsp;90]</a></span></p>
+<p>After a few weeks of sore gums, Aunt Anniky appeared,
+radiant with her new teeth. The effect was certainly
+funny. In the first place, blackness itself was not so black
+as Aunt Anniky. She looked as if she had been dipped in
+ink and polished off with lamp-black. Her very eyes
+showed but the faintest rim of white. But those teeth were
+white enough to make up for everything. She had selected
+them herself, and the little ridiculous milk-white things
+were more fitted for the mouth of a Titania than for the
+great cavern in which Aunt Anniky's tongue moved and
+had its being. The gums above them were black, and
+when she spread her wide mouth in a laugh, it always
+reminded me of a piano-lid opening suddenly and showing
+all the black and white ivories at a glance. Aunt Anniky
+laughed a good deal, too, after getting her teeth in, and
+declared she had never been so happy in her life. It was
+observed, to her credit, that she put on no airs of pride,
+but was as sociable as ever, and made nothing of taking out
+her teeth and handing them around for inspection among
+her curious and admiring visitors. On that principle of
+human nature which glories in calling attention to the
+weakest part, she delighted in tough meats, stale bread,
+green fruits, and all other eatables that test the biting quality
+of the teeth. But finally destruction came upon them
+in a way that no one could have foreseen. Uncle Ned was
+an old colored man who lived alone in a cabin not very far
+from Aunt Anniky's, but very different from her in point
+of cleanliness and order. In fact, Uncle Ned's wealth,
+apart from a little corn crop, consisted in a lot of fine
+young pigs, that ran in and out of the house at all times,
+and were treated by their owner as tenderly as if they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg&nbsp;91]</a></span>
+been his children. One fine day the old man fell sick of a
+fever, and he sent in haste for Aunt Anniky to come and
+nurse him. He agreed to give her a pig in case she
+brought him through; should she fail to do so, she was to
+receive no pay. Well, Uncle Ned got well, and the next
+thing we heard was that he refused to pay the pig. My
+father was usually called on to settle all the disputes in the
+neighborhood; so one morning Anniky and Ned appeared
+before him, both looking very indignant.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd jes' like ter tell yer, Mars' Charles," began Uncle
+Ned, "ob de trick dis miser'ble ole nigger played on me."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, Ned," said my father, with a resigned air.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it wuz de fift night o' de fever," said Uncle
+Ned, "an' I wuz a-tossin' an' a-moanin', an' old Anniky
+jes' lay back in her cheer an' snored as ef a dozen frogs
+wuz in her throat. I wuz a-perishin' an' a-burnin' wid
+thirst, an' I hollered to Anniky; but Lor'! I might as
+well 'a hollered to a tombstone! It wuz ice I wanted; an'
+I knowed dar wuz a glass somewhar on my table wid
+cracked ice in it. Lor'! Lor'! how dry I wuz! I neber
+longed fer whiskey in my born days ez I panted fur dat ice.
+It wuz powerful dark, fur de grease wuz low in de lamp,
+an' de wick spluttered wid a dyin' flame. But I felt
+aroun', feeble like an' slow, till my fingers touched a glass.
+I pulled it to me, an' I run my han' in an' grabbed de ice,
+as I s'posed, an' flung it in my mouf, an' crunched, an'
+crunched&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Here there was an awful pause. Uncle Ned pointed his
+thumb at Anniky, looked wildly at my father, and said, in
+a hollow voice: "<i>It wuz Anniky's teef!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>My father threw back his head and laughed as I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg&nbsp;92]</a></span>
+never heard him laugh. Mother from her sofa joined in.
+I was doubled up like a jack-knife in the corner. But as
+for the principals in the affair, neither of their faces moved
+a muscle. They saw no joke. Aunt Anniky, in a dreadful,
+muffled, squashy sort of voice, took up the tale:</p>
+
+<p>"Nexsh ting I knowed, Marsh Sharles, somebody's
+sheizin' me by de head, a-jammin' it up 'gin de wall,
+a-jawin' at me like de Angel Gabriel at de rish ole sinners
+in de bad plashe&mdash;an' dar wash ole Ned a-spittin' like a
+black cat, an' a-howlin' so dreadful dat I tought he wash de
+debil; an' when I got de light, dar wash my beautiful
+chany teef a-flung aroun', like scattered seed-corn, on de
+flo', an' Ned a-swarin' he'd have de law o' me."</p>
+
+<p>"An' arter all dat," broke in Uncle Ned, "she pretends
+to lay a claim fur my pig. But I says no, sir; I don't pay
+nobody nothin' who's played me a trick like dat."</p>
+
+<p>"Trick!" said Aunt Anniky, scornfully, "whar's de
+trick? Tink I wanted yer ter eat my teef? An' furder-mo',
+Marsh Sharles, dar's jes' dis about it: when dat night
+set in dar warn't no mo' hope fur old Ned dan fur a foundered
+sheep. Laws-a-massy! dat's why I went ter sleep.
+I wanted ter hev strengt' ter put on his burial clo'es in de
+mornin'. But don' yer see, Marsh Sharles, dat when he
+got so mad it brought on a sweat dat <i>broke de fever</i>!
+It saved him! But, fur all dat, arter munchin' an' manglin'
+my chany teef, he has de imperdence ob tryin' to
+'prive me ob de pig I honestly 'arned."</p>
+
+<p>It was a hard case. Uncle Ned sat there a very image of
+injured dignity, while Aunt Anniky bound a red handkerchief
+around her mouth and fanned herself with her turkey-tail.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure I don't know how to settle the matter," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg&nbsp;93]</a></span>
+father, helplessly. "Ned, I don't see but that you'll have
+to pay up."</p>
+
+<p>"Neber, Mars' Charles, neber."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, suppose you get married?" suggested father,
+brilliantly. "That will unite your interests, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Anniky tossed her head. Uncle Ned was old,
+wizened, wrinkled as a raisin, but he eyed Anniky over
+with a supercilious gaze, and said with dignity: "Ef I
+wanted ter marry, I could git a likely young gal."</p>
+
+<p>All the four points of Anniky's turban shook with indignation.
+"Pay me fur dem chany teef!" she hissed.</p>
+
+<p>Some visitors interrupted the dispute at this time, and
+the two old darkies went away.</p>
+
+<p>A week later Uncle Ned appeared with rather a sheepish
+look.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mars' Charles," he said, "I's about concluded
+dat I'll marry Anniky."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! is that so?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Pears like it's de onliest way I kin save my pigs,"
+said Uncle Ned, with a sigh. "When she's married she
+boun' ter <i>'bey</i> me. Women 'bey your husbands; dat's
+what de good Book says."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she will <i>bay</i> you, I don't doubt," said my father,
+making a pun that Uncle Ned could not appreciate.</p>
+
+<p>"An' ef ever she opens her jaw ter me 'bout dem ar
+teef," he went on, "I'll <i>mash</i> her."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Ned tottered on his legs like an unscrewed fruit-stand,
+and I had my own opinion as to his "mashing"
+Aunt Anniky. This opinion was confirmed the next day
+when father offered her his congratulations. "You are
+old enough to know your own mind," he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"I's ole, maybe," said Anniky, "but so is a oak-tree,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg&nbsp;94]</a></span>
+an' it's vigorous, I reckon. I's a purty vigorous sort o'
+growth myself, an' I reckon I'll have my own way with
+Ned. I'm gwine ter fatten dem pigs o' hisn, an' you see
+ef I don't sell 'em nex' Christmas fur money 'nouf ter git a
+new string o' chany teef."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Anniky," said father, with a burst of
+generosity, "you and Ned will quarrel about those teeth
+till the day of doom, so I will make you a wedding present
+of another set, that you may begin married life in
+harmony."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Anniky expressed her gratitude. "An' <i>dis</i> time,"
+she said, with sudden fury, "I sleeps wid 'em <i>in</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The teeth were presented, and the wedding preparations
+began. The expectant bride went over to Ned's cabin and
+gave it such a clearing up as it had never had. But Ned
+did not seem happy. He devoted himself entirely to his
+pigs, and wandered about looking more wizened every day.
+Finally he came to our gate and beckoned to me mysteriously.</p>
+
+<p>"Come over to my house, honey," he whispered, "an'
+bring a pen an' ink an' a piece o' paper wid yer. I wants
+yer ter write me a letter."</p>
+
+<p>I ran into the house for my little writing-desk, and followed
+Uncle Ned to his cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, honey," he said, after barring the door carefully,
+"don't you ax me no questions, but jes' put down de
+words dat comes out o' my mouf on dat ar paper."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Uncle Ned, go on."</p>
+
+<p>"Anniky Hobbleston," he began, "dat weddin' ain't
+a-gwine ter come off. You cleans up too much ter suit me.
+I ain't used ter so much water splashin' aroun'. Dirt is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg&nbsp;95]</a></span>
+warmin'. 'Spec I'd freeze dis winter if you wuz here.
+An' you got too much tongue. Besides, I's got anudder
+wife over in Tipper. An' I ain't a-gwine ter marry. As
+fur havin' de law, I's a leavin' dese parts, an' I takes der
+pigs wid me. Yer can't fin' <i>dem</i>, an' yer can't fin' <i>me</i>.
+<i>Fur I ain't a-gwine ter marry.</i> I wuz born a bachelor,
+an' a bachelor will I represent myself befo' de judgment-seat.
+If you gives yer promise ter say no mo' 'bout dis
+marryin' business, p'r'aps I'll come back some day. So no
+mo' at present, from your humble worshipper,</p>
+
+<p class="p3">"Ned Cuddy."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't that last part rather inconsistent?" said I, greatly
+amused.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, honey, if yer says so; an' it's kind o' soothin' to
+de feelin's of a woman, yer know."</p>
+
+<p>I wrote it all down and read it aloud to Uncle Ned.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, my chile," he said, "I'm a-gwine ter git on my
+mule as soon as der moon rises, an' drive my pigs ter Col'
+Water Gap, whar I'll stay an' fish. Soon as I am well
+gone, you take dis letter ter Anniky; but <i>min'</i>, don't tell
+whar I's gone. An' if she takes it all right, an' promises
+ter let me alone, you write me a letter, an' I'll git de fust
+Methodis' preacher I run across in der woods ter read it ter
+me. Den, ef it's all right, I'll come back an' weed yer
+flower-garden fur yer as purty as preachin'."</p>
+
+<p>I agreed to do all uncle Ned asked, and we parted like
+conspirators. The next morning Uncle Ned was missing,
+and, after waiting a reasonable time I explained the matter
+to my parents, and went over with his letter to Aunt
+Anniky.</p>
+
+<p>"Powers above!" was her only comment as I got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg&nbsp;96]</a></span>
+through the remarkable epistle. Then, after a pause to
+collect her thoughts, she seized me by the shoulder, saying:
+"Run to yo' pappy, honey, quick, an' ax him ef he's
+gwine ter stick ter his bargain 'bout de teef. Yer know he
+pintedly said dey wuz a <i>weddin'</i> gif'."</p>
+
+<p>Of course my father sent word that she must keep the
+teeth, and my mother added a message of sympathy, with a
+present of a pocket-handkerchief to dry Aunt Anniky's tears.</p>
+
+<p>"But it's all right," said that sensible old soul, opening
+her piano-lid with a cheerful laugh. "Bless you, chile, it
+wuz de teef I wanted, not de man! An', honey, you jes'
+sen' word to dat shif'less old nigger, ef you know whar he's
+gone, to come back home and git his crap in de groun';
+an', as fur as <i>I'm</i> consarned, yer jes' let him know dat I
+wouldn't pick him up wid a ten-foot pole, not ef he wuz to
+beg me on his knees till de millennial day."&mdash;<i>From
+"Dialect Tales," published in 1883 by Harper Brothers.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>It is not easy to tell what satire is, or where it originated.
+"In Eden," says Dryden, "the husband and wife excused
+themselves by laying the blame on each other, and
+gave a beginning to those conjugal dialogues in prose which
+poets have perfected in verse." Whatever it may be, we
+know it when it cuts us, and Sherwood Bonner's hit on the
+Radical Club of Boston was almost inexcusable.</p>
+
+<p>She was admitted as a guest, and her subsequent ridicule
+was a violation of all good breeding. But like so many
+wicked things it is captivating, and while you are shocked,
+you laugh. While I hold up both hands in horror, I intend
+to give you an idea of it; leaving out the most personal
+verses.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg&nbsp;97]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_RADICAL_CLUB" id="THE_RADICAL_CLUB"></a>THE RADICAL CLUB.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY SHERWOOD BONNER.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Dear friends, I crave attention to some facts that I shall mention<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">About a Club called "Radical," you haven't heard before;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Got up to teach the nation was this new light federation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To teach the nation how to think, to live, and to adore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To teach it of the heights and depths that all men should explore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Only this and nothing more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">It is not my inclination, in this brief communication,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To produce a false impression&mdash;which I greatly would deplore&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But a few remarks I'm makin' on some notes a chiel's been takin,'<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, if I'm not mistaken, they'll make your soul upsoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As you bend your eyes with eagerness to scan these verses o'er;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Truly this and something more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And first, dear friends, the fact is, I'm sadly out of practice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And may fail in doing justice to this literary bore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But when I do begin it, I don't think 'twill take a minute<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To prove there's nothing in it (as you've doubtless heard before),<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But a free religious wrangling club&mdash;of this I'm very sure&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Only this and nothing more!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">'Twas a very cordial greeting, one bright morning of their meeting;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Such eager salutations were never heard before.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">After due deliberation on the importance of the occasion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To begin the organization, Mr. Pompous took the floor<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With an air quite self-complacent, strutted up and took the floor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">As he'd often done before!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">With an air of condescension he bespoke their close attention<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To an essay from a Wiseman versed in theologic lore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He himself had had the pleasure of a short glance at the treasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And in no stinted measure said we had a treat in store;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then he waved his hand to Wiseman and resigned to him the floor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Only this and nothing more.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg&nbsp;98]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Quick and nervous, short and wiry, with a look profound, yet fiery,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mr. Wiseman now stepped forward and eyed us darkly o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then an arm-chair, quaint and olden, gay with colors green and golden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the pretty hostess rolled in from its place behind the door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was offered to the reader, in the centre of the floor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And he took the chair be sure.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then with arguments elastic, and a voice and eye sarcastic,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mr. Wiseman into flinders the Holy Bible tore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he proved beyond all question that the God of Moses' mention<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was a fraudulent invention of some Hebrews, three or four,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the Son of God's ascension an imaginary soar!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Only this and nothing more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Each member then admitted that his part was well acquitted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For his strong, impassioned reasoning had touched them to the core;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He felt sure, as he surveyed them through his specs, that he had "played" them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And was proud that he had made them all astonished by his lore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Not a continental cared he for the fruits such lessons bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">So he bowed and left the floor.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then a Colonel, cold and smiling, with a stately air beguiling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who punctuates his paragraphs on Newport's sounding shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said his friend was wise and witty, and yet it seemed a pity<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To destroy in this old city the belief it had before<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the ancient superstitions of the days of yore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">This he said, and something more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Orthodoxy, he lamented, thought the Christian world demented,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet still he felt a rev'rence as he read the Bible o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he thought the modern preacher, though a poor stick for a teacher,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or a broken reed, like Beecher, ought to have his claims looked o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the "tyranny of science" was indeed, he felt quite sure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5"><i>Our</i> danger more and more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">His remarks our pulses quicken, when a British Lion, stricken<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With his wondrous self-importance&mdash;he knew everything and more&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said he <i>loathed</i> such moderation; and he made his declaration<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg&nbsp;99]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">That, in spite of all creation, he found no God to adore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And his voice was like the ocean as its surges loudly roar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Only this and nothing more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<hr class="hr3" />
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But the interest now grew lukewarm, for an ancient Concord book-worm<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With authoritative tramping, forward came and took the floor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And in Orphic mysticisms talked of life and light and prisms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the Infinite baptisms on a transcendental shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the concrete metaphysic, till we yawned in anguish sore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">But still he kept the floor.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then uprose a kindred spirit almost ready to inherit<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The rare and radiant Aiden that he begged us to adore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His smile was beaming brightly, and his soft hair floated whitely<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Round a face as fair and sightly as a pious priest's of yore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And we forgave the arguments worn out years before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">For we loved this saintly bore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<hr class="hr3" />
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then a lively little charmer, noted as a dress reformer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Because that mystic garment, chemiloon, she wore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said she had no "views" of Jesus, and therefore would not tease us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But that she thought 'twould please us to look her figure o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For she wore no bustles <i>anywhere</i>, and corsets, she felt sure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Should squeeze her <i>nevermore</i>.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">This pretty little pigeon said of course the true religion<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Demanded ease of body before the mind could soar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But that no emancipation could come unto our nation<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Until the aggregation of the clothes that women wore<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Were suspended from the shoulders, and smooth with many a gore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Plain behind and plain before!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Her remarks were full of reason, but a little out of season,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the proper tone of talking Mr. Fairman did restore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When he sneered at priests and preaching, and indorsed the <i>Index</i> teaching,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with philanthropic screeching, said he sought for evermore<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The light of sense and freedom into darkened minds to pour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Truly this, but something more!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg&nbsp;100]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then with eyes as bright as Ph&oelig;bus, and hair dark as Erebus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A maid with stunning eye-glass next appeared upon the floor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In her aspect she looked regal, though her words were few and feeble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But she vowed his logic legal and as pure as golden ore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And indorsed the <i>Index</i> editor in every word he swore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And then&mdash;said nothing more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then a tall and red-faced member, large and loose and somewhat limber<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(And though his creed was shaky, he the name of Bishop bore),<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said that if he lived forever, he should forget, ah! never,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Radicals so clever, in Boston by the shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But a bad <i>gold</i> in his 'ead <i>bust</i> stop his saying <i>bore</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And we all cried <i>encore</i>.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<hr class="hr3" />
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then a rarely gifted mortal, to whom the triple portal<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Music, Art, and Poesy had opened years before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a look of sombre feeling, depths within his soul revealing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Leaving room for no appealing, he decided o'er and o'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The old, old vexing questions of the <i>why</i> and the <i>wherefore</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And taught us&mdash;nothing more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">There are others I could mention who took part in this contention,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And at first 'twas my intention, but at present I forbear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There's young Look-sharp, and Wriggle, who would make an angel giggle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And a young conceited Zeigel, who was seated near the door;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If you could only see them, you'd laugh till you were sore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And then you'd laugh some more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But, dear friends, I now must close, of these Radicals dispose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For I am sad and weary as I view their folly o'er;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In their wild Utopian dreaming, and impracticable scheming<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For a sinful world's redeeming, common sense flies out the door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the long-drawn dissertations come to&mdash;words and nothing more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Only words, and nothing more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Mary Clemmer Hudson has spoken of Ph&oelig;be Cary as
+"the wittiest woman in America." But she truly adds:</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg&nbsp;101]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A flash of wit, like a flash of lightning, can only be
+remembered, it cannot be reproduced. Its very marvel
+lies in its spontaneity and evanescence; its power is in
+being struck from the present. Divorced from that, the
+keenest representation of it seems cold and dead. We read
+over the few remaining sentences which attempt to embody
+the repartees and <i>bon mots</i> of the most famous wits of
+society, such as Beau Nash, Beau Brummel, Madame du
+Deffand, and Lady Mary Montagu; we wonder at the poverty
+of these memorials of their fame. Thus it must be
+with Ph&oelig;be Cary. Her most brilliant sallies were perfectly
+unpremeditated, and by herself never repeated or
+remembered. When she was in her best moods they came
+like flashes of heat lightning, like a rush of meteors, so
+suddenly and constantly you were dazzled while you were
+delighted, and afterward found it difficult to single out any
+distinct flash or separate meteor from the multitude....
+This most wonderful of her gifts can only be represented
+by a few stray sentences gleaned here and there from the
+faithful memories of loving friends....</p>
+
+<p>"One tells how, at a little party, where fun rose to a
+great height, one quiet person was suddenly attacked by a
+gay lady with the question: 'Why don't you laugh? You
+sit there just like a post!'</p>
+
+<p>"'There! she called you a post; why don't you rail at
+her?' was Ph&oelig;be's quick exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Barnum mentioned to her that the skeleton man
+and the fat woman then on exhibition in his 'greatest show
+on earth' were married.</p>
+
+<p>"'I suppose they loved through thick and thin,' was her
+comment.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg&nbsp;102]</a></span></p>
+<p>"'On one occasion, when Ph&oelig;be was at the Museum
+looking about at the curiosities,' says Mr. Barnum, 'I preceded
+her and had passed down a couple of steps. She,
+intently watching a big anaconda in a case at the top of the
+stairs, walked off, not noticing them, and fell. I was just
+in time to catch her in my arms and save her from a good
+bruising.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I am more lucky than that first woman was who fell
+through the influence of the serpent,' said Ph&oelig;be, as she
+recovered herself.</p>
+
+<p>"And when asked by some one at a dinner-party what
+brand of champagne they kept, she replied: 'Oh, we drink
+Heidsieck, but we keep Mum.'</p>
+
+<p>"Again, a certain well-known actor, then recently deceased,
+and more conspicuous for his professional skill than
+for his private virtues, was discussed. 'We shall never,'
+remarked some one, 'see &mdash;&mdash; again.'</p>
+
+<p>"'No,' quietly responded Ph&oelig;be, 'not unless we go to
+the pit.'"</p>
+
+<p>These stray shots may not fairly represent Miss Cary's
+brilliancy, but we are grateful for what has been preserved,
+meagre as it would seem to those who had the privilege of
+knowing her intimately and enjoying those Sunday evening
+receptions, where, unrestrained and happy, every one was
+at his best.</p>
+
+<p>Her verses on the subject of Woman's Rights, as discussed
+in masculine fashion, with masculine logic, by Chanticleer
+Dorking, are capital, and her parodies, shockingly
+literal, have been widely copied. Enjoy these as given in
+her life, written by Mary Clemmer.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg&nbsp;103]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">GINGER-SNAPS.</p>
+
+<p>I will now offer you some good things of various degrees
+of humor. I do not feel it necessary to impress their merits
+upon you, for they speak for themselves Here is a quaint
+bit of satire from a bright Boston woman, which those on
+her side of the vexed Indian question will enjoy:</p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_INDIAN_AGENT" id="THE_INDIAN_AGENT"></a>THE INDIAN AGENT.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY LOUISA HALL.</p>
+
+<p>He was a long, lean man, with a sad expression, as if
+weighed down by pity for poor humanity. His heart was
+evidently a great many sizes too large for him. He yearned
+to enfold all tribes and conditions of men in his encircling
+arms. He surveyed his audience with such affectionate interest
+that he seemed to look into the very depths of their
+pockets.</p>
+
+<p>A few resolute men buttoned their coats, but the majority
+knew that this artifice would not save them, and they
+rather enjoyed it as a species of harmless dissipation.
+They liked to be talked into a state of exhilaration which
+obliged them to give without thinking much about it, and
+they felt very good and benevolent afterward. So they
+cheered the agent enthusiastically, as a signal for him to
+begin, and he came forward bowing, while the three red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg&nbsp;104]</a></span>
+brothers who accompanied him remained seated on the
+platform. He appeared to smile on every one present as
+he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Friends and Fellow-Citizens, I have the honor to introduce
+to you these chiefs of the Laughing Dog Nation.
+Twenty-five years ago this tribe was one of the fiercest on
+our Western plains. Snarling Bear, the most noted chief
+of his tribe, was a great warrior. Fifty scalps adorned his
+wigwam. Some of them had once belonged to his best
+friends. He was murdered while in the prime of life by a
+white man whose wife he had accidentally shot at the door
+of her cabin. He was one of the first to welcome the white
+men and adopt the improvements they brought with them.
+When he became sufficiently civilized to understand that
+polygamy was unlawful, he separated from his oldest wife.
+Her scalp was carefully preserved among those of the great
+warriors he had conquered. His son, Flying Deer, who is
+with us to-day, will address you in his own language, which
+I shall interpret for you. The last twenty years have made
+a great change in their condition. These men are not
+savages, but educated gentlemen. They are all graduates
+of Tomahawk College, at Bloody Mountain, near the Gray
+Wolf country. They are chiefs of their tribes, each one
+holding a position equal to the Governor of our own State.
+Their influence at the West is great. Last year they sent a
+small party of missionaries to the highlands of the Wolf
+country, where the women and children pasture the ponies
+during the dry season. Not one of these noble men ever
+returned. Unfortunately for the success of this mission,
+the Gray Wolf warriors were at home. The medicine
+man's dreams had been unfavorable, and they dared not set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg&nbsp;105]</a></span>
+out on their annual hunt. This year they will send a larger
+party well armed.</p>
+
+<p>"These devoted men have left their Western homes and
+come here to assure you of their confidence in your affection,
+and the love and gratitude they feel toward you.
+They come to ask for churches and schools, that their children
+may grow up like yours. But these things require
+money. On account of the great scarcity of stone in the
+Rocky Mountains, and the necessity of preserving standing
+timber for the Indian hunting-grounds, all building materials
+for churches and school-houses must be carried from
+the East at great expense. The door-steps of the third
+orthodox Kickapoo church cost one hundred and fifty dollars.
+But it is money well invested. The gradual decrease
+of crime at the West has convinced the most sceptical that
+a great work can be done among these people. The number
+of murders committed in this country last year was one
+hundred and twenty-five; this year only one hundred and
+twenty-three.</p>
+
+<p>"Although a great deal has been done for these people,
+you will be surprised to learn how much remains to be
+done. I need not tell you that every dollar intrusted to me
+will be spent, and I hope you will live to see the result of
+your generosity.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish to build at least fifteen churches and school-houses
+before the cold weather sets in. The cost of building
+has been greatly lessened by employing native workmen,
+who are capable of designing and erecting simple edifices.
+The pulpits will be supplied by native preachers,
+and the expense of light and heat will be paid by the congregation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg&nbsp;106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We have at least twenty-five well-qualified native
+teachers, who will require no salary beyond the necessary
+expense of food and clothing.</p>
+
+<p>"A few boarding-houses must be built and tastefully
+furnished. We have a large number of Laughing Dog
+widows, who would gladly take charge of such establishments.</p>
+
+<p>"The native committee will make a careful selection of
+such matrons as are most capable of guiding and encouraging
+young people.</p>
+
+<p>"All money for the benefit of these people has been used
+with the strictest economy; and will be while I retain the
+agency. I have secured a slender provision for my declining
+years, and shall return to spend my days with my
+adopted people.</p>
+
+<p>"But I will let these men who once owned this great
+country speak for themselves. Flying Deer, who will now
+address you, is about forty years of age. He lives with his
+wife and ten children near the agency, at a place called
+Humanketchet."</p>
+
+<p>Flying Deer came forward and spoke very distinctly,
+though rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>"O hoo bree-gutchee, gumme maw choo kibbe showain
+nemeshin. Dawmasse choochugah goo waugh; kawboo.
+Nokka brewis goo, honowin nudwag moonoo shugh kawmun
+menjeis. Babas kwasind waugh muskoday, wawa gessonwon
+goo. Nahna naskeen oza yenadisse mayben mudjo,
+kenemoosha. Wawconassee nushka kahgagoo, jossahut,
+wabenas ogu winemon jabs. Ahmuck wana wayroossen
+chooponnuk segwan maysen. Opeechee annewayman,
+kewadoda shenghen kad goo tagamengow."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg&nbsp;107]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He says, my friends, that he has always loved and
+trusted the white people. He says that since he has seen
+the great cities and towns of the East, he loves his white
+brothers more than before. His red brothers, White Crow
+and the Rock on End, wish him to say that they also love
+you. He says the savage Gray Wolf tribe threaten to shoot
+and scalp them if they continue friendly to the whites. He
+asks for powder, guns, and ponies, that they may defend
+themselves from their enemies. He wants to convince you
+that they are rapidly becoming a civilized nation. The
+assistance you are about to give will only be required for a
+short time. They will soon become self-supporting, and
+relieve the Government of a heavy tax. They thank you
+for the kindness you have shown, and for the generous collection
+which will now be taken up.</p>
+
+<p>"Will some friend close the doors while we give every
+one an opportunity to contribute to this good cause? Remember
+that he who shutteth up his ears to the cry of the
+poor, he shall also cry himself and shall not be heard.
+Those who prefer can leave a check with Deacon Meekham
+at the door, or with me at the hotel. These substantial
+tokens of your regard will cause the wilderness to blossom
+as the rose.</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of our red brethren, let me again thank
+you."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>If one inclines to Irish fun, try this burlesque from Mrs.
+Lippincott.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg&nbsp;108]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="MISTRESS_ORAFFERTY_ON_THE_WOMAN_QUESTION" id="MISTRESS_ORAFFERTY_ON_THE_WOMAN_QUESTION"></a>
+MISTRESS O'RAFFERTY ON THE WOMAN QUESTION.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY GRACE GREENWOOD.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">No! I wouldn't demane myself, Bridget,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like you, in disputin' with men&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Would I fly in the face of the blissed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Apostles, an' Father Maginn?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">It isn't the talent I'm wantin'&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sure my father, ould Michael McCrary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made a beautiful last spache and confession<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When they hanged him in ould Tipperary.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">So, Bridget Muldoon, howld yer talkin'<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">About Womins' Rights, and all that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sure all the rights I want is the one right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To be a good helpmate to Pat;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">For he's a good husband&mdash;and niver<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lays on me the weight of his hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Except when he's far gone in liquor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I nag him, you'll plase understand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Thrue for ye, I've one eye in mournin',<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That's becaze I disputed his right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To tak' and spind all my week's earnin's<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At Tim Mulligan's wake, Sunday night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But it's sildom when I've done a washin',<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He'll ask for more'n half of the pay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An' he'll toss me my share, wid a smile, dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That's like a swate mornin' in May!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Now where, if I rin to convintions,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will be Patrick's home-comforts and joys?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who'll clane up his broghans for Sunday,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or patch up his ould corduroys.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">If we tak' to the polls, night and mornin',<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our dilicate charms will all flee&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The dew will be brushed from the rose, dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The down from the pache&mdash;don't you see?<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg&nbsp;109]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">We'll soon tak' to shillalahs and shindies<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whin we get to be sovereign electors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And turn all our husbands' hearts from us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thin what will we do for protectors?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">We'll have to be crowners an' judges,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">An' such like ould malefactors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or they'll make Common Councilmin of us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thin where will be our char-acters?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Oh, Bridget, God save us from votin'!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For sure as the blissed sun rolls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We'll land in the State House or Congress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thin what will become of our sowls?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p><br /><br />Or the triumphs of a quack, by Miss Amanda T. Jones.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="DOCHTHER_OFLANNIGAN_AND_HIS_WONDHERFUL_CURES" id="DOCHTHER_OFLANNIGAN_AND_HIS_WONDHERFUL_CURES"></a>
+DOCHTHER O'FLANNIGAN AND HIS WONDHERFUL CURES.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">I.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'm Barney O'Flannigan, lately from Cork;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've crossed the big watther as bould as a shtork.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis a dochther I am and well versed in the thrade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I can mix yez a powdher as good as is made.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have yez pains in yer bones or a throublesome ache<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In yer jints afther dancin' a jig at a wake?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have yez caught a black eye from some blundhering whack?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have yez vertebral twists in the sphine av yer back?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whin ye're walkin' the shtrates are yez likely to fall?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Don't whiskey sit well on yer shtomick at all?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sure 'tis botherin' nonsinse to sit down and wape<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whin a bit av a powdher ull put yez to shlape.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shtate yer symptoms, me darlins, and niver yez doubt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But as sure as a gun I can shtraighten yez out!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thin don't yez be gravin' no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Arrah! quit all yer sighin' forlorn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Here's Barney O'Flannigan right to the fore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And bedad! he's a gintleman born!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg&nbsp;110]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">II.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Coom thin, ye poor craytures and don't yez be scairt!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have yez batin' and lumberin' thumps at the hairt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid ossification, and acceleration,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid fatty accretion and bad vellication,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid liver inflation and hapitization,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid lung inflammation and brain-adumbration,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid black aruptation and schirrhous formation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid nerve irritation and paralyzation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid extravasation and acrid sacration,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid great jactitation and exacerbation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid shtrong palpitation and wake circulation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid quare titillation and cowld perspiration?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be the powers! but I'll bring all yer woes to complation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Onless yer in love&mdash;thin yer past all salvation!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Coom, don't yez be gravin' no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Be quit wid yer sighin' forlorn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Here's the man all yer haling potations to pour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And ye'll prove him a gintleman born<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">III.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sure, me frinds, 'tis the wondherful luck I have had<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the thratement av sickness no matther how bad.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the hundhreds I've cured 'tis not aisy to shpake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if any sowl dies, faith I'm in at the wake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There was Misthriss O'Toole was tuck down mighty quare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That wild there was niver a one dared to lave her;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And phat was the matther? Ye'll like for to hare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas the double quotidian humerous faver.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well, I tuck out me lancet and pricked at a vein,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Och, murther! but didn't she howl at the pain!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Six quarts, not a dhrap less I drew widout sham,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And troth she shtopped howlin', and lay like a lamb.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thin for fare sich a method av thratement was risky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hasthened to fill up the void wid ould whiskey.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Och! niver be gravin' no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Phat use av yer sighin' forlorn?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Me patients are proud av me midical lore&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">They'll shware I'm a gintleman born.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg&nbsp;111]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">IV.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well, Misthriss O'Toole was tuck betther at once,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For she riz up in bed and cried: "Paddy, ye dunce!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give the dochther a dhram." So I sat at me aise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A-brewin' the punch jist as fine as ye plaze.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thin I lift a prascription all written down nate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid ametics and diaphoretics complate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid anti-shpasmodics to kape her so quiet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a toddy so shtiff that ye'd all like to thry it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So Paddy O'Toole mixed 'em well in a cup&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All barrin' the toddy, and that be dhrunk up;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he shwore 'twas a shame sich good brandy to waste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a double quotidian faverish taste;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And troth we agrade it was not bad to take,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whin we dhrank that same toddy nixt night&mdash;at the wake!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Arrah! don't yez be gravin' no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wid yer moanin' and sighin' forlorn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Here's Barney O'Flannigan thrue to the core<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Av the hairt of a gintleman born!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">V.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was Michael McDonegan down wid a fit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Caught av dhrinkin' cowld watther&mdash;whin tipsy&mdash;a bit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twould have done yer hairt good to have heard him cry out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a cup of potheen or a tankard av shtout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or a wee dhrap av whiskey, new out av the shtill;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the shnakes that he saw&mdash;troth 'twas jist fit to kill!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was Mania Pototororum, bedad!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Holy Mither av Moses! the divils he had!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thin to scare 'em away we surroonded his bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clapt on forty laches and blisthered his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bate all the tin pans and set up sich a howl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That the last fiery divil ran off, be me sowl!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we writ on his tombsthone, "He died av a shpell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Caught av dhrinkin' cowld watther shtraight out av a well."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now don't yez be gravin' no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Surrinder yer sighin' forlorn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Twill be fine whin ye cross to the Stygian shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To be sint by a gintleman born.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg&nbsp;112]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">VI.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was swate Ellen Mulligan, sazed wid a cough,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ivery one said it would carry her off.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Whisht," says I, "thrust to me, now, and don't yez go crazy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If the girlie must die, sure I'll make her die aisy!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So I sairched through me books for the thrue diathesis<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of morbus dyscrasia tuburculous phthasis;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I boulsthered her up wid the shtrongest av tonics.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid iron and copper and hosts av carbonics;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid whiskey served shtraight in the finest av shtyle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I grased all her inside wid cod-liver ile!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And says she (whin she died), "Och, dochther, me honey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis you as can give us the worth av our money;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And begorra, I'll shpake to the divil this day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not to kape yez a-waitin' too long for yer pay."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So don't yez be gravin' no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To the dogs wid yer sighin' forlorn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Here's dhrugs be the handful and pills be the score,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And to dale thim a gintleman born.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">VII.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was Teddy Maloney who bled at the nose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Afther blowin' the fife; and mayhap ye'd suppose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas no matther at all; but the books all agrade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twas a serious visceral throuble indade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid the blood swimmin' roond in a circle elliptic,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Schneidarian membrane was wantin' a shtyptic;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The anterior nares were nadin' a plug,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Teddy himself was in nade av a jug.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thin I rowled out a big pill av sugar av lead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I dosed him, and shtood him up firm on his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And says I: "Now, me lad, don't be atin' yer lingth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But dhrink all ye plaze, jist to kape up yer shtringth."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faith! His widdy's a jewel! But whisht! don't ye shpake!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She'll be Misthriss O'Flannigan airly nixt wake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Coom, don't yez be gravin' no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shmall use av yer sighin' forlorn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For yer widdies, belike, whin their mournin' is o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">May marry some gintleman born.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg&nbsp;113]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">VIII.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ould Biddy O'Cardigan lived all alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she felt mighty nate wid a house av her own&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shwate-smellin' and houlsome, swaped clane wid a rake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wid two or thray pigs jist for company's sake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well, phat should she get but the malady vile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Av cholera-phobia-vomitus-bile!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she sint straight for me: "Dochther Barney, me lad,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Says she, "I'm in nade av assistance, bedad!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have yez niver a powdher or bit av a pill?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me shtomick's a rowlin'; jist make it kape shtill!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I'm the boy can do that," says I; "hould on a minit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here's me midicine-chist wid me calomel in it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'll make yez a bowle full av rid pipper tay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So shtrong ye'll be thinkin' the divil's to pay,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now don't yez be gravin' no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Be quit wid yer sighin' forlorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wid shtrychnine and vitriol and opium galore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Behould me&mdash;a gintleman born.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">IX.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wid a gallon av rum thin a flip I created,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shwate, wid musthard and shpice; and the poker I hated<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As rid as a guinea jist out av the mint&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And into her shtomick, begorra, it wint!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Och, niver belave me, but didn't she roar!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd have kaped her alive wid a quart or two more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the thray little pigs in that house av her own<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wouldn't now be a-shtarvin' and shqualin' alone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that gossoon, her boy&mdash;the shpalpeen altogither!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would niver have shworn that I murdhered his mither.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Troth, for sayin' that same, but I served him a thrick,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whin I met him by chance wid a bit av a shtick.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faith, I dochthered him well till the cure I complated,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, be jabers! there's one man alive that I thrated!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So don't yez be gravin' no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To the dogs wid yez sighin' forlorn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Arrah! knock whin ye're sick at O'Flannigan's door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And die for a gintleman born!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16">&mdash;<i>Scribner's Magazine.</i> 1880.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg&nbsp;114]</a></span></p>
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+
+<p><br /><br />Or, if one prefers to laugh at the experience of a "culled"
+brother, what can be found more irresistible than this?</p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_OLD-TIME_RELIGION" id="THE_OLD-TIME_RELIGION"></a>THE OLD-TIME RELIGION.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY JULIA PICKERING.</p>
+
+<p><i>Brother Simon.</i> I say, Brover Horace, I hearn you give
+Meriky de terriblest beating las' nite. What you and she
+hab a fallin'-out about?</p>
+
+<p><i>Brother Horace.</i> Well, Brover Simon, you knows yourself
+I never has no dejection to splanifying how I rules my
+folks at home, and 'stablishes order dar when it's p'intedly
+needed; and 'fore gracious! I leab you to say dis time ef
+'twant needed, and dat pow'ful bad.</p>
+
+<p>You see, I'se allers been a plain, straight-sided nigger,
+an' hain't never had no use for new fandangles, let it be
+what it mout; 'ligion, polytix, bisness&mdash;don't ker what.
+Ole Horace say: "De ole way am de bes' way, an' you
+niggers dat's all runnin' teetotleum crazy 'bout ebery new
+gimerack dat's started, better jes' stay whar you is and let
+them things alone." But dey won't do it; no 'mount of
+preaching won't sarve um. And dat is jes' at this partickeler
+pint dat Meriky got dat dressin'. She done been off to
+Richmun town, a-livin' in sarvice dar dis las' winter, and
+Saturday a week ago she camed home ter make a visit.
+Course we war all glad to see our darter. But you b'l'eve
+dat gal hadn't turned stark bodily naked fool? Yes, sir;
+she wa'n't no more like de Meriky dat went away jes' a few
+munts ago dan chalk's like cheese. Dar she come in wid
+her close pinned tight enuff to hinder her from squattin',
+an' her ha'r a-danglin' right in her eyes, jes' for all de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg&nbsp;115]</a></span>
+worl' like a ram a-looking fru a brush-pile, and you think
+dat nigger hain't forgot how to talk! She jes' rolled up
+her eyes ebery oder word, and fanned and talked like she
+'spected to die de nex' breff. She'd toss dat mush-head ob
+hern and talk proper as two dixunarys. 'Stead ob she call-in'
+ob me "daddy" and her mudder "mammy," she say:
+"Par and mar, how can you bear to live in sech a one-hoss
+town as this? Oh! I think I should die." And right
+about dar she hab all de actions ob an' old drake in a thunder-storm.
+I jes' stared at dat gal tell I make her out, an'
+says I to myself: "It's got to come;" but I don't say
+nothin' to nobody 'bout it&mdash;all de same I knowed it had to
+come fus' as las'. Well, I jes' let her hab more rope, as de
+sayin' is, tell she got whar I 'cluded war 'bout de end ob
+her tedder. Dat was on last Sunday mornin', when she
+went to meetin' in sich a rig, a-puttin' on airs, tell she
+couldn't keep a straight track. When she camed home she
+brung kumpny wid her, and, ob course, I couldn't do
+nuthin' then; but I jes' kept my ears open, an' ef dat gal
+didn't disquollify me dat day, you ken hab my hat.
+Bimeby dey all gits to talkin' 'bout 'ligion and de churches,
+and den one young buck he step up, an' says he: "Miss
+Meriky, give us your 'pinion 'bout de matter." Wid dat
+she flung up her head proud as de Queen Victory, an' says
+she: "I takes no intelligence in sich matters; dey is all too
+common for <i>me</i>. Baptisses is a foot or two below <i>my</i>
+grade. I 'tends de 'Pisclopian Church whar I resides, an'
+'specs to jine dat one de nex' anniversary ob de bishop.
+Oh! dey does eberything so lovely, and in so much style.
+I declar' nobody but common folks in de city goes to de
+Babtiss Church. It made me sick 't my stomuck to see so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg&nbsp;116]</a></span>
+much shoutin' and groanin' dis mornin'; 'tis so ungenteel
+wid us to make so much sarcumlocutions in meetin'."
+And thar she went a-giratin' 'bout de preacher a-comin'
+out in a white shirt, and den a-runnin' back and gittin' on
+a black one, and de people a-jumpin' up and a-jawin' ob de
+preacher outen a book, and a-bowin' ob deir heads, and
+a-saying long rigmaroles o' stuff, tell my head fairly buzzed,
+and were dat mad at de gal I jes' couldn't see nuffin' in dat
+room. Well, I jes' waited tell the kumpny riz to go, and
+den I steps up, and says I: "Young folks, you needn't let
+what Meriky told you 'bout dat church put no change inter
+you. She's sorter out ob her right mine now, but de nex'
+time you comes she'll be all right on dat and seberal oder
+subjicks;" and den dey stared at Meriky mighty hard and
+goed away.</p>
+
+<p>Well, I jes' walks up to her, and I says: "Darter,"
+says I, "what chu'ch are dat you say you gwine to jine?"
+And says she, very prompt like: "De 'Pisclopian, pa."
+And says I: "Meriky, I'se mighty consarned 'bout you,
+kase I knows your mine ain't right, and I shall jes' hab to
+bring you roun' de shortest way possible." So I retch me a
+fine bunch of hick'ries I done prepared for dat 'casion. And
+den she jumped up, and says she: "What make you think
+I loss my senses?" "Bekase, darter, you done forgot how
+to walk and to talk, and dem is sure signs." And wid dat
+I jes' let in on her tell I 'stonished her 'siderably. 'Fore I
+were done wid her she got ober dem dying a'rs, and jumped
+as high as a hopper-grass. Bimeby she 'gins to holler:
+"Oh, Lordy, daddy! daddy! don't give me no more."</p>
+
+<p>And says I: "You're improvin', dat's a fac'; done got
+your natural voice back. What chu'ch does you 'long to,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg&nbsp;117]</a></span>
+Meriky?" And says she, a-cryin': "I don't 'long to
+none, par."</p>
+
+<p>Well, I gib her anodder leetle tetch, and says I: "What
+chu'ch does you 'long to, darter?" And says she, all
+choked like: "I doesn't 'long to none."</p>
+
+<p>Den I jes' make dem hick'ries ring for 'bout five minutes,
+and den I say: "What chu'ch you 'longs to now,
+Meriky?" And says she, fairly shoutin': "Baptiss; I'se
+a deep-water Baptiss." "Berry good," says I. "You
+don't 'spect to hab your name tuck offen dem chu'ch
+books?" And says she: "No, sar; I allus did despise
+dem stuck-up 'Pisclopians; dey ain't got no 'ligion
+nohow."</p>
+
+<p>Brover Simon, you never see a gal so holpen by a good
+genteel thrashin' in all your days. I boun' she won't neber
+stick her nose in dem new-fandangle chu'ches no more.
+Why, she jes' walks as straight dis morning, and looks as
+peart as a sunflower. I'll lay a tenpence she'll be a-singin'
+before night dat good ole hyme she usened to be so fond
+ob. You knows, Brover Simon, how de words run:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Baptis, Baptis is my name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My name is written on high;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Spects to lib and die de same,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My name is written on high."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><i>Brother Simon.</i> Yes, dat she will, I be boun'; ef I does
+say it, Brover Horace, you beats any man on church guberment
+an' family displanement ob anybody I ever has seen.</p>
+
+<p><i>Brother Horace.</i> Well, Brover, I does my bes'. You
+mus' pray for me, so dat my han's may be strengthened.
+Dey feels mighty weak after dat conversion I give dat
+Meriky las' night.&mdash;<i>Scribner's Monthly</i>, <i>Bric-&agrave;-Brac</i>, 1876.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg&nbsp;118]</a></span></p>
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>If it is unadulterated consolation that you need, try</p>
+
+<h3><a name="AUNTY_DOLEFULS_VISIT" id="AUNTY_DOLEFULS_VISIT"></a>AUNTY DOLEFUL'S VISIT.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY MARY KYLE DALLAS.</p>
+
+<p>How do you do, Cornelia? I heard you were sick, and
+I stepped in to cheer you up a little. My friends often
+say: "It's such a comfort to see you, Aunty Doleful.
+You have such a flow of conversation, and <i>are</i> so lively."
+Besides, I said to myself, as I came up the stairs: "Perhaps
+it's the last time I'll ever see Cornelia Jane alive."</p>
+
+<p>You don't mean to die yet, eh? Well, now, how do you
+know? You can't tell. You think you are getting better,
+but there was poor Mrs. Jones sitting up, and every one
+saying how smart she was, and all of a sudden she was
+taken with spasms in the heart, and went off like a flash.
+Parthenia is young to bring the baby up by hand. But you
+must be careful, and not get anxious or excited. Keep
+quite calm, and don't fret about anything. Of course,
+things can't go on jest as if you were down-stairs; and I
+wondered whether you knew your little Billy was sailing
+about in a tub on the mill-pond, and that your little Sammy
+was letting your little Jimmy down from the veranda-roof
+in a clothes-basket.</p>
+
+<p>Gracious goodness, what's the matter? I guess Providence'll
+take care of 'em. Don't look so. You thought
+Bridget was watching them? Well, no, she isn't. I saw
+her talking to a man at the gate. He looked to me like a
+burglar. No doubt she'll let him take the impression of
+the door-key in wax, and then he'll get in and murder you
+all. There was a family at Bobble Hill all killed last week<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg&nbsp;119]</a></span>
+for fifty dollars. Now, don't fidget so; it will be bad for
+the baby.</p>
+
+<p>Poor, little dear! How singular it is, to be sure, that
+you can't tell whether a child is blind, or deaf and dumb,
+or a cripple at that age. It might be <i>all</i>, and you'd never
+know it.</p>
+
+<p>Most of them that have their senses make bad use of
+them though; <i>that</i> ought to be your comfort, if it does
+turn out to have anything dreadful the matter with it.
+And more don't live a year. I saw a baby's funeral down
+the street as I came along.</p>
+
+<p>How is Mr. Kobble? Well, but finds it warm in town,
+eh? Well, I should think he would. They are dropping
+down by hundreds there with sun-stroke. You must prepare
+your mind to have him brought home any day. Anyhow,
+a trip on these railroad trains is just risking your life
+every time you take one. Back and forth every day as he
+is, it's just trifling with danger.</p>
+
+<p>Dear! dear! now to think what dreadful things hang
+over us all the time! Dear! dear!</p>
+
+<p>Scarlet fever has broken out in the village, Cornelia.
+Little Isaac Potter has it, and I saw your Jimmy playing
+with him last Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>Well, I must be going now. I've got another sick
+friend, and I sha'n't think my duty done unless I cheer her
+up a little before I sleep. Good-by. How pale you look,
+Cornelia! I don't believe you have a good doctor. Do
+send him away and try some one else. You don't look so
+well as you did when I came in. But if anything happens,
+send for me at once. If I can't do anything else, I can
+cheer you up a little.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg&nbsp;120]</a></span></p>
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Mrs. Dallas, who lives in New York City, is a regular
+correspondent of the New York <i>Ledger</i>, having taken Fanny
+Fern's place on that widely circulated paper, is a prominent
+member of "Sorosis," and her Tuesday evening receptions
+draw about her some of the brightest society of
+that cosmopolitan centre.</p>
+
+<p>All these selections are prizes for the long-suffering elocutionist
+who is expected to entertain his friends with something
+new, laughter-provoking, and fully up to the mark.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Mrs. Ames, of Brooklyn, known to the public as "Eleanor
+Kirk," has revealed in her "Thanksgiving Growl" a bit
+of honest experience, refreshing with its plain Saxon and
+homely realism, which, when recited with proper spirit, is
+most effective.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="A_THANKSGIVING_GROWL" id="A_THANKSGIVING_GROWL"></a>A THANKSGIVING GROWL.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Oh, dear! do put some more chips on the fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And hurry up that oven! Just my luck&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To have the bread slack. Set that plate up higher!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And for goodness' sake do clear this truck<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Away! Frogs' legs and marbles on my moulding-board!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What next I wonder? John Henry, wash your face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And do get out from under foot, "Afford more<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cream?" Used all you had? If that's the case,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Skim all the pans. Do step a little spryer!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I wish I hadn't asked so many folks<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To spend Thanksgiving. Good gracious! poke the fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And put some water on. Lord, how it smokes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I never was so tired in all my life!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And there's the cake to frost, and dough to mix<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For tarts. I can't cut pumpkin with this knife!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Some women's husbands know enough to fix<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The kitchen tools; but, for all mine would care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I might tear pumpkin with my teeth. John Henry,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg&nbsp;121]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">If you don't plant yourself on that 'ere chair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I'll set you down so hard that you'll agree<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You're stuck for good. Them cranberries are sour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And taste like gall beside. Hand me some flour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And do fly round. John Henry, wipe your nose!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I wonder how 'twill be when I am dead?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"How my nose'll be?" Yes, how <i>your nose'll</i> be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And how <i>your back</i>'ll be. If that ain't red<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'll miss my guess. I don't expect you'll see&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">You nor your father neither&mdash;what I've done<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And suffered in this house. As true's I live<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Them pesky fowl ain't stuffed! The biggest one<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Will hold two loaves of bread. Say, wipe that sieve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And hand it here. You are the slowest poke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In all Fairmount. Lor'! there's Deacon Gubben's wife!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She'll be here to-morrow. That pan can soak<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A little while. I never in my life<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Saw such a lazy critter as she is.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If she stayed home, there wouldn't be a thing<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To eat. You bet she'll fill up here! "It's riz?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Well, so it has. John Henry! Good king!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">How did that boy get out? You saw him go<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With both fists full of raisins and a pile<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Behind him, and you never let me know!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There! you've talked so much I clean forgot the rye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I wonder if the Governor had to slave<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As I do, if he would be so pesky fresh about<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thanksgiving Day? He'd been in his grave<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With half my work. What, get along without<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">An Indian pudding? Well, that would be<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A novelty. No friend or foe shall say<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I'm close, or haven't as much variety<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As other folks. There! I think I see my way<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Quite clear. The onions are to peel. Let's see:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Turnips, potatoes, apples there to stew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This squash to bake, and lick John Henry!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And after that&mdash;I really think I'm through.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg&nbsp;122]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">PROSE, BUT NOT PROSY.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Alice Wellington Rollins, in those interesting articles
+in the <i>Critic</i> which induced me to look further, says:</p>
+
+<p>"We claim high rank for the humor of women because
+it is almost exclusively of this higher, imaginative type. A
+woman rarely tells an anecdote, or hoards up a good story,
+or comes in and describes to you something funny that she
+has seen. Her humor is like a flash of lightning from a
+clear sky, coming when you least expect it, when it could
+not have been premeditated, and when, to the average consciousness,
+there is not the slightest provocation to humor,
+possessing thus in the very highest degree that element of
+surprise which is not only a factor in all humor, but to our
+mind the most important factor. You tell her that you
+cannot spend the winter with her because you have promised
+to spend it with some one else, and she exclaims:
+'Oh, Ellen! why were you not born twins!' She has,
+perhaps, recently built for herself a most charming home,
+and coming to see yours, which happens to be just a trifle
+more luxurious and charming, she remarks as she turns
+away: 'All I can say is, when you want to see <i>squalor</i>,
+come and visit me in Oxford Street!' She puts down her
+heavy coffee-cup of stone-china with its untasted coffee at
+a little country inn, saying, with a sigh: 'It's no use; I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg&nbsp;123]</a></span>
+can't get at it; it's like trying to drink over a stone wall.'
+She writes in a letter: 'We parted this morning with
+mutual satisfaction; that is, I suppose we did; I know my
+satisfaction was mutual enough for two.' She asks her
+little restless daughter in the most insinuating tones if she
+would not like to sit in papa's lap and have him tell her
+a story; and when the little daughter responds with a
+most uncompromising 'no!' turns her inducement into a
+threat, and remarks with severity: 'Well, be a good girl,
+or you will have to!' She complains, when you have kept
+her waiting while you were buying undersleeves, that you
+must have bought 'undersleeves enough for a centipede.'
+You ask how poor Mr. X&mdash;&mdash; is&mdash;the disconsolate widower
+who a fortnight ago was completely prostrated by his wife's
+death, and are told in calm and even tones that he is 'beginning
+to take notice.' You tell her that one of the best
+fellows in the class has been unjustly expelled, and that the
+class are to wear crape on their left arms for thirty days,
+and that you only hope that the President will meet you in
+the college-yard and ask why you wear it; to all of which
+she replies soothingly, 'I wouldn't do that, Henry; for the
+President might tell you not to mourn, as your friend was
+not lost, only <i>gone before</i>.' You tell her of your stunned
+sensation on finding some of your literary work complimented
+in the <i>Nation</i>, and she exclaims: 'I should think
+so! It must be like meeting an Indian and seeing him put
+his hand into his no-pocket to draw out a scented pocket-handkerchief,
+instead of a tomahawk.' Or she writes that
+two Sunday-schools are trying to do all the good they can,
+but that each is determined at any cost to do more good
+than the other."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg&nbsp;124]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>I have selected several specimens of this higher type of
+humor.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ellen H. Rollins was pre-eminently gifted in this
+direction. The humor in her exquisite "New England
+Bygones" is so interwoven with the simple pathos of her
+memories that it cannot be detached without detriment to
+both. But I will venture to select three sketches from</p>
+
+<h3><a name="OLD-TIME_CHILD_LIFE" id="OLD-TIME_CHILD_LIFE"></a>OLD-TIME CHILD LIFE.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY E.H. ARR.</p>
+
+<p>Betsy had the reddest hair of any girl I ever knew. It
+was quite short in front, and she had a way of twisting it,
+on either temple, into two little buttons, which she fastened
+with pins. The rest of it she brought quite far up on the
+top of her head, where she kept it in place with a large-sized
+horn comb. Her face was covered with freckles, and
+her eyes, in winter, were apt to be inflamed. She always
+seemed to have a mop in her hand, and she had no respect
+for paint. She was as neat as old Dame Safford herself,
+and was continually "straightening things out," as she
+called it. Her temper, like her hair, was somewhat fiery;
+and when her work did not suit her, she was prone to a
+gloomy view of life. If she was to be believed, things
+were always "going to wrack and ruin" about the house;
+and she had a queer way of taking time by the forelock.
+In the morning it was "going on to twelve o'clock," and
+at noon it was "going on to midnight."</p>
+
+<p>She kept her six kitchen chairs in a row on one side of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg&nbsp;125]</a></span>the room, and as many flatirons in a line on the mantelpiece.
+Everything where she was had, she said, to "stand
+just so;" and woe to the child who carried crookedness into
+her straight lines! Betsy had a manner of her own, and
+made a wonderful kind of a courtesy, with which her skirts
+puffed out all around like a cheese. She always courtesied
+to Parson Meeker when she met him, and said: "I hope
+to see you well, sir." Once she courtesied in a prayer-meeting
+to a man who offered her a chair, and told him, in
+a shrill voice, to "keep his setting," though she was "ever
+so much obleeged" to him. This was when she was under
+conviction, and Parson Meeker said he thought she had met
+with a change of heart. Father Lathem's wife hoped so
+too, for then "there would be a chance of having some
+Long-noses and Pudding-sweets left over in the orchard."</p>
+
+<p>It was in time of the long drought, when fire ran over
+Grayface, and a great comet appeared in the sky. Some of
+the people of Whitefield thought the world was coming to
+an end. The comet stayed for weeks, visible even at noon-day,
+stretching its tail from the zenith far toward the western
+horizon, and at night staring in at windows with its eye
+of fire. It was the talk of the people, who pondered over
+it with a helpless wonder. I recall two Whitefield women
+as they stood, one morning, bare-armed in a doorway, staring
+at and chattering about it. One says they "might as
+well stop work" and "take it easy" while they can. The
+other thinks the better way is to "keep on a stiddy jog
+until it comes." They wish they knew "how near it is,"
+and "what the tail means anyway."</p>
+
+<p>Betsy comes along with a pail, which she sets down, and
+then looks up to the comet. The air is dense with smoke
+from Grayface, and the dry earth is full of cracks. Betsy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg&nbsp;126]</a></span>
+declares that it is "going on two months since there has
+been any rain." Everything is "going to wrack and
+ruin," and "if that thing up there should burst, there'll be
+an end to Whitefield."</p>
+
+<p>Then she catches sight of me listening wide-mouthed,
+and she tells me that I needn't suppose she is "going home
+to iron my pink muslin," for she thinks the tail of the
+comet "has started, and is coming right down to whisk it
+off from the line." I believe her, and distinctly remember
+the terror that took hold of me as I rushed home and tore
+the pink muslin from the line, lest it should be whisked off
+by the comet's tail.</p>
+
+<p>When the drought broke, a single day's rain washed all
+the smoke from the air. Directly, the tail of the comet
+began to fade, and all of a sudden its fiery eye went out
+of the sky.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the villagers thought it had "burst," others that
+it had "burned out." Betsy said: "Whatever it was, it
+was a humbug;" and the wisest man in Whitefield could
+neither tell whence it came nor whither it went. One
+thing, however, was certain: Farmer Lathem said that
+never, since his orchard began to bear, had he gathered
+such a crop of apples as he did, despite the drought, in the
+year of the great comet.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="MRS_MEEKER" id="MRS_MEEKER"></a>MRS. MEEKER.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY E.H. ARR.</p>
+
+<p>When I read of Roman matrons I always think of Mrs.
+Meeker. Her features were marked, and her eyes of deepest
+blue. She wore her hair combed closely down over her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg&nbsp;127]</a></span>
+ears, so that her forehead seemed to run up in a point high
+upon her head: Its color was of reddish-brown, and, I am
+sorry to say, so far as it was seen, it was not her own. It
+was called a scratch, and Betsy said Mrs. Meeker "would
+look enough sight better if she would leave it off." Whether
+any hair at all grew upon Mrs. Meeker's head was a great
+problem with the village children, and nothing could better
+illustrate the dignity of this woman than the fact that for
+more than thirty years the whole neighborhood tried in
+vain to find out.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="PARSON_MEEKER" id="PARSON_MEEKER"></a>PARSON MEEKER.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY E.H. ARR.</p>
+
+<p>Every Sunday he preached two long sermons, each with
+five heads, and each head itself divided. After the fifthly
+came an application, with an exhortation at its close. The
+sermons were called very able, or, more often, "strong discourses."
+I used to think this was because Mrs. Meeker
+had stitched their leaves fast together. Betsy said they
+were just like Deacon Saunders's breaking-up plough,
+"and went tearing right through sin." The parson, when
+I knew him, was a little slow of speech and dull of sight.
+He sometimes lost his place on his page. How afraid I
+used to be lest, not finding it, he should repeat his heads!
+He always brought himself up with a jerk, however, and
+sailed safely through to the application.</p>
+
+<p>When that came, Benny almost always gave me a jog with
+his elbow or foot. Once he stuck a pin into my arm,
+which made me jump so that Deacon Saunders, who sat
+behind, waked up with a loud snort. The deacon was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg&nbsp;128]</a></span>
+always talking about the sermons being "powerful in doctrine."
+When Benny asked Betsy what doctrines were,
+she told him to "let doctrines alone;" that they were
+"pizen things, only fit for hardened old sinners."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>There are many delightful articles which must be merely
+alluded to in passing, as the "Old Salem Shops," by
+Eleanor Putnam, so delicate and delicious that, once read,
+it will ever be a fragrant memory; Louise Stockton's
+"Woman in the Restaurant" I want to give you, and Mrs.
+Barrow's "Pennikitty People;" a chapter from Miss Baylor's
+"On This Side," and the opening chapters of Miss
+Phelps's "Old Maids' Paradise;" also the description of
+"Joppa," by Grace Denio Litchfield, in "Only an Incident."
+There are others from which it is not possible to
+make extracts. Miss Woolson's admirable "For the Major,"
+though pathetic, almost tragic, in its underlying feeling,
+is, at the same time, a story of exquisite humor, from
+which, nevertheless, not a single sentence could be quoted
+that would be called "funny." Her work, and that of
+Frances Hodgson Burnett, as well as that of Miss Phelps
+and Mrs. Spofford, shine with a silver thread of humor,
+worked too intimately into the whole warp and woof to be
+extracted without injuring both the solid material and the
+tinsel. To appreciate the point and delicacy of their finest
+wit, you must read the whole story and grasp the entire
+character or situation.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. E.W. Bellamy, a Southern lady, published in last
+year's <i>Atlantic Monthly</i> a sketch called "At Bent's
+Hotel," which ought to have a place in this volume; but
+my publisher says authoritatively that there must be a limit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg&nbsp;129]</a></span>
+somewhere; so this gem must be included in&mdash;a second
+series!</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>There is so much truth as well as humor in the following
+article, that it must be included. It gives in prose the
+agonies which Saxe told so feelingly in verse:</p>
+
+<h3><a name="A_FATAL_REPUTATION" id="A_FATAL_REPUTATION"></a>A FATAL REPUTATION.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY ISABEL FRANCES BELLOWS.</p>
+
+<p>I am impelled to write this as an awful warning to young
+men and women who are just entering upon life and its
+responsibilities. Years ago I thoughtlessly took a false
+step, which at the time seemed trivial and of little import,
+but which has since assumed colossal proportions that
+threaten to overshadow much of the innocent happiness of
+my otherwise placid existence. What wonder, then, that I
+try to avert this danger from young and inexperienced
+minds who in their gay thoughtlessness rush into the very
+jaws of the disaster, and before they are well aware find
+they are entrapped for life, as there is no escape for those
+who have thus brought their doom upon themselves.</p>
+
+<p>I will try and relate how, like the Lady of Shalott, when
+I first began to gaze upon the world of realities "the
+curse" came upon me. It was in this wise:</p>
+
+<p>I lived in my youth an almost cloistral life of seclusion
+and self-absorption, from which I was suddenly shaken by
+circumstances, and forced to mingle in the busy world; to
+which, after the first shock, I was not at all averse, but
+found very interesting, and also&mdash;and there was the weight
+that pulled me down&mdash;tolerably amusing. For I met some
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg&nbsp;130]</a></span>curious people, and saw and heard some remarkable things;
+and as I went among my friends I often used to give an
+account of my observations, until at last I discovered that
+wherever I went, and under whatever circumstances (except,
+of course, at the funeral of a member of the family),
+I was expected to be amusing! I found myself in the same
+relation to society that the clown bears to the circus-master
+who has engaged him&mdash;he must either be funny or leave
+the troupe.</p>
+
+<p>Now, I am unfortunate in having no particular accomplishments.
+I cannot sing either the old songs or the new;
+neither am I a performer on divers instruments. I can
+paint a little, but my paintings do not seem to rouse any
+enthusiasm in the beholder, nor do they add an inspiring
+strain to conversation. I can, indeed, make gingerbread
+and six different kinds of pudding, but I hesitate to mention
+it, because the cook is far in advance of me in all these
+particulars, not to mention numerous other ways in which
+she excels. I have thus but one resource in life; and when
+I give one or two instances of the humiliation and distress
+of mind to which I have been subjected on its account I am
+sure I shall win a sympathizing thought even from those
+who are more favored by nature, and possibly save a few
+young spirits from the pain of treading in my footsteps.</p>
+
+<p>In the first place, I am not naturally witty. Epigrams
+do not rise spontaneously to my lips, and it sometimes takes
+days and even weeks of consideration after an opportunity
+of making one has occurred before the appropriate words
+finally dawn upon me. By that time, of course, the retort
+is what the Catholics call "a work of supererogation." I
+perhaps possess a slight "sense of the humorous," which
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg&nbsp;131]</a></span>has undoubtedly given rise to the fatal demand upon me,
+but I do not remember ever having been very funny.
+There never was any danger of my experiencing difficulties
+like Dr. Holmes on that famous occasion when he was as
+funny as he could be. I have often been as funny as I
+could be, but the smallest of buttons on the slenderest of
+threads never detached itself on my account. I have never
+had to restrain my humorous remarks in the slightest degree,
+but on the contrary have sometimes been driven into
+making the most atrocious jokes, and even puns, because it
+was evident something of the sort was expected from me&mdash;only,
+of course, something better.</p>
+
+<p>One occurrence of this kind will remain forever fixed in
+my memory. I was invited to a picnic, that most ghastly
+device of the human mind for playing at having a good
+time. At first I had declined to go, but it was represented
+to me that no less than three families had company for
+whose entertainment something must be done; that two
+young and interesting friends of mine just about to be engaged
+to each other would be simply inconsolable if the
+plan were given up; and, in short, that I should show by
+not going an extremely hateful and unseemly spirit&mdash;"besides,
+it wouldn't do to have it without you, my dear," continued
+my amiable friend, "because you know you are always
+the life of the party." So I sighed and consented.</p>
+
+<p>The day arrived, and before nine o'clock in the morning
+the mercury stood at ninety degrees in the shade. The
+cook overslept herself, and breakfast was so late that William
+Henry missed the train into the city, which didn't make
+it pleasanter for any of us. I had made an especially delicate
+cake to take with me as my share of the feast, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg&nbsp;132]</a></span>while we were at breakfast I heard a crash in the direction
+of the kitchen, and hastening tremblingly to discover the
+origin of it I found the cake and the plate containing it in
+one indistinguishable heap on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"It slipped between me two hands as if it was alive, bad
+luck to it," said the cook; "and it was meself that saw
+the heavy crack in the plate before you set the cake onto it,
+mum!"</p>
+
+<p>I took cookies and boiled eggs to the picnic.</p>
+
+<p>The wreck had hardly been cleared away before my son
+and heir appeared in the doorway with a hole of unimagined
+dimensions in his third worst trousers. His second
+worst were already in the mending basket, so nothing remained
+for me but to clothe him in his best suit and wonder
+all day in which part of them I should find the largest hole
+when I came home.</p>
+
+<p>Lastly, I had just put on my hat, and was preparing to
+set forth, warm, tired and demoralized, when my youngest,
+in her anxiety to bid me a sufficiently affectionate farewell,
+lost her small balance, and came rolling down-stairs after
+me. No serious harm was done, but it took nearly an hour
+before I succeeded in soothing and comforting her sufficiently
+to be able to leave her, with two brown-paper
+patches on her head and elbow, in the care of the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>When I arrived late, discouraged and with a headache, at
+the picnic grounds, I found the assembled company sitting
+vapidly about among mosquitoes and beetles, already looking
+bored to death, and I soon perceived that it was expected
+of me to provide amusement and entertainment for
+the crowd. I tried to rally, therefore, and proposed a few
+games, which went off in a spiritless manner enough, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg&nbsp;133]</a></span>apparently in consequence I began to be assailed with questions
+and remarks of a reproachful character.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you feel well to-day?" "Has anything happened?"
+"You don't seem as lively as usual!" No one
+took the slightest notice of my explanations, until at last,
+goaded into desperation by one evil-minded old woman,
+who asked me if it were true that my husband was involved
+in the failure of Smith, Jones &amp; Co., I launched out and
+became wildly and disgracefully silly. Nothing seemed too
+foolish, too senseless to say if it only answered the great
+purpose of keeping off the attack of personal questions.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the wretched day wore on, until at last it was time
+to go home, and the first feeling approaching content was
+stealing into my weary bosom as I gathered up my basket
+and shawls, when it was rudely dashed by the following
+conversation, conducted by two ladies to whom I had been
+introduced that day. They were standing at a little distance
+from the rest of the company and from me, and evidently
+thought themselves far enough away to talk quite
+loud, so that these words were plainly borne to my ears:</p>
+
+<p>"I hate to see people try to make themselves so conspicuous,
+don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed; and to try to be funny when they
+haven't any fun in them."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't imagine what Maria was thinking about to call
+her witty!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know it. I should think such people had better keep
+quiet when they haven't anything to say. I'm glad it's
+time to go home. Picnics are such stupid things!"</p>
+
+<p>What more was said I do not know, for I left the spot as
+quickly as possible, making an inward resolution to avoid
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg&nbsp;134]</a></span>all picnics in the future till I should arrive at my second
+childhood.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot refrain from giving one other little instance of
+my sufferings from this cause. I was again invited out;
+this time to a lunch party, specially to meet the friend of a
+friend of mine. The very morning of the day it was to
+take place I received a telegram stating that my great-aunt
+had died suddenly in California. Now people don't usually
+care much about their great-aunts. They can bear to be
+chastened in this direction very comfortably; but I did
+care about mine. She had been very kind to me, and
+though the width of a continent had separated us for the
+last ten years her memory was still dear to me.</p>
+
+<p>I sat down immediately to write a note excusing myself
+from my friend's lunch party, when, just as I took the
+paper, it occurred to me that it was rather a selfish thing to
+do. My friend's guests were invited, and her arrangements
+all made; and as the visit of her friend was to be very
+short the opportunity of our meeting would probably be
+lost. So I wrote instead a note to the daughter of my
+great aunt, and when the time came I went to the lunch
+party with a heavy heart. I had no opportunity of telling
+my friend of the sad news I had received that morning,
+and I suppose I may have been quiet; perhaps I even
+seemed indifferent, though I tried not to be. I could not
+have been very successful, however, for I was just going
+up-stairs to put on my "things" to go home, when I heard
+this little conversation in the dressing-room:</p>
+
+<p>"It's too bad she wasn't more interesting to-day, but
+you never can tell how it will be. She will do as she likes,
+and that's the end of it."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg&nbsp;135]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Yes," said another voice, "I think she is rather a
+moody person anyway; she won't say a word if she doesn't
+feel like it."</p>
+
+<p>"'Sh&mdash;'sh&mdash;here she comes," said another, with the tone
+and look that told me it was I of whom they were talking.</p>
+
+<p>And so I adjure all youthful and hopeful persons, who
+have a tendency to be funny, to keep it a profound secret
+from the world. Indulge in your propensities to any extent
+in your family circle; keep your immediate relatives,
+if you like, in convulsions of inextinguishable laughter all
+the time; but when you mingle in society guard your secret
+with your life. Never make a joke, and, if necessary, never
+take one; and by so doing you shall peradventure escape
+that wrath to come to which I have fallen an innocent victim,
+and which I doubt not will bring me to an untimely
+end.&mdash;<i>The Independent.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>And a few pages from Miss Murfree, who has shown such
+rare power in her short character sketches.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="A_BLACKSMITH_IN_LOVE" id="A_BLACKSMITH_IN_LOVE"></a>A BLACKSMITH IN LOVE.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK.</p>
+
+<p>The pine-knots flamed and glistened under the great
+wash-kettle. A tree-toad was persistently calling for rain
+in the dry distance. The girl, gravely impassive, beat the
+clothes with the heavy paddle. Her mother shortly ceased
+to prod the white heaps in the boiling water, and presently
+took up the thread of her discourse.</p>
+
+<p>"An' 'Vander hev got ter be a mighty suddint man. I
+hearn tell, when I war down ter M'ria's house ter the quiltin',
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg&nbsp;136]</a></span>ez how in that sorter fight an' scrimmage they hed at
+the mill las' month, he war powerful ill-conducted. Nobody
+hed thought of hevin' much of a fight&mdash;thar hed been
+jes' a few licks passed atwixt the men thar; but the fust
+finger ez war laid on this boy, he jes' lit out, an' fit like a
+catamount. Right an' lef' he lay about him with his fists,
+an' he drawed his huntin'-knife on some of 'em. The men
+at the mill war in no wise pleased with him."</p>
+
+<p>"'Pears like ter me ez 'Vander air a peaceable boy
+enough, ef he ain't jawed at an' air lef' be," drawled
+Cynthia.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother was embarrassed for a moment. Then, with
+a look both sly and wise, she made an admission&mdash;a qualified
+admission. "Waal, wimmen&mdash;ef&mdash;ef&mdash;ef they air young
+an' toler'ble hard-headed <i>yit</i>, air likely ter jaw <i>some</i>, ennyhow.
+An' a gal oughtn't ter marry a man ez hev sot his
+heart on bein' lef' in peace. He is apt ter be a mighty
+sour an' disapp'inted critter."</p>
+
+<p>This sudden turn to the conversation invested all that
+had been said with new meaning, and revealed a subtle
+diplomatic intention. The girl seemed deliberately to
+review it as she paused in her work. Then, with a rising
+flush: "I ain't studyin' 'bout marryin' nobody," she
+asserted staidly. "I hev laid off ter live single."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ware had overshot the mark, but she retorted, gallantly
+reckless: "That's what yer Aunt Malviny useter
+declar' fur gospel sure, when she war a gal. An' she hev
+got ten chil'ren, an' hev buried two husbands; an' ef all
+they say air true, she's tollin' in the third man now. She's
+a mighty spry, good-featured woman, an' a fust-rate manager,
+yer Aunt Malviny air, an' both her husbands lef'
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg&nbsp;137]</a></span>her suthin&mdash;cows, or wagons, or land. An' they war quiet
+men when they war alive, an' stays whar they air put now
+that they air dead; not like old Parson Hoodenpyle, what
+his wife hears stumpin' round the house an' preachin' every
+night, though she air ez deef ez a post, an' he hev been in
+glory twenty year&mdash;twenty year an' better. Yer Aunt
+Malviny hed luck, so mebbe 'tain't no killin' complaint fur
+a gal ter git ter talking like a fool about marryin' an' sech.
+Leastwise I ain't minded ter sorrow."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at her daughter with a gay grin, which, distorted
+by her toothless gums and the wreathing steam from
+the kettle, enhanced her witch-like aspect and was spuriously
+malevolent. She did not notice the stir of an approach
+through the brambly tangles of the heights above
+until it was close at hand; as she turned, she thought only
+of the mountain cattle and to see the red cow's picturesque
+head and crumpled horns thrust over the sassafras bushes, or
+to hear the brindle's clanking bell. It was certainly less unexpected
+to Cynthia when a young mountaineer, clad in
+brown jean trousers and a checked homespun shirt, emerged
+upon the rocky slope. He still wore his blacksmith's
+leather apron, and his powerful corded hammer-arm was
+bare beneath his tightly-rolled sleeve. He was tall and
+heavily built; his sunburned face was square, with a
+strong lower jaw, and his features were accented by fine
+lines of charcoal, as if the whole were a clever sketch.</p>
+
+<p>His black eyes held fierce intimations, but there was
+mobility of expression about them that suggested changing
+impulses, strong but fleeting. He was like his forge-fire;
+though the heat might be intense for a time, it fluctuated
+with the breath of the bellows. Just now he was meekly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg&nbsp;138]</a></span>quailing before the old woman, whom he evidently had not
+thought to find here. It was as apt an illustration as might
+be, perhaps, of the inferiority of strength to finesse. She
+seemed an inconsiderable adversary, as, haggard, lean, and
+prematurely aged, she swayed on her prodding-stick about
+the huge kettle; but she was as a veritable David to this
+big young Goliath, though she, too, flung hardly more than
+a pebble at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Laws-a-me!" she cried, in shrill, toothless glee; "ef
+hyar ain't 'Vander Price! What brung ye down hyar
+along o' we-uns, 'Vander?" she continued, with simulated
+anxiety. "Hev that thar red heifer o' ourn lept over the
+fence agin, an' got inter Pete's corn? Waal, sir, ef she
+ain't the headin'est heifer!"</p>
+
+<p>"I hain't seen none o' yer heifer, ez I knows on,"
+replied the young blacksmith, with gruff, drawling deprecation.
+Then he tried to regain his natural manner. "I
+kem down hyar," he remarked, in an off-hand way, "ter
+git a drink o' water." He glanced furtively at the girl,
+then looked quickly away at the gallant red-bird, still gayly
+parading among the leaves.</p>
+
+<p>The old woman grinned with delight. "Now, ef that
+ain't s'prisin'," she declared. "Ef we hed knowed ez
+Lost Creek war a-goin' dry over yander a-nigh the shop, so
+ye an' Pete would hev ter kem hyar thirstin' fur water,
+we-uns would hev brung suthin' down hyar ter drink out'n.
+We-uns hain't got no gourd hyar, hev we, Cynthy?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Thout it air the little gourd with the saft-soap in it,"
+said Cynthia, confused and blushing. Her mother broke
+into a high, loud laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye ain't wantin' ter gin 'Vander the soap-gourd ter
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg&nbsp;139]</a></span>drink out'n, Cynthy! Leastwise, I ain't goin' ter gin it
+ter Pete. Fur I s'pose ef ye hev ter kem a haffen mile ter
+git a drink, 'Vander, ez surely Pete'll hev ter kem, too.
+Waal, waal, who would hev b'lieved ez Lost Creek would
+go dry nigh the shop, an' yit be a-scuttlin' along like that
+hyarabouts!" and she pointed with her bony finger at the
+swift flow of the water.</p>
+
+<p>He was forced to abandon his clumsy pretence of thirst.
+"Lost Creek ain't gone dry nowhar, ez I knows on," he
+admitted, mechanically rolling the sleeve of his hammer-arm
+up and down as he talked.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>From Miss Woolson's story of "Anne," I give the pen-portrait
+of the precise</p>
+
+<h3><a name="MISS_LOIS" id="MISS_LOIS"></a>"MISS LOIS."</h3>
+
+<p>"Codfish balls for breakfast on Sunday morning, of
+course," said Miss Lois, "and fried hasty-pudding. On
+Wednesdays, a boiled dinner. Pies on Tuesdays and Saturdays."</p>
+
+<p>The pins stood in straight rows on her pincushion; three
+times each week every room in the house was swept, and
+the floors, as well as the furniture, dusted. Beans were
+baked in an iron pot on Saturday night, and sweet-cake
+was made on Thursday. Winter or summer, through
+scarcity or plenty, Miss Lois never varied her established
+routine, thereby setting an example, she said, to the idle
+and shiftless. And certainly she was a faithful guide-post,
+continually pointing out an industrious and systematic way,
+which, however, to the end of time, no French-blooded,
+French-hearted person will ever travel, unless dragged by
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg&nbsp;140]</a></span>force. The villagers preferred their lake trout to Miss
+Lois's salt codfish, their tartines to her corn-meal puddings,
+and their <i>eau-de-vie</i> to her green tea; they loved
+their disorder and their comfort; her bar soap and scrubbing-brush
+were a horror to their eyes. They washed the
+household clothes two or three times a year. Was not that
+enough? Of what use the endless labor of this sharp-nosed
+woman, with glasses over her eyes, at the church-house?
+Were not, perhaps, the glasses the consequence of such
+toil? And her figure of a long leanness also?</p>
+
+<p>The element of real heroism, however, came into Miss
+Lois's life in her persistent effort to employ Indian servants.
+Through long years had she persisted, through long
+years would she continue to persist. A succession of Chippewa
+squaws broke, stole, and skirmished their way through
+her kitchen, with various degrees of success, generally in
+the end departing suddenly at night with whatever booty
+they could lay their hands on. It is but justice to add,
+however, that this was not much, a rigid system of keys
+and excellent locks prevailing in the well-watched household.
+Miss Lois's conscience would not allow her to employ
+half-breeds, who were sometimes endurable servants;
+duty required, she said, that she should have full-blooded
+natives. And she had them. She always began to teach
+them the alphabet within three days after their arrival, and
+the spectacle of a tearful, freshly-caught Indian girl, very
+wretched in her calico dress and white apron, worn out
+with the ways of the kettles and the brasses, dejected over
+the fish-balls, and appalled by the pudding, standing confronted
+by a large alphabet on the well-scoured table, and
+Miss Lois by her side with a pointer, was frequent and even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg&nbsp;141]</a></span>
+regular in its occurrence, the only change being in the personality
+of the learners. No one of them had ever gone
+through the letters, but Miss Lois was not discouraged.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_CIRCUS_AT_DENBY" id="THE_CIRCUS_AT_DENBY"></a>THE CIRCUS AT DENBY.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot truthfully say that it was a good show; it was
+somewhat dreary, now that I think of it quietly and without
+excitement. The creatures looked tired, and as if they
+had been on the road for a great many years. The animals
+were all old, and there was a shabby great elephant whose
+look of general discouragement went to my heart, for it
+seemed as if he were miserably conscious of a misspent life.
+He stood dejected and motionless at one side of the tent,
+and it was hard to believe that there was a spark of vitality
+left in him. A great number of the people had never seen
+an elephant before, and we heard a thin, little old man,
+who stood near us, say delightedly: "There's the old
+creatur', and no mistake, Ann 'Liza. I wanted to see him
+most of anything. My sakes alive, ain't he big!"</p>
+
+<p>And Ann 'Liza, who was stout and sleepy-looking,
+droned out: "Ye-es, there's consider'ble of him; but he
+looks as if he ain't got no animation."</p>
+
+<p>Kate and I turned away and laughed, while Mrs. Kew
+said, confidentially, as the couple moved away: "<i>She</i>
+needn't be a reflectin' on the poor beast. That's Mis' Seth
+Tanner, and there isn't a woman in Deep Haven nor East
+Parish to be named the same day with her for laziness.
+I'm glad she didn't catch sight of me; she'd have talked
+about nothing for a fortnight." There was a picture of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg&nbsp;142]</a></span>
+huge snake in Deep Haven, and I was just wondering
+where he could be, or if there ever had been one, when we
+heard a boy ask the same question of the man whose thankless
+task it was to stir up the lions with a stick to make
+them roar. "The snake's dead," he answered, good-naturedly.
+"Didn't you have to dig an awful long grave
+for him?" asked the boy; but the man said he reckoned
+they curled him up some, and smiled as he turned to his
+lions, that looked as if they needed a tonic. Everybody
+lingered longest before the monkeys, that seemed to be the
+only lively creatures in the whole collection....</p>
+
+<p>Coming out of the great tent was disagreeable enough,
+and we seemed to have chosen the worst time, for the
+crowd pushed fiercely, though I suppose nobody was in the
+least hurry, and we were all severely jammed, while from
+somewhere underneath came the wails of a deserted dog.
+We had not meant to see the side shows; but when we
+came in sight of the picture of the Kentucky giantess, we
+noticed that Mrs. Kew looked at it wistfully, and we immediately
+asked if she cared anything about going to see the
+wonder, whereupon she confessed that she never heard of
+such a thing as a woman's weighing six hundred and fifty
+pounds; so we all three went in. There were only two or
+three persons inside the tent, beside a little boy who played
+the hand-organ.</p>
+
+<p>The Kentucky giantess sat in two chairs on a platform,
+and there was a large cage of monkeys just beyond, toward
+which Kate and I went at once. "Why, she isn't more
+than two thirds as big as the picture," said Mrs. Kew, in a
+regretful whisper; "but I guess she's big enough; doesn't
+she look discouraged, poor creatur'?" Kate and I felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg&nbsp;143]</a></span>
+ashamed of ourselves for being there. No matter if she
+had consented to be carried round for a show, it must have
+been horrible to be stared at and joked about day after day;
+and we gravely looked at the monkeys, and in a few minutes
+turned to see if Mrs. Kew were not ready to come
+away, when, to our surprise, we saw that she was talking to
+the giantess with great interest, and we went nearer.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought your face looked natural the minute I set
+foot inside the door," said Mrs. Kew; "but you've altered
+some since I saw you, and I couldn't place you till I heard
+you speak. Why, you used to be spare. I am amazed,
+Marilly! Where are your folks?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't wonder you are surprised," said the giantess.
+"I was a good ways from this when you knew me, wasn't
+I? But father, he ran through with every cent he had before
+he died, and 'he' took to drink, and it killed him after
+a while; and then I begun to grow worse and worse, till I
+couldn't do nothing to earn a dollar, and everybody was
+a-coming to see me, till at last I used to ask 'em ten cents
+apiece, and I scratched along somehow till this man came
+round and heard of me; and he offered me my keep and
+good pay to go along with him. He had another giantess
+before me, but she had begun to fall away considerable, so
+he paid her off and let her go. This other giantess was an
+awful expense to him, she was such an eater; now, I don't
+have no great of an appetite"&mdash;this was said plaintively&mdash;"and
+he's raised my pay since I've been with him because
+we did so well." ...</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been living in Kentucky long?" asked Mrs.
+Kew. "I saw it on the picture outside."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the giantess; "that was a picture the man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg&nbsp;144]</a></span>
+bought cheap from another show that broke up last year.
+It says six hundred and fifty pounds, but I don't weigh
+more than four hundred. I haven't been weighed for
+some time past. Between you and me, I don't weigh as
+much as that, but you mustn't mention it, for it would
+spoil my reputation and might hinder my getting another
+engagement."</p>
+
+<p>Then they shook hands in a way that meant a great deal,
+and when Kate and I said good-afternoon, the giantess
+looked at us gratefully, and said: "I'm very much obliged
+to you for coming in, young ladies."</p>
+
+<p>"Walk in! Walk in!" the man was shouting as we
+came away. "Walk in and see the wonder of the world,
+ladies and gentlemen&mdash;the largest woman ever seen in
+America&mdash;the great Kentucky giantess!"</p>
+
+<h3><a name="NEW_YORK_TO_NEWPORT" id="NEW_YORK_TO_NEWPORT"></a>NEW YORK TO NEWPORT.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Trip of Trials</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center">BY LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.</p>
+
+<p>The Jane Moseley was a disappointment&mdash;most Janes are.
+If they had called her Samuel, no doubt she would have
+behaved better; but they called her Jane, and the natural
+consequences of our mistakes cannot be averted from ourselves
+or others. A band was playing wild strains of welcome
+as we approached. Come and sail with us, it said&mdash;it
+is summer, and the days are long. Care is of the land&mdash;here
+the waves flow, and the winds blow, and captain
+smiles, and stewardess beguiles, and all is music, music,
+music. How the wild, exultant strains rose and fell&mdash;but
+everything rose and fell on that boat, as we found out afterward.
+Just here a spirit of justice falls on me, like the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg&nbsp;145]</a></span>
+gentle dew from heaven, and forces me to admit that it
+rained like a young deluge; that it had been raining for
+two days, and the bosom of the deep was heaving with
+responsive sympathy; as what bosom would not on which
+so many tears had been shed? Perhaps responsive sympathy
+was the secret of the Jane Moseley's behavior; but I
+would her heart had been less tender. Then, too, the passengers
+were few; and of course as we had to divide the
+roll and tumble between us, there was a great deal for each
+one.</p>
+
+<p>There was a Pretty Girl, and she had a sister who was
+not pretty. It seemed to me that even the sad sea waves
+were kinder to the Pretty Girl, such is the influence of
+youth and beauty. There were various men&mdash;heavy swells
+I should call some of them, only that that would be slang;
+but heavy swells were the order of the day. Then there
+was a benevolent old lady who believed in everything&mdash;in
+the music, and the Jane Moseley, and the long days, and
+the summer. There was another old lady of restless mind,
+who evidently believed in nothing, hoped for nothing, expected
+nothing. She tried all the lounges and all the corners,
+and found each one a separate disappointment. There
+was a fat, fair one, of friendly face, and beside her her grim
+guardian, a man so thin that you at once cast him for the
+part of Starveling in this Midsummer Day's Dream of Delusion.</p>
+
+<p>We put out from shore&mdash;quite out of sight of shore, in
+short&mdash;and then the perfidious music ceased. To the people
+on land it had sung, "Come and make merry with us,"
+but from us, trying in vain to make merry, it withheld its
+deceitful inspiration. For the exceeding weight of sorrow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg&nbsp;146]</a></span>
+that presently settled down upon us it had no balm. When
+you are on a pleasure trip it is unpleasant to be miserable;
+so I tried hard to shake off the mild melancholy that began
+to steal over me. I said to myself, I will not affront the
+great deep with my personal woes. I am but a woman, yet
+perhaps on this so great occasion magnanimity of soul will
+be possible even to me. I will consider my neighbors and
+be wise. At one end of the long saloon a banquet-board
+was spread. Its hospitality was, like the other attractions
+of the Jane Moseley, a perfidious pageant. Nobody sought
+its soup or claimed its clams. One or two sad-eyed young
+men made their way in that direction from time to time&mdash;after
+their sea-legs, perhaps. From their gait when they
+came back I inferred they did not find them. The human
+nature in the saloon became a weariness to me. Even the
+gentle gambols of the dog Thaddeus, a sportive and spotted
+pointer in whom I had been interested, failed to soothe my
+perturbed spirits. De Quincey speaks somewhere of "the
+awful solitariness of every human soul." No wonder, then,
+that I should be solitary among the festive few on board the
+Jane Moseley&mdash;no wonder I felt myself darkly, deeply, desperately
+blue. I thought I would go on deck. I clung to
+my companion with an ardor which would have been flattering
+had it been voluntary. My faltering steps were
+guided to a seat just within the guards. I sat there thinking
+that I had never nursed a dear gazelle, so I could not be
+quite sure whether it would have died or not, but I thought
+it would. I mused on the changing fortunes of this unsteady
+world, and the ingratitude of man. I thought it
+would be easier going to the Promised Land if Jordan did
+not roll between. Rolling had long ceased to be a pleasant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg&nbsp;147]</a></span>
+figure of speech with me. How frail are all things here
+below, how false, and yet how fair! My mind is naturally
+picturesque. In the midst of my sadness the force of nature
+compelled me to grope after an illustration. I could
+only think that my own foothold was frail, that the Jane
+Moseley was false, that the Pretty Girl was fair. A dizziness
+of brain resulted from this rhetorical effort. I silently
+confided my sorrows to the sympathizing bosom of the sea.
+I was soothed by the kindred melancholy of the sad sea
+waves. If the size of the waves were remarkable, other
+sighs abounded also, and other things waved&mdash;many of them.</p>
+
+<p>True to my purpose of studying my fellow-beings, and
+learning wisdom by observation, I surveyed the Pretty Girl
+and her sister, who had by that time come on deck. They
+were surrounded by a group of audacious male creatures,
+who surrounded most on the side where the Pretty Girl sat.
+She did not look feeble. She was like the red, red rose.
+It was a conundrum to me why so much greater anxiety
+should be bestowed upon her health than upon her sister's.
+It needed some moral reflection to make it out; but I concluded
+that pretty girls were, by some law of nature, more
+subject to sea-sickness than plain ones; therefore, all these
+careful cares were quite in order. I saw the two old ladies&mdash;the
+benevolent one who had believed so implicitly in all
+things, but over whose benign visage doubt had now begun
+to settle like a cloud; and the other, who had hoped nothing
+from the first, and therefore over whom no disappointment
+could prevail&mdash;and, seeing, I mildly wondered
+whether, indeed, 'twere better to have loved and lost, or
+never to have loved at all.</p>
+
+<p>My thoughts grew solemn. The green shores beyond the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg&nbsp;148]</a></span>
+swelling flood seemed farther off than ever. The Jane
+Moseley had promised to land us at Newport pier at seven
+o'clock. It was already half-past seven; oh, perfidious
+Jane! Darkness had settled upon the face of the deep.
+We went inside. The sad-eyed young men had evidently
+been hunting for their sea-legs again, in the neighborhood
+of the banqueting-table, where nobody banqueted. Failing
+to find the secret of correct locomotion, they had laid themselves
+down to sleep, but in that sleep at sea what dreams
+did come, and how noisy they were! The dog Thaddeus
+walked by dejectedly, sniffing at the ghost of some half-forgotten
+joy. At last there rose a cry&mdash;Newport! The
+sleepers started to their feet. I started to mine, but I discreetly
+and quietly sat down again. Was it Newport, at
+last? Not at all. The harbor lights were gleaming from
+afar; and the cry was of the bandmaster shouting to his
+emissaries, arousing fiddle and flute and bassoon to their
+deceitful duty. They had played us out of port&mdash;they
+would play us in again. They had promised us that all
+should go merry as a marriage-bell, and&mdash;I would not be
+understood to complain, but it had been a sad occasion.
+Now the deceitful strains rose and fell again upon the salt
+sea wind. The many lights glowed and twinkled from the
+near shore. We are all at play, come and play with us,
+screamed the soft waltz music. It is summer, and the days
+are long, and trouble is not, and care is banished. If the
+waves sigh, it is with bliss. Our voyage is ended. It is
+sad that you did not sail with us, but we will invite you
+again to-morrow, and the band shall play, and the crowd be
+gay, and airs beguile, and blue skies smile, and all shall be
+music, music, music. But I have sailed with you, on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg&nbsp;149]</a></span>
+summer day, bland master of a faithless band; and I know
+how soon your pipes are dumb&mdash;I know the tricks and manners
+of the clouds and the wind, and the swelling sea, and
+Jane Moseley, the perfidious.</p>
+
+<p>I must, after all, have strong local attachments, for when
+at last the time came to land I left the ship with lingering
+reluctance. My feet seemed fastened to the deck where I
+had made my brief home on the much rolling deep. I had
+grown used to pain and resigned to fate. I walked the
+plank unsteadily. I stood on shore amid the rain and the
+mist. A hackman preyed upon me. I was put into an
+ancient ark and trundled on through the queer, irresolute,
+contradictory old streets, beside the lovely bay, all aglow
+with the lighted yachts, as a Southern swamp is with fire-flies.
+A torchlight procession met and escorted me. To
+this hour I am at a loss to know whether this attention was
+a delicate tribute on the part of the city of Newport to a
+distinguished guest, or a parting attention from the company
+who sail the Jane Moseley, and advertise in the <i>Tribune</i>&mdash;a
+final subterfuge to persuade a tortured passenger, by
+means of this transitory glory, that the sail upon a summer
+sea had been a pleasure trip.&mdash;<i>Letter to New York Tribune.</i></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg&nbsp;150]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">HUMOROUS POEMS.</p>
+
+<p>I will next group a score of poems and doggerel rhymes
+with their various degrees of humor.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_FIRST_NEEDLE" id="THE_FIRST_NEEDLE"></a>THE FIRST NEEDLE.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY LUCRETIA P. HALE.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Have you heard the new invention, my dears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That a man has invented?" said she.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"It's a stick with an eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Through which you can tie<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A thread so long, it acts like a thong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And the men have such fun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To see the thing run!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A firm, strong thread, through that eye at the head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is pulled over the edges most craftily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And makes a beautiful seam to see!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"What, instead of those wearisome thorns, my dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those wearisome thorns?" cried they.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"The seam we pin<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Driving them in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But where are they by the end of the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With dancing, and jumping, and leaps by the sea?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For wintry weather<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">They won't hold together,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seal-skins and bear-skins all dropping round<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Off from our shoulders down to the ground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The thorns, the tiresome thorns, will prick,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But none of them ever consented to stick!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, won't the men let us this new thing use?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If we mend their clothes they can't refuse.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg&nbsp;151]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah, to sew up a seam for them to see&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What a treat, a delightful treat, 'twill be!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Yes, a nice thing, too, for the babies, my dears&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But, alas, there is but one!" cried she.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"I saw them passing it round, and then<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They said it was fit for only men!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What woman would know<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How to make the thing go?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There was not a man so foolish to dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That any woman could sew up a seam!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, then there was babbling and scrabbling, my dears!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"At least they might let us do that!" cried they.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"Let them shout and fight<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And kill bears all night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We'll leave them their spears and hatchets of stone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If they'll give us this thing for our very own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It will be like a joy above all we could scheme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sit up all night and sew such a seam."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Beware! take care!" cried an aged old crone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Take care what you promise," said she.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"At first 'twill be fun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But, in the long run,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You'll wish you had let the thing be.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Through this stick with an eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I look and espy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That for ages and ages you'll sit and you'll sew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And longer and longer the seams will grow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And you'll wish you never had asked to sew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But naught that I say<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Can keep back the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the men will return to their hunting and rowing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And leave to the women forever the sewing."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Ah, what are the words of an aged crone?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For all have left her muttering alone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the needle and thread that they got with such pains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They forever must keep as dagger and chains.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg&nbsp;152]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_FUNNY_STORY" id="THE_FUNNY_STORY"></a>THE FUNNY STORY.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">It was such a funny story! how I wish you could have heard it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For it set us all a-laughing, from the little to the big;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'd really like to tell it, but I don't know how to word it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though it travels to the music of a very lively jig.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">If Sally just began it, then Amelia Jane would giggle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Mehetable and Susan try their very broadest grin;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the infant Zachariah on his mother's lap would wriggle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And add a lusty chorus to the very merry din.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">It was such a funny story, with its cheery snap and crackle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Sally always told it with so much dramatic art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That the chickens in the door-yard would begin to "cackle-cackle,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As if in such a frolic they were anxious to take part.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">It was all about a&mdash;ha! ha!&mdash;and a&mdash;ho! ho! ho!&mdash;well really,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It is&mdash;he! he! he!&mdash;I never could begin to tell you half<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the nonsense there was in it, for I just remember clearly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It began with&mdash;ha! ha! ha! ha! and it ended with a laugh.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But Sally&mdash;she could tell it, looking at us so demurely,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a woe-begone expression that no actress would despise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And if you'd never heard it, why you would imagine surely<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That you'd need your pocket-handkerchief to wipe your weeping eyes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">When age my hair has silvered, and my step has grown unsteady,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the nearest to my vision are the scenes of long ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I shall see the pretty picture, and the tears may come as ready<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As the laugh did, when I used to&mdash;ha! ha! ha! and&mdash;ho! ho! ho!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="A_SONNET" id="A_SONNET"></a>A SONNET.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Once a poet wrote a sonnet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All about a pretty bonnet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a critic sat upon it<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">(On the sonnet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Not the bonnet),<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Nothing loath.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg&nbsp;153]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And as if it were high treason,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He said: "Neither rhyme nor reason<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Has it; and it's out of season,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which? the sonnet<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or the bonnet?<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Maybe both.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"'Tis a feeble imitation<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of a worthier creation;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An &aelig;sthetic innovation!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of a sonnet<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or a bonnet?<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">This was hard.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Both were put together neatly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Harmonizing very sweetly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But the critic crushed completely<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Not the bonnet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or the sonnet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">But the bard.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="WANTED_A_MINISTER" id="WANTED_A_MINISTER"></a>WANTED, A MINISTER.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY MRS. M.E.W. SKEELS.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">We've a church, tho' the belfry is leaning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They are talking I think of repair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the <i>bell</i>, oh, pray but excuse us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Twas <i>talked of</i>, but never's been there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now, "Wanted, a <i>real live minister</i>,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And to settle the same for <i>life</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We've an organ and some one to play it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So we don't care a fig for his wife.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">We once had a pastor (don't tell it),<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But we chanced on a time to discover<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That his sermons were writ long ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And he had preached them twice over.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg&nbsp;154]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">How sad this mistake, tho' unmeaning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Oh, it made such a desperate muss!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Both deacon and laymen were vexed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And decided, "He's no man for us."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And then the "old nick" was to pay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Truth indeed is stranger than fiction,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His <i>prayers</i> were so tedious and long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">People slept, till the benediction.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And then came another, on trial,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who <i>actually preached in his gloves</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His manner so <i>awkward</i> and <i>queer</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That we <i>settled him off</i> and he moved.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And then came another so meek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That his name really ought to 've been <i>Moses</i>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We almost considered him <i>settled</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When lo! the secret discloses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He'd attacks of nervous disease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That unfit him for every-day duty;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His sermons, oh, never can please,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They lack both in force and beauty.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Now, "wanted, a minister," really,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That won't preach his <i>old sermons over</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That will make <i>short prayers</i> while in church,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With no fault that the ear can discover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That is very forbearing, yes very,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That blesses wherever he moves&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not too zealous, nor lacking for zeal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That <i>preaches without any gloves!</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Now, "wanted, a minister," really,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"That was born ere nerves came in fashion,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That never complains of the "headache,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That never is roused to a passion.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He must add to the wisdom of Solomon<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The unwearied patience of Job,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Must be <i>mute in political matters</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or doff his clerical robe.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg&nbsp;155]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">If he pray for the present Congress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He must speak in an undertone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If he pray for President Johnson,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>He</i> <span class="smcap">needs</span> <i>'em</i>, why let him go on.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He must touch upon doctrines so lightly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That no one can take an offence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mustn't meddle with <i>predestination</i>&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In short, must preach "common sense."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Now really wanted a minister,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With religion enough to sustain him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the <i>salary's exceedingly</i> small,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And <i>faith alone</i> must <i>maintain him</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He must visit the sick and afflicted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Must mourn with those that mourn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Must preach the "funeral sermons"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a very <i>peculiar</i> turn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">He must preach at the north-west school-house<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On every Thursday eve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And things too numerous to mention<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He must do, and must believe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He must be of careful demeanor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Both graceful and eloquent too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Must adjust his cravat "a la mode,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wear his beaver, decidedly, so.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Now if <i>some one</i> will deign to be shepherd<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To this "our <i>peculiar people</i>,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Will be first to subscribe for a bell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And help us to right up the steeple,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If <i>correct</i> in doctrinal points<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(We've <i>a committee of investigation</i>),<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If possessed of these requisite graces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We'll accept him perhaps on probation.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then if two-thirds of the church can agree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We'll settle him here for life;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now, we advertise, "<i>Wanted, a Minister</i>,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And not a minister's wife.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg&nbsp;156]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_MIDDY_OF_1881" id="THE_MIDDY_OF_1881"></a>THE MIDDY OF 1881.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY MAY CROLY ROPER.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">I'm the dearest, I'm the sweetest little mid<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To be found in journeying from here to Hades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I am also, nat-u-rally, <i>a prodid-</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gious favorite with all the pretty ladies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I <i>know</i> nothing, but say a mighty deal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My elevated nose, likewise, comes handy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I stalk around, my great importance feel&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In short, I'm a brainless little dandy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">My hair is light, and waves above my brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My mustache can just be seen through opera-glasses;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I originate but flee from every row,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And no one knows as well as I what "sass" is!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The officers look down on me with scorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sailors jeer at me&mdash;behind my jacket,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But still my heart is not "with anguish torn,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And life with me is one continued racket.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Whene'er the captain sends me with a boat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The seamen know an idiot has got 'em;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They make their wills and are prepared to die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Quite certain they are going to the bottom.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But what care I! For when I go ashore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In uniform with buttons bright and shining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The girls all cluster 'round me to adore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And lots of 'em for love of me are pining.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">I strut and dance, and fool my life away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I'm nautical in past and future tenses!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Long as I know an ocean from a bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I'll shy the rest, and take the consequences.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'm the dearest, I'm the sweetest little mid<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That ever graced the tail-end of his classes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And through a four years' course of study slid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">First am I in the list of Nature's&mdash;donkeys!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16">&mdash;<i>Scribner's Magazine Bric-&agrave;-Brac, 1881.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg&nbsp;157]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="INDIGNANT_POLLY_WOG" id="INDIGNANT_POLLY_WOG"></a>INDIGNANT POLLY WOG.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY MARGARET EYTINGE.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">A tree-toad dressed in apple-green<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sat on a mossy log<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beside a pond, and shrilly sang,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Come forth, my Polly Wog&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My Pol, my Ly,&mdash;my Wog,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My pretty Polly Wog,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I've something very sweet to say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My slender Polly Wog!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The air is moist, the moon is hid<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Behind a heavy fog;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No stars are out to wink and blink<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At you, my Polly Wog&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My Pol, my Ly&mdash;my Wog,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My graceful Polly Wog;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, tarry not, beloved one!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My precious Polly Wog!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Just then away went clouds, and there<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A sitting on the log&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The other end I mean&mdash;the moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Showed angry Polly Wog.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Her small eyes flashed, she swelled until<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She looked almost a frog;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"How <i>dare</i> you, sir, call <i>me</i>," she asked,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Your <i>precious</i> Polly Wog?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Why, one would think you'd spent your life<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In some low, muddy bog.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'd have you know&mdash;to <i>strange</i> young men<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My name's Miss Mary Wog."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">One wild, wild laugh that tree-toad gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And tumbled off the log,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on the ground he kicked and screamed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Oh, Mary, Mary Wog.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg&nbsp;158]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Oh, May! oh, Ry&mdash;oh, Wog!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Oh, proud Miss Mary Wog!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, goodness gracious! what a joke!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hurrah for Mary Wog!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="KISS_PRETTY_POLL" id="KISS_PRETTY_POLL"></a>"KISS PRETTY POLL!"</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY MARY D. BRINE.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Kiss Pretty Poll!" the parrot screamed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And "Pretty Poll," repeated I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The while I stole a merry glance<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Across the room all on the sly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where some one plied her needle fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Demurely by the window sitting;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I beheld upon her cheek<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A multitude of blushes flitting.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Kiss Pretty Poll," the parrot coaxed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"I would, but dare not try," I said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And stole another glance to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">How some one drooped her golden head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sought for something on the floor<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(The loss was only feigned, I knew)&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And still, "Kiss Poll," the parrot screamed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The very thing I longed to do.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But some one turned to me at last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Please, won't you keep that parrot still?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Why, yes," said I, "at least&mdash;you see<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If you will let me, dear, I will."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And so&mdash;well, never mind the rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But some one said it was a shame<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To take advantage just because<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A foolish parrot bore her name.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16">&mdash;<i>Harper's Weekly.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg&nbsp;159]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="THANKSGIVING-DAY_THEN_AND_NOW" id="THANKSGIVING-DAY_THEN_AND_NOW"></a>THANKSGIVING-DAY (THEN AND NOW).</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY MARY D. BRINE.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Thanksgiving-day, a year ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A bachelor was I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Free as the winds that whirl and blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or clouds that sail on high:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I smoked my meerschaum blissfully,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And tilted back my chair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on the mantel placed my feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For who would heed or care?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The fellows gathered in my room<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For many an hour of fun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or I would meet them at the club<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For cards, till night was done.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I came or went as pleased me best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Myself the first and last.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One year ago! Ah, can it be<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That freedom's age is past?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Now, here's a note just come from Fred:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Old fellow, will you dine<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With me to-day? and meet the boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A jolly number&mdash;nine?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah, Fred is quite as free to-day<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As just a year ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ignorant, happily, I may say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of things <i>I've</i> learned to know.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">I'd like, yes, if the truth were known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I'd like to join the boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But then a Benedick must learn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To cleave to other joys.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So, here's my answer: "Fred, old chum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I much regret&mdash;oh, pshaw!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To tell the truth, I've got to dine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With&mdash;<i>my dear mother-in-law!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16">&mdash;<i>Harper's Weekly.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg&nbsp;160]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="CONCERNING_MOSQUITOES" id="CONCERNING_MOSQUITOES"></a>CONCERNING MOSQUITOES.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Feelingly Dedicated to their Discounted Bills.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">BY MISS ANNA A. GORDON.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Skeeters have the reputation<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of continuous application<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To their poisonous profession;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never missing nightly session,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wearing out your life's existence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By their practical persistence.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Would I had the power to veto<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bills of every mosquito;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then I'd pass a peaceful summer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With no small nocturnal hummer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Feasting on my circulation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For his regular potation.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, that rascally mosquito!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He's a fellow you must see to;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which you can't do if you're napping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But must evermore be slapping<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quite promiscuous on your features;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For you'll seldom hit the creatures.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But the thing most aggravating<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is the cool and calculating<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Way in which he tunes his harpstring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the melody of sharp sting;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then proceeds to serenade you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And successfully evade you.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When a skeeter gets through stealing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sails upward to the ceiling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where he sits in deep reflection<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How he perched on your complexion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Filled with solid satisfaction<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At results of his extraction.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg&nbsp;161]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Would you know, in this connection,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How you may secure protection<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For yourself and city cousins<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From these bites and from these buzzin's?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Show your sense by quickly getting<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For each window&mdash;skeeter netting.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_STILTS_OF_GOLD" id="THE_STILTS_OF_GOLD"></a>THE STILTS OF GOLD.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY METTA VICTORIA VICTOR.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Mrs. Mackerel sat in her little room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Back of her husband's grocery store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Trying to see through the evening gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To finish the baby's pinafore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She stitched away with a steady hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though her heart was sore, to the very core,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To think of the troublesome little band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">(There were seven, or more),<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the trousers, frocks, and aprons they wore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made and mended by her alone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Slave, slave!" she said, in a mournful tone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"And let us slave, and contrive, and fret,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I don't suppose we shall ever get<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A little home which is all our own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With my own front door<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Apart from the store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the smell of fish and tallow no more."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">These words to herself she sadly spoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Breaking the thread from the last-set stitch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When Mackerel into her presence broke&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Wife, we're&mdash;we're&mdash;we're, wife, we're&mdash;we're <i>rich</i>!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"<i>We</i> rich! ha, ha! I'd like to see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'll pull your hair if you're fooling me."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Oh, don't, love, don't! the letter is here&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You can read the news for yourself, my dear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The one who sent you that white crape shawl&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There'll be no end to our gold&mdash;he's dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg&nbsp;162]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">You know you always would call him stingy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Because he didn't invite us to Injy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I am his only heir, 'tis said.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A million of pounds, at the very least,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And pearls and diamonds, likely, beside!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mrs. Mackerel's spirits rose like yeast&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"How lucky I married you, Mac," she cried.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then the two broke forth into frantic glee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A customer hearing the strange commotion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Peeped into the little back-room, and he<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was seized with the very natural notion<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That the Mackerel family had gone insane;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So he ran away with might and main.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Mac shook his partner by both her hands;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They dance, they giggle, they laugh, they stare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now on his head the grocer stands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dancing a jig with his feet in air&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Remarkable feat for a man of his age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who never had danced upon any stage<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But the High-Bridge stage, when he set on top,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And whose green-room had been a green-grocer's shop.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But that Mrs. Mac should perform so well<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is not very strange, if the tales they tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of her youthful days have any foundation.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But let that pass with her former life&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">An opera-girl may make a good wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If she happens to get such a nice situation.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">A million pounds of solid gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One would have thought would have crushed them dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But dear they bobbed, and courtesied, and rolled<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like a couple of corks to a plummet of lead.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Twas enough the soberest fancy to tickle<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To see the two Mackerels in such a pickle!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It was three o'clock when they got to bed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Even then through Mrs. Mackerel's head<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such gorgeous dreams went whirling away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Like a Catherine-wheel," she declared next day,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg&nbsp;163]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">"That her brain seemed made of sparkles of fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shot off in spokes, with a ruby tire."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Mrs. Mackerel had ever been<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">One of the upward-tending kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Regarded by husband and by kin<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As a female of very ambitious mind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It had fretted her long and fretted her sore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To live in the rear of the grocery-store.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And several times she was heard to say<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She would sell her soul for a year and a day<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To the King of Brimstone, Fire, and Pitch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For the power and pleasure of being rich.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Now her ambition had scope to work&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Riches, they say, are a burden at best;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her onerous burden she did not shirk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But carried it all with commendable zest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Leaving her husband with nothing in life<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But to smoke, eat, drink, and obey his wife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She built a house with a double front-door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A marble house in the modern style,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With silver planks in the entry floor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And carpets of extra-magnificent pile.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And in the hall, in the usual manner,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"A statue," she said, "of the chased Diana;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though who it was chased her, or whether they<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Caught her or not, she could, really, not say."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A carriage with curtains of yellow satin&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A coat-of-arms with these rare devices:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"A mackerel sky and the starry Pisces&mdash;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And underneath, in the purest fish-latin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>If fishibus flyabus</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>They may reach the skyabus!</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Yet it was not in common affairs like these<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She showed her original powers of mind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her soul was fired, her ardor inspired,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To stand apart from the rest of mankind;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg&nbsp;164]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"To be A No. one," her husband said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At which she turned very angrily red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For she couldn't endure the remotest hint<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the grocery-store, and the mackerels in't.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Weeks and months she plotted and planned<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To raise herself from the common level;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Apart from even the few to stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who'd hundreds of thousands on which to revel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her genius, at last, spread forth its wings&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stilts, golden stilts, are the very things&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"I'll walk on stilts," Mrs. Mackerel cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the height of her overtowering pride.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her husband timidly shook his head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But she did not care&mdash;"For why," as she said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Should the owner of more than a million pounds<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Be going the rounds<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On the very same grounds<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As those low people, she couldn't tell who,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They might keep a shop, for all she knew."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">She had a pair of the articles made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of solid gold, gorgeously overlaid<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With every color of precious stone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which ever flashed in the Indian zone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She privately practised many a day<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Before she ventured from home at all;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She had lost her girlish skill, and they say<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That she suffered many a fearful fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But pride is stubborn, and she was bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On her golden stilts to go around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Three feet, at least, from the plebeian ground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Twas an exquisite day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In the month of May,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That the stilts came out for a promenade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Their first <i>entr&eacute;e</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was made on the shilling side of Broadway;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The carmen whistled, the boys went mad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The omnibus-drivers their horses stopped.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The chestnut-roaster his chestnuts dropped,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg&nbsp;165]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">The popper of corn no longer popped;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The daintiest dandies deigned to stare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And even the heads of women fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were turned by the vision meeting them there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The stilts they sparkled and flashed and shone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like the tremulous lights of the frigid zone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Crimson and yellow and sapphire and green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bright as the rainbows in summer seen;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While the lady she strode along between<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a majesty too supremely serene<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For anything <i>but</i> an American queen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A lady with jewels superb as those,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wearing such very expensive clothes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Might certainly do whatever she chose!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And thus, in despite of the jeering noise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the frantic delight of the little boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The stilts were a very decided success.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The <i>cr&ecirc;me de la cr&ecirc;me</i> paid profoundest attention,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The merchants' clerks bowed in such wild excess,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When she entered their shops, that they strained their spines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And afterward went into rapid declines.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The papers, next day, gave her flattering mention;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"The wife of our highly-esteemed fellow-citizen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A Mackerel, of Codfish Square, in this city,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Scorning French fashions, herself has hit on one<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So very piquant and stylish and pretty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We trust our fair friends will consider it treason<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>Not</i> to walk upon stilts, by the close of the season."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Mrs. Mackerel, now, was never seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Out of her chamber, day or night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Unless her stilts were along&mdash;her mien<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was very imposing from such a height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It imposed upon many a dazzled wight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who snuffed the perfume floating down<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the rustling folds of her gorgeous gown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But never could smell through these bouquets<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The fishy odor of former days.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg&nbsp;166]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">She went on her golden stilts to pray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which never became her better than then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When her murmuring lips were heard to say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Thank God, I am not as my fellow-men!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her pastor loved as a pastor might&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His house that was built on a golden rock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He pointed it out as a shining light<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the lesser lambs of his fleecy flock.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The stilts were a help to the church, no doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They kindled its self-expiring embers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So that before the season was out<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It gained a dozen excellent members.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Mrs. Mackerel gave a superb soir&eacute;e,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Standing on stilts to receive her guests;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The gas-lights mimicked the glowing day<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So well, that the birds, in their flowery nests,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Almost burst their beautiful breasts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Trilling away their musical stories<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Mrs. Mackerel's conservatories.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She received on stilts; a distant bow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was all the loftiest could attain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though some of her friends she did allow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To kiss the hem of her jewelled train.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One gentleman screamed himself quite hoarse<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Requesting her to dance; which, of course,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Couldn't be done on stilts, as she<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Halloed down to him rather scornfully.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The fact is, when Mackerel kept a shop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His wife was very fond of a hop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now, as the music swelled and rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She felt a tingling in her toes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A restless, tickling, funny sensation<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which didn't agree with her exaltation.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">When the maddened music was at its height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the waltz was wildest&mdash;behold, a sight!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The stilts began to hop and twirl<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like the saucy feet of a ballet-girl.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg&nbsp;167]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">And their haughty owner, through the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was spin, spin, spinning everywhere.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Everybody got out of the way<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To give the dangerous stilts fair play.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In every corner, at every door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With faces looking like unfilled blanks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They watched the stilts at their airy pranks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Giving them, unrequested, the floor.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They never had glittered so bright before;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The light it flew in flashing splinters<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Away from those burning, revolving centres;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While the gems on the lady's flying skirts<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gave out their light in jets and spirts.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Poor Mackerel gazed in mute dismay<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At this unprecedented display.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Oh, stop, love, stop!" he cried at last;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But she only flew more wild and fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While the flutes and fiddles, bugle and drum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Followed as if their time had come.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">She went at such a bewildering pace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nobody saw the lady's face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But only a ring of emerald light<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the crown she wore on that fatal night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whether the stilts were propelling her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or she the stilts, none could aver.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Around and around the magnificent hall<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mrs. Mackerel danced at her own grand ball.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"As the twig is bent the tree's inclined;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This must have been a case in kind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"What's in the blood will sometimes show&mdash;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Round and around the wild stilts go.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">It had been whispered many a time<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That when poor Mack was in his prime<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Keeping that little retail store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He had fallen in love with a ballet-girl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who gave up fame's entrancing whirl<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To be his own, and the world's no more.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg&nbsp;168]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">She made him a faithful, prudent wife&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ambitious, however, all her life.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Could it be that the soft, alluring waltz<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had carried her back to a former age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Making her memory play her false,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till she dreamed herself on the gaudy stage?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her crown a tinsel crown&mdash;her guests<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pit that gazes with praise and jests?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Pride," they say, "must have a fall&mdash;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mrs. Mackerel was very proud&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now she danced at her own grand ball,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While the music swelled more fast and loud.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The gazers shuddered with mute affright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the stilts burned now with a bluish light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While a glimmering, phosphorescent glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Did out of the lady's garments flow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And what was that very peculiar smell?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fish, or brimstone? no one could tell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stronger and stronger the odor grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the stilts and the lady burned more blue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Round and around the long saloon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While Mackerel gazed in a partial swoon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She approached the throng, or circled from it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a flaming train like the last great comet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Till at length the crowd<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All groaned aloud.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For her exit she made from her own grand ball<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out of the window, stilts and all.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">None of the guests can really say<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How she looked when she vanished away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some declare that she carried sail<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On a flying fish with a lambent tail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And some are sure she went out of the room<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Riding her stilts like a witch a broom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While a phosphorent odor followed her track:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Be this as it may, she never came back.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg&nbsp;169]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">Since then, her friends of the gold-fish fry<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are in a state of unpleasant suspense,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Afraid, that unless they unselfishly try<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To make better use of their dollars and sense<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To chasten their pride, and their manners mend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They may meet a similar shocking end.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i14">&mdash;<i>Cosmopolitan Art Journal.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="JUST_SO" id="JUST_SO"></a>JUST SO.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY METTA VICTORIA VICTOR.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">A youth and maid, one winter night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Were sitting in the corner;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His name, we're told, was Joshua White,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And hers was Patience Warner.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Not much the pretty maiden said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beside the young man sitting;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her cheeks were flushed a rosy red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her eyes bent on her knitting.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Nor could he guess what thoughts of him<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Were to her bosom flocking,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As her fair fingers, swift and slim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flew round and round the stocking.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">While, as for Joshua, bashful youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His words grew few and fewer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though all the time, to tell the truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His chair edged nearer to her.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Meantime her ball of yarn gave out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She knit so fast and steady;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he must give his aid, no doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To get another ready.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">He held the skein; of course the thread<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Got tangled, snarled and twisted;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Have Patience!" cried the artless maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To him who her assisted.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg&nbsp;170]</a></span></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Good chance was this for tongue-tied churl<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To shorten all palaver;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Have Patience!" cried he, "dearest girl!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And may I really have her?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The deed was done; no more, that night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Clicked needles in the corner:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And she is Mrs. Joshua White<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That once was Patience Warner.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_INVENTORS_WIFE" id="THE_INVENTORS_WIFE"></a>THE INVENTOR'S WIFE.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY E.T. CORBETT.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It's easy to talk of the patience of Job. Humph! Job had nothin' to try him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ef he'd been married to 'Bijah Brown, folks wouldn't have dared come nigh him.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trials, indeed! Now I'll tell you what&mdash;ef you want to be sick of your life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jest come and change places with me a spell, for I'm an inventor's wife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sech inventions! I'm never sure when I take up my coffee-pot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That 'Bijah hain't been "improvin'" it, and it mayn't go off like a shot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why, didn't he make me a cradle once that would keep itself a-rockin',<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And didn't it pitch the baby out, and wasn't his head bruised shockin'?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there was his "patent peeler," too, a wonderful thing I'll say;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But it hed one fault&mdash;it never stopped till the apple was peeled away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As for locks and clocks, and mowin' machines, and reapers, and all such trash,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why, 'Bijah's invented heaps of them, but they don't bring in no cash!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Law! that don't worry him&mdash;not at all; he's the aggravatinest man&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He'll set in his little workshop there, and whistle and think and plan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inventin' a Jews harp to go by steam, or a new-fangled powder-horn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the children's goin' barefoot to school, and the weeds is chokin' our corn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When 'Bijah and me kep' company, he wasn't like this, you know;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our folks all thought he was dreadful smart&mdash;but that was years ago.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was handsome as any pictur' then, and he had such a glib, bright way&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never thought that a time would come when I'd rue my weddin'-day;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg&nbsp;171]</a></span><span class="i0">But when I've been forced to chop the wood, and tend to the farm beside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And look at 'Bijah a-settin' there, I've jest dropped down and cried.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We lost the hull of our turnip crop while he was inventin' a gun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I counted it one of my marcies when it bust before 'twas done.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So he turned it into a "burglar alarm." It ought to give thieves a fright&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twould scare an honest man out of his wits, ef he sot it off at night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sometimes I wonder ef 'Bijah's crazy, he does such curious things.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have I told you about his bedstead yit? 'Twas full of wheels and springs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It hed a key to wind it up, and a clock-face at the head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All you did was to turn them hands, and at any hour you said<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That bed got up and shook itself, and bounced you on the floor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then shet up, jest like a box, so you couldn't sleep any more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wa'al, 'Bijah he fixed it all complete, and he sot it at half-past five,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he hadn't more 'n got into it, when&mdash;dear me! sakes alive!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them wheels began to whizz and whirr! I heard a fearful snap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there was that bedstead with 'Bijah inside shet up jest like a trap!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I screamed, of course, but 'twant no use. Then I worked that hull long night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A-tryin' to open the pesky thing. At last I got in a fright:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I couldn't hear his voice inside, and I thought he might be dyin',<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So I took a crowbar and smashed it in. There was 'Bijah peacefully lyin',<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inventin' a way to git out agin. That was all very well to say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I don't believe he'd have found it out if I'd left him in all day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, since I've told you my story, do you wonder I'm tired of life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or think it strange I often wish I warn't an inventor's wife?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="AN_UNRUFFLED_BOSOM" id="AN_UNRUFFLED_BOSOM"></a>AN UNRUFFLED BOSOM.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>Story of an old Woman who knew Washington.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="center">BY LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">An aged negress at her door<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is sitting in the sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her day of work is almost o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her day of rest begun.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg&nbsp;172]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">Her face is black as darkest night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her form is bent and thin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And o'er her bony visage tight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is stretched her wrinkled skin.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her dress is scant and mean; yet still<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">About her ebon face<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There flows a soft and creamy frill<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of costly Mechlin lace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What means the contrast strange and wide?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its like is seldom seen&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A pauper's aged face beside<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The laces of a queen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her mien is stately, proud, and high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And yet her look is kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the calm light within her eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Speaks an unruffled mind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Dar comes anodder ob dem tramps,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She mumbles low in wrath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I know dose sleek Centennial chaps<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Quick as dey mounts de path."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A-axing ob a lady's age<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I tink is impolite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And when dey gins to interview<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I disremembers quite.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dar was dat spruce photometer<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dat tried to take my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Mr. Squibbs, de porterer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wrote down each word I said.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Six hundred years I t'ought it was,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or else it was sixteen&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yes; I'd shook hands wid Washington<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And likewise General Greene.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I tole him all de generals' names<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dar ebber was, I guess,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From General Lee and La Fayette<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To General Distress.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Den dar's dem high-flown ladies<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My <i>old</i> tings came to see;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg&nbsp;173]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">Wanted to buy dem some heirlooms<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of real Aunt Tiquity.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Says I, "Dat isn't dis chile's name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dey calls me Auntie Scraggs,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And den I axed dem, by de pound<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">How much dey gabe for rags?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">De missionary had de mose<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Insurance of dem all;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He tole me I was ole, and said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Leabes had dar time to fall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He simply wished to ax, he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As pastor and as friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If wid unruffled bosom I<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Approached my latter end.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now how he knew dat story I<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should mightily like to know.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">I 'clar to goodness, Massa Guy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If dat ain't really you!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You say dat in your wash I sent<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">You only one white vest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And as you'se passin' by you t'ought<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">You'd call and get de rest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now, Massa Guy, about your shirts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At least, it seems to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dat you is more particular<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dan what you used to be.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Your family pride is stiff as starch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Your blood is mighty blue&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I nebber spares de indigo<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To make your shirts so, too.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I uses candle ends, and wax,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And satin-gloss and paints,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Until your wristbands shine like to<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">De pathway ob de saints.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But when a gemman sends to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Eight white vests eberry week,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A stain ob har-oil on each one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I tinks it's time to speak.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg&nbsp;174]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">When snarled around a button dar's<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A golden har or so,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dat young man's going to be wed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or someting's wrong, I know.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You needn't laugh, and turn it off<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By axing 'bout my cap;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You didn't use to know nice lace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And never cared a snap<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What 'twas a lady wore. But folks<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wid teaching learn a lot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And dey do say Miss Bella buys<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">De best dat's to be got.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But if you really want to know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I don't mind telling you<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Jus' how I come by dis yere lace&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It's cur'us, but it's true.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My mother washed for Washington<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When I warn't more'n dat tall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I cut one of his shirt-frills off<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To dress my corn-cob doll;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And when de General saw de shirt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He jus' was mad enough<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To tink he got to hold review<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Widout his best Dutch ruff.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ma'am said she 'lowed it was de calf<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dat had done chawed it off;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But when de General heard dat ar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He answered with a scoff;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He said de marks warn't don' of teef,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But plainly dose ob shears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An' den he showed her to de do'<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And cuffed me on ye years.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And when my ma'am arribed at home<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She stretched me 'cross her lap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Den took de lace away from me<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">An' sewed it on her cap.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And when I dies I hope dat dey<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wid it my shroud will trim.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg&nbsp;175]</a></span></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Den when we meets on Judgment Day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I'll gib it back to him.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So dat's my story, Massa Guy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Maybe I's little wit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I has larned to, when I'm wrong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Make a clean breast ob it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Den keep a conscience smooth and white<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(You can't if much you flirt),<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And an unruffled bosom, like<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">De General's Sunday shirt.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="HAT_ULSTER_AND_ALL" id="HAT_ULSTER_AND_ALL"></a>HAT, ULSTER AND ALL.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>John Verity's Experience.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">I saw the congregation rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And in it, to my great surprise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A Kossuth-covered head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I looked and looked, and looked again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To make quite sure my sight was plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then to myself I said:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">That fellow surely is a Jew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To whom the Christian faith is new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor is it strange, indeed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If used to wear his hat in church,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His manners leave him in the lurch<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Upon a change of creed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Joining my friend on going out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Conjecture soon was put to rout<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By smothered laugh of his:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ha! ha! too good, too good, no Jew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dear fellow, but Miss Moll Carew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Good Christian that she is!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Bad blunder all I have to say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It is a most unchristian way<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To rig Miss Moll Carew&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg&nbsp;176]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">She has my hat, my cut of hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Just such an ulster as I wear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And heaven knows what else, too.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="AUCTION_EXTRAORDINARY" id="AUCTION_EXTRAORDINARY"></a>AUCTION EXTRAORDINARY.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY LUCRETIA DAVIDSON.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I dreamed a dream in the midst of my slumbers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as fast as I dreamed it, it came into numbers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My thoughts ran along in such beautiful meter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'm sure I ne'er saw any poetry sweeter:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It seemed that a law had been recently made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That a tax on old bachelors' pates should be laid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in order to make them all willing to marry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tax was as large as a man could well carry.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bachelors grumbled and said 'twas no use&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas horrid injustice and horrid abuse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And declared that to save their own hearts' blood from spilling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of such a vile tax they would not pay a shilling.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the rulers determined them still to pursue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So they set all the old bachelors up at vendue:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A crier was sent through the town to and fro,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rattle his bell and a trumpet to blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to call out to all he might meet in his way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ho! forty old bachelors sold here to-day!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And presently all the old maids in the town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each in her very best bonnet and gown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From thirty to sixty, fair, plain, red and pale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of every description, all flocked to the sale.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The auctioneer then in his labor began,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And called out aloud, as he held up a man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"How much for a bachelor? Who wants to buy?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a twink, every maiden responsed, "I&mdash;I!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In short, at a highly extravagant price,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bachelors all were sold off in a trice:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And forty old maidens, some younger, some older,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg&nbsp;177]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="A_APELE_FOR_ARE_TO_THE_SEXTANT" id="A_APELE_FOR_ARE_TO_THE_SEXTANT"></a>
+A APELE FOR ARE TO THE SEXTANT.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY ARABELLA WILSON.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Sextant of the meetinouse which sweeps<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dusts, or is supposed to! and makes fiers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lites the gas, and sumtimes leaves a screw loose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In which case it smells orful&mdash;wus than lampile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wrings the Bel and toles it when men dies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the grief of survivin' pardners, and sweeps paths,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for these servaces gits $100 per annum;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wich them that thinks deer let 'em try it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gittin up before starlite in all wethers, and<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kindlin' fiers when the wether is as cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As zero, and like as not green wood for kindlins<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(I wouldn't be hierd to do it for no sum);<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But o Sextant there are one kermodity<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wuth more than gold which don't cost nuthin;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wuth more than anything except the Sole of man!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I mean pewer Are, Sextant, I mean pewer Are!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O it is plenty out o' dores, so plenty it doant no<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What on airth to do with itself, but flize about<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scatterin leaves and bloin off men's hats;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In short its jest as free as Are out dores;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But O Sextant! in our church its scarce as piety,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce as bankbills when ajunts beg for mishuns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which sum say is purty often, taint nuthin to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What I give aint nuthing to nobody; but O Sextant!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You shet 500 men women and children<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speshily the latter, up in a tite place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sum has bad breths, none of em aint too sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sum is fevery, sum is scroflus, sum has bad teeth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sum haint none, and sum aint over clean;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But evry one of em brethes in and out and in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say 50 times a minnet, or 1 million and a half breths an hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now how long will a church full of are last at that rate?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I ask you; say fifteen minnets, and then what's to be did?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why then they must breth it all over agin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then agin and so on, till each has took it down<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg&nbsp;178]</a></span><span class="i0">At least ten times and let it up agin, and what's more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The same individible doant have the privilege<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of breathin his own are and no one else,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each one must take wotever comes to him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O Sextant! doant you know our lungs is belluses<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To blo the fier of life and keep it from<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Going out: und how can bellusses blo without wind?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And aint wind are? I put it to your konshens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are is the same to us as milk to babies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or water is to fish, or pendlums to clox,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or roots and airbs unto an Injun doctor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or little pills unto an omepath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Boze to girls. Are is for us to brethe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What signifize who preaches ef I cant brethe?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What's Pol? What's Pollus to sinners who are ded?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ded for want of breth! Why Sextant when we dye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its only coz we cant brethe no more&mdash;that's all.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now O Sextant? let me beg of you<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To let a little are into our cherch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Pewer are is sertin proper for the pews);<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dew it week days and on Sundays tew&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It aint much trobble&mdash;only make a hoal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then the are will come in of itself<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(It love to come in where it can git warm).<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And O how it will rouze the people up<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sperrit up the preacher, and stop garps<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yorns and fijits as effectool<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As wind on the dry boans the Profit tels of.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i15">&mdash;<i>Christian Weekly.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg&nbsp;179]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">GOOD-NATURED SATIRE.</p>
+
+<p>Women show their sense of humor in ridiculing the foibles
+of their own sex, as Miss Carlotta Perry seeing the
+danger of "higher education," and Helen Gray Cone
+laughing over the exaggerated ravings and moanings of a
+stage-struck girl, or the very one-sided sermon of a sentimental
+goose.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="A_MODERN_MINERVA" id="A_MODERN_MINERVA"></a>A MODERN MINERVA.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY CARLOTTA PERRY.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">'Twas the height of the gay season, and I cannot tell the reason,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But at a dinner party given by Mrs. Major Thwing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It became my pleasant duty to take out a famous beauty&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The prettiest woman present. I was happy as a king.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Her dress beyond a question was an artist's best creation;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A miracle of loveliness was she from crown to toe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her smile was sweet as could be, her voice just as it should be&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Not high, and sharp, and wiry, but musical and low.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Her hair was soft and flossy, golden, plentiful and glossy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her eyes, so blue and sunny, shone with every inward grace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I could see that every fellow in the room was really yellow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With jealousy, and wished himself that moment in my place.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">As the turtle soup we tasted, like a gallant man I hasted<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To pay some pretty tribute to this muslin, silk, and gauze;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But she turned and softly asked me&mdash;and I own the question tasked me&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What were my fixed opinions on the present Suffrage laws.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg&nbsp;180]</a></span></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">I admired a lovely blossom resting on her gentle bosom;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The remark I thought a safe one&mdash;I could hardly made a worse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a smile like any Venus, she gave me its name and genus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And opened very calmly a botanical discourse.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But I speedily recovered. As her taper fingers hovered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like a tender benediction, in a little bit of fish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Further to impair digestion, she brought up the Eastern Question.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By that time I fully echoed that other fellow's wish.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And, as sure as I'm a sinner, right on through that endless dinner<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Did she talk of moral science, of politics and law,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of natural selection, of Free Trade and Protection,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till I came to look upon her with a sort of solemn awe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Just to hear the lovely woman, looking more divine than human,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Talk with such discrimination of Ingersoll and Cook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With such a childish, sweet smile, quoting Huxley, Mill, and Carlyle&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It was quite a revelation&mdash;it was better than a book.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Chemistry and mathematics, agriculture and chromatics,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Music, painting, sculpture&mdash;she knew all the tricks of speech;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bas-relief and chiaroscuro, and at last the Indian Bureau&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She discussed it quite serenely, as she trifled with a peach.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">I have seen some dreadful creatures, with vinegary features,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With their fearful store of learning set me sadly in eclipse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I'm ready quite to swear if I have ever heard the Tariff<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or the Eastern Question settled by such a pair of lips.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Never saw I a dainty maiden so remarkably o'erladen<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From lip to tip of finger with the love of books and men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Quite in confidence I say it, and I trust you'll not betray it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But I pray to gracious heaven that I never may again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i15">&mdash;<i>Chicago Tribune.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_BALLAD_OF_CASSANDRA_BROWN" id="THE_BALLAD_OF_CASSANDRA_BROWN"></a>
+THE BALLAD OF CASSANDRA BROWN.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY HELEN GRAY CONE.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though I met her in the summer, when one's heart lies 'round at ease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As it were in tennis costume, and a man's not hard to please;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet I think at any season to have met her was to love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While her tones, unspoiled, unstudied, had the softness of the dove.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg&nbsp;181]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At request she read us poems, in a nook among the pines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her artless voice lent music to the least melodious lines;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though she lowered her shadowing lashes, in an earnest reader's wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet we caught blue gracious glimpses of the heavens that were her eyes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As in Paradise I listened. Ah, I did not understand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That a little cloud, no larger than the average human hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might, as stated oft in fiction, spread into a sable pall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When she said that she should study elocution in the fall.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I admit her earliest efforts were not in the Ercles vein:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She began with "Lit-tle Maaybel, with her faayce against the paayne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the beacon-light a-trrremble&mdash;" which, although it made me wince,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is a thing of cheerful nature to the things she's rendered since.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Having learned the Soulful Quiver, she acquired the Melting Mo-o-an,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the way she gave "Young Grayhead" would have liquefied a stone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then the Sanguinary Tragic did her energies employ,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she tore my taste to tatters when she slew "The Polish Boy."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It's not pleasant for a fellow when the jewel of his soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wades through slaughter on the carpet, while her orbs in frenzy roll:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What was I that I should murmur? Yet it gave me grievous pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When she rose in social gatherings and searched among the slain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I was forced to look upon her, in my desperation dumb&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knowing well that when her awful opportunity was come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She would give us battle, murder, sudden death at very least&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As a skeleton of warning, and a blight upon the feast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Once, ah! once I fell a-dreaming; some one played a polonaise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I associated strongly with those happier August days;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I mused, "I'll speak this evening," recent pangs forgotten quite.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sudden shrilled a scream of anguish: "Curfew <span class="smcap">SHALL</span> not ring to-night!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, that sound was as a curfew, quenching rosy warm romance!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were it safe to wed a woman one so oft would wish in France?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, as she "cull-imbed!" that ladder, swift my mounting hope came down.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am still a single cynic; she is still Cassandra Brown!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg&nbsp;182]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_TENDER_HEART" id="THE_TENDER_HEART"></a>THE TENDER HEART.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY HELEN GRAY CONE.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">She gazed upon the burnished brace<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of plump, ruffed grouse he showed with pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Angelic grief was in her face:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"How <i>could</i> you do it, dear?" she sighed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"The poor, pathetic moveless wings!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The songs all hushed&mdash;"Oh, cruel shame!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said he, "The partridge never sings,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Said she, "The sin is quite the same."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"You men are savage, through and through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A boy is always bringing in<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some string of birds' eggs, white and blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or butterfly upon a pin.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The angle-worm in anguish dies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Impaled, the pretty trout to tease&mdash;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"My own, we fish for trout with flies&mdash;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Don't wander from the question, please."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">She quoted Burns's "Wounded Hare,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And certain burning lines of Blake's,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Ruskin on the fowls of air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Coleridge on the water-snakes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At Emerson's "Forbearance" he<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Began to feel his will benumbed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At Browning's "Donald" utterly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His soul surrendered and succumbed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Oh, gentlest of all gentle girls!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He thought, beneath the blessed sun!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He saw her lashes hang with pearls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And swore to give away his gun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She smiled to find her point was gained<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And went, with happy parting words<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(He subsequently ascertained),<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To trim her hat with humming birds.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i15">&mdash;<i>From the Century.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg&nbsp;183]</a></span></p>
+<p>A dozen others equally good must be reserved for that
+encyclop&aelig;dia! This specimen, of <i>vers de soci&eacute;t&eacute;</i> rivals
+Locker or Baker:</p>
+
+<h3><a name="PLIGHTED_AD_1874" id="PLIGHTED_AD_1874"></a>PLIGHTED: A.D. 1874.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY ALICE WILLIAMS.</p>
+
+<div class="poemcent"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Two souls with but a single thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Two hearts that beat as one."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6"><span class="smcap">Nellie</span>, <i>loquitur.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bless my heart! You've come at last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Awful glad to see you, dear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thought you'd died or something, Belle&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Such</i> an age since you've been here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My engagement? Gracious! Yes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Rumor's hit the mark this time.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the victim? Charley Gray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Know him, don't you? Well, he's <i>prime</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such mustachios! splendid style!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then he's not so horrid fast&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Waltzes like a seraph, too;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Has some fortune&mdash;best and last.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Love him? Nonsense. Don't be "soft;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pretty much as love now goes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He's devoted, and in time<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I'll get used to him, I 'spose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">First love? Humbug. Don't talk stuff!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bella Brown, don't be a fool!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Next you'd rave of flames and darts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like a chit at boarding-school;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Don't be "miffed." I talked just so<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Some two years back. Fact, my dear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But two seasons kill romance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Leave one's views of life quite clear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Why, if Will Latrobe had asked<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When he left two years ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg&nbsp;184]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">I'd have thrown up all and gone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Out to Kansas, do you know?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fancy me a settler's wife!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Blest escape, dear, was it not?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yes; it's hardly in my line<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To enact "Love in a Cot."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Well, you see, I'd had my swing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Been engaged to eight or ten,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Got to stop some time, of course,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So it don't much matter when.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Auntie hates old maids, and thinks<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Every girl should marry young&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On that theme my whole life long<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I have heard the changes sung.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So, <i>ma belle</i>, what could I do?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Charley wants a stylish wife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We'll suit well enough, no fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When we settle down for life.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But for love-stuff! See my ring!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lovely, isn't it? Solitaire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nearly made Maud Hinton turn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Green with envy and despair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her's ain't half so nice, you see.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Did</i> I write you, Belle, about<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How she tried for Charley, till<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I sailed in and cut her out?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now, she's taken Jack McBride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I believe it's all from pique&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Threw him over once, you know&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hates me so she'll scarcely speak.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, yes! Grace Church, Brown, and that&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pa won't mind expense at last<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'll be off his hands for good;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cost a fortune two years past.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My trousseau shall outdo Maud's,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I've <i>carte blanche</i> from Pa, you know&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mean to have my dress from Worth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Won't she be just <span class="smcap">raving</span> though!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i9">&mdash;<i>Scribner's Monthly Magazine, 1874.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg&nbsp;185]</a></span></p>
+<p>Women are often extremely humorous in their newspaper
+letters, excelling in that department. As critics they incline
+to satire. No one who read them at the time will
+ever forget Mrs. Runkle's review of "St. Elmo," or Gail
+Hamilton's criticism of "The Story of Avis," while Mrs.
+Rollins, in the <i>Critic</i>, often uses a scimitar instead of a
+quill, though a smile always tempers the severity. She
+thus beheads a poetaster who tells the public that his "solemn
+song" is</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Attempt ambitious, with a ray of hope<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To pierce the dark abysms of thought, to guide<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Its dim ghosts o'er the towering crags of Doubt<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Unto the land where Peace and Love abide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of flowers and streams, and sun and stars."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"His 'solemn song' is certainly very solemn for a song
+with so cheerful a purpose. We have rarely read, indeed,
+a book with so large a proportion of unhappy words in it.
+Frozen shrouds, souls a-chill with agony, things wan and
+gray, icy demons, scourging willow-branches, snow-heaped
+mounds, black and freezing nights, cups of sorrow drained
+to the lees, etc., are presented in such profusion that to
+struggle through the 'dark abyss' in search of the 'ray
+of hope' is much like taking a cup of poison to learn the
+sweetness of its antidote. Mr. &mdash;&mdash; in one of his stanzas
+invites his soul to 'come and walk abroad' with him. If
+he ever found it possible to walk abroad without his soul,
+the fact would have been worth chronicling; but if it is
+true that he only desires to have his soul with him occasionally,
+we should advise him to walk abroad alone, and invite
+his soul to sit beside him in the hours he devotes to composition."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg&nbsp;186]</a></span></p>
+<p>Then humor is displayed in the excellent parodies by
+women&mdash;as Grace Greenwood's imitations of various authors,
+written in her young days, but quite equal to the
+"Echo Club" of Bayard Taylor. How perfect her mimicry
+of Mrs. Sigourney!</p>
+
+<h3><a name="A_FRAGMENT" id="A_FRAGMENT"></a>A FRAGMENT.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY L.H.S.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">How hardly doth the cold and careless world<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Requite the toil divine of genius-souls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their wasting cares and agonizing throes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I had a friend, a sweet and precious friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One passing rich in all the strange and rare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fearful gifts of song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">On one great work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A poem in twelve cantos, she had toiled<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From early girlhood, e'en till she became<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An olden maid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Worn with intensest thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She sunk at last, just at the "finis" sunk!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And closed her eyes forever! The soul-gem<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Had fretted through its casket!<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">As I stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beside her tomb, I made a solemn vow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To take in charge that poor, lone orphan work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And edit it!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">My publisher I sought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A learned man and good. He took the work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Read here and there a line, then laid it down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And said, "It would not pay." I slowly turned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And went my way with troubled brow, "but more<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In sorrow than in anger."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Ph&oelig;be Cary's parody on "Maud Muller" I never fancied;
+it seems almost wicked to burlesque anything so perfect.
+But so many parodies have been made on Kingsley's
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg&nbsp;187]</a></span>"Three Fishers" that now I can enjoy a really good one,
+like this from Miss Lilian Whiting, of the Boston <i>Daily
+Traveller</i>, the well-known correspondent of various Western
+papers:</p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_THREE_POETS" id="THE_THREE_POETS"></a>THE THREE POETS.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>After Kingsley.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">BY LILIAN WHITING.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Three poets went sailing down Boston streets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All into the East as the sun went down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each felt that the editor loved him best<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And would welcome spring poetry in Boston town.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For poets must write tho' the editors frown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their &aelig;sthetic natures will not be put down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">While the harbor bar is moaning!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Three editors climbed to the highest tower<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That they could find in all Boston town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And they planned to conceal themselves, hour after hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till the sun or the poets had both gone down.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Spring poets must write, though the editors rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The artistic spirit must thus be engaged&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Though the editors all were groaning.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Three corpses lay out on the Back Bay sand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Just after the first spring sun went down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the Press sat down to a banquet grand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In honor of poets no more in the town.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For poets will write while editors sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though they've nothing to earn and no one to keep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the harbor bar keeps moaning.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>The humor of women is constantly seen in their poems
+for children, such as "The Dead Doll," by Margaret
+Vandergrift, and the "Motherless Turkeys," by Marian
+Douglas. Here are some less known:</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg&nbsp;188]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="BEDTIME" id="BEDTIME"></a>BEDTIME.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY NELLIE K. KELLOGG.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas sunset-time, when grandma called<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To lively little Fred:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Come, dearie, put your toys away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It's time to go to bed."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But Fred demurred. "He wasn't tired,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He didn't think 'twas right<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he should go so early, when<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Some folks sat up all night."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then grandma said, in pleading tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"The little chickens go<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bed at sunset ev'ry night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All summer long, you know."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Freddie laughed, and turned to her<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His eyes of roguish blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Oh, yes, I know," he said; "but then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Old hen goes with them, too."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16">&mdash;<i>Good Cheer</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_ROBIN_AND_THE_CHICKEN" id="THE_ROBIN_AND_THE_CHICKEN"></a>THE ROBIN AND THE CHICKEN.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY GRACE F. COOLIDGE.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A plump little robin flew down from a tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hunt for a worm, which he happened to see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A frisky young chicken came scampering by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gazed at the robin with wondering eye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Said the chick, "What a queer-looking chicken is that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its wings are so long and its body so fat!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the robin remarked, loud enough to be heard:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Dear me! an exceedingly strange-looking bird!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Can you sing?" robin asked, and the chicken said "No;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But asked in its turn if the robin could crow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So the bird sought a tree and the chicken a wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And each thought the other knew nothing at all.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i15">&mdash;<i>St. Nicholas.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg&nbsp;189]</a></span></p>
+<p>Harriette W. Lothrop, wife of the popular publisher&mdash;better
+known by her pen name of "Margaret Sidney"&mdash;has
+done much in a humorous way to amuse and instruct little
+folks. She has much quiet humor.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="WHY_POLLY_DOESNT_LOVE_CAKE" id="WHY_POLLY_DOESNT_LOVE_CAKE"></a>WHY POLLY DOESN'T LOVE CAKE!</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY MARGARET SIDNEY.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">They all said "No!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As they stood in a row,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The poodle, and the parrot, and the little yellow cat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And they looked very solemn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This straight, indignant column,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rolled their eyes, and shook their heads, a-standing on the mat.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Then I took a goodly stick,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Very short and very thick,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I said, "Dear friends, you really now shall rue it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For one of you did take<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That bit of wedding-cake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so I'm going to whip you all. I honestly will do it."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Then Polly raised her claw!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"I never, never saw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That stuff. <i>I'd</i> rather have a cracker,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And so it would be folly,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Said this naughty, naughty Polly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To punish me; but Pussy, you can whack her."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The cat rolled up her eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In innocent surprise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And waved each trembling whisker end.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"A crumb I have not taken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But Bose ought to be shaken.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then, perhaps, his thieving, awful ways he'll mend."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"I'll begin right here<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With you, Polly, dear,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my stick I raised with righteous good intent.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg&nbsp;190]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">"Oh, dear!" and "Oh, dear!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The groans that filled my ear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As over head and heels the frightened column went!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The cat flew out of window,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The dog flew under bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Polly flapped and beat the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Then settled on my head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When underneath her wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">From feathered corner deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A bit of wedding-cake fell down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">That made poor Polly weep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The cat raced off to cat-land, and was never seen again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the dog sneaked out beneath the bed to scud with might and main;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Polly sits upon her roost, and rolls her eyes in fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when she sees a bit of cake, she always says, "Oh, dear!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><a name="KITTEN_TACTICS" id="KITTEN_TACTICS"></a>KITTEN TACTICS.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY ADELAIDE CILLEY WALDRON.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Four little kittens in a heap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One wide awake and three asleep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Open-eyes crowded, pushed the rest over,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the gray mother-cat went playing rover.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Three little kittens stretched and mewed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cried out, "Open-eyes, you're too rude!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Open-eyes, winking, purred so demurely,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the rest stared at him, thinking "surely<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2"><i>We</i> were the ones that were so rude,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>We</i> were the ones that cried and mewed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us lie here like good little kittens;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We cannot sleep, so we'll wash our mittens."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Four little kittens, very sleek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Purred so demurely, looked so meek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the gray mother came home from roving&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"What good kittens!" said she; "and how loving!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg&nbsp;191]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="BOTH_SIDES" id="BOTH_SIDES"></a>BOTH SIDES.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">BY GAIL HAMILTON.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Kitty, Kitty, you mischievous elf,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What have you, pray, to say for yourself?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">But Kitty was now<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Asleep on the mow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And only drawled dreamily, "Ma-e-ow!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Kitty, Kitty, come here to me,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The naughtiest Kitty I ever did see!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I know very well what you've been about;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Don't try to conceal it, murder will out.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Why do you lie so lazily there?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh, I have had a breakfast rare!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Why don't you go and hunt for a mouse?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Oh, there's nothing fit to eat in the house."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">"Dear me! Miss Kitty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">This is a pity;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I guess the cause of your change of ditty.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What has become of the beautiful thrush<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That built her nest in the heap of brush?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A brace of young robins as good as the best;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A round little, brown little, snug little nest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Four little eggs all green and gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Four little birds all bare and gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Papa Robin went foraging round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Aloft on the trees, and alight on the ground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">North wind or south wind, he cared not a groat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So he popped a fat worm down each wide-open throat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Mamma Robin through sun and storm<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hugged them up close, and kept them all warm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And me, I watched the dear little things<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till the feathers pricked out on their pretty wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And their eyes peeped up o'er the rim of the nest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Kitty, Kitty, you know the rest.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg&nbsp;192]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">The nest is empty, and silent and lone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where are the four little robins gone?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, puss, you have done a cruel deed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Your eyes, do they weep? your heart, does it bleed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Do you not feel your bold cheeks turning pale?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not you! you are chasing your wicked tail.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or you just cuddle down in the hay and purr,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Curl up in a ball, and refuse to stir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But you need not try to look good and wise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I see little robins, old puss, in your eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And this morning, just as the clock struck four,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There was some one opening the kitchen door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And caught you creeping the wood-pile over,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Make a clean breast of it, Kitty Clover!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Then Kitty arose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Rubbed up her nose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And looked very much as if coming to blows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Rounded her back,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Leaped from the stack,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On <i>her</i> feet, at <i>my</i> feet, came down with a whack,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then, fairly awake, she stretched out her paws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Smoothed down her whiskers, and unsheathed her claws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Winked her green eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With an air of surprise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And spoke rather plainly for one of her size.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Killed a few robins; well, what of that?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What's virtue in man can't be vice in a cat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There's a thing or two I should like to know,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who killed the chicken a week ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For nothing at all that I could spy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But to make an overgrown chicken-pie?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">'Twixt you and me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">'Tis plain to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The odds is, you like fricassee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">While my brave maw<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Owns no such law,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Content with viands <i>a la</i> raw.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg&nbsp;193]</a></span></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Who killed the robins? Oh, yes! oh, yes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I <i>would</i> get the cat now into a mess!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Who was it put<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">An old stocking-foot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Tied up with strings<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And such shabby things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On to the end of a sharp, slender pole,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dipped it in oil and set fire to the whole,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And burnt all the way from here to the miller's<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The nests of the sweet young caterpillars?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Grilled fowl, indeed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Why, as I read,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You had not even the plea of need;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">For all you boast<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Such wholesome roast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I saw no sign at tea or roast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of even a caterpillar's ghost.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Who killed the robins? Well, I <i>should</i> think!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hadn't somebody better wink<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At my peccadillos, if houses of glass<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Won't do to throw stones from at those who pass?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I had four little kittens a month ago&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Black, and Malta, and white as snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And not a very long while before<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I could have shown you three kittens more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And so in batches of fours and threes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Looking back as long as you please,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You would find, if you read my story all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There were kittens from time immemorial.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But what am I now? A cat bereft,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of all my kittens, but one is left.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I make no charges, but this I ask,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What made such a splurge in the waste-water cask?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You are quite tender-hearted. Oh, not a doubt!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But only suppose old Black Pond could speak out.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, bother! don't mutter excuses to me:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>Qui facit per alium facit per se</i>."<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg&nbsp;194]</a></span></div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Well, Kitty, I think full enough has been said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the best thing for you is go straight back to bed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">A very fine pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Things have come to, my lass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">If men must be meek<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">While pussy-cats speak<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Great moral reflections in Latin and Greek!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i16">&mdash;<i>Our Young Folks.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg&nbsp;195]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<p class="blockintro">PARODIES&mdash;REVIEWS&mdash;CHILDREN'S POEMS&mdash;COMEDIES BY WOMEN&mdash;A
+DRAMATIC TRIFLE&mdash;A STRING OF FIRECRACKERS.</p>
+
+<p>It is surprising that we have so few comedies from
+women. Dr. Doran mentions five Englishwomen who
+wrote successful comedies. Of these, three are now forgotten;
+one, Aphra Behn, is remembered only to be despised
+for her vulgarity. She was an undoubted wit, and
+was never dull, but so wicked and coarse that she forfeited
+all right to fame.</p>
+
+<p>Susanna Centlivre left nineteen plays full of vivacity and
+fun and lively incident. The <i>Bold Stroke for a Wife</i> is
+now considered her best. The <i>Basset Table</i> is also a
+superior comedy, especially interesting because it anticipates
+the modern blue-stocking in Valeria, a philosophical girl
+who supports vivisection, and has also a prophecy of exclusive
+colleges for women.</p>
+
+<p>There is nothing worthy of quotation in any of these
+comedies. Some sentences from Mrs. Centlivre's plays are
+given in magazine articles to prove her wit, but we say so
+much brighter things in these days that they must be considered
+stale platitudes, as:</p>
+
+<p>"You may cheat widows, orphans, and tradesmen without
+a blush, but a debt of honor, sir, must be paid."</p>
+
+<p>"Quarrels, like mushrooms, spring up in a moment."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg&nbsp;196]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Woman is the greatest sovereign power in the world."</p>
+
+<p>Hans Andersen in his Autobiography mentions a Madame
+von Weissenthurn, who was a successful actress and dramatist.
+Her comedies are published in fourteen volumes. In our
+country several comedies written by women, but published
+anonymously, have been decided hits. Mrs. Verplanck's
+<i>Sealed Instructions</i> was a marked success, and years ago
+<i>Fashion</i>, by Anna Cora Mowatt, had a remarkable run.
+By the way, those roaring farces, <i>Belles of the Kitchen</i> and
+<i>Fun in a Fog</i>, were written for the Vokes family by an
+aunt of theirs. And I must not forget to state that Gilbert's
+<i>Palace of Truth</i> was cribbed almost bodily from
+Madame de Genlis's "Tales of an Old Castle." Mrs. Julia
+Schayer, of Washington, has given us a domestic drama in
+one act, entitled <i>Struggling Genius</i>.</p>
+
+<h3><a name="STRUGGLING_GENIUS" id="STRUGGLING_GENIUS"></a>STRUGGLING GENIUS.</h3>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="10" summary="">
+<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>Dramatis Person&aelig;.</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Anastasius.</span></td>
+<td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Mr. Anastasius.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Girl of Ten Years.</span></td>
+<td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Girl of Eight Years.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Girl of Two Years.</span></td>
+<td class="td2"><span class="smcap">Infant of Three Months.</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h3><a name="ACT_I" id="ACT_I"></a>ACT I.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene I. Nursery.</span></p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">[<i>Time, eight o'clock <span class="smcap">A.M.</span> In the background nurse making
+bed, etc.; Girl of Two amusing herself surreptitiously
+with pins, buttons, scissors, etc.; Girl of Eight
+practising piano in adjoining room; Mrs. A. in foreground
+performing toilet of infant. Having lain awake
+half the preceding night wrestling with the plot of a new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg&nbsp;197]</a></span>
+novel for which rival publishers are waiting with outstretched
+hands (full of checks), Mrs. A. believes she has
+hit upon an effective scene, and burns to commit it to
+paper. Washes infant with feverish haste.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> (<i>soliloquizing</i>). Let me see! How was it?
+Oh! "Olga raised her eyes with a sweetly serious expression.
+Harold gazed moodily at her calm face. It was not
+the expression that he longed to see there. He would have
+preferred to see&mdash;" Good gracious, Maria! That child's
+mouth is full of buttons! "He would have preferred&mdash;preferred&mdash;"
+(<i>Loudly.</i>) Leonora! That F's to be
+sharped! There, there, mother's sonny boy! Did mamma
+drop the soap into his mouth instead of the wash-bowl?
+There, there! (<i>Sings.</i>) "There's a land that is fairer
+than this," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">[<i>Infant quiet.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> (<i>resuming</i>). "He would have preferred&mdash;preferred&mdash;"
+Maria, don't you see that child has got the scissors?
+"He would have&mdash;" There now, let mamma put
+on its little socks. Now it's all dressed so nice and clean.
+Don'ty ky! No, don'ty! Leonora! Put more accent on
+the first beat. "Harold gazed moodily into&mdash;" His bottle,
+Maria! Quick! He'll scream himself into fits!</p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">[<i>Exit nurse. Baby having got both fists into his mouth
+beguiles himself into quiet.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> Let me see! How was it? Oh! "Harold
+gazed moodily into her calm, sweet face. It was not the
+expression he would have liked to find there. He would
+have preferred&mdash;" (<i>Shriek from girl of two.</i>) Oh, dear
+me! She has shut her darling fingers in the drawer!
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg&nbsp;198]</a></span>Come to mamma, precious love, and sit on mamma's lap,
+and we'll sing about little pussy.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter nurse with bottle. Curtain falls.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene II. Study.</span></p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">[<i>Three hours later; infant and Girl of Two asleep; house
+in order; lunch and dinner arranged; buttons sewed on
+Girl of Eight's boots, string on Girl of Ten's hood, and
+both dispatched to school, etc. Enter Mrs. A. Draws a
+long sigh of relief and seats herself at desk. Reads a
+page of Dickens and a poem or two to attune herself for
+work. Seizes pen, scribbles erratically a few seconds and
+begins to write.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> (<i>after some moments</i>). I think that is good.
+Let us hear how it reads. (<i>Reads aloud.</i>) "He would
+have preferred to find more passion in those deep, dark
+eyes. Had he then no part in the maiden meditations of
+this fair, innocent girl&mdash;he whom proud beauties of society
+vied with each other to win? He could not guess. A
+stray breeze laden with violet and hyacinth perfume stole in
+at the open window, ruffling the soft waves of auburn hair
+which shaded her alabaster forehead." It seems to me I
+have read something similar before, but it is good, anyhow.
+"Harold could not endure this placid, unruffled calm. His
+own veins were full of molten lava. With a wild and passionate
+cry he&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter cook bearing a large, dripping piece of corned beef.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Cook.</i> Please, Miss Anastasy, is dis de kin' of a piece ye
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg&nbsp;199]</a></span>done wanted? I thought I'd save ye de trouble o' comin'
+down.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> (<i>desperately</i>). It is!</p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">
+[<i>Exit cook, staring wildly.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> (<i>resuming</i>). "With a wild, passionate cry,
+he&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Re-enter cook.</i><br /></p>
+
+<p><i>Cook.</i> Ten cents for de boy what put in de wood, please,
+ma'am!</p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">[<i>Mrs. A. gives money; exit cook. Mrs. A., sighing,
+takes up MS. Clock strikes twelve; soon after the lunch-bell
+rings.</i>]</p>
+
+<p>Voice of Girl of Ten, calling: Mamma, why <i>don't</i> you
+come to lunch?</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene III. Dining-room.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter Mrs. A.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Girl of Ten.</i> Oh, what a mean lunch! Nothing but
+bread and ham. I hate bread and ham! All the girls have
+jelly-cake. Why don't <i>we</i> have jelly-cake? We <i>used</i> to
+have jelly-cake.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> You can have some pennies to buy ginger-snaps.</p>
+
+<p><i>Girl of Ten.</i> I hate ginger-snaps! When are you going
+to make jelly-cake?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> (<i>sternly</i>). When my book is done.</p>
+
+<p><i>Girl of Ten</i> (<i>with inexpressible meaning</i>): Hm!</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Curtain falls.</i></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg&nbsp;200]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene IV. Study.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter Mrs. A. Children, still asleep; girls at school;
+deck again cleared for action.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> It is one o'clock. If I can be let alone until
+three I can finish that last chapter.</p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">[<i>Takes up pen; lays it down; reads a poem of Mrs.
+Browning to take the taste of ham-sandwiches out of
+her mouth, then resumes pen, and writes with increasing
+interest for fifteen minutes. Everything is steeped in
+quiet. Suddenly a faint murmur of voices is heard; it
+increases, it approaches, mingled with the tread of many
+feet, and a rumbling as of mighty chariot-wheels. It
+is only Barnum's steam orchestrion, Barnum's steam
+chimes, and Barnum's steam calliope, followed by an
+array of ruff-scruff. They stop exactly opposite the
+house. The orchestrion blares, the chimes ring a knell
+to peace and harmony, the calliope shrieks to heaven.
+The infants wake and shriek likewise. Exit Mrs. A.
+Curtain falls.</i>]</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene V. Study</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="blockintro"><i>Enter Mrs. A. Peace restored; children happy with
+nurse. Seizes pen and writes rapidly. Doorbell rings,
+cook announces caller; nobody Mrs. A. wants to see, but
+somebody she <span class="smcap">MUST</span> see. Exit Mrs. A. in a state of rigid
+despair.</i></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg&nbsp;201]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene VI. Hall.</span></p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">[<i>Visitor gone; Mrs. A. starts for study. Enter Girl of
+Eight followed by Girl of Ten.</i>]</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Duettino.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Girl of Ten.</i> Mamma, <i>please</i> give me my music lesson
+now, so I can go and skate; and then won't you <i>please</i>
+make some jelly-cake? And see, my dress is torn, and my
+slate-frame needs covering.</p>
+
+<p><i>Girl of Eight.</i> Where are my roller-skates? Where is
+the strap? Can I have a pickle? Please give me a cent.
+A girl said <i>her</i> mother wouldn't let her wear darned stockings
+to school. I'm <i>ashamed</i> of my stockings. You might
+let me wear my new ones.</p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">[<i>Mrs. A. gives music lesson; mends dress; covers slate-frame;
+makes jelly-cake and a pudding; goes to nursery
+and sends nurse down to finish ironing.</i>]</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene VII. Nursery.</span></p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">[<i>Mrs. A. with babies on her lap. Enter husband and
+father with hands full of papers and general air of
+having finished his day's work.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. A.</i> Well, how is everything? Children all right, I
+see. You must have had a nice, quiet day. Written much?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> (<i>faintly</i>). Not very much.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. A.</i> (<i>complacently</i>). Oh, well, you can't force these
+things. It will be all right in time.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> (<i>in a burst of repressed feeling</i>). We need the
+money so much, Charles!</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg&nbsp;202]</a></span></p>
+<p><i>Mr. A.</i> (<i>with an air of offended dignity</i>). Oh, bother!
+You are not expected to support the family.</p>
+
+<p class="blockintro">[<i>Mrs. A., thinking of that dentist's bill, that shoe bill, and
+the summer outfit for a family of six, says nothing.
+Exit Mr. A., who re-enters a moment later.</i>]</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. A.</i> You&mdash;a&mdash;haven't fixed my coat, I see.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. A.</i> (<i>with a guilty start</i>). I&mdash;I forgot it!</p>
+
+<p><i>Gibbering Fiend Conscience.</i> Ha, ha! Ho, ho!</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Curtain falls amid chorus of exulting demons.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>I have reserved for the close numerous instances of
+woman's facility at badinage and repartee. It is there,
+after all, that she shines perennial and pre-eminent. You
+will excuse me if I give them to you one after another
+without comment, like a closing display of fireworks.</p>
+
+<p>And first let me quote from Mrs. Rollins, as an instance
+of the way in which women often react upon each other in
+repartee, a little conversation which it was once her privilege
+to overhear:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Margaret.</i> I wonder you never have been married,
+Kate. Of course you've had lots of chances. Won't you
+tell us how many?</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Kate.</i> No, indeed! I could not so cruelly betray my
+rejected lovers.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Helen.</i> Of course you wouldn't tell us <i>exactly</i>; but
+would you mind giving it to us in round numbers?</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Kate.</i> Certainly not; the roundest number of all exactly
+expresses the chances I have had.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Charlotte</i> (<i>with a sigh</i>). Now I know what people mean
+by Kate's <i>circle of admirers</i>!"</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg&nbsp;203]</a></span></p>
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>A lady was discussing the relative merits and demerits of
+the two sexes with a gentleman of her acquaintance. After
+much badinage on one side and the other, he said: "Well,
+you never yet heard of casting seven devils out of a man."
+"No," was the quick retort, "<i>they've got 'em yet</i>!"</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>"What would you do in time of war if you had the
+suffrage?" said Horace Greeley to Mrs. Stanton.</p>
+
+<p>"Just what you have done, Mr. Greeley," replied the
+ready lady; "stay at home and urge others to go and
+fight!"</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>It was Margaret Fuller who worsted Mrs. Greeley in a
+verbal encounter. The latter had a decided aversion to kid
+gloves, and on meeting Margaret shrank from her extended
+hand with a shudder, saying: "Ugh! Skin of a beast!
+skin of a beast!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said Miss Fuller, in surprise, "what do you
+wear?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Silk</i>," said Mrs. Greeley, stretching out her palm with
+satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Fuller just touched it, saying, with a disgusted expression,
+"Ugh! entrails of a worm! entrails of a worm!"</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Mademoiselle de Mars, the former favorite of the Th&eacute;&acirc;tre
+de Fran&ccedil;ais, had in some way offended the Gardes du
+Corps. So one night they came in full force to the theatre
+and tried to hiss her down.</p>
+
+<p>The actress, unabashed, came to the front of the stage,
+and alluding to the fact that the Gardes du Corps never
+went to war, said: "What has Mars to do with the Gardes
+du Corps?"</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg&nbsp;204]</a></span></p>
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Madame Louis de S&eacute;gur is daughter of the late Casimir
+P&eacute;rier, who was Minister of the Interior during Thiers's
+administration. When once out of office, but still an influential
+member of the House, he once tried to form a new
+Moderate Republican party, meeting with but little success.</p>
+
+<p>Once his daughter, who was sitting in the gallery, saw
+him entering the House <i>all alone</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Here comes my father with his party," she said.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>I was greatly amused at the quiet reprimand given by a
+literary lady of New York to a stranger at her receptions,
+who, with hands crossed complacently under his coat-tails,
+was critically examining the various treasures in her room,
+humming obtrusively as he passed along.</p>
+
+<p>The hostess paused near him, surveyed him critically, and
+then inquired, in a gentle tone: "Do you play also?"</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>A young girl being asked why she had not been more
+frequently to Lenten services, excused herself in this fashion,
+severe, but truthful: "Oh, Dr. &mdash;&mdash; is on such intimate
+terms with the Almighty that I felt <i>de trop</i>."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>At a reception in Washington this spring an admirable
+answer was given by a level-headed woman&mdash;we are all
+proud of Miss Cleveland&mdash;to a fine-looking army officer,
+who has been doing guard duty in that magnificent city for
+the past seventeen years. "Pray," said he, "what do
+ladies find to think about besides dress and parties?"</p>
+
+<p>"They can think of the heroic deeds of our modern army
+officers," was her smiling reply.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Do you remember Lydia Maria Child's reply to her
+husband when he wished he was as rich as Cr&oelig;sus: "At
+any rate, you are King of Lydia;" and Lucretia Mott's
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg&nbsp;205]</a></span>humorous comment when she entered a room where her
+husband and his brother Richard were sitting, both of them
+remarkable for their taciturnity and reticence: "I thought
+you must both be here&mdash;it was so still!"</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>In my own home I recall a sensible old maid of Scotch
+descent with her cosey cottage and the dear old-fashioned
+garden where she loved to work. Our physician, a man of
+infinite humor, who honestly admired her sterling worth,
+and was attracted by her individuality, leaned over her
+fence one bright spring morning, with the direct question:
+"Miss Sharp, why did you never get married?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked up from her weeding, rested on her hoe-handle,
+and looking steadily at his hair, which was of a
+sandy hue, answered: "I'll tell you all about it, Doctor.
+I made up my mind, when I was a girl, that, come what
+would, I would never marry a red-headed man, and none
+but men with red hair have ever offered themselves."</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>We all know women whose capacity for monologue exhausts
+all around them. So that the remark will be appreciated
+of a lady to whom I said, alluding to such a talker:
+"Have you seen Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; lately?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I really had to give up her acquaintance in despair,
+for I had been trying two years to tell her something in
+particular."</p>
+
+<p>A lady once told me she could always know when she had
+taken too much wine at dinner&mdash;her husband's jokes began
+to seem funny!</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>Lastly and&mdash;<i>finally</i>, there is a reason for our apparent
+lack of humor, which it may seem ungracious to mention.
+Women do not find it politic to cultivate or express their
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg&nbsp;206]</a></span>wit. No man likes to have his story capped by a better and
+fresher from a lady's lips. What woman does not risk
+being called sarcastic and hateful if she throws back the
+merry dart, or indulges in a little sharp-shooting? No, no,
+it's dangerous&mdash;if not fatal.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Though you're bright, and though you're pretty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They'll not love you if you're witty."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Madame de Sta&euml;l and Madame R&eacute;camier are good illustrations
+of this point. The former, by her fearless expressions
+of wit, exposed herself to the detestation of the majority
+of mankind. "She has shafts," said Napoleon, "which
+would hit a man if he were seated on a rainbow."</p>
+
+<p>But the sweetly fawning, almost servile adulation of the
+<i>listening</i> beauty brought her a corresponding throng of
+admirers. It sometimes seems that what is pronounced wit,
+if uttered by a distinguished man, would be considered
+commonplace if expressed by a woman.</p>
+
+<p>Parker's illustration of Choate's <i>rare humor</i> never struck
+me as felicitous. "Thus, a friend meeting him one ten-degrees-below-zero
+morning in the winter, said: 'How cold
+it is, Mr. Choate.' 'Well, it is not absolutely tropical,' he
+replied, with a most mirthful emphasis."</p>
+
+<p>And do you recollect the only time that Wordsworth was
+<i>really</i> witty? He told the story himself at a dinner.
+"Gentlemen, I never was really witty but once in my life."
+Of course there was a general call for the bright but solitary
+instance. And the contemplative bard continued: "Well,
+gentlemen, I was standing at the door of my cottage on
+Rydal Mount, one fine summer morning, and a laborer said
+to me: 'Sir, have you seen my wife go by this way?'
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg&nbsp;207]</a></span>And I replied:
+'My good man, I did not know until this
+moment that you <i>had</i> a wife!'"</p>
+
+<p>He paused; the company waited for the promised witticism,
+but discovering that he had finished, burst into a
+long and hearty roar, which the old gentleman accepted complacently
+as a tribute to his brilliancy.</p>
+
+<p>The wit of women is like the airy froth of champagne,
+or the witching iridescence of the soap-bubble, blown for a
+moment's sport. The sparkle, the life, the fascinating
+foam, the gay tints vanish with the occasion, because there
+is no listening Boswell with unfailing memory and capacious
+note-book to preserve them.</p>
+
+<p>Then, unlike men, women do not write out their impromptus
+beforehand and carefully hoard them for the
+publisher&mdash;and posterity!</p>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<p>And now, dear friends, a cordial <i>au revoir</i>.</p>
+
+<p>My heartiest thanks to the women who have so generously
+allowed me to ransack their treasuries, filching here and
+there as I chose, always modestly declaiming against the
+existence of wit in what they had written.</p>
+
+<p>To various publishers in New York and Boston, who
+have been most courteous and liberal, credit is given elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>Touched by the occasion, I "drop into" doggerel:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i31">If you pronounce this book not funny,<br /></span>
+<span class="i31">And wish you hadn't spent your money,<br /></span>
+<span class="i31">There soon will be a general rumor<br /></span>
+<span class="i31">That you're no judge of Wit or Humor.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="hr45" />
+
+<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX.</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" summary="Top of Index" width="80%">
+<tr><td class="td3" colspan="2">PAGE.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2plain"><span class="smcap">Introduction</span>,</td>
+    <td class="td3">iii.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2plain"><span class="smcap">Contents</span>,</td>
+    <td class="td3">v.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2plain"><span class="smcap">Dedication</span>,</td>
+    <td class="td3">vii.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2plain"><span class="smcap">Argument</span>,</td>
+    <td class="td3">ix.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td2plain"><span class="smcap">Proem</span>,</td>
+    <td class="td3">xi.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="hr25" />
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" summary="Index" width="80%">
+<tr><td class="td2plain"></td><td class="td3">CHAP.</td><td class="td3">PAGE.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Alcott, Louisa: &ldquo;Transcendental Wild Oats&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">American Early Writers: Some of them who were thought Witty&mdash;Anne Bradstreet;
+ Mercy Warren; Tabitha Tenney </td>
+    <td class="td3">III.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent"> Satirical Poem, by Mercy Warren</td>
+    <td class="td3">III.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Mrs. Sigourney&rsquo;s Johnsonese Humor;
+Extracts from her Note-Book  </td>
+    <td class="td3">III.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Miss Sedgwick&rsquo;s Witty Imagination,</td>
+    <td class="td3">III.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Mrs. Caroline Gilman&rsquo;s humorous Poem, &ldquo;Joshua&rsquo;s
+Courtship&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">III.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Andersen, Hans, Reference to Woman Dramatist in his Autobiography</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Aphorisms by the Queen of Roumania (Carmen Sylva)</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Auction Extraordinary&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Aunty Doleful&rsquo;s Visit,&rdquo; by M.K.D.&mdash;&ldquo;If
+I can&rsquo;t do anything else, I can cheer you up a little&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VI.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Barnum and Ph&oelig;be Cary</td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Bates, Charlotte Fiske: &ldquo;Hat, Ulster and All,&rdquo; Satirical
+Poem, Quatrain and Epigram</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Beechers,&rdquo; Old Family Epigram applied to the</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Behn, Aphra: Wrote Comedies; her unsavory Wit</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Bellows, Isabel Frances: &ldquo;A Fatal Reputation&rdquo; (for wit)
+&mdash;&ldquo;A picnic, that most ghastly device of the human mind&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Bremer, Frederika, her genuine Humor; First Quarrel with her &ldquo;Bear&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">II.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Brine, Mary D.: Poems, &ldquo;Kiss Pretty Poll&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent"> &ldquo; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ &ldquo; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;Thanksgiving Day&mdash;Then and Now&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Burleigh, Pun on, by Queen Elizabeth</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Butter, Punning Poem on, by Caroline B. Le Row</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Cary, Ph&oelig;be, &ldquo;The wittiest woman in America&rdquo;:
+Her quick retorts and merry repartees; her parodies and humorous poems</td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Champney, Lizzie W.: &ldquo;An Unruffled Bosom&rdquo;&mdash;a
+Tragical Tale of a Negress who &ldquo;knew Washington&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Clarke, Lady, and her Irish Songs</td>
+    <td class="td3">II.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Cleveland&rsquo;s, Elizabeth Rose, Pun</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.<a name="indexnote" id="indexnote"></a></td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Cleaveland&rsquo;s, Mrs., &ldquo;No Sects in Heaven&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Clemmer, Mary: Her Life of Ph&oelig;be Cary</td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Comedies&mdash;Few written by Women; Five Englishwomen produced successful;
+Susanna Centlivre wrote nearly a score&mdash;contain some wit, but old-fashioned; Aphra Behn wrote
+several comedies, witty but coarse</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Cooke&rsquo;s, Rose Terry, &ldquo;Knoware&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent"> &ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&ldquo; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;Miss
+Lucinda&rsquo;s Pig&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent"> &ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Story of &ldquo;A
+Gift Horse&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Coolidge, Grace F.: &ldquo;The Robin and Chicken&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#THE_MIDDY_OF_1881">188</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Conclusion. <i>See</i> &ldquo;Fireworks.&rdquo;</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Cone, Helen Gray: Satirical Poems&mdash;&ldquo;Cassandra Brown&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent"> &ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&ldquo; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;The Tender Heart&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Corbett, E.T.: &ldquo;The Inventor&rsquo;s Wife,&rdquo; a Poetical Lament</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain"><i>Critic</i>, article in, on &ldquo;Woman&rsquo;s Sense of Humor&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Cynicism of Frenchwomen</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Davidson, Lucretia: &ldquo;Auction Extraordinary&rdquo; (Sale of Old Bachelors)</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Deffand, Madame du</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Diaz, Mrs. Abby M., writer of the famous &ldquo;William Henry Letters&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Dodge, Mary Mapes&mdash;&ldquo;inimitable satirist&rdquo;: &ldquo;
+The Insanity of Cain&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;
+Miss Molony on the Chinese Question&rdquo; (read before the Prince of Wales)</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Dromy,&rdquo; Satirical Notes on Derivation of</td>
+    <td class="td3">II.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">&ldquo;Eliot&rsquo;s, George,&rdquo; Humor; Examples from &ldquo;
+Adam Bede&rdquo; and &ldquo;Silas Marner&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">II.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Epigrams, Makers of</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;by Jane Austen: on the Name of
+&ldquo;Wake&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Lady
+Townsend: on the Herveys&mdash;applied to the Beechers; on Walpole</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Miss Evans: on a Musical Woman</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Hannah More</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;
+Ouida&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Miss Phelps</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mrs.
+Rose Terry Cooke</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mrs.
+ A.D.T. Whitney</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Marguerite de Valois; by Madame de Lambert; by Sophie Arnould; by Madame de S&eacute;vign&eacute;</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Lady Harriet Ashburton</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Mrs. Carlyle, &ldquo;herself an epigram;&rdquo; by Hannah F. Gould, on Caleb Cushing</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Mrs Gail Hamilton&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Kate Field</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Mrs. Whicher&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Widow Bedott&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Marietta Holley&rsquo;s
+ &ldquo;Josiah Allen&rsquo;s Wife&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Eytinge, Margaret: &ldquo;Indignant Polly Wog&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">&ldquo;Fanny, Aunt&rdquo;: <i>Jeu d&rsquo;esprit</i> on Minerva</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Fanny Fern&rsquo;s&rdquo; Arithmetical Mania</td>
+    <td class="td3">III.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Fanny Forrester&rsquo;s&rdquo; Letter to N.P. Willis</td>
+    <td class="td3">III.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Ferrier&rsquo;s, Mary, Genial Wit; Scott&rsquo;s Description of her; her
+ &ldquo;Sensible Woman,&rdquo; Satirical</td>
+    <td class="td3">II.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain" colspan="3">&ldquo;Fireworks&rdquo;: Miscellaneous Closing Display of Wit:</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Mrs. Rollins&rsquo; illustration of woman&rsquo;s quickness at repartee</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Mrs. Stanton&rsquo;s Reply to Horace Greeley; Miss Margaret Fuller;
+Mademoiselle Mars </td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Madame Louisa S&eacute;gur; Miss Cleveland; Lydia Maria Child </td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Madame de Sta&euml;l; Madame R&eacute;camier</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">French Women&rsquo;s Cynicism</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">&ldquo;Gail Hamilton&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Gaskell&rsquo;s, Mrs., Humor</td>
+    <td class="td3">II.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Gell and Gill&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Genlis, Madame de</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Genuine Fun&mdash;Sketches from C.M. Kirkland</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Gilman, Mrs. Caroline: A New England Ballad, &ldquo;Joshua&rsquo;s
+Courtship&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">III.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Gordon, Anna A.: &ldquo;&rsquo;Skeeters have the Reputation&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Grace Greenwood&rsquo;s&rdquo; many Puns</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Mistress O&rsquo;Rafferty on the Woman Question&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VI.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Greek Lady&rsquo;s Wit</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Hale, Lucretia P.: &ldquo;Peterkin Letters&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;The First Needle,&rdquo; a poetical Bit of History</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Hall, Louisa: &ldquo;The Indian Agent&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;With affectionate
+interest he looked into the very depths of their pockets&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VI.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Hamilton, Gail&rdquo;: &ldquo;Both Sides,&rdquo; an amusing poetical Satire</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Holley&rsquo;s, Miss, &ldquo;Samantha&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Hudson&rsquo;s, Mary Clemmer, Opinions on Wit; her Anecdotes of Ph&oelig;be Cary</td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Humor, Miss Jewett&rsquo;s</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Irish Fun</td>
+    <td class="td3">VI.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Jewett, Sarah Orne: &ldquo;The Circus at Denby&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Jones&rsquo;, Amanda T., Poem, &ldquo;Dochther O&rsquo;Flannigan and his
+Wondherful Cures&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VI.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Kirkland, Caroline M.: &ldquo;Borrowing Out West&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Le Row, Caroline B.: Poetic Pun on the &ldquo;Butter Woman&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_118">18</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Lothrop, Harriette W. (<i>nom de plume</i> &ldquo;Margaret Sidney&rdquo;):
+&ldquo;Why Polly Doesn&rsquo;t Love Cake&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Lover and Lever,&rdquo; Epigram on, by C.F. Bates</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">McDowell, Mrs., &ldquo;Sherwood Bonner:&rdquo; &rdquo;Aunt Anniky&rsquo;s
+Teeth&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent"> &ldquo;My soul and body is a-yearnin&rsquo; fur a han&rsquo;sum chaney
+set o&rsquo; teef&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent"> Pen-Portrait of Dr. Alonzo Babb </td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">His first Tooth </td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">How Anniky Lost her &ldquo;Teef&rdquo; </td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Ned Cuddy&rsquo;s Letter </td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Specimens of her Wit: The Radical Club&mdash;a Satirical Poem</td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">McLean, Miss Sallie: &ldquo;Cape Cod Folks&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Mitford&rsquo;s, Mary Russell, &ldquo;Talking Lady&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">II.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Mohl, Madame</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Montagu&rsquo;s, Lady, Famous Speech</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">More&rsquo;s, Hannah, Contest of Wit with Johnson</td>
+    <td class="td3">II.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Morgan&rsquo;s, Lady, A &ldquo;Fast Horse&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Receptions</td>
+    <td class="td3">II.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Mott, Lucretia</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Moulton, Louisa Chandler: &ldquo;The Jane Moseley was a Disappointment&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Mowatt, Anna Cora: Her Popular Play of &ldquo;Fashion&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Murfree, Miss (<i>nom de plume</i> &ldquo;Charles Egbert Craddock&rdquo;):
+&ldquo;A Blacksmith in Love&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">&ldquo;New York to Newport&rdquo;&mdash;a Trip of Trials</td>
+    <td class="td3">VII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Old-fashioned Wit&mdash;Examples: Bon-mots of &ldquo;Stella&rdquo;;
+Jane Taylor; Miss Burney; Mrs. Barbauld</td>
+    <td class="td3">II. </td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Hannah More</td>
+    <td class="td3">II.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_33"> 33</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Ouida&rsquo;s&rdquo; Epigrams</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Parodies: Ph&oelig;be Cary&rsquo;s on &ldquo;Maud Muller&rdquo;
+not justifiable; Grace Greenwood on Mrs. Sigourney</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX. </td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Lilian Whiting&rsquo;s on Kingsley&rsquo;s &ldquo;Three Fishers&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"> <a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Perry, Carlotta: &ldquo;A Modern Minerva&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Pickering, Julia: &ldquo;The Old-Time Religion&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;
+I allus did dispise dem stuck-up &rsquo;Piscopalians&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VI.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain" colspan="3">Poems, Laughable and Satirical:</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;The First Needle,&rdquo; L.P. Hale </td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;The Funny Story,&rdquo; J. Pollard </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_152">152</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;Wanted, a Minister,&rdquo; M.E.W. Skeels </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;The Middy of 1881,&rdquo; May Croly Roper </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_156">156</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;Indignant Polly Wog,&rdquo; M. Eytinge </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"> <a href="#Page_157">157</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;Kiss Pretty Poll,&rdquo; M.D. Brine </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;Thanksgiving Day&mdash;Then and Now,&rdquo; M.D. Brine </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"> <a href="#Page_159">159</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;Concerning Mosquitoes,&rdquo; A.A. Gordon </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;The Stilts of Gold;&ldquo; &ldquo;Just So,&ldquo; M.V. Victor </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"> <a href="#Page_161">161</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;The Inventor&rsquo;s Wife,&rdquo; E.T. Corbett </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_170">170</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;An Unruffled Bosom,&rdquo; L.W. Champney </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;Hat, Ulster and All,&rdquo; C.F. Bates </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"> <a href="#Page_175">175</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;Auction Extraordinary,&rdquo; L. Davidson </td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"> <a href="#Page_176">176</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;A Sonnet,&rdquo; J. Pollard</td>
+    <td class="td3"> VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"> <a href="#Page_152">152</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Puns: Miss Mary Wadsworth&rsquo;s; Louisa Alcott&rsquo;s; Grace
+Greenwood prolific in; a Mushroom Pun; a Pillar-sham Pun </td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Horseshoe Pun </td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_118">18</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Miss Cleveland&rsquo;s </td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"> <a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Queen Elizabeth&rsquo;s</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">&ldquo;Radical Club,&rdquo; Satirical Poem</td>
+    <td class="td3">V.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Rollins, Mrs. Alice Wellington, article in <i>Critic</i></td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain" colspan="3">Rollins, Mrs. Ellen H. (<i>nom de plume</i> &ldquo;E.H.
+Arr&rdquo;), pre-eminently gifted as a humorist&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">Extracts from her &ldquo;Old-Time Child Life&rdquo; </td>
+    <td class="td3">VII. </td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_124">124</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;Effect of the Comet&rdquo; </td>
+    <td class="td3">VII. </td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_126">126</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;Doctrines are pizen things&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Roper, May Croly: Poem</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Schayer, Mrs. Julia, Author of &ldquo;Struggling Genius,&rdquo;
+an amusing Domestic Drama; Extracts from the Play, &ldquo;Nursery,&rdquo; &ldquo;Study,&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;Dining-Room&rdquo; Scenes</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Sherwood Bonner.&rdquo; <i>See</i> McDowell,
+Mrs. Sigourney, Mrs., her melancholy Style</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Skeels, Mrs. M.E.W.: Satirical Poem</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Thanksgiving Growl, A (poetical)</td>
+    <td class="td3">VI.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Verplanck&rsquo;s, Mrs., Comedy, &ldquo;Sealed Instructions&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Victor, Metta Victoria: &ldquo;Miss Slimmins Surprised&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;
+The Stilts of Gold&rdquo; (a reminiscence of Hood&rsquo;s &ldquo;Miss Kilmansegg and her
+Precious Leg&rdquo;)</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">&ldquo;Vokes Family&rdquo; Farces (written by an aunt of the performers), &ldquo;
+Belles of the Kitchen&rdquo; and &ldquo;Fun in a Fog&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2ltrtop">Waldron, Adelaide Cilley, &ldquo;Kitten Tactics&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Walker&rsquo;s, Mrs., famous Epigram</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Weissenthurn, Madame von: her Comedies fill fourteen volumes</td>
+    <td class="td3">X.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Whicher, Mrs., &ldquo;Widow Bedott&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IV.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">White&rsquo;s, Richard Grant. Opinion of Woman&rsquo;s Wit</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Whiting, Miss Lilian: &ldquo;The Three Poets&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Williams, Alice: &ldquo;Plighted,&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Wilson, Arabella: &ldquo;O Sextant of the Meetinouse&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="td3">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Woman&rsquo;s Wit, Search for, Neglected by Men</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Women Poets generally Despondent</td>
+    <td class="td3">I.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2indent">&ldquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Humorous Newspaper Correspondents: Mrs. Runkle; Mrs. Rollins; Gail Hamilton</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Women Inclined to Ridicule Foibles of their Sex</td>
+    <td class="td3">IX.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td2plain">Woolson, Constance Fenimore: Her &ldquo;Miss Lois&rdquo;
+(housekeeping, with Chippewa squaws for servants)</td>
+    <td class="td3">VII.</td>
+    <td class="td3"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIT OF WOMEN***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 28503-h.txt or 28503-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/0/28503">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/5/0/28503</a></p>
+<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.</p>
+
+<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.</p>
+
+
+
+<pre>
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
+eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
+compressed (zipped), HTML and others.
+
+Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
+the old filename and etext number.  The replaced older file is renamed.
+VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
+new filenames and etext numbers.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a>
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000,
+are filed in directories based on their release date.  If you want to
+download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular
+search system you may utilize the following addresses and just
+download by the etext year.
+
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a>
+
+    (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99,
+     98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90)
+
+EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
+filed in a different way.  The year of a release date is no longer part
+of the directory path.  The path is based on the etext number (which is
+identical to the filename).  The path to the file is made up of single
+digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename.  For
+example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at:
+
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234
+
+or filename 24689 would be found at:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689
+
+An alternative method of locating eBooks:
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a>
+
+*** END: FULL LICENSE ***
+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/28503-page-images/f0000.png b/28503-page-images/f0000.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..18b4eb1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/f0000.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/f0001.png b/28503-page-images/f0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f9cdd59
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/f0001.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/f0002.png b/28503-page-images/f0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..706fa4d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/f0002.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/f0003.png b/28503-page-images/f0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e7abf66
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/f0003.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/f0004.png b/28503-page-images/f0004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cbd7d60
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/f0004.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/f0005.png b/28503-page-images/f0005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..70a30df
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/f0005.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/f0007.png b/28503-page-images/f0007.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..34700d5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/f0007.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/f0009.png b/28503-page-images/f0009.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..244111d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/f0009.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/f0011.png b/28503-page-images/f0011.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..16b68aa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/f0011.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0013.png b/28503-page-images/p0013.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..db2871d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0013.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0014.png b/28503-page-images/p0014.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bef54da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0014.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0015.png b/28503-page-images/p0015.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..576608f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0015.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0016.png b/28503-page-images/p0016.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bbabe9d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0016.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0017.png b/28503-page-images/p0017.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..88acd3a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0017.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0018.png b/28503-page-images/p0018.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5e76814
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0018.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0019.png b/28503-page-images/p0019.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3c7c3cc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0019.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0020.png b/28503-page-images/p0020.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0ebf15a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0020.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0021.png b/28503-page-images/p0021.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..632dfde
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0021.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0022.png b/28503-page-images/p0022.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0af5ef5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0022.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0023.png b/28503-page-images/p0023.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..98df671
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0023.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0024.png b/28503-page-images/p0024.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..085cce2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0024.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0025.png b/28503-page-images/p0025.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4e4a677
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0025.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0026.png b/28503-page-images/p0026.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c92d070
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0026.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0027.png b/28503-page-images/p0027.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b3f9c78
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0027.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0028.png b/28503-page-images/p0028.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..985c3c2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0028.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0029.png b/28503-page-images/p0029.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6cdc7eb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0029.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0030.png b/28503-page-images/p0030.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2a24f04
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0030.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0031.png b/28503-page-images/p0031.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6a72c85
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0031.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0032.png b/28503-page-images/p0032.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7ba2fad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0032.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0033.png b/28503-page-images/p0033.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f886304
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0033.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0034.png b/28503-page-images/p0034.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..37ceb5d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0034.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0035.png b/28503-page-images/p0035.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8a9e734
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0035.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0036.png b/28503-page-images/p0036.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f31e3c4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0036.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0037.png b/28503-page-images/p0037.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..28fae84
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0037.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0038.png b/28503-page-images/p0038.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b0b26fa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0038.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0039.png b/28503-page-images/p0039.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9727805
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0039.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0040.png b/28503-page-images/p0040.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e945a90
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0040.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0041.png b/28503-page-images/p0041.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e18deb7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0041.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0042.png b/28503-page-images/p0042.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5da422b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0042.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0043.png b/28503-page-images/p0043.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..79644a6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0043.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0044.png b/28503-page-images/p0044.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd320b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0044.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0045.png b/28503-page-images/p0045.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..750fe7b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0045.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0046.png b/28503-page-images/p0046.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9dcb49a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0046.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0047.png b/28503-page-images/p0047.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..df6415b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0047.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0048.png b/28503-page-images/p0048.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9194d7a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0048.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0049.png b/28503-page-images/p0049.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4d5c382
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0049.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0050.png b/28503-page-images/p0050.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..73deb39
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0050.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0051.png b/28503-page-images/p0051.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b52a6d7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0051.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0052.png b/28503-page-images/p0052.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dbf95bc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0052.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0053.png b/28503-page-images/p0053.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..00a35d8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0053.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0054.png b/28503-page-images/p0054.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..12585f6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0054.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0055.png b/28503-page-images/p0055.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dbfdbb8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0055.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0056.png b/28503-page-images/p0056.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e274b37
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0056.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0057.png b/28503-page-images/p0057.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8c938c1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0057.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0058.png b/28503-page-images/p0058.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..df7263a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0058.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0059.png b/28503-page-images/p0059.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ba55024
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0059.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0060.png b/28503-page-images/p0060.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..01d3ff3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0060.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0061.png b/28503-page-images/p0061.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e758801
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0061.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0062.png b/28503-page-images/p0062.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d8e3103
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0062.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0063.png b/28503-page-images/p0063.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a8579f0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0063.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0064.png b/28503-page-images/p0064.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..572fc60
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0064.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0065.png b/28503-page-images/p0065.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fec750a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0065.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0066.png b/28503-page-images/p0066.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1d0d361
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0066.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0067.png b/28503-page-images/p0067.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..de18d1e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0067.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0068.png b/28503-page-images/p0068.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..35876f1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0068.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0069.png b/28503-page-images/p0069.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..030b751
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0069.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0070.png b/28503-page-images/p0070.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..307c0db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0070.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0071.png b/28503-page-images/p0071.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f5cc953
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0071.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0072.png b/28503-page-images/p0072.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d6230bf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0072.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0073.png b/28503-page-images/p0073.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ac9c915
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0073.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0074.png b/28503-page-images/p0074.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f41e1af
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0074.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0075.png b/28503-page-images/p0075.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c84e73a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0075.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0076.png b/28503-page-images/p0076.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b05dee5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0076.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0077.png b/28503-page-images/p0077.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5078e74
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0077.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0078.png b/28503-page-images/p0078.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..df9a342
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0078.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0079.png b/28503-page-images/p0079.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1c4180e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0079.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0080.png b/28503-page-images/p0080.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1659e80
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0080.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0081.png b/28503-page-images/p0081.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..45f1158
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0081.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0082.png b/28503-page-images/p0082.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..af848d1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0082.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0083.png b/28503-page-images/p0083.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0965c25
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0083.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0084.png b/28503-page-images/p0084.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c355b43
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0084.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0085.png b/28503-page-images/p0085.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8a13f7a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0085.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0086.png b/28503-page-images/p0086.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b868f13
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0086.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0087.png b/28503-page-images/p0087.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..545265f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0087.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0088.png b/28503-page-images/p0088.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8ac6f1d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0088.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0089.png b/28503-page-images/p0089.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b647423
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0089.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0090.png b/28503-page-images/p0090.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5854607
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0090.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0091.png b/28503-page-images/p0091.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c2a2979
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0091.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0092.png b/28503-page-images/p0092.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..af7fd37
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0092.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0093.png b/28503-page-images/p0093.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1c38f1c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0093.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0094.png b/28503-page-images/p0094.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bcb7b38
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0094.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0095.png b/28503-page-images/p0095.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b50754f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0095.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0096.png b/28503-page-images/p0096.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..031be24
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0096.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0097.png b/28503-page-images/p0097.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d0e6bd0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0097.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0098.png b/28503-page-images/p0098.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4dc7e72
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0098.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0099.png b/28503-page-images/p0099.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..631fe94
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0099.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0100.png b/28503-page-images/p0100.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..41f2e72
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0100.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0101.png b/28503-page-images/p0101.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3db1676
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0101.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0102.png b/28503-page-images/p0102.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a709edc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0102.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0103.png b/28503-page-images/p0103.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a0f0146
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0103.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0104.png b/28503-page-images/p0104.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..eed92db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0104.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0105.png b/28503-page-images/p0105.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..87f179e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0105.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0106.png b/28503-page-images/p0106.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4039a71
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0106.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0107.png b/28503-page-images/p0107.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aa3018d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0107.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0108.png b/28503-page-images/p0108.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..effd003
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0108.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0109.png b/28503-page-images/p0109.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..78716db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0109.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0110.png b/28503-page-images/p0110.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3140f0d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0110.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0111.png b/28503-page-images/p0111.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e0519c0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0111.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0112.png b/28503-page-images/p0112.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2af751b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0112.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0113.png b/28503-page-images/p0113.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f572f18
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0113.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0114.png b/28503-page-images/p0114.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cdb6ee2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0114.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0115.png b/28503-page-images/p0115.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e341812
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0115.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0116.png b/28503-page-images/p0116.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c40287e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0116.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0117.png b/28503-page-images/p0117.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..666f523
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0117.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0118.png b/28503-page-images/p0118.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..065315b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0118.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0119.png b/28503-page-images/p0119.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0dcc622
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0119.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0120.png b/28503-page-images/p0120.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8795c2f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0120.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0121.png b/28503-page-images/p0121.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b229db5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0121.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0122.png b/28503-page-images/p0122.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d9f60e0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0122.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0123.png b/28503-page-images/p0123.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..119d9a4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0123.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0124.png b/28503-page-images/p0124.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7de1dcf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0124.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0125.png b/28503-page-images/p0125.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6572537
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0125.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0126.png b/28503-page-images/p0126.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8fe4bf1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0126.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0127.png b/28503-page-images/p0127.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..174b0c7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0127.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0128.png b/28503-page-images/p0128.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..923b1cf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0128.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0129.png b/28503-page-images/p0129.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..903155c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0129.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0130.png b/28503-page-images/p0130.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a30cb86
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0130.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0131.png b/28503-page-images/p0131.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..09a1c22
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0131.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0132.png b/28503-page-images/p0132.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d5d5c70
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0132.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0133.png b/28503-page-images/p0133.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2227208
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0133.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0134.png b/28503-page-images/p0134.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cdf73f9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0134.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0135.png b/28503-page-images/p0135.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6738715
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0135.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0136.png b/28503-page-images/p0136.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e6ee97b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0136.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0137.png b/28503-page-images/p0137.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5e39628
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0137.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0138.png b/28503-page-images/p0138.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..69bb466
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0138.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0139.png b/28503-page-images/p0139.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a03decd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0139.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0140.png b/28503-page-images/p0140.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..04a5c25
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0140.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0141.png b/28503-page-images/p0141.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..63577b8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0141.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0142.png b/28503-page-images/p0142.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dd25e2b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0142.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0143.png b/28503-page-images/p0143.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fff6452
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0143.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0144.png b/28503-page-images/p0144.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c71071d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0144.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0145.png b/28503-page-images/p0145.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3258874
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0145.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0146.png b/28503-page-images/p0146.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f249b2e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0146.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0147.png b/28503-page-images/p0147.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4bbaf9b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0147.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0148.png b/28503-page-images/p0148.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d32c99d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0148.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0149.png b/28503-page-images/p0149.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4bfbda1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0149.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0150.png b/28503-page-images/p0150.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5323753
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0150.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0151.png b/28503-page-images/p0151.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bfe6122
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0151.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0152.png b/28503-page-images/p0152.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..323c844
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0152.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0153.png b/28503-page-images/p0153.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3a71daa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0153.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0154.png b/28503-page-images/p0154.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d0dd2fc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0154.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0155.png b/28503-page-images/p0155.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b6611b5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0155.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0156.png b/28503-page-images/p0156.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..51e883e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0156.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0157.png b/28503-page-images/p0157.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9a09870
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0157.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0158.png b/28503-page-images/p0158.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7d387c0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0158.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0159.png b/28503-page-images/p0159.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..93e5f45
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0159.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0160.png b/28503-page-images/p0160.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b0a6a05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0160.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0161.png b/28503-page-images/p0161.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a237217
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0161.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0162.png b/28503-page-images/p0162.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0aaa0fc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0162.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0163.png b/28503-page-images/p0163.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..853403a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0163.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0164.png b/28503-page-images/p0164.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3f80054
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0164.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0165.png b/28503-page-images/p0165.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..05be4c8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0165.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0166.png b/28503-page-images/p0166.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f311918
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0166.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0167.png b/28503-page-images/p0167.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..01a3f08
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0167.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0168.png b/28503-page-images/p0168.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b6def35
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0168.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0169.png b/28503-page-images/p0169.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..143f609
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0169.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0170.png b/28503-page-images/p0170.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a11f0d4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0170.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0171.png b/28503-page-images/p0171.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7e916cf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0171.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0172.png b/28503-page-images/p0172.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..92ef7a7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0172.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0173.png b/28503-page-images/p0173.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..756f371
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0173.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0174.png b/28503-page-images/p0174.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4de3a34
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0174.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0175.png b/28503-page-images/p0175.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ba7b572
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0175.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0176.png b/28503-page-images/p0176.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..728e7e0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0176.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0177.png b/28503-page-images/p0177.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..21595a4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0177.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0178.png b/28503-page-images/p0178.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..14c4367
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0178.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0179.png b/28503-page-images/p0179.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a78f73c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0179.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0180.png b/28503-page-images/p0180.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f786a9a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0180.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0181.png b/28503-page-images/p0181.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..183ccd5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0181.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0182.png b/28503-page-images/p0182.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..df7eff9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0182.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0183.png b/28503-page-images/p0183.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd01512
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0183.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0184.png b/28503-page-images/p0184.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..709eb1e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0184.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0185.png b/28503-page-images/p0185.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..97164da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0185.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0186.png b/28503-page-images/p0186.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..693ae84
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0186.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0187.png b/28503-page-images/p0187.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..92b9248
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0187.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0188.png b/28503-page-images/p0188.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c82ba43
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0188.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0189.png b/28503-page-images/p0189.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c63a72e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0189.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0190.png b/28503-page-images/p0190.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..db8d0f1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0190.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0191.png b/28503-page-images/p0191.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bacdff0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0191.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0192.png b/28503-page-images/p0192.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d9cffed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0192.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0193.png b/28503-page-images/p0193.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4129d7b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0193.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0194.png b/28503-page-images/p0194.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b9c58b4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0194.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0195.png b/28503-page-images/p0195.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..71904fd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0195.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0196.png b/28503-page-images/p0196.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..33011f6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0196.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0197.png b/28503-page-images/p0197.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3edb32c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0197.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0198.png b/28503-page-images/p0198.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bbef693
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0198.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0199.png b/28503-page-images/p0199.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..da1f758
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0199.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0200.png b/28503-page-images/p0200.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3b520b2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0200.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0201.png b/28503-page-images/p0201.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3d38005
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0201.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0202.png b/28503-page-images/p0202.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7f2db4b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0202.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0203.png b/28503-page-images/p0203.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..67308d9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0203.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0204.png b/28503-page-images/p0204.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..834a58b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0204.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0205.png b/28503-page-images/p0205.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..640786c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0205.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0206.png b/28503-page-images/p0206.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b71d6c4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0206.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0207.png b/28503-page-images/p0207.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a9b12dc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0207.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0209.png b/28503-page-images/p0209.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..de9b74e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0209.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0210.png b/28503-page-images/p0210.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..077a4cc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0210.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0211.png b/28503-page-images/p0211.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..18ff5aa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0211.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0212.png b/28503-page-images/p0212.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ed4ed81
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0212.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0213.png b/28503-page-images/p0213.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c8b92fd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0213.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0214.png b/28503-page-images/p0214.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b5bf836
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0214.png
diff --git a/28503-page-images/p0215.png b/28503-page-images/p0215.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..041bd2b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503-page-images/p0215.png
diff --git a/28503.txt b/28503.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..098e89e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,7687 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Wit of Women, by Kate Sanborn
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Wit of Women
+       Fourth Edition
+
+
+Author: Kate Sanborn
+
+
+
+Release Date: April 5, 2009  [eBook #28503]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIT OF WOMEN***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Bryan Ness, Jen Haines, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from digital
+material generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/witofwomen00sanbiala
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WIT OF WOMEN
+
+by
+
+KATE SANBORN
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The Wit of Women," by Miss Kate Sanborn, [Funk &
+    Wagnalls,] proves that the authoress is one of those
+    rare women who are gifted with a sense of humor.
+    Fortunately for her, the female sense of humor, when it
+    does exist, is not affected by such trifles as
+    "chestnuts." Therefore, women will read with pleasure
+    Miss Sanborn's choice collection of these dainties.
+    There are, however, many new anecdotes in Miss
+    Sanborn's collection, and, taken as a whole, it may
+    fairly be said to establish the fact that there have
+    been feminine wits not inferior to the best of the
+    opposite sex.
+
+    [Newspaper clipping pasted into front cover]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WIT OF WOMEN
+
+by
+
+KATE SANBORN
+
+Fourth Edition
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+New York
+Funk & Wagnalls Company
+London and Toronto
+1895
+
+Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1885, by
+Funk & Wagnalls,
+In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D.C.
+
+
+
+
+    Miss Addie Boyd, of the Cincinnati "Commercial," and
+    Miss Anna M.T. Rossiter, alias Lilla M. Cushman, of the
+    Meriden "Recorder," will probably represent the gentler
+    sex in the convention of paragraphers which meets next
+    month. They are a pair o' graphic writers and equal to
+    the best in the profession.--Waterloo Observer.
+
+    [Newspaper clipping pasted into book]
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+It is refreshing to find an unworked field all ready for harvesting.
+
+While the wit of men, as a subject for admiration and discussion, is now
+threadbare, the wit of women has been almost utterly ignored and
+unrecognized.
+
+With the joy and honest pride of a discoverer, I present the results of
+a summer's gleaning.
+
+And I feel a cheerful and Colonel Sellers-y confidence in the success of
+the book, for every woman will want to own it, as a matter of pride and
+interest, and many men will buy it just to see what women think they can
+do in this line. In fact, I expect a call for a second volume!
+
+                                            KATE SANBORN.
+    HANOVER, N.H., August, 1885.
+
+
+My thanks are due to so many publishers, magazine editors, and personal
+friends for material for this book, that a formal note of acknowledgment
+seems meagre and unsatisfactory. Proper credit, however, has been given
+all through the volume, and with special indebtedness to Messrs. Harper
+& Brothers and Charles Scribner's Sons of New York, and Houghton,
+Mifflin & Co. of Boston. I add sincere gratitude to all who have so
+generously contributed whatever was requested.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+    CHAPTER I.
+                                                            PAGE
+    THE MELANCHOLY TONE OF WOMEN'S POETRY--PUNS, GOOD
+    AND BAD--EPIGRAMS AND LACONICS--CYNICISM OF FRENCH
+    WOMEN--SENTENCES CRISP AND SPARKLING                      13
+
+
+    CHAPTER II.
+
+    HUMOR OF LITERARY ENGLISHWOMEN                            32
+
+
+    CHAPTER III.
+
+    FROM ANNE BRADSTREET TO MRS. STOWE                        47
+
+
+    CHAPTER IV.
+
+    "SAMPLES" HERE AND THERE                                  67
+
+
+    CHAPTER V.
+
+    A BRACE OF WITTY WOMEN                                    85
+
+
+    CHAPTER VI.
+
+    GINGER-SNAPS                                             103
+
+
+    CHAPTER VII.
+
+    PROSE, BUT NOT PROSY                                     122
+
+
+    CHAPTER VIII.
+
+    HUMOROUS POEMS                                           150
+
+
+    CHAPTER IX.
+
+    GOOD-NATURED SATIRE                                      179
+
+
+    CHAPTER X.
+
+    PARODIES--REVIEWS--CHILDREN'S POEMS--COMEDIES BY
+    WOMEN--A DRAMATIC TRIFLE--A STRING OF FIRECRACKERS       195
+
+
+
+
+    TO
+    G.W.B.
+    In Grateful Memory.
+
+
+
+
+    _"There was in her soul a sense of delicacy mingled
+    with that rarest of qualities in woman--a sense of
+    humor," writes Richard Grant White in "The Fate of
+    Mansfield Humphreys." I have noticed that when a
+    novelist sets out to portray an uncommonly fine type of
+    heroine, he invariably adds to her other intellectual
+    and moral graces the above-mentioned "rarest of
+    qualities." I may be over-sanguine, but I anticipate
+    that some sagacious genius will discover that woman as
+    well as man has been endowed with this excellent gift
+    from the gods, and that the gift pertains to the large,
+    generous, sympathetic nature, quite irrespective of the
+    individual's sex. In any case, having heard so
+    repeatedly that woman has no sense of humor, it would
+    be refreshing to have a contrariety of opinion on that
+    subject._--THE CRITIC.
+
+
+
+
+    PROEM.[A]
+
+
+    We are coming to the rescue,
+      Just a hundred strong;
+    With fun and pun and epigram,
+      And laughter, wit, and song;
+
+    With badinage and repartee,
+      And humor quaint or bold,
+    And stories that _are_ stories,
+      Not several aeons old;
+
+    With parody and nondescript,
+      Burlesque and satire keen,
+    And irony and playful jest,
+      So that it may be seen
+
+    That women are not quite so dull:
+      We come--a merry throng;
+    Yes, we're coming to the rescue,
+      And just a hundred strong.
+
+                                       KATE SANBORN.
+[Footnote A: _Not_ Poem!]
+
+
+
+
+THE WIT OF WOMEN.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE MELANCHOLY TONE OF WOMEN'S POETRY--PUNS, GOOD AND BAD--EPIGRAMS AND
+LACONICS--CYNICISM OF FRENCH WOMEN--SENTENCES CRISP AND SPARKLING.
+
+
+To begin a deliberate search for wit seems almost like trying to be
+witty: a task quite certain to brush the bloom from even the most
+fruitful results. But the statement of Richard Grant White, that humor
+is the "rarest of qualities in woman," roused such a host of brilliant
+recollections that it was a temptation to try to materialize the ghosts
+that were haunting me; to lay forever the suspicion that they did not
+exist. Two articles by Alice Wellington Rollins in the _Critic_, on
+"Woman's Sense of Humor" and "The Humor of Women," convinced me that the
+deliberate task might not be impossible to carry out, although I felt,
+as she did, that the humor and wit of women are difficult to analyze,
+and select examples, precisely because they possess in the highest
+degree that almost essential quality of wit, the unpremeditated glow
+which exists only with the occasion that calls it forth. Even from the
+humor of women found in books it is hard to quote--not because there is
+so little, but because there is so much.
+
+The encouragement to attempt this novel enterprise of proving ("by their
+fruits ye shall know them") that women are not deficient in either wit
+or humor has not been great. Wise librarians have, with a smile,
+regretted the paucity of proper material; literary men have predicted
+rather a thin volume; in short, the general opinion of men is condensed
+in the sly question of a peddler who comes to our door, summer and
+winter, his stock varying with the season: sage-cheese and home-made
+socks, suspenders and cheap note-paper, early-rose potatoes and the
+solid pearmain. This shrewd old fellow remarked roguishly "You're
+gittin' up a book, I see, 'baout women's wit. 'Twon't be no great of an
+undertakin', will it?" The outlook at first was certainly discouraging.
+In Parton's "Collection of Humorous Poetry" there was not one woman's
+name, nor in Dodd's large volume of epigrams of all ages, nor in any of
+the humorous departments of volumes of selected poetry.
+
+Griswold's "Female Poets of America" was next examined. The general air
+of gloom--hopeless gloom--was depressing. Such mawkish sentimentality
+and despair; such inane and mortifying confessions; such longings for a
+lover to come; such sighings over a lover departed; such cravings for
+"only"--"only" a _grave_ in some dark, dank solitude. As Mrs. Dodge puts
+it, "Pegasus generally feels inclined to pace toward a graveyard the
+moment he feels a side-saddle on his back."
+
+The subjects of their lucubrations suggest Lady Montagu's famous speech:
+"There was only one reason she was glad she was a woman: she should
+never have to _marry_ one."
+
+From the "Female Poets" I copy this "Song," representing the average
+woman's versifying as regards buoyancy and an optimistic view of this
+"Wale of Tears":
+
+    "Ask not from me the sportive jest,
+       The mirthful jibe, the gay reflection;
+     These social baubles fly the breast
+       That owns the sway of pale Dejection.
+
+    "Ask not from me the changing smile,
+       Hope's sunny glow, Joy's glittering token;
+     It cannot now my griefs beguile--
+       My soul is dark, my heart is broken!
+
+    "Wit cannot cheat my heart of woe,
+       Flattery wakes no exultation;
+     And Fancy's flash but serves to show
+       The darkness of my desolation!
+
+    "By me no more in masking guise
+       Shall thoughtless repartee be spoken;
+     My mind a hopeless ruin lies--
+       My soul is dark, my heart is broken!"
+
+In recalling the witty women of the world, I must surely go back,
+familiar as is the story, to the Grecian dame who, when given some
+choice old wine in a tiny glass by her miserly host, who boasted of the
+years since it had been bottled, inquired, "Isn't it very small of its
+age?"
+
+This ancient story is too much in the style of the male
+story-monger--you all know him--who repeats with undiminished gusto for
+the forty-ninth time a story that was tottering in senile imbecility
+when Methuselah was teething, and is now in a sad condition of
+anec_dotage_.
+
+It is affirmed that "women seldom repeat an anecdote." That is well,
+and no proof of their lack of wit. The discipline of life would be
+largely increased if they did insist on being "reminded" constantly of
+anecdotes as familiar as the hand-organ repertoire of "Captain Jinks"
+and "Beautiful Spring." Their sense of humor is too keen to allow them
+to aid these aged wanderers in their endless migrations. It is
+sufficiently trying to their sense of the ludicrous to be obliged to
+listen with an admiring, rapt expression to some anecdote heard in
+childhood, and restrain the laugh until the oft-repeated crisis has been
+duly reached. Still, I know several women who, as brilliant
+_raconteurs_, have fully equalled the efforts of celebrated after-dinner
+wits.
+
+It is also affirmed that "women cannot make a pun," which, if true,
+would be greatly to their honor. But, alas! their puns are almost as
+frequent and quite as execrable as are ever perpetrated. It was Queen
+Elizabeth who said: "Though ye be burly, my Lord Burleigh, ye make less
+stir than my Lord Leicester."
+
+Lady Morgan, the Irish novelist, witty and captivating, who wrote "Kate
+Kearney" and the "Wild Irish Girl," made several good puns. Some one,
+speaking of the laxity of a certain bishop in regard to Lenten fasting,
+said: "I believe he would eat a horse on Ash Wednesday." "And very
+proper diet," said her ladyship, "if it were a _fast_ horse."
+
+Her special enemy, Croker, had declared that Wellington's success at
+Waterloo was only a fortunate accident, and intimated that he could have
+done better himself, under similar circumstances. "Oh, yes," exclaimed
+her ladyship, "he had his secret for winning the battle. He had only to
+put his notes on Boswell's Johnson in front of the British lines, and
+all the Bonapartes that ever existed could never _get through_ them!"
+
+"Grace Greenwood" has probably made more puns in print than any other
+woman, and her conversation is full of them. It was Grace Greenwood who,
+at a tea-drinking at the Woman's Club in Boston, was begged to tell one
+more story, but excused herself in this way: "No, I cannot get more than
+one story high on a cup of tea!"
+
+You see puns are allowed at that rarely intellectual assemblage--indeed,
+they are sometimes _very_ bad; as when the question was brought up
+whether better speeches could be made after simple tea and toast, or
+under the influence of champagne and oysters. Miss Mary Wadsworth
+replied that it would depend entirely upon whether the oysters were
+cooked or raw; and seeing all look blank, she explained: "Because, if
+raw, we should be sure to have a raw-oyster-ing time."
+
+Louisa Alcott's puns deserve "honorable mention." I will quote one.
+"Query--If steamers are named the Asia, the Russia, and the Scotia, why
+not call one the _Nausea_?"
+
+At a Chicago dinner-party a physician received a menu card with the
+device of a mushroom, and showing it to the lady next him, said: "I hope
+nothing invidious is intended." "Oh, no," was the answer, "it only
+alludes to the fact that you spring up in the night."
+
+A gentleman, noticeable on the porch of the sanctuary as the pretty
+girls came in on Sabbath mornings, but _not_ regarded as a devout
+attendant on the services within, declared that he was one of the
+"pillars of the church!" "Pillar-sham, I am inclined to think," was the
+retort of a lady friend.
+
+To a lady who, in reply to a gentleman's assertion that women sometimes
+made a good pun, but required time to think about it, had said that
+_she_ could make a pun as quickly as any man, the gentleman threw down
+this challenge: "Make a pun, then, on horse-shoe." "If you talk until
+you're horse-shoe can't convince me," was the instant answer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The best punning poem from a woman's pen was written by Miss Caroline B.
+Le Row, of Brooklyn, N.Y., a teacher of elocution, and the writer of
+many charming stories and verses. It was suggested by a study in butter
+of "The Dreaming Iolanthe," moulded by Caroline S. Brooks on a
+kitchen-table, and exhibited at the Centennial in Philadelphia. I do not
+remember any other poem in the language that rings so many changes on a
+single word. It was published first in _Baldwin's Monthly_, but ran the
+rounds of the papers all over the country.
+
+    I.
+
+    "One of the Centennial buildings
+       Shows us many a wondrous thing
+     Which the women of our country
+       From their homes were proud to bring.
+     In a little corner, guarded
+       By Policeman Twenty-eight,
+     Stands a crowd, all eyes and elbows,
+       Seeing butter butter-plate
+
+     II.
+
+    "'Tis not 'butter faded flower'
+       That the people throng to see,
+     Butter crowd comes every hour,
+       Nothing butter crowd we see.
+     Butter little pushing brings us
+       Where we find, to our surprise,
+     That within the crowded corner
+       Butter dreaming woman lies.
+
+     III.
+
+    "Though she lies, she don't deceive us,
+       As it might at first be thought;
+     This fair maid is made of butter,
+       On a kitchen-table wrought.
+     Nothing butter butter-paddle,
+       Sticks and straws were used to bring
+     Out of just nine pounds of butter
+       Butter fascinating thing.
+
+     IV.
+
+    "Butter maid or made of butter,
+       She is butter wonder rare;
+     Butter sweet eyes closed in slumber,
+       Butter soft and yellow hair,
+     Were the work of butter woman
+       Just two thousand miles away;
+     Butter fortune's in the features
+       That she made in butter stay.
+
+     V.
+
+    "Maid of all work, maid of honor,
+       Whatsoever she may be,
+     She is butter wondrous worker,
+       As the crowd can plainly see.
+     And 'tis butter woman shows us
+       What with butter can be done,
+     Nothing butter hands producing
+       Something new beneath the sun.
+
+     VI.
+
+    "Butter line we add in closing,
+       Which none butter could refuse:
+     May her work be butter pleasure,
+       Nothing butter butter use;
+     May she never need for butter,
+       Though she'll often knead for bread,
+     And may every churning bring her
+       Butter blessing on her head."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The second and last example is much more common in its form, but is just
+as good as most of the verses of this style in Parton's "Humorous
+Poetry." I don't pretend that it is remarkable, but it is equally worthy
+of presentation with many efforts of this sort from men with a
+reputation for wit.
+
+
+THE VEGETABLE GIRL.
+
+BY MAY TAYLOR.
+
+    Behind a market-stall installed,
+      I mark it every day,
+    Stands at her stand the fairest girl
+      I've met within the bay;
+    Her two lips are of cherry red,
+      Her hands a pretty pair,
+    With such a charming turn-up nose,
+      And lovely reddish hair.
+
+    'Tis there she stands from morn till night,
+      Her customers to please,
+    And to appease their appetite
+      She sells them beans and peas.
+    Attracted by the glances from
+      The apple of her eye,
+    And by her Chili apples, too,
+      Each passer-by will buy.
+
+    She stands upon her little feet
+      Throughout the livelong day,
+    And sells her celery and things--
+      A big feat, by the way.
+    She changes off her stock for change,
+      Attending to each call;
+    And when she has but one beet left,
+      She says, "Now, that beats all."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As to puns in conversation, my only fear is that they are too generally
+indulged in. Only one of this sort can be allowed, and that from the
+highest lady in the land, who is distinguished for culture and good
+sense, as well as wit. A friend said to her as she was leaving Buffalo
+for Washington: "I hope you will hail from Buffalo."
+
+"Oh, I see you expect me to hail from Buffalo and reign in Washington,"
+said the quick-witted sister of our President.
+
+In epigrams there is little to offer. But as it is stated that "women
+cannot achieve a well-rounded epigram," a few specimens must be
+produced.
+
+Jane Austen has left two on record. The first was suggested by reading
+in a newspaper the marriage of a Mr. Gell to Miss Gill, of Eastborne.
+
+    "At Eastborne, Mr. Gell, from being perfectly well,
+     Became dreadfully ill for love of Miss Gill;
+     So he said, with some sighs, 'I'm the slave of your iis;
+     Oh, restore, if you please, by accepting my ees.'"
+
+The second is on the marriage of a middle-aged flirt with a Mr. Wake,
+whom gossips averred she would have scorned in her prime.
+
+    "Maria, good-humored and handsome and tall,
+       For a husband was at her last stake;
+     And having in vain danced at many a ball,
+       Is now happy to jump at a Wake."
+
+It was Lady Townsend who said that the human race was divided into men,
+women, and _Herveys_. This epigram has been borrowed in our day,
+substituting for Herveys the _Beecher_ family.
+
+When some one said of a lady she must be in spirits, for she lives with
+Mr. Walpole, "Yes," replied Lady Townsend, "spirits of hartshorn."
+
+Walpole, caustic and critical, regarded this lady as undeniably witty.
+
+It was Hannah More who said: "There are but two bad things in this
+world--sin and bile."
+
+Miss Thackeray quotes several epigrammatic definitions from her friend
+Miss Evans, as:
+
+"A privileged person: one who is so much a savage when thwarted that
+civilized persons avoid thwarting him."
+
+"A musical woman: one who has strength enough to make much noise and
+obtuseness enough not to mind it."
+
+"Ouida" has given us some excellent examples of epigram, as:
+
+"A pipe is a pocket philosopher, a truer one than Socrates, for it never
+asks questions. Socrates must have been very tiresome, when one thinks
+of it."
+
+"Dinna ye meddle, Tam; it's niver no good a threshin' other folks' corn;
+ye allays gits the flail agin' i' yer own eye somehow."
+
+"Epigrams are the salts of life; but they wither up the grasses of
+foolishness, and naturally the grasses hate to be sprinkled therewith."
+
+"A man never is so honest as when he speaks well of himself. Men are
+always optimists when they look inward, and pessimists when they look
+round them."
+
+"Nothing is so pleasant as to display your worldly wisdom in epigram and
+dissertation, but it is a trifle tedious to hear another person display
+theirs."
+
+"When you talk yourself you think how witty, how original, how acute you
+are; but when another does so, you are very apt to think only, 'What a
+crib from Rochefoucauld!'"
+
+"Boredom is the ill-natured pebble that always _will_ get in the golden
+slipper of the pilgrim of pleasure."
+
+"It makes all the difference in life whether hope is left or--left out!"
+
+"A frog that dwelt in a ditch spat at a worm that bore a lamp.
+
+"'Why do you do that?' said the glow-worm.
+
+"'Why do you shine?' said the frog."
+
+"Calumny is the homage of our contemporaries, as some South Sea
+Islanders spit on those they honor."
+
+"Hived bees get sugar because they will give back honey. All existence
+is a series of equivalents."
+
+"'Men are always like Horace,' said the Princess. 'They admire rural
+life, but they remain, for all that, with Augustus.'"
+
+"If the Venus de Medici could be animated into life, women would only
+remark that her waist was large."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The brilliant Frenchwomen whose very names seem to sparkle as we write
+them, yet of whose wit so little has been preserved, had an especial
+facility for condensed cynicism.
+
+Think of Madame du Deffand, sceptical, sarcastic; feared and hated even
+in her blind old age for her scathing criticisms. When the celebrated
+work of Helvetius appeared he was blamed in her presence for having made
+selfishness the great motive of human action.
+
+"Bah!" said she, "he has only revealed every one's secret."
+
+And listen to this trio of laconics, with their saddening knowledge of
+human frailty and their bitter Voltaireish flavor:
+
+We shall all be perfectly virtuous when there is no longer any flesh on
+our bones.--_Marguerite de Valois._
+
+We like to know the weakness of eminent persons; it consoles us for our
+inferiority.--_Mme. de Lambert._
+
+Women give themselves to God when the devil wants nothing more to do
+with them.--_Sophie Arnould._
+
+Madame de Sevigne's letters present detached thoughts worthy of
+Rochefoucauld without his cynicism. She writes: "One loves so much to
+talk of one's self that one never tires of a _tete-a-tete_ with a lover
+for years. That is the reason that a devotee likes to be with her
+confessor. It is for the pleasure of talking of one's self--even though
+speaking evil." And she remarks to a lady who amused her friends by
+always going into mourning for some prince, or duke, or member of some
+royal family, and who at last appeared in bright colors, "Madame, I
+congratulate myself on the health of Europe."
+
+I find, too, many fine aphorisms from "Carmen Sylva" (Queen of
+Roumania):
+
+"Il vaut mieux avoir pour confesseur un medecin qu'un pretre. Vous dites
+au pretre que vous detestez les hommes, il vous reponds que vous n'etes
+pas chretien. Le medecin vous donne de la rhubarbe, et voila que vous
+aimez votre semblable."
+
+"Vous dites au pretre que vous etes fatigue de vivre; il vous reponds
+que le suicide est un crime. Le medecin vous donne un stimulant, et
+voila que vous trouvez la vie supportable."
+
+"La contradiction anime la conversation; voila pourquoi les cours sont
+si ennuyeuses."
+
+"Quand on veut affirmer quelque chose, on appelle toujours Dieu a
+temoin, parce qu'il ne contredit jamais."
+
+"On ne peut jamais etre fatigue de la vie, on n'est fatigue que de
+soi-meme."
+
+"Il faut etre ou tres-pieux ou tres-philosophe! il faut dire: Seigneur,
+que ta volonte soit faite! ou: Nature, j'admets tes lois, meme
+lorsqu'elles m'ecrasent."
+
+"L'homme est un violon. Ce n'est que lorsque sa derniere corde se brise
+qu'il devient un morceau de bois."
+
+In the recently published sketch of Madame Mohl there are several
+sentences which show trenchant wit, as: "Nations squint in looking at
+one another; we must discount what Germany and France say of each
+other."
+
+Several Englishwomen can be recalled who were noted for their
+epigrammatic wit: as Harriet, Lady Ashburton. On some one saying that
+liars generally speak good-naturedly of others, she replied: "Why, if
+you don't speak a word of truth, it is not so difficult to speak well of
+your neighbor."
+
+"Don't speak so hardly of ----," some one said to her; "he lives on your
+good graces."
+
+"That accounts," she answered, "for his being so thin."
+
+Again: "I don't mind the canvas of a man's mind being good, if only it
+is completely hidden by the worsted and floss."
+
+Or: "She never speaks to any one, which is, of course, a great advantage
+to any one."
+
+Mrs. Carlyle _was_ an epigram herself--small, sweet, yet possessing a
+sting--and her letters give us many sharp and original sayings.
+
+She speaks in one place of "Mrs. ----, an insupportable bore; her neck
+and arms were as naked as if she had never eaten of the tree of the
+knowledge of good and evil."
+
+And what a comical phrase is hers when she writes to her "Dearest"--"I
+take time by the _pig-tail_ and write at night, after post-hours"--that
+growling, surly "dearest," of whom she said, "The amount of bile that he
+brings home is awfully grand."
+
+For a veritable epigram from an American woman's pen we must rely on
+Hannah F. Gould, who wrote many verses that were rather graceful and
+arch than witty. But her epitaph on her friend, the active and
+aggressive Caleb Cushing, is as good as any made by Saxe.
+
+    "Lay aside, all ye dead,
+     For in the next bed
+       Reposes the body of Cushing;
+     He has crowded his way
+     Through the world, they say,
+       And even though dead will be pushing."
+
+Such a hit from a bright woman is refreshing.
+
+Our literary foremothers seemed to prefer to be pedantic, didactic, and
+tedious on the printed page.
+
+Catharine Sedgwick dealt somewhat in epigram, as when she says: "He was
+not one of those convenient single people who are used, as we use straw
+and cotton in packing, to fill up vacant places."
+
+Eliza Leslie (famed for her cook-books and her satiric sketches), when
+speaking of people silent from stupidity, supposed kindly to be full of
+reserved power, says: "We cannot help thinking that when a head is full
+of ideas some of them must involuntarily _ooze_ out."
+
+And is not this epigrammatic advice? "Avoid giving invitations to
+bores--they will come without."
+
+Some of our later literary women prefer the epigrammatic form in
+sentences, crisp and laconic; short sayings full of pith, of which I
+have made a collection.
+
+Gail Hamilton's books fairly bristle with epigrams in condensed style,
+and Kate Field has many a good thought in this shape, as: "Judge no one
+by his relations, whatever criticism you pass upon his companions.
+Relations, like features, are thrust upon us; companions, like clothes,
+are more or less our own selection."
+
+Miss Jewett's style is less epigrammatic, but just as full of humor.
+Speaking of a person who was always complaining, she says: "Nothing ever
+suits her. She ain't had no more troubles to bear than the rest of us;
+but you never see her that she didn't have a chapter to lay before ye.
+I've got 's much feelin' as the next one, but when folks drives in their
+spiggits and wants to draw a bucketful o' compassion every day right
+straight along, there does come times when it seems as if the bar'l was
+getting low."
+
+"The captain, whose eyes were not much better than his ears, always
+refused to go forth after nightfall without his lantern. The old couple
+steered slowly down the uneven sidewalk toward their cousin's house. The
+captain walked with a solemn, rolling gait, learned in his many long
+years at sea, and his wife, who was also short and stout, had caught
+the habit from him. If they kept step all went well; but on this
+occasion, as sometimes happened, they did not take the first step out
+into the world together, so they swayed apart, and then bumped against
+each other as they went along. To see the lantern coming through the
+mist you might have thought it the light of a small craft at sea in
+heavy weather."
+
+"Deaf people hear more things that are worth listening to than people
+with better ears; one likes to have something worth telling in talking
+to a person who misses most of the world's talk."
+
+"Emory Ann," a creation of Mrs. Whitney's, often spoke in epigrams, as:
+"Good looks are a snare; especially to them that haven't got 'em." While
+Mrs. Walker's creed, "I believe in the total depravity of inanimate
+things," is more than an epigram--it is an inspiration.
+
+Charlotte Fiske Bates, who compiled the "Cambridge Book of Poetry," and
+has given us a charming volume of her own verses, which no one runs any
+"Risk" in buying, in spite of the title of the book, has done a good
+deal in this direction, and is fond of giving an epigrammatic turn to a
+bright thought, as in the following couplet:
+
+    "Would you sketch in two words a coquette and deceiver?
+     Name two Irish geniuses, Lover and Lever!"
+
+She also succeeds with the quatrain:
+
+
+ON BEING CALLED A GOOSE.
+
+    A signal name is this, upon my word!
+      Great Juno's geese saved Rome her citadel.
+    Another drowsy Manlius may be stirred
+      And the State saved, if I but cackle well.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I recall a charming _jeu d'esprit_ from Mrs. Barrows, the beloved "Aunt
+Fanny," who writes equally well for children and grown folks, and whose
+big heart ranges from earnest philanthropy to the perpetration of
+exquisite nonsense.
+
+It is but a trifle, sent with a couple of peanut-owls to a niece of
+Bryant's. The aged poet was greatly amused.
+
+    "When great Minerva chose the Owl,
+       That bird of solemn phiz,
+     That truly awful-looking fowl,
+       To represent her wis-
+     Dom, little recked the goddess of
+       The time when she would howl
+     To see a Peanut set on end,
+       And called--Minerva's Owl."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Miss Phelps has given us some sentences which convey an epigram in a
+keen and delicate fashion, as:
+
+"All forms of self-pity, like Prussian blue, should be sparingly used."
+
+"As a rule, a man can't cultivate his mustache and his talents
+impartially."
+
+"As happy as a kind-hearted old lady with a funeral to go to."
+
+"No men are so fussy about what they eat as those who think their brains
+the biggest part of them."
+
+"The professor's sister, a homeless widow, of excellent Vermont
+intentions and high ideals in cup-cake."
+
+And this longer extract has the same characteristics:
+
+"You know how it is with people, Avis; some take to zoology, and some
+take to religion. That's the way it is with places. It may be the
+Lancers, and it may be prayer-meetings. Once I went to see my grandmother
+in the country, and everybody had a candy-pull; there were twenty-five
+candy-pulls and taffy-bakes in that town that winter. John Rose says, in
+the Connecticut Valley, where he came from, it was missionary barrels;
+and I heard of a place where it was cold coffee. In Harmouth it's
+improving your mind. And so," added Coy, "we run to reading-clubs, and
+we all go fierce, winter after winter, to see who'll get the 'severest.'
+There's a set outside of the faculty that descends to charades and music
+and inconceivably low intellectual depths; and some of our girls sneak
+off and get in there once in a while, like the little girl that wanted
+to go from heaven to hell to play Saturday afternoons, just as you and I
+used to do, Avis, when we dared. But I find I've got too old for that,"
+said Coy, sadly. "When you're fairly past the college-boys, and as far
+along as the law students--"
+
+"Or the theologues?" interposed Avis.
+
+"Yes, or the theologues, or even the medical department; then there
+positively _is_ nothing for it but to improve your mind."
+
+Listen to Lavinia, one of Mrs. Rose Terry Cooke's sensible Yankee women:
+
+"Land! if you want to know folks, just hire out to 'em. They take their
+wigs off afore the help, so to speak, seemingly."
+
+"Marryin' a man ain't like settin' alongside of him nights and hearin'
+him talk pretty; that's the fust prayer. There's lots an' lots o'
+meetin' after that!"
+
+And what an amount of sense, as well as wit, in Sam Lawson's sayings in
+"Old Town Folks." As this book is not to be as large as Worcester's
+Unabridged Dictionary, I can only give room to one.
+
+"We don't none of us like to have our sins set in order afore us. There
+was _David_, now, he was crank as could be when he thought Nathan was a
+talkin' about _other_ people's sins. Says David: 'The man that did that
+shall surely die.' But come to set it home and say, '_Thou_ art the
+man!' David caved right in. 'Lordy massy, bless your soul and body,
+Nathan!' says he, 'I don't want to die.'"
+
+And Mrs. A.D.T. Whitney must not be forgotten. "As Emory Ann said once
+about thoughts: 'You can't hinder 'em any more than you can the birds
+that fly in the air; but you needn't let 'em light and make a nest in
+your hair.'"
+
+And what a capital hit on the hypocritical apologies of conceited
+housekeepers is this bit from Mrs. Whicher ("Widow Bedott"): "A person
+that didn't know how wimmin always go on at such a place would a thought
+that Miss Gipson had tried to have everything the miserablest she
+possibly could, and that the rest on 'em never had anything to hum but
+what was miserabler yet."
+
+And Marietta Holley, who has caused a tidal-wave of laughter by her
+"Josiah Allen's Wife" series, shall have her say.
+
+"We, too, are posterity, though mebby we don't realize it as we ort to."
+
+"She didn't seem to sense anything, only ruffles and such like. Her mind
+all seemed to be narrowed down and puckered up, just like trimmin'."
+
+But I must have convinced the most sceptical of woman's wit in
+epigrammatic form, and will now return to an older generation, who claim
+a fair share of attention.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+HUMOR OF LITERARY ENGLISHWOMEN.
+
+
+In reviewing the _bon-mots_ of Stella, whom Swift pronounced the most
+witty woman he had ever known, it seems that we are improving. I will
+give but two of her sayings, which were so carefully preserved by her
+friend.
+
+When she was extremely ill her physician said, "Madam, you are near the
+bottom of the hill, but we will endeavor to get you up again;" she
+answered: "Doctor, I fear I shall be out of breath before I get up to
+the top."
+
+After she had been eating some sweet thing a little of it happened to
+stick on her lips. A gentleman told her of it, and offered to lick it
+off. She said: "No, sir, I thank you; I have a tongue of my own."
+
+Compare these with the wit of George Eliot or the irony of Miss Phelps.
+
+Some of Jane Taylor's stories and poems were formerly regarded as
+humorous; for instance, the "Discontented Pendulum" and the
+"Philosopher's Scales." They do not now raise the faintest smile.
+
+Fanny Burney's novels were considered immensely humorous and diverting
+in their day. Burke complimented her on "her natural vein of humor," and
+another eminent critic speaks of "her sarcasm, drollery, and humor;" but
+it would be almost impossible to find a passage for quotation that
+would now satisfy on these points. Even Jane Austen's novels, which
+strangely retain their hold on the public taste, are tedious to those
+who dare to think for themselves and forget Macaulay's verdict.
+
+Mrs. Barbauld, in her poem on "Washing Day," shows a capacity seldom
+exercised for seeing the humorous side of every-day miseries.
+
+                "Woe to the friend
+    Whose evil stars have urged him forth to claim
+    On such a day the hospitable rites!
+    Looks, blank at best, and stinted courtesy
+    Shall he receive. Vainly he feeds his hopes
+    With dinner of roast chicken, savory pie,
+    Or tart, or pudding; pudding he nor tart
+    That day shall eat; nor, though the husband try
+    Mending what can't be helped to kindle mirth
+    From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow
+    Cheer up propitious; the unlucky guest
+    In silence dines, and early slinks away."
+
+But her style is too stiff and stately for every day.
+
+There were many literary Englishwomen who had undoubted humor. Hannah
+More did get unendurably poky, narrow, and solemn in her last days, and
+not a little sanctimonious; and we naturally think of her as an aged
+spinster with black mitts, corkscrew curls, and a mob cap, always
+writing or presenting a tedious tract, forgetting her brilliant youth,
+when she was quite good enough, and lively, too. She was a perennial
+favorite in London, meeting all the notables; the special pet of Dr.
+Johnson, Davy Garrick, and Horace Walpole, who called her his "holy
+Hannah," but admired and honored her, corresponding with her through a
+long life. She was then full of spirit and humor and versatile talent.
+An extract from her sister's lively letter shows that Hannah could hold
+her own with the Ursa Major of literature:
+
+"Tuesday evening we drank tea at Sir Joshua's with Dr. Johnson. Hannah
+is certainly a great favorite. She was placed next him, and they had the
+entire conversation to themselves. They were both in remarkably high
+spirits. It was certainly her lucky night. I never heard her say so many
+good things. The old genius was extremely jocular, and the young one
+very pleasant. You would have imagined we had been at some comedy had
+you heard our peals of laughter. They, indeed, tried which could pepper
+the highest, and it is not clear to me that the lexicographer was really
+the highest seasoner."
+
+And how deliciously does she set out the absurdity then prevailing, and
+seen now in editions of Shakespeare and Chaucer, of writing books, the
+bulk of which consists of notes, with only a line or two at the top of
+each page of the original text.
+
+It seems that a merry party at Dr. Kennicott's had each adopted the name
+of some animal. Dr. K. was the elephant; Mrs. K., dromedary; Miss Adams,
+antelope; and H. More, rhinoceros.
+
+                              "HAMPTON, December 24, 1728.
+
+    "DEAR DROMY (a): Pray, send word if _Ante_
+    (b) is come, and also how _Ele_ (c) does, to your
+    very affectionate         RHYNEY" (d).
+
+The following notes on the above epistle are by a commentator of the
+latter end of the nineteenth century. This epistle is all that is come
+down to us of this voluminous author, and is probably the only thing she
+ever wrote that was worth preserving, or which might reasonably expect
+to reach posterity. Her name is only presented to us in some beautiful
+hendecasyllables written by the best Latin poet of his time (Bishop
+Lowth):
+
+     _Note_ (_a_).
+
+     "_Dromy._--From the termination of this address it
+     seems to have been written to a woman, though there is
+     no internal evidence to support this hypothesis. The
+     best critics are much puzzled about the orthography of
+     this abbreviation. Wartonius and other skilful
+     etymologists contend that it ought to be spelled
+     _drummy_, being addressed to a lady who was probably
+     fond of warlike instruments, and who had a singular
+     predilection for a _canon_. Drummy, say they, was a
+     tender diminutive of drum, as the best authors in their
+     more familiar writings now begin to use gunny for gun.
+     But _Hardius_, a contemporary critic, contends, with
+     more probability, that it ought to be written _Drome_,
+     from hippodrome; a learned leech and elegant bard of
+     Bath having left it on record that this lady spent much
+     of her time at the riding-school, being a very
+     exquisite judge of horsemanship. _Colmanus_ and
+     _Horatius Strawberryensis_ insist that it ought to be
+     written _Dromo_, in reference to the Dromo Sorasius of
+     the Latin dramatist."
+
+     _Note_ (_b_).
+
+     "_Ante._--Scaliger 2d says this name simply signifies
+     the appellation of uncle's wife, and ought to be
+     written _Aunty_. But here, again, are various readings.
+     Philologists of yet greater name affirm that it was
+     meant to designate _pre-eminence_, and therefore ought
+     to be written _ante_, before, from the Latin, a
+     language now pretty well forgotten, though the authors
+     who wrote in it are still preserved in French
+     translations. The younger Madame Dacier insists that
+     this lady was against all men, and that it ought to be
+     spelled _anti_; but this Kennicotus, a rabbi of the
+     most recondite learning, with much critical wrath,
+     vehemently contradicts, affirming it to have been
+     impossible she could have been against mankind whom all
+     mankind admired. He adds that ante is for _antelope_,
+     and is emblematically used to express an elegant and
+     slender animal, or that it is an elongation of _ant_,
+     the _emblem of virtuous citizenship_."
+
+And so she continues her comments to close of notes.
+
+Mrs. Gaskell's "Cranford" is full of the most delicate but veritable
+humor, as her allusion to the genteel and cheerful poverty of the lady
+who, in giving a tea-party, "now sat in state, pretending not to know
+what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and she knew that
+we knew; and we knew that she knew that we knew she had been busy all
+the morning making tea-bread and sponge-cakes."
+
+The humor of Mary Russell Mitford, quiet and delectable, must not be
+forgotten. We will sympathize with her woes as she describes a
+visitation from
+
+
+THE TALKING LADY.
+
+"Ben Jonson has a play called _The Silent Woman_, who turns out, as
+might be expected, to be no woman at all--nothing, as Master Slender
+said, but 'a great lubberly boy,' thereby, as I apprehend,
+discourteously presuming that a silent woman is a nonentity. If the
+learned dramatist, thus happily prepared and predisposed, had happened
+to fall in with such a specimen of female loquacity as I have just
+parted with, he might, perhaps, have given us a pendant to his picture
+in the talking lady. Pity but he had! He would have done her justice,
+which I could not at any time, least of all now; I am too much stunned,
+too much like one escaped from a belfry on a coronation day. I am just
+resting from the fatigue of four days' hard listening--four snowy,
+sleety, rainy days; days of every variety of falling weather, all of
+them too bad to admit the possibility that any petticoated thing, were
+she as hardy as a Scotch fir, should stir out; four days chained by 'sad
+civility' to that fireside, once so quiet, and again--cheering
+thought!--again I trust to be so when the echo of that visitor's
+incessant tongue shall have died away....
+
+"She took us in her way from London to the west of England, and being,
+as she wrote, 'not quite well, not equal to much company, prayed that no
+other guest might be admitted, so that she might have the pleasure of
+our conversation all to herself (_ours!_ as if it were possible for any
+of us to slide in a word edgewise!), and especially enjoy the
+gratification of talking over old times with the master of the house,
+her countryman.'
+
+"Such was the promise of her letter, and to the letter it has been kept.
+All the news and scandal of a large county forty years ago, and a
+hundred years before, and ever since; all the marriages, deaths, births,
+elopements, law-suits, and casualties of her own times, her father's,
+grandfather's, great-grandfather's, nephews', and grandnephews', has she
+detailed with a minuteness, an accuracy, a prodigality of learning, a
+profuseness of proper names, a pedantry of locality, which would excite
+the envy of a county historian, a king-at-arms, or even a Scotch
+novelist.
+
+"Her knowledge is most astonishing; but the most astonishing part of all
+is how she came by that knowledge. It should seem, to listen to her, as
+if at some time of her life she must have listened herself; and yet her
+countryman declares that in the forty years he has known her, no such
+event has occurred; and she knows new news, too! It must be
+intuition!...
+
+"The very weather is not a safe subject. Her memory is a perpetual
+register of hard frosts and long droughts, and high winds and terrible
+storms, with all the evils that followed in their train, and all the
+personal events connected with them; so that, if you happen to remark
+that clouds are come up and you fear it may rain, she replies: 'Ay, it
+is just such a morning as three-and-thirty years ago, when my poor
+cousin was married--you remember my cousin Barbara; she married
+so-and-so, the son of so-and-so;' and then comes the whole pedigree of
+the bridegroom, the amount of the settlements, and the reading and
+signing them overnight; a description of the wedding-dresses in the
+style of Sir Charles Grandison, and how much the bride's gown cost per
+yard; the names, residences, and a short subsequent history of the
+bridesmaids and men, the gentleman who gave the bride away, and the
+clergyman who performed the ceremony, with a learned antiquarian
+digression relative to the church; then the setting out in procession;
+the marriage, the kissing, the crying, the breakfasting, the drawing the
+cake through the ring, and, finally, the bridal excursion, which brings
+us back again, at an hour's end, to the starting-post, the weather, and
+the whole story of the sopping, the drying, the clothes-spoiling, the
+cold-catching, and all the small evils of a summer shower. By this time
+it rains, and she sits down to a pathetic see-saw of conjectures on the
+chance of Mrs. Smith's having set out for her daily walk, or the
+possibility that Dr. Brown may have ventured to visit his patients in
+his gig, and the certainty that Lady Green's new housemaid would come
+from London on the outside of the coach....
+
+"I wonder, if she had happened to be married, how many husbands she
+would have talked to death. It is certain that none of her relatives are
+long-lived, after she comes to reside with them. Father, mother, uncle,
+sister, brother, two nephews, and one niece, all these have
+successively passed away, though a healthy race, and with no visible
+disorder--except--But we must not be uncharitable."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mary Ferrier, the Scotch novelist, was gifted with genial wit and a
+quick sense of the ludicrous. Walter Scott admired her greatly, and as a
+lively guest at Abbotsford she did much to relieve the sadness of his
+last days. He said of her:
+
+   "She is a gifted personage, having, besides her great talents,
+   conversation the least _exigeante_ of any author, female at
+   least, whom I have ever seen, among the long list I have
+   encountered. Simple and full of humor, and exceedingly ready at
+   repartee; and all this without the least affectation of the
+   blue-stocking. The general strain of her writing relates to the
+   foibles and oddities of mankind, and no one has drawn them with
+   greater breadth of comic humor or effect. Her scenes often
+   resemble the style of our best old comedies, and she may boast,
+   like Foote, of adding many new and original characters to the
+   stock of our comic literature."
+
+Here is one of her admirably-drawn portraits:
+
+
+THE SENSIBLE WOMAN.
+
+"Miss Jacky, the senior of the trio, was what is reckoned a very
+sensible woman--which generally means a very disagreeable, obstinate,
+illiberal director of all men, women, and children--a sort of
+superintendent of all actions, time, and place, with unquestioned
+authority to arraign, judge, and condemn upon the statutes of her own
+supposed sense. Most country parishes have their sensible woman, who
+lays down the law on all affairs, spiritual and temporal. Miss Jacky
+stood unrivalled as the sensible woman of Glenfern. She had attained
+this eminence partly from having a little more understanding than her
+sisters, but principally from her dictatorial manner, and the pompous,
+decisive tone in which she delivered the most commonplace truths. At
+home her supremacy in all matters of sense was perfectly established;
+and thence the infection, like other superstitions, had spread over the
+whole neighborhood. As a sensible woman she regulated the family,
+which she took care to let everybody hear; she was a sort of
+postmistress-general, a detector of all abuses and impositions, and
+deemed it her prerogative to be consulted about all the useful and
+useless things which everybody else could have done as well. She was
+liberal of her advice to the poor, always enforcing upon them the
+iniquity of idleness, but doing nothing for them in the way of
+employment, strict economy being one of the many points in which she was
+particularly sensible. The consequence was that, while she was lecturing
+half the poor women in the parish for their idleness, the bread was kept
+out of their mouths by the incessant carding of wool, and knitting of
+stockings, and spinning, and reeling, and winding, and pirning, that
+went on among the ladies themselves. And, by the by, Miss Jacky is not
+the only sensible woman who thinks she is acting a meritorious part when
+she converts what ought to be the portion of the poor into the
+employment of the affluent.
+
+"In short, Min Jacky was all over sense. A skilful physiognomist would
+at a single glance have detected the sensible woman in the erect head,
+the compressed lips, square elbows, and firm, judicious step. Even her
+very garments seemed to partake of the prevailing character of their
+mistress. Her ruff always looked more sensible than any other body's;
+her shawl sat most sensibly on her shoulders; her walking-shoes were
+acknowledged to be very sensible, and she drew on her gloves with an air
+of sense, as if the one arm had been Seneca, the other Socrates. From
+what has been said it may easily be inferred that Miss Jacky was, in
+fact, anything but a sensible woman, as, indeed, no woman can be who
+bears such visible outward marks of what is in reality the most quiet
+and unostentatious of all good qualities."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frederika Bremer, the Swedish novelist, whose novels have been
+translated into English, German, French, and Dutch, had a style
+peculiarly her own. Her humor reminds me of a bed of mignonette, with
+its delicate yet permeating fragrance. One paragraph, like one spray of
+that shy flower, scarcely reveals the dainty flavor.
+
+From the "Neighbors," her best story, and one that still has a moderate
+sale, I take her description of Franziska's first little lover-like
+quarrel with her adoring husband, the "Bear." (Let us remember Miss
+Bremer with appreciation and gratitude, as one of the very few visitors
+we have entertained who have written kindly of our country and our
+"Homes.")
+
+
+THE FIRST QUARREL.
+
+"Here I am again sitting with a pen in my hand, impelled by a desire for
+writing, yet with nothing particular to write about. Everything in the
+house and in the whole household arrangement is in order. Little patties
+are baking in the kitchen, the weather is oppressively hot, and every
+leaf and bird seem as if deprived of motion. The hens lie outside in the
+sand before the window, the cock stands solitarily on one leg, and looks
+upon his harem with the countenance of a sleepy sultan. Bear sits in his
+room writing letters. I hear him yawn; that infects me. Oh! oh! I must
+go and have a little quarrel with him on purpose to awaken us both.
+
+"I want at this moment a quire of writing-paper on which to drop
+sugar-cakes. He is terribly miserly of his writing-paper, and on that
+very account I must have some now.
+
+"_Later._--All is done! A complete quarrel, and how completely lively we
+are after it! You, Maria, must hear all, that you may thus see how it
+goes on among married people.
+
+"I went to my husband and said quite meekly, 'My Angel Bear, you must be
+so very good as to give me a quire of your writing-paper to drop
+sugar-cakes upon.'
+
+"_He_ (_in consternation_). 'A quire of writing-paper?'
+
+"_She._ 'Yes, my dear friend, of your very best writing-paper.'
+
+"_He._ 'Finest writing-paper? Are you mad?'
+
+"_She._ 'Certainly not; but I believe you are a little out of your
+senses.'
+
+"_He._ 'You covetous sea-cat, leave off raging among my papers! You
+shall not have my paper!'
+
+"_She._ 'Miserly beast! I shall and will have the paper.'
+
+"_He._ '"I shall"! Listen a moment. Let's see, now, how you will
+accomplish your will.' And the rough Bear held both my small hands fast
+in his great paws.
+
+"_She._ 'You ugly Bear! You are worse than any of those that walk on
+four legs. Let me loose! Let me loose, else I shall bite you!' And as he
+would not let me loose I bit him. Yes, Maria, I bit him really on the
+hand, at which he only laughed scornfully and said: 'Yes, yes, my little
+wife, that is always the way of those who are forward without the power
+to do. Take the paper. Now, take it!'
+
+"_She._ 'Ah! Let me loose! let me loose!'
+
+"_He._ 'Ask me prettily.'
+
+"_She._ 'Dear Bear!'
+
+"_He._ 'Acknowledge your fault.'
+
+"_She._ 'I do.'
+
+"_He._ 'Pray for forgiveness.'
+
+"_She._ 'Ah, forgiveness!'
+
+"_He._ 'Promise amendment.'
+
+"_She._ 'Oh, yes, amendment!'
+
+"_He._ 'Nay, I'll pardon you. But now, no sour faces, dear wife, but
+throw your arms round my neck and kiss me.'
+
+"I gave him a little box on the ear, stole a quire of paper, and ran off
+with loud exultation. Bear followed into the kitchen growling horribly;
+but then I turned upon him armed with two delicious little patties,
+which I aimed at his mouth, and there they vanished. Bear, all at once,
+was quite still, the paper was forgotten, and reconciliation concluded.
+
+"There is, Maria, no better way of stopping the mouths of these lords of
+the creation than by putting into them something good to eat."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I wish I had room for my favorite Irishwoman, Lady Morgan, and her
+description of her first rout at the house of the eccentric Lady Cork.
+
+The off-hand songs of her sister, Lady Clarke, are fine illustrations of
+rollicking Irish wit and badinage.
+
+At one of Lady Morgan's receptions, given in honor of fifty philosophers
+from England, Lady Clarke sang the following song with "great effect:"
+
+
+FUN AND PHILOSOPHY.
+
+    Heigh for ould Ireland! Oh, would you require a land
+      Where men by nature are all quite the thing,
+    Where pure inspiration has taught the whole nation
+      To fight, love, and reason, talk politics, sing;
+    'Tis Pat's mathematical, chemical, tactical,
+      Knowing and practical, fanciful, gay,
+    Fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry,
+      There's nothing in life that is out of his way.
+
+    He makes light of optics, and sees through dioptrics,
+      He's a dab at projectiles--ne'er misses his man;
+    He's complete in attraction, and quick at reaction,
+      By the doctrine of chances he squares every plan;
+    In hydraulics so frisky, the whole Bay of Biscay,
+      If it flowed but with _whiskey_, he'd store it away.
+    Fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry,
+      There's nothing in life that is out of his way.
+
+    So to him cross over savant and philosopher,
+      Thinking, God help them! to bother us all;
+    But they'll find that for knowledge 'tis at our own college
+      Themselves must inquire for--beds, dinner, or ball.
+    There are lectures to tire, and good lodgings to hire,
+      To all who require and have money to pay;
+    While fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry,
+      Ladies and lecturing fill up the day.
+
+    So at the Rotunda we all sorts of fun do,
+      Hard hearts and pig-iron we melt in one flame;
+    For if Love blows the bellows, our tough college fellows
+      Will thaw into rapture at each lovely dame.
+    There, too, sans apology, tea, tarts, tautology,
+      Are given with zoology, to grave and gay;
+    Thus fun and philosophy, supping and sophistry
+      Send all to England home, happy and gay.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From George Eliot, whose humor is seen at its best in "Adam Bede" and
+"Silas Marner," how much we could quote! How some of her searching
+comments cling to the memory!
+
+"I've nothing to say again' her piety, my dear; but I know very well I
+shouldn't like her to cook my victuals. When a man comes in hungry and
+tired, piety won't feed him, I reckon. Hard carrots 'ull lie heavy on
+his stomach, piety or no piety. I called in one day when she was dishin'
+up Mr. Tryan's dinner, an' I could see the potatoes was as watery as
+watery. It's right enough to be speritial, I'm no enemy to that, but I
+like my potatoes mealy."
+
+"You're right there, Tookey; there's allays two 'pinions: there's the
+'pinion a man has of himsen, and there's the 'pinion other folks have on
+him. There'd be two 'pinions about a cracked bell if the bell could hear
+itself."
+
+"You're mighty fond o' Craig; but for my part, I think he's welly like a
+cock as thinks the sun's rose o' purpose to hear him crow."
+
+"When Mr. Brooke had something painful to tell it was usually his way to
+introduce it among a number of disjointed particulars, as if it were a
+medicine that would get a milder flavor by mixing."
+
+"Heaven knows what would become of our sociality if we never visited
+people we speak ill of; we should live like Egyptian hermits, in crowded
+solitude."
+
+"No, I ain't one to see the cat walking into the dairy and wonder what
+she's come after."
+
+"I have nothing to say again' Craig, on'y it is a pity he couldna be
+hatched o'er again, and hatched different."
+
+"I'm not denyin' the women are foolish; God Almighty made 'em to match
+the men."
+
+"It's a waste of time to praise people dead whom you maligned while
+living; for it's but a poor harvest you'll get by watering last year's
+crop."
+
+"I suppose Dinah's like all the rest of the women, and thinks two and
+two will come to make five, if she only cries and makes bother enough
+about it."
+
+"Put a good face on it and don't seem to be looking out for crows, else
+you'll set other people to watchin' for 'em, too."
+
+"I took pretty good care, before I said 'sniff,' to be sure she would
+say 'snaff,' and pretty quick, too. I warn't a-goin' to open my mouth
+like a dog at a fly, and snap it to again wi' nothin' to swaller."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+FROM ANNE BRADSTREET TO MRS. STOWE.
+
+
+The same gratifying progress and improvement noticed in the wit of women
+of other lands is seen in studying the literary annals of our own
+countrywomen.
+
+Think of Anne Bradstreet, Mercy Warren, and Tabitha Tenney, all extolled
+to the skies by their contemporaries.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mercy Warren was a satirist quite in the strain of Juvenal, but in
+cumbrous, artificial fashion.
+
+Hon. John Winthrop consulted her on the proposed suspension of trade
+with England in all but the _necessaries_ of life, and she playfully
+gives a list of articles that would be included in that word:
+
+              "An inventory clear
+    Of all she needs Lamira offers here;
+    Nor does she fear a rigid Cato's frown,
+    When she lays by the rich embroidered gown,
+    And modestly compounds for just enough,
+    Perhaps some dozens of mere flighty stuff;
+    With lawns and lute strings, blonde and Mechlin laces,
+    Fringes and jewels, fans and tweezer-cases;
+    Gay cloaks and hat, of every shape and size,
+    Scarfs, cardinals, and ribands, of all dyes,
+    With ruffles stamped and aprons of tambour,
+    Tippets and handkerchiefs, at least threescore;
+    With finest muslins that fair India boasts,
+    And the choice herbage from Chinesian coasts;
+    Add feathers, furs, rich satin, and ducapes,
+    And head-dresses in pyramidal shapes;
+    Sideboards of plate and porcelain profuse,
+    With fifty dittoes that the ladies use.
+    So weak Lamira and her wants so few
+    Who can refuse? they're but the sex's due."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Sigourney, voluminous and mediocre, is amusing because so
+absolutely destitute of humor, and her style, a feminine _Johnsonese_,
+is absurdly hifalutin and strained.
+
+This is the way in which she alludes to green apples:
+
+"From the time of their first taking on orbicular shape, and when it
+might be supposed their hardness and acidity would repulse all save
+elephantine tusks and ostrich stomachs, they were the prey of roaming
+children."
+
+And in her poem "To a Shred of Linen":
+
+                        "Methinks I scan
+    Some idiosyncrasy that marks thee out
+    A defunct pillow-case."
+
+She preserved, however, a long list of the various solicitations sent
+her to furnish poems for special occasions, and I think this shows that
+she possessed a sense of humor. Let me quote a few:
+
+"Some verses were desired as an elegy on a pet canary accidentally
+drowned in a barrel of swine's food.
+
+"A poem requested on the dog-star Sirius.
+
+"To write an ode for the wedding of people in Maine, of whom I had never
+heard.
+
+"To punctuate a three-volume novel for an author who complained that the
+work of punctuating always brought on a pain in the small of his back.
+
+"Asked to assist a servant-man not very well able to read in getting his
+Sunday-school lessons, and to write out all the answers for him clear
+through the book--to save his time.
+
+"A lady whose husband expects to be absent on a journey for a month or
+two wishes I would write a poem to testify her joy at his return.
+
+"An elegy on a young man, one of the nine children of a judge of
+probate."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Miss Sedgwick, in her letters, occasionally showed a keen sense of
+humor, as, when speaking of a certain novel, she said:
+
+"There is too much force for the subject. It is as if a railroad should
+be built and a locomotive started to transport skeletons, specimens, and
+one bird of Paradise."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Caroline Gilman, born in 1794, and still living, author of
+"Recollections of a Southern Matron," etc., will be represented by one
+playful poem, which has a veritable New England flavor:
+
+
+JOSHUA'S COURTSHIP.
+
+A NEW ENGLAND BALLAD.
+
+    Stout Joshua was a farmer's son,
+      And a pondering he sat
+    One night when the fagots crackling burned,
+      And purred the tabby cat.
+
+    Joshua was a well-grown youth,
+      As one might plainly see
+    By the sleeves that vainly tried to reach
+      His hands upon his knee.
+
+    His splay-feet stood all parrot-toed
+      In cowhide shoes arrayed,
+    And his hair seemed cut across his brow
+      By rule and plummet laid.
+
+    And what was Joshua pondering on,
+      With his widely staring eyes,
+    And his nostrils opening sensibly
+      To ease his frequent sighs?
+
+    Not often will a lover's lips
+      The tender secret tell,
+    But out he spoke before he thought,
+      "My gracious! Nancy Bell!"
+
+    His mother at her spinning-wheel,
+      Good woman, stood and spun,
+    "And what," says she, "is come o'er you,
+      Is't _airnest_ or is't fun?"
+
+    Then Joshua gave a cunning look,
+      Half bashful and half sporting,
+    "Now what did father do," says he,
+      "When first he came a courting?"
+
+    "Why, Josh, the first thing that he did,"
+      With a knowing wink, said she,
+    "He dressed up of a Sunday night,
+      And _cast sheep's eyes_ at me."
+
+    Josh said no more, but straight went out
+      And sought a butcher's pen,
+    Where twelve fat sheep, for market bound,
+      Had lately slaughtered been.
+
+    He bargained with a lover's zeal,
+      Obtained the wished-for prize,
+    And filled his pockets fore and aft
+      With twice twelve bloody eyes.
+
+    The next night was the happy time
+      When all New England sparks,
+    Drest in their best, go out to court,
+      As spruce and gay as larks.
+
+    When floors are nicely sanded o'er,
+      When tins and pewter shine,
+    And milk-pans by the kitchen wall
+      Display their dainty line;
+
+    While the new ribbon decks the waist
+      Of many a waiting lass,
+    Who steals a conscious look of pride
+      Toward her answering glass.
+
+    In pensive mood sat Nancy Bell;
+      Of Joshua thought not she,
+    But of a hearty sailor lad
+      Across the distant sea.
+
+    Her arm upon the table rests,
+      Her hand supports her head,
+    When Joshua enters with a scrape,
+      And somewhat bashful tread.
+
+    No word he spake, but down he sat,
+      And heaved a doleful sigh,
+    Then at the table took his aim
+      And rolled a glassy eye.
+
+    Another and another flew,
+      With quick and strong rebound,
+    They tumbled in poor Nancy's lap,
+      They fell upon the ground.
+
+    While Joshua smirked, and sighed, and smiled
+      Between each tender aim,
+    And still the cold and bloody balls
+      In frightful quickness came.
+
+    Until poor Nancy flew with screams,
+      To shun the amorous sport,
+    And Joshua found to _cast sheep's eyes_
+      Was not the way to court.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Fanny Forrester" and "Fanny Fern" both delighted the public with
+individual styles of writing, vastly successful when a new thing.
+
+When wanting a new dress and bonnet, as every woman will in the spring
+(or any time), Fanny Forrester wrote to Willis, of the _New Mirror_, an
+appeal which he called "very clever, adroit, and fanciful."
+
+    "You know the shops in Broadway are very tempting this season.
+    _Such_ beautiful things! Well, you know (no, you don't know
+    that, but you can guess) what a delightful thing it would be to
+    appear in one of those charming, head-adorning,
+    complexion-softening, hard-feature-subduing Neapolitans, with a
+    little gossamer veil dropping daintily on the shoulder of one of
+    those exquisite _balzarines_, to be seen any day at Stewart's
+    and elsewhere. Well, you know (this you _must_ know) that
+    shopkeepers have the impertinence to demand a trifling exchange
+    for these things, even of a lady; and also that some people have
+    a remarkably small purse, and a remarkably small portion of the
+    yellow "root" in that. And now, to bring the matter home, I am
+    one of that class. I have the most beautiful little purse in the
+    world, but it is only kept for show. I even find myself under
+    the necessity of counterfeiting--that is, filling the void with
+    tissue-paper in lieu of bank-notes, preparatory to a shopping
+    expedition. Well, now to the point. As Bel and I snuggled down
+    on the sofa this morning to read the _New Mirror_ (by the way,
+    Cousin Bel is never obliged to put tissue-paper in her purse),
+    it struck us that you would be a friend in need, and give good
+    counsel in this emergency. Bel, however, insisted on my not
+    telling what I wanted the money for. She even thought that I had
+    better intimate orphanage, extreme suffering from the bursting
+    of some speculative bubble, illness, etc.; but did I not know
+    you better? Have I read the _New Mirror_ so much (to say nothing
+    of the graceful things coined under a bridge, and a thousand
+    other pages flung from the inner heart) and not learned who has
+    an eye for everything pretty? Not so stupid, Cousin Bel, no,
+    no!...
+
+    "And to the point. Maybe you of the _New Mirror_ PAY for
+    acceptable articles, maybe not. _Comprenez vous?_ Oh, I do hope
+    that beautiful _balzarine_ like Bel's will not be gone before
+    another Saturday! You will not forget to answer me in the next
+    _Mirror_; but pray, my dear Editor, let it be done very
+    cautiously, for Bel would pout all day if she should know what I
+    have written.
+
+    "Till Saturday, your anxiously-waiting friend,
+
+                                                   "FANNY FORRESTER."
+
+Such a note received by an editor of this generation would promptly fall
+into the waste-basket. But Willis was captivated, and answered:
+
+"Well, we give in! On _condition_ that you are under twenty-five and
+that you will wear a rose (recognizably) in your bodice the first time
+you appear in Broadway with the hat and _balzarine_, we will pay the
+bills. Write us thereafter a sketch of Bel and yourself as cleverly done
+as this letter, and you may 'snuggle' down on the sofa and consider us
+paid, and the public charmed with you."
+
+This style of ingratiating one's self with an editor is as much a bygone
+as an alliterative pen-name.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fanny Fern (Sarah Willis Parton) also established a style of her own--"a
+new kind of composition; short, pointed paragraphs, without beginning
+and without end--one clear, ringing note, and then silence."
+
+Her talent for humorous composition showed itself in her essays at
+school. I'll give a bit from her "Suggestions on Arithmetic after
+Cramming for an Examination":
+
+"Every incident, every object of sight seemed to produce an arithmetical
+result. I once saw a poor wretch evidently intoxicated; thought I, 'That
+man has overcome three scruples, to say the least, for three scruples
+make one dram.' Even the Sabbath was no day of rest for me--the psalms,
+prayers, and sermons were all translated by me into the language of
+arithmetic. A good man spoke very feelingly upon the manner in which our
+cares and perplexities were multiplied by riches. Muttered I: 'That,
+sir, depends upon whether the multiplier is a fraction or a whole
+number; for if it be a fraction, it makes the product less.' And when
+another, lamenting the various divisions of the Church, pathetically
+exclaimed: 'And how shall we unite these several denominations in one?'
+
+"'Why, reduce them to a common denominator,' exclaimed I, half aloud,
+wondering at his ignorance.
+
+"And when an admiring swain protested his warm 'interest,' he brought
+only one word that chimed with my train of thought.
+
+"'Interest?' exclaimed I, starting from my reverie. 'What per cent,
+sir?'
+
+"'Ma'am?' exclaimed my attendant, in the greatest possible amazement.
+
+"'How much per cent, sir?' said I, repeating my question.
+
+"His reply was lost on my ear save: 'Madam, at any rate do not trifle
+with my feelings.'
+
+"'At any rate, did you say? Then take six per cent; that is the easiest
+to calculate.'"
+
+Her style, too, has gone out of fashion; but in its day it was thought
+very amusing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Stowe needs no introduction, and she is another of those from whom
+we quote little, because she could contribute so much, and one does not
+know where to choose. Her "Sam Lawson" is, perhaps, the most familiar of
+her odd characters and talkers.
+
+
+SAM LAWSON'S SAYINGS.
+
+"Well, Sam, what did you think of the sermon?" said Uncle Bill.
+
+"Well," said Sam, leaning over the fire with his long, bony hands
+alternately raised to catch the warmth, and then dropped with an utter
+laxness when the warmth became too pronounced, "Parson Simpson's a smart
+man; but I tell ye, it's kind o' discouragin'. Why, he said our state
+and condition by natur war just like this: We war clear down in a well
+fifty feet deep, and the sides all round nothin' but glare ice; but we
+war under immediate obligations to get out, 'cause we war free,
+voluntary agents. But nobody ever had got out, and nobody would, unless
+the Lord reached down and took 'em. And whether he would or not nobody
+could tell; it was all sovereignty. He said there warn't one in a
+hundred, not one in a thousand, not one in ten thousand, that would be
+saved. 'Lordy massy,' says I to myself, 'ef that's so they're any of 'em
+welcome to my chance.' And so I kind o' ris up and come out, 'cause I'd
+got a pretty long walk home, and I wanted to go round by South Pond and
+inquire about Aunt Sally Morse's toothache."...
+
+"This 'ere Miss Sphyxy Smith's a rich old gal, and 'mazin' smart to
+work," he began. "Tell you, she holds all she gets. Old Sol, he told me
+a story 'bout her that was a pretty good un."
+
+"What was it?" said my grandmother.
+
+"Wal, ye see, you 'member old Parson Jeduthun Kendall that lives up in
+Stonytown; he lost his wife a year ago last Thanksgivin', and he thought
+'twar about time he hed another; so he comes down and consults our
+Parson Lothrop. Says he: 'I want a good, smart, neat, economical woman,
+with a good property. I don't care nothin' about her bein' handsome. In
+fact, I ain't particular about anything else,' says he. Wal, Parson
+Lothrop, says he: 'I think, if that's the case, I know jest the woman to
+suit ye. She owns a clear, handsome property, and she's neat and
+economical; but she's no beauty!' 'Oh, beauty is nothin' to me,' says
+Parson Kendall; and so he took the direction. Wal, one day he hitched up
+his old one-hoss shay, and kind o' brushed up, and started off
+a-courtin'. Wal, the parson come to the house, and he war tickled to
+pieces with the looks o' things outside, 'cause the house is all well
+shingled and painted, and there ain't a picket loose nor a nail wantin'
+nowhere.
+
+"'This 'ere's the woman for me,' says Parson Kendall. So he goes up and
+raps hard on the front door with his whip-handle. Wal, you see, Miss
+Sphyxy she war jest goin' out to help get in her hay. She had on a pair
+o' clompin' cowhide boots, and a pitchfork in her hand, jest goin' out,
+when she heard the rap. So she come jest as she was to the front door.
+Now, you know Parson Kendall's a little midget of a man, but he stood
+there on the step kind o' smilin' and genteel, lickin' his lips and
+lookin' _so_ agreeable! Wal, the front door kind o' stuck--front doors
+generally do, ye know, 'cause they ain't opened very often--and Miss
+Sphyxy she had to pull and haul and put to all her strength, and finally
+it come open with a bang, and she 'peared to the parson, pitchfork and
+all, sort o' frownin' like.
+
+"'What do you want?' says she; for, you see, Miss Sphyxy ain't no ways
+tender to the men.
+
+"'I want to see Miss Asphyxia Smith,' says he, very civil, thinking she
+war the hired gal.
+
+"'I'm Miss Asphyxia Smith,' says she. 'What do you want o' me?'
+
+"Parson Kendall he jest took one good look on her, from top to toe.
+'NOTHIN',' says he, and turned right round and went down the steps like
+lightnin'."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Years ago Mrs. Stowe published some capital stories of New England life,
+which were collected in a little volume called "The Mayflower," a book
+which is now seldom seen, and almost unknown to the present generation.
+From this I take her "Night in a Canal-Boat." Extremely effective when
+read with enthusiasm and proper variety of tone. I quote it as a boon
+for the boys and girls who are often looking for something "funny" to
+read aloud.
+
+
+THE CANAL-BOAT.
+
+BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
+
+Of all the ways of travelling which obtain among our locomotive nation,
+this said vehicle, the canal-boat, is the most absolutely prosaic and
+inglorious. There is something picturesque, nay, almost sublime, in the
+lordly march of your well-built, high-bred steamboat. Go take your stand
+on some overhanging bluff, where the blue Ohio winds its thread of
+silver, or the sturdy Mississippi tears its path through unbroken
+forests, and it will do your heart good to see the gallant boat walking
+the waters with unbroken and powerful tread, and, like some fabled
+monster of the wave, breathing fire and making the shores resound with
+its deep respirations. Then there is something mysterious--even
+awful--in the power of steam. See it curling up against a blue sky some
+rosy morning, graceful, floating, intangible, and to all appearance the
+softest and gentlest of all spiritual things, and then think that it is
+this fairy spirit that keeps all the world alive and hot with motion;
+think how excellent a servant it is, doing all sorts of gigantic works,
+like the genii of old; and yet, if you let slip the talisman only for a
+moment, what terrible advantage it will take of you! and you will
+confess that steam has some claims both to the beautiful and the
+terrible! For our own part, when we are down among the machinery of a
+steamboat in full play, we conduct ourselves very reverently, for we
+consider it as a very serious neighborhood, and every time the steam
+whizzes with such red-hot determination from the escape-valve, we start
+as if some of the spirits were after us. But in a canal-boat there is no
+power, no mystery, no danger; one cannot blow up, one cannot be
+drowned--unless by some special effort; one sees clearly all there is in
+the case--a horse, a rope, and a muddy strip of water--and that is all.
+
+Did you ever try it, reader? If not, take an imaginary trip with us,
+just for experiment. "There's the boat!" exclaims a passenger in the
+omnibus, as we are rolling down from the Pittsburg Mansion House to the
+canal. "Where?" exclaim a dozen of voices, and forthwith a dozen heads
+go out of the window. "Why, down there, under that bridge; don't you see
+those lights?" "What, that little thing!" exclaims an inexperienced
+traveller; "dear me! we can't half of us get into it!" "We! indeed,"
+says some old hand in the business; "I think you'll find it will hold us
+and a dozen more loads like us." "Impossible!" say some. "You'll see,"
+say the initiated; and as soon as you get out you _do_ see, and hear,
+too, what seems like a general breaking loose from the Tower of Babel,
+amid a perfect hail-storm of trunks, boxes, valises, carpet-bags, and
+every describable and indescribable form of what a Westerner calls
+"plunder."
+
+"That's my trunk!" barks out a big, round man. "That's my bandbox!"
+screams a heart-stricken old lady, in terror for her immaculate Sunday
+caps. "Where's my little red box? I had two carpet-bags and a--My trunk
+had a scarle--Halloo! where are you going with that portmanteau?
+Husband! Husband! do see after the large basket and the little
+hair-trunk--Oh, and the baby's little chair!" "Go below, go below, for
+mercy's sake, my dear; I'll see to the baggage." At last the feminine
+part of creation, perceiving that, in this particular instance, they
+gain nothing by public speaking, are content to be led quietly under
+hatches; and amusing is the look of dismay which each new-comer gives to
+the confined quarters that present themselves. Those who were so
+ignorant of the power of compression as to suppose the boat scarce large
+enough to contain them and theirs, find, with dismay, a respectable
+colony of old ladies, babies, mothers, big baskets, and carpet-bags
+already established. "Mercy on us!" says one, after surveying the little
+room, about ten feet long and six feet high, "where are we all to sleep
+to-night?" "Oh, me, what a sight of children!" says a young lady, in a
+despairing tone. "Pooh!" says an initiated traveller, "children! scarce
+any here; let's see: one; the woman in the corner, two; that child with
+the bread and butter, three; and then there's that other woman with two.
+Really, it's quite moderate for a canal-boat. However, we can't tell
+till they have all come."
+
+"All! for mercy's sake, you don't say there are any more coming!"
+exclaim two or three in a breath; "they _can't_ come; _there is not
+room_!"
+
+Notwithstanding the impressive utterance of this sentence the contrary
+is immediately demonstrated by the appearance of a very corpulent
+elderly lady with three well-grown daughters, who come down looking
+about them most complacently, entirely regardless of the unchristian
+looks of the company. What a mercy it is that fat people are always
+good-natured!
+
+After this follows an indiscriminate raining down of all shapes, sizes,
+sexes, and ages--men, women, children, babies, and nurses. The state of
+feeling becomes perfectly desperate. Darkness gathers on all faces. "We
+shall be smothered! we shall be crowded to death! we _can't stay_ here!"
+are heard faintly from one and another; and yet, though the boat grows
+no wider, the walls no higher, they do live, and do stay there, in spite
+of repeated protestations to the contrary. Truly, as Sam Slick says,
+"there's a _sight of wear_ in human natur'!"
+
+But meanwhile the children grow sleepy, and divers interesting little
+duets and trios arise from one part or another of the cabin.
+
+"Hush, Johnny! be a good boy," says a pale, nursing mamma, to a great,
+bristling, white-headed phenomenon, who is kicking very much at large in
+her lap.
+
+"I won't be a good boy, neither," responds Johnny, with interesting
+explicitness; "I want to go to bed, and so-o-o-o!" and Johnny makes up a
+mouth as big as a tea-cup, and roars with good courage, and his mamma
+asks him "if he ever saw pa do so," and tells him that "he is mamma's
+dear, good little boy, and must not make a noise," with various
+observations of the kind, which are so strikingly efficacious in such
+cases. Meanwhile the domestic concert in other quarters proceeds with
+vigor. "Mamma, I'm tired!" bawls a child. "Where's the baby's
+nightgown?" calls a nurse. "Do take Peter up in your lap, and keep him
+still." "Pray get out some biscuits to stop their mouths." Meanwhile
+sundry babies strike in _con spirito_, as the music-books have it, and
+execute various flourishes; the disconsolate mothers sigh, and look as
+if all was over with them; and the young ladies appear extremely
+disgusted, and wonder "what business women have to be travelling round
+with children."
+
+To these troubles succeeds the turning-out scene, when the whole caravan
+is ejected into the gentlemen's cabin, that the beds may be made. The
+red curtains are put down, and in solemn silence all the last mysterious
+preparations begin. At length it is announced that all is ready.
+Forthwith the whole company rush back, and find the walls embellished by
+a series of little shelves, about a foot wide, each furnished with a
+mattress and bedding, and hooked to the ceiling by a very suspiciously
+slender cord. Direful are the ruminations and exclamations of
+inexperienced travellers, particularly young ones, as they eye these
+very equivocal accommodations. "What, sleep up there! _I_ won't sleep on
+one of those top shelves, _I_ know. The cords will certainly break." The
+chambermaid here takes up the conversation, and solemnly assures them
+that such an accident is not to be thought of at all; that it is a
+natural impossibility--a thing that could not happen without an actual
+miracle; and since it becomes increasingly evident that thirty ladies
+cannot all sleep on the lowest shelf, there is some effort made to
+exercise faith in this doctrine; nevertheless all look on their
+neighbors with fear and trembling; and when the stout lady talks of
+taking a shelf, she is most urgently pressed to change places with her
+alarmed neighbor below. Points of location being after a while adjusted,
+comes the last struggle. Everybody wants to take off a bonnet, or look
+for a shawl, to find a cloak, or get a carpet-bag, and all set about it
+with such zeal that nothing can be done. "Ma'am, you're on my foot!"
+says one. "Will you please to move, ma'am?" says somebody, who is
+gasping and struggling behind you. "Move!" you echo. "Indeed, I should
+be very glad to, but I don't see much prospect of it." "Chambermaid!"
+calls a lady who is struggling among a heap of carpet-bags and children
+at one end of the cabin. "Ma'am!" echoes the poor chambermaid, who is
+wedged fast in a similar situation at the other. "Where's my cloak,
+chambermaid?" "I'd find it, ma'am, if I could move." "Chambermaid, my
+basket!" "Chambermaid, my parasol!" "Chambermaid, my carpet-bag!"
+"Mamma, they push me so!" "Hush, child; crawl under there and lie still
+till I can undress you." At last, however, the various distresses are
+over, the babies sink to sleep, and even that much-enduring being, the
+chambermaid, seeks out some corner for repose. Tired and drowsy, you are
+just sinking into a doze, when bang! goes the boat against the sides of
+a lock; ropes scrape, men run and shout; and up fly the heads of all the
+top-shelfites, who are generally the more juvenile and airy part of the
+company.
+
+"What's that! what's that!" flies from mouth to mouth; and forthwith
+they proceed to awaken their respective relations. "Mother! Aunt Hannah!
+do wake up; what is this awful noise?" "Oh, only a lock." "Pray, be
+still," groan out the sleepy members from below.
+
+"A lock!" exclaim the vivacious creatures, ever on the alert for
+information; "and what _is_ a lock, pray?"
+
+"Don't you know what a lock is, you silly creatures. Do lie down and go
+to sleep."
+
+"But say, there ain't any _danger_ in a lock, is there?" respond the
+querists. "Danger!" exclaims a deaf old lady, poking up her head.
+"What's the matter? There hain't nothing burst, has there?" "No, no,
+no!" exclaim the provoked and despairing opposition party, who find that
+there is no such thing as going to sleep till they have made the old
+lady below and the young ladies above understand exactly the philosophy
+of a lock. After a while the conversation again subsides; again all is
+still; you hear only the trampling of horses and the rippling of the
+rope in the water, and sleep again is stealing over you. You doze, you
+dream, and all of a sudden you are startled by a cry, "Chambermaid! wake
+up the lady that wants to be set ashore." Up jumps chambermaid, and up
+jump the lady and two children, and forthwith form a committee of
+inquiry as to ways and means. "Where's my bonnet?" says the lady, half
+awake and fumbling among the various articles of that name. "I thought I
+hung it up behind the door." "Can't you find it?" says the poor
+chambermaid, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "Oh, yes, here it is," says
+the lady; and then the cloak, the shawl, the gloves, the shoes, receive
+each a separate discussion. At last all seems ready, and they begin to
+move off, when lo! Peter's cap is missing. "Now, where can it be?"
+soliloquizes the lady. "I put it right here by the table-leg; maybe it
+got into some of the berths." At this suggestion the chambermaid takes
+the candle, and goes round deliberately to every berth, poking the light
+directly in the face of every sleeper. "Here it is," she exclaims,
+pulling at something black under one pillow. "No, indeed, those are my
+shoes," says the vexed sleeper. "Maybe it's here," she resumes, darting
+upon something dark in another berth. "No, that's my bag," responds the
+occupant. The chambermaid then proceeds to turn over all the children on
+the floor, to see if it is not under them. In the course of which
+process they are most agreeably waked up and enlivened; and when
+everybody is broad awake, and most uncharitably wishing the cap, and
+Peter too, at the bottom of the canal, the good lady exclaims, "Well, if
+this isn't lucky; here I had it safe in my basket all the time!" And she
+departed amid the--what shall I say? execrations!--of the whole company,
+ladies though they be.
+
+Well, after this follows a hushing up and wiping up among the juvenile
+population, and a series of remarks commences from the various shelves
+of a very edifying and instructive tendency. One says that the woman did
+not seem to know where anything was; another says that she has waked
+them all up; a third adds that she has waked up all the children, too;
+and the elderly ladies make moral reflections on the importance of
+putting your things where you can find them--being always ready; which
+observations, being delivered in an exceedingly doleful and drowsy tone,
+form a sort of sub-bass to the lively chattering of the upper-shelfites,
+who declare that they feel quite awake--that they don't think they shall
+go to sleep again to-night, and discourse over everything in creation,
+until you heartily wish you were enough related to them to give them a
+scolding.
+
+At last, however, voice after voice drops off; you fall into a most
+refreshing slumber; it seems to you that you sleep about a quarter of an
+hour, when the chambermaid pulls you by the sleeve. "Will you please to
+get up, ma'am? We want to make the beds." You start and stare. Sure
+enough, the night is gone. So much for sleeping on board canal-boats!
+
+Let us not enumerate the manifold perplexities of the morning toilet in
+a place where every lady realizes most forcibly the condition of the old
+woman who lived under a broom: "All she wanted was elbow-room." Let us
+not tell how one glass is made to answer for thirty fair faces, one ewer
+and vase for thirty lavations; and--tell it not in Gath--one towel for a
+company! Let us not intimate how ladies' shoes have, in a night,
+clandestinely slid into the gentlemen's cabin, and gentlemen's boots
+elbowed, or, rather, _toed_ their way among ladies' gear, nor recite the
+exclamations after runaway property that are heard.
+
+"I can't find nothing of Johnny's shoe!" "Here's a shoe in the
+water-pitcher--is this it?" "My side-combs are gone!" exclaims a nymph
+with dishevelled curls. "Massy! do look at my bonnet!" exclaims an old
+lady, elevating an article crushed into as many angles as there are
+pieces in a mince-pie. "I never did sleep _so much together_ in my
+life," echoes a poor little French lady, whom despair has driven into
+talking English.
+
+But our shortening paper warns us not to prolong our catalogue of
+distresses beyond reasonable bounds, and therefore we will close with
+advising all our friends, who intend to try this way of travelling for
+_pleasure_, to take a good stock both of patience and clean towels with
+them, for we think that they will find abundant need for both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+"SAMPLES" HERE AND THERE.
+
+
+Next comes Mrs. Caroline M. Kirkland with her Western sketches. Many
+will remember her laughable description of "Borrowing Out West," with
+its two appropriate mottoes: "Lend me your ears," from Shakespeare, and
+from Bacon: "Grant graciously what you cannot refuse safely."
+
+"'Mother wants your sifter,' said Miss Ianthe Howard, a young lady of
+six years' standing, attired in a tattered calico thickened with dirt;
+her unkempt locks straggling from under that hideous substitute for a
+bonnet so universal in the Western country--a dirty cotton
+handkerchief--which is used _ad nauseam_ for all sorts of purposes.
+
+"'Mother wants your sifter, and she says she guesses you can let her
+have some sugar and tea, 'cause you've got plenty.' This excellent
+reason, ''cause you've got plenty,' is conclusive as to sharing with
+neighbors.
+
+"Sieves, smoothing-irons, and churns run about as if they had legs; one
+brass kettle is enough for a whole neighborhood, and I could point to a
+cradle which has rocked half the babies in Montacute.
+
+"For my own part, I have lent my broom, my thread, my tape, my spoons,
+my cat, my thimble, my scissors, my shawl, my shoes, and have been asked
+for my combs and brushes, and my husband for his shaving apparatus and
+pantaloons."
+
+Mrs. Whither, whose "Widow Bedott" is a familiar name, resembles Mrs.
+Kirkland in her comic portraitures, which were especially good of their
+kind, and never betrayed any malice. The "Bedott Papers" first appeared
+in 1846, and became popular at once. They are good examples of what they
+simply profess to be: an amusing series of comicalities.
+
+I shall not quote from them, as every one who enjoys that style of humor
+knows them by heart. It would be as useless as copying "Now I lay me
+down to sleep," or "Mary had a little lamb," for a child's collection of
+verses!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There are many authors whom I cannot represent worthily in these brief
+limits. When, encouraged by the unprecedented popularity of this
+venture, I prepare an encyclopaedia of the "Wit and Humor of American
+Women," I can do justice to such writers as "Gail Hamilton" and Miss
+Alcott, whose "Transcendental Wild Oats" cannot be cut. Rose Terry Cooke
+thinks her "Knoware" the only funny thing she has ever done. She is
+greatly mistaken, as I can soon prove. "Knoware" ought to be printed by
+itself to delight thousands, as her "Deacon's Week" has already done. To
+search for a few good things in the works of my witty friends is
+searching not for the time-honored needle in a hay-mow, but for two or
+three needles of just the right size out of a whole paper of needles.
+
+"The Insanity of Cain," by Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge, an inimitable satire
+on the feebleness of our jury system and the absurd pretence of
+"temporary insanity," must wait for that encyclopaedia. And her "Miss
+Molony on the Chinese Question" is known and admired by every one,
+including the Prince of Wales, who was fairly convulsed by its fun, when
+brought out by our favorite elocutionist, Miss Sarah Cowell, who had the
+honor of reading before royalty.
+
+I regretfully omit the "Peterkin Letters," by Lucretia P. Hale, and time
+famous "William Henry Letters," by Mrs. Abby Morton Diaz. The very best
+bit from Miss Sallie McLean would be how "Grandma Spicer gets Grandpa
+Ready for Sunday-school," from the "Cape Cod Folks;" but why not save
+space for what is not in everybody's mouth and memory? This is equally
+true of Mrs. Cleaveland's "No Sects in Heaven," which, like Arabella
+Wilson's "Sextant," goes the rounds of all the papers every other year
+as a fresh delight.
+
+Marietta Holley, too, must be allowed only a brief quotation. "Samantha"
+is a family friend from Mexico to Alaska. Mrs. Metta Victoria Victor,
+who died recently, has written an immense amount of humorous sketches.
+Her "Miss Slimmens," the boarding-house keeper, is a marked character,
+and will be remembered by many.
+
+I will select a few "samples," unsatisfactory because there is so much
+more just as good, and then give room for others less familiar.
+
+
+MISS LUCINDA'S PIG.
+
+BY ROSE TERRY COOKE.
+
+"You don't know of any poor person who'd like to have a pig, do you?"
+said Miss Lucinda, wistfully.
+
+"Well, the poorer they was, the quicker they'd eat him up, I guess--ef
+they could eat such a razor-back."
+
+"Oh, I don't like to think of his being eaten! I wish he could be got
+rid of some other way. Don't you think he might be killed in his sleep,
+Israel?"
+
+"I think it's likely it would wake him up," said he, demurely. "Killin'
+'s killin', and a critter can't sleep over it 's though 'twas the
+stomachache. I guess he'd kick some, ef he _was_ asleep--and screech
+some, too!"
+
+"Dear me!" said Miss Lucinda, horrified at the idea. "I wish he could be
+sent out to run in the woods. Are there any good woods near here,
+Israel?"
+
+"I don't know but what he'd as lieves be slartered to once as to starve
+an' be hunted down out in the lots. Besides, there ain't nobody as I
+knows of would like a hog to be a-rootin' round among their turnips and
+young wheat."
+
+"Well, what I shall do with him I don't know!" despairingly exclaimed
+Miss Lucinda. "He was such a dear little thing when you bought him,
+Israel! Do you remember how pink his pretty little nose was--just like a
+rosebud--and how bright his eyes were, and his cunning legs? And now
+he's grown so big and fierce! But I can't help liking him, either."
+
+"He's a cute critter, that's sartain; but he does too much rootin' to
+have a pink nose now, I expect; there's consider'ble on 't, so I guess
+it looks as well to have it gray. But I don't know no more'n you do what
+to do abaout it."
+
+"If I could only get rid of him without knowing what became of him!"
+exclaimed Miss Lucinda, squeezing her forefinger with great earnestness,
+and looking both puzzled and pained.
+
+"If Mees Lucinda would pairmit?" said a voice behind her.
+
+She turned round to see Monsieur Leclerc on his crutches, just in the
+parlor-door.
+
+"I shall, mees, myself dispose of piggie, if it please. I can. I shall
+have no sound; he shall to go away like a silent snow, to trouble you no
+more, never!"
+
+"Oh, sir, if you could! But I don't see how!"
+
+"If mees was to see, it would not be to save her pain. I shall have him
+to go by _magique_ to fiery land."
+
+Fairy-land, probably. But Miss Lucinda did not perceive the _equivoque_.
+
+"Nor yet shall I trouble Meester Israyel. I shall have the aid of myself
+and one good friend that I have; and some night, when you rise of the
+morning, he shall not be there."
+
+Miss Lucinda breathed a deep sigh of relief.
+
+"I am greatly obliged--I mean, I shall be," said she.
+
+"Well, I'm glad enough to wash my hands on 't," said Israel. "I shall
+hanker arter the critter some, but he's a-gettin' too big to be handy;
+'n it's one comfort about critters, you ken git rid on 'em somehaow when
+they're more plague than profit. But folks has got to be let alone,
+excep' the Lord takes 'em; an' He generally don't see fit."--_From
+Somebody's Neighbors._
+
+
+A GIFT HORSE.
+
+BY ROSE TERRY COOKE.
+
+"Well, he no need to ha' done it, Sary. I've told him more'n four times
+he hadn't ought to pull a gun tow'rds him by the muzzle on't. Now he's
+up an' did it once for all."
+
+"He won't never have no chance to do it again, Scotty, if you don't
+hurry up after the doctor," said Sary, wiping her eyes on her dirty
+calico apron, thereby adding an effective shadow under their redness.
+
+"Well, I'm a-goin', ain't I? But ye know yerself 'twon't do to go so fur
+on eend, 'thout ye're vittled consider'ble well."
+
+So saying, he fell to at the meal she had interrupted, hot potatoes,
+cold pork, dried venison, and blueberry pie vanishing down his throat
+with an alacrity and dispatch that augured well for the thorough
+"vittling" he intended, while Sary went about folding chunks of boiled
+ham, thick slices of brown bread, solid rounds of "sody biskit," and
+slab-sided turnovers in a newspaper, filling a flat bottle with whiskey,
+and now and then casting a look at the low bed where young Harry
+McAlister lay, very much whiter than the sheets about him, and quite as
+unconscious of surroundings, the blood oozing slowly through such
+bandages as Scott Peck's rude surgery had twisted about a gunshot-wound
+in his thigh, and brought to close tension by a stick thrust through the
+folds, turned as tight as could be borne, and strapped into place by a
+bit of coarse twine.
+
+It was a long journey paddling up the Racquette River, across creek and
+carry, with the boat on his back, to the lakes, and then from Martin's
+to "Harri'tstown," where he knew a surgeon of repute from a great city
+was spending his vacation. It was touch-and-go with Harry before Scott
+and Dr. Drake got back. Sary had dosed him with venison-broth, hot and
+greasy, weak whiskey and water, and a little milk (only a little), for
+their cow was old and pastured chiefly on leaves and twigs, and she only
+came back to the shanty when she liked or needed to come, so their milk
+supply was uncertain, and Sary dared not leave her patient long enough
+to row to the end of Tupper's Lake, where the nearest cow was kept. But
+youth has a power of recovery that defies circumstance, and Dr. Drake
+was very skilful. Long weeks went by, and the green woods of July had
+brightened and faded into October's dim splendor before Harry McAlister
+could be carried up the river and over to Bartlett's, where his mother
+had been called to meet him. She was a widow, and he her only child;
+and, though she was rather silly and altogether unpractical, she had a
+tender, generous heart, and was ready to do anything possible for Scott
+and Sarah Peck to show her gratitude for their kindness to her boy. She
+did not consult Harry at all. He had lost much blood from his accident
+and recovered strength slowly. She kept everything like thought or
+trouble out of his way as far as she could, and when the family
+physician found her heart was set on taking him to Florida for the
+winter, because he looked pale and her grandmother's aunt had died of
+consumption, Dr. Peet, like a wise man, rubbed his hands together,
+bowed, and assured her it would be the very thing. But something must be
+done for the Pecks before she went away. It occurred to her how
+difficult it must be for them to row everywhere in a small boat. A horse
+would be much better. Even if the roads were not good they could ride,
+Sarah behind Scott. And so useful in farming, too. Her mind was made up
+at once. She dispatched a check for three hundred dollars to Peter Haas,
+her old coachman, who had bought a farm in Vermont with his savings, and
+retired, with the cook for his wife, into the private life of a farmer.
+Mrs. McAlister had much faith in Peter's knowledge of horses and his
+honesty. She wrote him to buy a strong, steady animal, and convey it to
+Scott Peck, either sending him word to come up to Bartlett's after it,
+or taking it down the river; but, at any rate, to make sure he had it.
+If the check would not pay all expenses, he was to draw on her for more.
+Peter took the opportunity to get rid of a horse he had no use for in
+winter; a beast restive as a racer when not in daily use, but strong
+enough for any work, and steady enough if he had work. Two hundred and
+fifty dollars was the price now set on his head, though Peter had bought
+him for seventy-five, and thought him dear at that. The remaining fifty
+was ample for expenses; but Peter was a prudent German and liked a
+margin. There was no difficulty in getting the horse as far as Martin's,
+and by dint of patient insistence Peter contrived to have him conveyed
+to Bartlett's; but here he rested and sent a messenger down to Scott
+Peck, while he himself returned to Bridget at the farm, slowly cursing
+the country and the people as he went his way, for his delays and
+troubles had been numerous.
+
+"Gosh!" said Scott Peck, when he stepped up to the log-house that served
+for the guides, unknowing what awaited him, for the messenger had not
+found him at home, but left word he was to come to Bartlett's for
+something, and the first thing he saw was this gray horse.
+
+"What fool fetched his hoss up here?"
+
+The guides gathered about the door of their hut, burst into a loud
+cackle of laughter; even the beautiful hounds in their rough kennel
+leaped up and bayed.
+
+"W-a-a-l;" drawled lazy Joe Tucker, "the feller 't owns him ain't
+nobody's fool. Be ye, Scotty?"
+
+"Wha-t!" ejaculated Scott.
+
+"It's your'n, man, sure as shootin'!" laughed Hearty Jack, Joe Tucker's
+brother.
+
+"Mine? Jehoshaphat! Blaze that air track, will ye? I'm lost, sure."
+
+"Well, Bartlett's gone out Keeseville way, so't kinder was lef' to me to
+tell ye. 'Member that ar chap that shot hisself in the leg down to your
+shanty this summer?"
+
+"Well, I expect I do, seein' I ain't more'n a hundred year old,"
+sarcastically answered Scott.
+
+"He's cleared out South-aways some'eres, and his ma consaited she was
+dredful obleeged to ye; 'n I'm blessed if she didn't send an old Dutch
+feller up here fur to fetch ye that hoss fur a present. He couldn't
+noways wait to see ye pus'nally, he sed, fur he mistrusted the' was
+snows here sometimes 'bout this season. Ho! ho! ho!"
+
+"Good land!" said Scott, sitting down on a log, and putting his hands in
+his pockets, the image of perplexity, while the men about him roared
+with fresh laughter. "What be I a-goin' to do with the critter?" he
+asked of the crowd.
+
+"Blessed if I know," answered Hearty Jack.
+
+"Can't ye get him out to 'Sable Falls or Keeseville 'n sell him fur what
+he'll fetch?" suggested Joe Tucker.
+
+"I can't go now, noways. Sary's wood-pile's nigh gin out, 'n there was a
+mighty big sundog yesterday; 'nd moreover I smell snow. It'll be suthin'
+to git hum as 'tis. Mabbe Bartlett'll keep him a spell."
+
+"No, he won't; you kin bet your head. His fodder's a-runnin' short for
+the hornid critters. He's bought some up to Martin's, that's a-comin'
+down dyrect; but 'tain't enough. He's put to't for more. Shouldn't
+wonder ef he had to draw from North Elby when sleddin' sets in."
+
+"Well, I dono's there's but one thing for to do; fetch him hum somehow
+or 'nother; 'nd there's my boat over to the carry!"
+
+"You'd better tie the critter on behind an' let him wade down the
+Racket!"
+
+Another shout of laughter greeted this proposal.
+
+"I s'all take ze boat for you!" quietly said a little brown
+Canadian--Jean Poiton. "I am go to Tupper to-morrow. I have one hunt to
+make. I can take her."
+
+"Well said, Gene. I'll owe you a turn. But, fur all, how be I goin' to
+get that animile 'long the trail?"
+
+"I dono!" answered Joe Tucker. "I expect, if it's got to be did, you'll
+fetch it somehow. But I'm mighty glad 'tain't my job!"
+
+Scott Peck thought Joe had good reason for joy in that direction before
+he had gone a mile on his homeward way! The trail was only a trail,
+rough, devious, crossed with roots of trees, brushed with boughs of fir
+and pine, and the horse was restive and unruly. By nightfall he had gone
+only a few miles, and when he had tied the beast to a tree and covered
+him with a blanket brought from Bartlett's for the purpose, and strapped
+on his own back all the way, the light of the camp-fire startled the
+horse so that Scott was forced to blind him with a comforter before he
+would stand still. Then in the middle of the night, a great owl hooting
+from the tree-top just above him was a fresh scare, and but that the
+strap and rope both were new and strong he would have escaped. Scott
+listened to his rearing, trampling, snorts, and wild neigh with the
+composure of a sleepy man; but when he awoke at daylight, and found
+four inches of snow had fallen during the night, he swore.
+
+This was too much. Even to his practised woodcraft it seemed impossible
+to get the horse safe to his clearing without harm. It was only by dint
+of the utmost care and patience, the greatest watchfulness of the way,
+that he got along at all. Every rod or two he stumbled, and all but fell
+himself. Here and there a loaded hemlock bough, weighed out of its
+uprightness by the wet snow, snapped in his face and blinded him with
+its damp burden; and he knew long before nightfall that another night in
+the woods was inevitable. He could feed the horse on young twigs of
+beech and birch; fresh moss, and new-peeled bark (fodder the animal
+would have resented with scorn under any other conditions); but hunger
+has no law concerning food. Scott himself was famished; but his pipe and
+tobacco were a refuge whose value he knew before, and his charge was
+tired enough to be quiet this second night; so the man had an
+undisturbed sleep by his comfortable fire. It was full noon of the next
+day when he reached his cabin. Jean Poiton had tied his boat to its
+stake, and gone on without stopping to speak to Sarah; so her surprise
+was wonderful when she saw Scott emerge from the forest, leading a gray
+creature, with drooping head and shambling gait, tired and dispirited.
+
+"Heaven's to Betsey, Scott Peck! What hev you got theer?"
+
+"The devil!" growled Scott.
+
+Sary screamed.
+
+"Do hold your jaw, gal, an' git me su'thin' hot to eat 'n drink. I'm
+savager'n an Injin. Come, git along." And, tying his horse to a stump,
+the hungry man followed Sarah into the house and helped himself out of
+a keg in the corner to a long, reviving draught.
+
+"Du tell!" said Sarah, when the pork began to frizzle in the pan. "What
+upon airth did you buy a hoss for?" (She had discovered it was a horse.)
+
+"Buy it! I guess not. I ain't no such blamed fool as that comes to. That
+feller you nussed up here a spell back, he up an' sent it roun' to
+Bartlett's, for a present to me."
+
+"Well! Did he think you was a-goin' to set up canawl long o' Racket?"
+
+"I expect he calc'lated I'd go racin'," dryly answered Scott.
+
+"But what be ye a-goin' to feed him with?" said Sary, laying venison
+steaks into the pan.
+
+"Lord knows! I don't. Shut up, Sary! I'm tuckered out with the beast.
+I'd ruther still-hunt three weeks on eend than fetch him in from
+Sar'nac, now I tell ye. Ain't them did enough? I could eat a raw bear."
+
+Sary laughed and asked no more questions till the ravenous man had
+satisfied himself with the savory food; but, if she had asked them,
+Scott would have had no answer, for his mind was perplexed to the last
+degree. He fed the beast for a while on potatoes; but that was taking
+the bread out of his own mouth, though he supplemented it with now and
+then a boat-load of coarse, frost-killed grass, but the horse grew more
+and more gaunt and restive. His eyes glared with hunger and fury. He
+kicked out one side of the cowshed and snapped at Scott whenever he came
+near him. Want of use and food had restored him to the original savagery
+of his race. Hitherto Scott had never acknowledged Mrs McAlister's gift;
+but Sary, who had a vague idea of good manners, caught from the picture
+papers and occasional dime novels the tribe of Adirondack travellers
+strew even in such a wilderness, kept pecking at him.
+
+"Ta'n't no more'n civil to say thank ye, to the least," she said, till
+Scott's temper gave way.
+
+"Stop a-pesterin' of me! I've hed too much. I ain't a speck thankful!
+I'm mightily t'other thing, whatever 'tis. Write to her yourself, if
+you're a mind tu. You can make a better fist at it, anyways. Comes as
+nateral to women to lie as sap to run. I'll be etarnally blessed ef I
+touch paper for to do it." And he flung out of the door with a bang.
+
+Of course Sary wrote the letter, which one balmy day electrified Harry
+and his mother as they sat basking in Southern sunshine:
+
+     "MIS MACALLISTUR: This is fur to say wee is reel
+     obliged to ye fur the HOSS."
+
+"Good gracious, mother! Did you send them a horse?" ejaculated Harry.
+
+"Why, my dear, I wanted to show my sense of their kindness, and I could
+not offer these people money. I thought a horse would be so useful!"
+
+"Useful! in the Adirondack woods!" And Harry burst into a fit of
+laughter that scarcely permitted his mother to go on; but at last she
+proceeded:
+
+     "But Scotty and me ain't ackwainted So to speak with
+     Hoss ways; he seems kinder Hum-sick if you may say that
+     of a Cretur. We air etarnally gratified to You for sech
+     a Valewble Pressent, but if you was Wiling we shood
+     Like to swapp it of in spring fur a kow, ourn Being
+     some in years.
+
+        "yours to Command,      SARY PECK."
+
+But long before Mrs. McAlister's permission to "swap" the horse reached
+Scott Peck, the creature took his destiny into his own hands. Scott had
+gone away on a desperate errand, to fetch some sort of food for the poor
+creature, whose bones stared him in the face, and Sary went out one
+morning to give him her potato-peelings and some scraps of bread, when,
+suddenly, he jerked his head fiercely, snapped his halter in two, and
+wheeled round upon the frightened woman, rearing, snorting, and showing
+his long, yellow teeth. Sary fled at once and barred the door behind
+her; but neither she nor Scott ever saw their "gift horse" again. For
+aught I know he still roams the Adirondack forest, and maybe personates
+the ghostly and ghastly white deer of song and legend. Who can tell? But
+he was lifted off Scott Peck's shoulders, and all Scott said by way of
+epitaph on the departed, when he came home to find his white steed gone,
+was, "Hang presents!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Samantha Allen" will now have "a brief opportunity for remark."
+
+Admire her graphic description of the excitement Josiah caused by
+voting, at a meeting of the "Jonesville Creation Searchers," for his own
+spouse as a delegate from Jonesville to the "Sentinel." She reports
+thus:
+
+"It was a fearful time, but right where the excitement was raining most
+fearfully I felt a motion by the side of me, and my companion got up and
+stood on his feet and says, in _pretty_ firm accents, though _some_
+sheepish:
+
+"'_I_ did, and there's where I stand now; _I_ vote for _Samantha_!'
+
+"And then he sot down again. Oh, the fearful excitement and confusion
+that rained down again! The president got up and tried to speak; the
+editor of the _Auger_ talked wildly; Shakespeare Bobbet talked to
+himself incoherently, but Solomon Cypher's voice drowned 'em all out, as
+he kep' a-smitin' his breast and a hollerin' that he wasn't goin' to be
+infringed upon, or come in contract with _no_ woman!
+
+"No female woman needn't think she was the equal of man; and I should go
+as a woman or stay to home. I was so almost wore out by their talk, that
+I spoke right out, and, says I, '_Good land!_ how did you _s'pose_ I was
+a-goin'?'
+
+"The president then said that he meant, if I went I mustn't look upon
+things with the eye of a 'Creation Searcher' and a man (here he p'inted
+his forefinger right up in the air and waved it round in a real free and
+soarin' way), but look at things with the eye of a private investigator
+and a _woman_ (here he p'inted his finger firm and stiddy right down
+into the wood-box and a pan of ashes). It war impressive--VERY."
+
+
+MISS SLIMMENS SURPRISED.
+
+_A Terrible Accident._
+
+BY METTA VICTORIA VICTOR.
+
+"Dora! Dora! Dora! wake up, wake up, I say! Don't you smell something
+burning? Wake up, child! Don't you smell fire? Good Lord! so do I. I
+thought I wasn't mistaken. The room's full of smoke. Oh, dear! what'll
+we do? Don't stop to put on your petticoat. We'll all be burned to
+death. Fire! fire! fire! fire!
+
+"Yes, there is! I don't know where! It's all over--our room's all in a
+blaze, and Dora won't come out till she gets her dress on. Mr. Little,
+you _shan't_ go in--I'll hold you--you'll be killed just to save that
+chit of a girl, when--I--I--He's gone--rushed right into the flames. Oh,
+my house! my furniture! all my earnings! Can't anything be done? Fire!
+fire! fire! Call the fire-engines! ring the dinner-bell! Be quiet! How
+can I be quiet? Yes, it is all in flames. I saw them myself! Where's my
+silver spoons? Oh, where's my teeth, and my silver soup-ladle? Let me
+be! I'm going out in the street before it's too late! Oh, Mr. Grayson!
+have you got water? have you found the place? are they bringing water?
+
+"Did you say the fire was out? Was that you that spoke, Mr. Little? I
+thought you were burned up, sure; and there's Dora, too. How did they
+get it out? My clothes-closet was on fire, and the room, too! We would
+have been smothered in five minutes more if we hadn't waked up! But it's
+all out now, and no damage done, but my dresses destroyed and the carpet
+spoiled. Thank the Lord, if that's the worst! But it _ain't_ the worst.
+Dora, come along this minute to my room. I don't care if it is cold, and
+wet, and full of smoke. Don't you see--don't you see I'm in my
+night-clothes? I never thought of it before. I'm ruined, ruined
+completely! Go to bed, gentlemen; get out of the way as quick as you can
+Dora, shut the door. Hand me that candle; I want to look at myself in
+the glass. To think that all those gentlemen should have seen me in this
+fix! I'd rather have perished in the flames. It's the very first night
+I've worn these flannel night-caps, and to be seen in 'em! Good
+gracious! how old I do look! Not a spear of hair on my head scarcely,
+and this red nightgown and old petticoat on, and my teeth in the
+tumbler, and the paint all washed off my face, and scarred besides! It's
+no use! I never, never can again make any of _those_ men believe that
+I'm only twenty-five, and I felt so sure of some of them.
+
+"Oh, Dora Adams! _you_ needn't look pale; you've lost nothing. I'll
+warrant Mr. Little thought you never looked so pretty as in that ruffled
+gown, and your hair all down over your shoulders. He says you were
+fainting from the smoke when he dragged you out. You must be a little
+fool to be afraid to come out looking _that_ way. They say that new
+boarder is a drawing-master, and I seen some of his pictures yesterday;
+he had some such ridiculous things. He'll caricature me for the
+amusement of the young men, I know. Only think how my portrait would
+look taken to-night! and he'll have it, I'm sure, for I noticed him
+looking at me--the first that reminded me of my situation after the fire
+was put out. Well, there's but one thing to be done, and that's to put a
+bold face on it. I can't sleep any more to-night; besides, the bed's
+wet, and it's beginning to get daylight. I'll go to work and get myself
+ready for breakfast, and I'll pretend to something--I don't know just
+what--to get myself out of this scrape, if I can....
+
+"Good-morning, gentlemen, good-morning! We had quite a fright last
+night, didn't we? Dora and I came pretty near paying dear for a little
+frolic. You see, we were dressing up in character to amuse ourselves,
+and I was all fixed up for to represent an old woman, and had put on a
+gray wig and an old flannel gown that I found, and we'd set up pretty
+late, having some fun all to ourselves; and I expect Dora must have been
+pretty sleepy when she was putting some of the things away, and set fire
+to a dress in the closet without noticing it. I've lost my whole
+wardrobe, nigh about, by her carelessness; but it's such a mercy we
+wasn't burned in our bed that I don't feel to complain so much on that
+account. Isn't it curious how I got caught dressed up like my
+grandmother? We didn't suppose we were going to appear before so large
+an audience when we planned out our little frolic. What character did
+Dora assume? Really, Mr. Little, I was so scared last night that I
+disremember. She took off _her_ rigging before she went to bed. Don't
+you think I'd personify a pretty good old woman, gentlemen--ha! ha!--for
+a lady of my age? What's that, Mr. Little? You wish I'd make you a
+present of that nightcap, to remember me by? Of course; I've no further
+use for it. Of course I haven't. It's one of Bridget's, that I borrowed
+for the occasion, and I've got to give it back to her. Have some coffee,
+Mr. Grayson--do! I've got cream for it this morning. Mr. Smith, help
+yourself to some of the beefsteak. It's a very cold morning--fine
+weather out of doors. Eat all you can, all of you. Have you any profiles
+to take yet, Mr. Gamboge? I _may_ make up my mind to set for mine before
+you leave us; I've always thought I should have it taken some time. In
+character? He! he! Mr. Little, you're so funny! But you'll excuse _me_
+this morning, as I had such a fright last night. I must go and take up
+that wet carpet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+A BRACE OF WITTY WOMEN.
+
+
+By the courtesy of Harper Brothers I am allowed to give you "Aunt
+Anniky's Teeth," by Sherwood Bonner. The illustrations add much, but the
+story is good enough without pictures.
+
+
+AUNT ANNIKY'S TEETH.
+
+BY SHERWOOD BONNER.
+
+Aunt Anniky was an African dame, fifty years old, and of an imposing
+presence. As a waffle-maker she possessed a gift beyond the common, but
+her unapproachable talent lay in the province of nursing. She seemed
+born for the benefit of sick people. She should have been painted with
+the apple of healing in her hand. For the rest, she was a funny,
+illiterate old darkey, vain, affable, and neat as a pink.
+
+On one occasion my mother had a dangerous illness. Aunt Anniky nursed
+her through it, giving herself no rest, night nor day, until her patient
+had come "back to de walks an' ways ob life," as she expressed the dear
+mother's recovery. My father, overjoyed and grateful, felt that we owed
+this result quite as much to Aunt Anniky as to our family doctor, so he
+announced his intention of making her a handsome present, and, like King
+Herod, left her free to choose what it should be. I shall never forget
+how Aunt Anniky looked as she stood there smiling and bowing, and
+bobbing the funniest little courtesies all the way down to the ground.
+
+And you would never guess what it was the old woman asked for.
+
+"Well, Mars' Charles," said she (she had been one of our old servants,
+and always called my father 'Mars' Charles'), "to tell you de livin'
+trufe, my soul an' body is a-yearnin' fur a han'sum chany set o' teef."
+
+"A set of teeth!" said father, surprised enough. "And have you none left
+of your own?"
+
+"I has gummed it fur a good many ye'rs," said Aunt Anniky, with a sigh;
+"but not wishin' ter be ongrateful ter my obligations, I owns ter havin'
+five nateral teef. But dey is po' sogers; dey shirks battle. One ob
+dem's got a little somethin' in it as lively as a speared worm, an' I
+tell you when anything teches it, hot or cold, it jest makes me _dance_!
+An' anudder is in my top jaw, an' ain't got no match fur it in de bottom
+one; an' one is broke off nearly to de root; an' de las' two is so
+yaller dat I's ashamed ter show 'em in company, an' so I lif's my
+turkey-tail ter my mouf every time I laughs or speaks."
+
+Father turned to mother with a musing air. "The curious student of
+humanity," he remarked, "traces resemblances where they are not
+obviously conspicuous. Now, at the first blush, one would not think of
+any common ground of meeting for our Aunt Anniky and the Empress
+Josephine. Yet that fine French lady introduced the fashion of
+handkerchiefs by continually raising delicate lace _mouchoirs_ to her
+lips to hide her bad teeth. Aunt Anniky lifts her turkey-tail! It
+really seems that human beings should be classed by _strata_, as if
+they were metals in the earth. Instead of dividing by nations, let us
+class by quality. So we might find Turk, Jew, Christian, fashionable
+lady and washerwoman, master and slave, hanging together like cats on a
+clothes-line by some connecting cord of affinity--"
+
+"In the mean time," said my mother, mildly, "Aunt Anniky is waiting to
+know if she is to have her teeth."
+
+"Oh, surely, surely!" cried father, coming out of the clouds with a
+start. "I am going to the village to-morrow, Anniky, in the spring
+wagon. I will take you with me, and we will see what the dentist can do
+for you."
+
+"Bless yo' heart, Mars' Charles!" said the delighted Anniky; "you're
+jest as good as yo' blood and yo' name, and mo' I _couldn't_ say."
+
+The morrow came, and with it Aunt Anniky, gorgeously arrayed in a
+flaming red calico, a bandanna handkerchief, and a string of carved
+yellow beads that glittered on her bosom like fresh buttercups on a
+hill-slope.
+
+I had petitioned to go with the party, for, as we lived on a plantation,
+a visit to the village was something of an event. A brisk drive soon
+brought us to the centre of "the Square." A glittering sign hung
+brazenly from a high window on its western side, bearing, in raised
+black letters, the name, "Doctor Alonzo Babb."
+
+Dr. Babb was the dentist and the odd fish of our village. He beams in my
+memory as a big, round man, with hair and smiles all over his face, who
+talked incessantly, and said things to make your blood run cold.
+
+"Do you see this ring?" he said, as he bustled about, polishing his
+instruments and making his preparations for the sacrifice of Aunt
+Anniky. He held up his right hand, on the forefinger of which glistened
+a ring the size of a dog-collar. "Now, what d'ye s'pose that's made of?"
+
+"Brass," suggested father, who was funny when not philosophical.
+
+"_Brass!_" cried Dr. Babb, with a withering look; "it's virgin gold,
+that ring is. And where d'ye s'pose I found the gold?"
+
+My father ran his hands into his pockets in a retrospective sort of way.
+
+"In the mouths of my patients, every grain of it," said the dentist,
+with a perfectly diabolical smack of the lips. "Old fillings--plugs, you
+know--that I saved, and had made up into this shape. Good deal of
+sentiment about such a ring as this."
+
+"Sentiment of a mixed nature, I should say," murmured my father, with a
+grimace.
+
+"Mixed--rather! A speck here, a speck there. Sometimes an eye, oftener a
+jaw, occasionally a front. More than a hundred men, I s'pose, have
+helped in the cause."
+
+"Law, doctor! you beats de birds, you does," cries Aunt Anniky, whose
+head was as flat as the floor, where her reverence should have been.
+"You know dey snatches de wool from ebery bush to make deir nests."
+
+"Lots of company for me, that ring is," said the doctor, ignoring the
+pertinent or impertinent interruption. "Often as I sit in the twilight,
+I twirl it around and around, a-thinking of the wagon-loads of food it
+has masticated, the blood that has flowed over it, the groans that it
+has cost! Now, old lady, if you will sit just here."
+
+He motioned Aunt Anniky to the chair, into which she dropped in a limp
+sort of way, recovering herself immediately, however, and sitting bolt
+upright in a rigid attitude of defiance. Some moments of persuasion were
+necessary before she could be induced to lean back and allow Dr. Babb's
+fingers on her nose while she breathed the laughing-gas; but, once
+settled, the expression faded from her countenance almost as quickly as
+a magic-lantern picture vanishes. I watched her nervously, my attention
+divided between her vacant-looking face and a dreadful picture on the
+wall. It represented Dr. Babb himself, minus the hair, but with double
+the number of smiles, standing by a patient from whose mouth he had
+apparently just extracted a huge molar that he held triumphantly in his
+forceps. A gray-haired old gentleman regarded the pair with benevolent
+interest. The photograph was entitled, "His First Tooth."
+
+"Attracted by that picture?" said Dr. Alonzo, affably, his fingers on
+Aunt Anniky's pulse. "My par had that struck off the first time I ever
+got a tooth out. That's par with the gray hair and the benediction
+attitude. Tell you, he was proud of me! I had such an awful tussle with
+that tooth! Thought the old fellow's jaw was _bound_ to break! But I got
+it out, and after that my par took me with him round the
+country--starring the provinces, you know--and I practised on the
+natives."
+
+By this time Aunt Anniky was well under the influence of the gas, and in
+an incredibly short space of time her five teeth were out. As she came
+to herself I am sorry to say she was rather silly, and quite mortified
+me by winking at Dr. Babb in the most confidential manner, and
+repeating, over and over again: "Honey, yer ain't harf as smart as yer
+thinks yer is!"
+
+After a few weeks of sore gums, Aunt Anniky appeared, radiant with her
+new teeth. The effect was certainly funny. In the first place, blackness
+itself was not so black as Aunt Anniky. She looked as if she had been
+dipped in ink and polished off with lamp-black. Her very eyes showed but
+the faintest rim of white. But those teeth were white enough to make up
+for everything. She had selected them herself, and the little ridiculous
+milk-white things were more fitted for the mouth of a Titania than for
+the great cavern in which Aunt Anniky's tongue moved and had its being.
+The gums above them were black, and when she spread her wide mouth in a
+laugh, it always reminded me of a piano-lid opening suddenly and showing
+all the black and white ivories at a glance. Aunt Anniky laughed a good
+deal, too, after getting her teeth in, and declared she had never been
+so happy in her life. It was observed, to her credit, that she put on no
+airs of pride, but was as sociable as ever, and made nothing of taking
+out her teeth and handing them around for inspection among her curious
+and admiring visitors. On that principle of human nature which glories
+in calling attention to the weakest part, she delighted in tough meats,
+stale bread, green fruits, and all other eatables that test the biting
+quality of the teeth. But finally destruction came upon them in a way
+that no one could have foreseen. Uncle Ned was an old colored man who
+lived alone in a cabin not very far from Aunt Anniky's, but very
+different from her in point of cleanliness and order. In fact, Uncle
+Ned's wealth, apart from a little corn crop, consisted in a lot of fine
+young pigs, that ran in and out of the house at all times, and were
+treated by their owner as tenderly as if they had been his children.
+One fine day the old man fell sick of a fever, and he sent in haste for
+Aunt Anniky to come and nurse him. He agreed to give her a pig in case
+she brought him through; should she fail to do so, she was to receive no
+pay. Well, Uncle Ned got well, and the next thing we heard was that he
+refused to pay the pig. My father was usually called on to settle all
+the disputes in the neighborhood; so one morning Anniky and Ned appeared
+before him, both looking very indignant.
+
+"I'd jes' like ter tell yer, Mars' Charles," began Uncle Ned, "ob de
+trick dis miser'ble ole nigger played on me."
+
+"Go on, Ned," said my father, with a resigned air.
+
+"Well, it wuz de fift night o' de fever," said Uncle Ned, "an' I wuz
+a-tossin' an' a-moanin', an' old Anniky jes' lay back in her cheer an'
+snored as ef a dozen frogs wuz in her throat. I wuz a-perishin' an'
+a-burnin' wid thirst, an' I hollered to Anniky; but Lor'! I might as
+well 'a hollered to a tombstone! It wuz ice I wanted; an' I knowed dar
+wuz a glass somewhar on my table wid cracked ice in it. Lor'! Lor'! how
+dry I wuz! I neber longed fer whiskey in my born days ez I panted fur
+dat ice. It wuz powerful dark, fur de grease wuz low in de lamp, an' de
+wick spluttered wid a dyin' flame. But I felt aroun', feeble like an'
+slow, till my fingers touched a glass. I pulled it to me, an' I run my
+han' in an' grabbed de ice, as I s'posed, an' flung it in my mouf, an'
+crunched, an' crunched--"
+
+Here there was an awful pause. Uncle Ned pointed his thumb at Anniky,
+looked wildly at my father, and said, in a hollow voice: "_It wuz
+Anniky's teef!_"
+
+My father threw back his head and laughed as I had never heard him
+laugh. Mother from her sofa joined in. I was doubled up like a
+jack-knife in the corner. But as for the principals in the affair,
+neither of their faces moved a muscle. They saw no joke. Aunt Anniky, in
+a dreadful, muffled, squashy sort of voice, took up the tale:
+
+"Nexsh ting I knowed, Marsh Sharles, somebody's sheizin' me by de head,
+a-jammin' it up 'gin de wall, a-jawin' at me like de Angel Gabriel at de
+rish ole sinners in de bad plashe--an' dar wash ole Ned a-spittin' like
+a black cat, an' a-howlin' so dreadful dat I tought he wash de debil;
+an' when I got de light, dar wash my beautiful chany teef a-flung
+aroun', like scattered seed-corn, on de flo', an' Ned a-swarin' he'd
+have de law o' me."
+
+"An' arter all dat," broke in Uncle Ned, "she pretends to lay a claim
+fur my pig. But I says no, sir; I don't pay nobody nothin' who's played
+me a trick like dat."
+
+"Trick!" said Aunt Anniky, scornfully, "whar's de trick? Tink I wanted
+yer ter eat my teef? An' furder-mo', Marsh Sharles, dar's jes' dis about
+it: when dat night set in dar warn't no mo' hope fur old Ned dan fur a
+foundered sheep. Laws-a-massy! dat's why I went ter sleep. I wanted ter
+hev strengt' ter put on his burial clo'es in de mornin'. But don' yer
+see, Marsh Sharles, dat when he got so mad it brought on a sweat dat
+_broke de fever_! It saved him! But, fur all dat, arter munchin' an'
+manglin' my chany teef, he has de imperdence ob tryin' to 'prive me ob
+de pig I honestly 'arned."
+
+It was a hard case. Uncle Ned sat there a very image of injured dignity,
+while Aunt Anniky bound a red handkerchief around her mouth and fanned
+herself with her turkey-tail.
+
+"I am sure I don't know how to settle the matter," said father,
+helplessly. "Ned, I don't see but that you'll have to pay up."
+
+"Neber, Mars' Charles, neber."
+
+"Well, suppose you get married?" suggested father, brilliantly. "That
+will unite your interests, you know."
+
+Aunt Anniky tossed her head. Uncle Ned was old, wizened, wrinkled as a
+raisin, but he eyed Anniky over with a supercilious gaze, and said with
+dignity: "Ef I wanted ter marry, I could git a likely young gal."
+
+All the four points of Anniky's turban shook with indignation. "Pay me
+fur dem chany teef!" she hissed.
+
+Some visitors interrupted the dispute at this time, and the two old
+darkies went away.
+
+A week later Uncle Ned appeared with rather a sheepish look.
+
+"Well, Mars' Charles," he said, "I's about concluded dat I'll marry
+Anniky."
+
+"Ah! is that so?"
+
+"'Pears like it's de onliest way I kin save my pigs," said Uncle Ned,
+with a sigh. "When she's married she boun' ter _'bey_ me. Women 'bey
+your husbands; dat's what de good Book says."
+
+"Yes, she will _bay_ you, I don't doubt," said my father, making a pun
+that Uncle Ned could not appreciate.
+
+"An' ef ever she opens her jaw ter me 'bout dem ar teef," he went on,
+"I'll _mash_ her."
+
+Uncle Ned tottered on his legs like an unscrewed fruit-stand, and I had
+my own opinion as to his "mashing" Aunt Anniky. This opinion was
+confirmed the next day when father offered her his congratulations. "You
+are old enough to know your own mind," he remarked.
+
+"I's ole, maybe," said Anniky, "but so is a oak-tree, an' it's
+vigorous, I reckon. I's a purty vigorous sort o' growth myself, an' I
+reckon I'll have my own way with Ned. I'm gwine ter fatten dem pigs o'
+hisn, an' you see ef I don't sell 'em nex' Christmas fur money 'nouf ter
+git a new string o' chany teef."
+
+"Look here, Anniky," said father, with a burst of generosity, "you and
+Ned will quarrel about those teeth till the day of doom, so I will make
+you a wedding present of another set, that you may begin married life in
+harmony."
+
+Aunt Anniky expressed her gratitude. "An' _dis_ time," she said, with
+sudden fury, "I sleeps wid 'em _in_."
+
+The teeth were presented, and the wedding preparations began. The
+expectant bride went over to Ned's cabin and gave it such a clearing up
+as it had never had. But Ned did not seem happy. He devoted himself
+entirely to his pigs, and wandered about looking more wizened every day.
+Finally he came to our gate and beckoned to me mysteriously.
+
+"Come over to my house, honey," he whispered, "an' bring a pen an' ink
+an' a piece o' paper wid yer. I wants yer ter write me a letter."
+
+I ran into the house for my little writing-desk, and followed Uncle Ned
+to his cabin.
+
+"Now, honey," he said, after barring the door carefully, "don't you ax
+me no questions, but jes' put down de words dat comes out o' my mouf on
+dat ar paper."
+
+"Very well, Uncle Ned, go on."
+
+"Anniky Hobbleston," he began, "dat weddin' ain't a-gwine ter come off.
+You cleans up too much ter suit me. I ain't used ter so much water
+splashin' aroun'. Dirt is warmin'. 'Spec I'd freeze dis winter if you
+wuz here. An' you got too much tongue. Besides, I's got anudder wife
+over in Tipper. An' I ain't a-gwine ter marry. As fur havin' de law, I's
+a leavin' dese parts, an' I takes der pigs wid me. Yer can't fin' _dem_,
+an' yer can't fin' _me_. _Fur I ain't a-gwine ter marry._ I wuz born a
+bachelor, an' a bachelor will I represent myself befo' de judgment-seat.
+If you gives yer promise ter say no mo' 'bout dis marryin' business,
+p'r'aps I'll come back some day. So no mo' at present, from your humble
+worshipper,
+
+                              "NED CUDDY."
+
+"Isn't that last part rather inconsistent?" said I, greatly amused.
+
+"Yes, honey, if yer says so; an' it's kind o' soothin' to de feelin's of
+a woman, yer know."
+
+I wrote it all down and read it aloud to Uncle Ned.
+
+"Now, my chile," he said, "I'm a-gwine ter git on my mule as soon as der
+moon rises, an' drive my pigs ter Col' Water Gap, whar I'll stay an'
+fish. Soon as I am well gone, you take dis letter ter Anniky; but
+_min'_, don't tell whar I's gone. An' if she takes it all right, an'
+promises ter let me alone, you write me a letter, an' I'll git de fust
+Methodis' preacher I run across in der woods ter read it ter me. Den, ef
+it's all right, I'll come back an' weed yer flower-garden fur yer as
+purty as preachin'."
+
+I agreed to do all uncle Ned asked, and we parted like conspirators. The
+next morning Uncle Ned was missing, and, after waiting a reasonable time
+I explained the matter to my parents, and went over with his letter to
+Aunt Anniky.
+
+"Powers above!" was her only comment as I got through the remarkable
+epistle. Then, after a pause to collect her thoughts, she seized me by
+the shoulder, saying: "Run to yo' pappy, honey, quick, an' ax him ef
+he's gwine ter stick ter his bargain 'bout de teef. Yer know he pintedly
+said dey wuz a _weddin'_ gif'."
+
+Of course my father sent word that she must keep the teeth, and my
+mother added a message of sympathy, with a present of a
+pocket-handkerchief to dry Aunt Anniky's tears.
+
+"But it's all right," said that sensible old soul, opening her piano-lid
+with a cheerful laugh. "Bless you, chile, it wuz de teef I wanted, not
+de man! An', honey, you jes' sen' word to dat shif'less old nigger, ef
+you know whar he's gone, to come back home and git his crap in de
+groun'; an', as fur as _I'm_ consarned, yer jes' let him know dat I
+wouldn't pick him up wid a ten-foot pole, not ef he wuz to beg me on his
+knees till de millennial day."--_From "Dialect Tales," published in 1883
+by Harper Brothers._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It is not easy to tell what satire is, or where it originated. "In
+Eden," says Dryden, "the husband and wife excused themselves by laying
+the blame on each other, and gave a beginning to those conjugal
+dialogues in prose which poets have perfected in verse." Whatever it may
+be, we know it when it cuts us, and Sherwood Bonner's hit on the Radical
+Club of Boston was almost inexcusable.
+
+She was admitted as a guest, and her subsequent ridicule was a violation
+of all good breeding. But like so many wicked things it is captivating,
+and while you are shocked, you laugh. While I hold up both hands in
+horror, I intend to give you an idea of it; leaving out the most
+personal verses.
+
+
+THE RADICAL CLUB.
+
+BY SHERWOOD BONNER.
+
+    Dear friends, I crave attention to some facts that I shall mention
+      About a Club called "Radical," you haven't heard before;
+    Got up to teach the nation was this new light federation,
+      To teach the nation how to think, to live, and to adore;
+      To teach it of the heights and depths that all men should explore;
+          Only this and nothing more.
+
+    It is not my inclination, in this brief communication,
+      To produce a false impression--which I greatly would deplore--
+    But a few remarks I'm makin' on some notes a chiel's been takin,'
+      And, if I'm not mistaken, they'll make your soul upsoar,
+      As you bend your eyes with eagerness to scan these verses o'er;
+          Truly this and something more.
+
+    And first, dear friends, the fact is, I'm sadly out of practice,
+      And may fail in doing justice to this literary bore;
+    But when I do begin it, I don't think 'twill take a minute
+      To prove there's nothing in it (as you've doubtless heard before),
+      But a free religious wrangling club--of this I'm very sure--
+          Only this and nothing more!
+
+    'Twas a very cordial greeting, one bright morning of their meeting;
+      Such eager salutations were never heard before.
+    After due deliberation on the importance of the occasion,
+      To begin the organization, Mr. Pompous took the floor
+      With an air quite self-complacent, strutted up and took the floor,
+          As he'd often done before!
+
+    With an air of condescension he bespoke their close attention
+      To an essay from a Wiseman versed in theologic lore;
+    He himself had had the pleasure of a short glance at the treasure,
+      And in no stinted measure said we had a treat in store;
+      Then he waved his hand to Wiseman and resigned to him the floor;
+          Only this and nothing more.
+
+    Quick and nervous, short and wiry, with a look profound, yet fiery,
+      Mr. Wiseman now stepped forward and eyed us darkly o'er,
+    Then an arm-chair, quaint and olden, gay with colors green and golden,
+      By the pretty hostess rolled in from its place behind the door,
+      Was offered to the reader, in the centre of the floor,
+          And he took the chair be sure.
+
+    Then with arguments elastic, and a voice and eye sarcastic,
+      Mr. Wiseman into flinders the Holy Bible tore;
+    And he proved beyond all question that the God of Moses' mention
+      Was a fraudulent invention of some Hebrews, three or four,
+      And the Son of God's ascension an imaginary soar!
+          Only this and nothing more.
+
+    Each member then admitted that his part was well acquitted,
+      For his strong, impassioned reasoning had touched them to the core;
+    He felt sure, as he surveyed them through his specs, that
+            he had "played" them,
+      And was proud that he had made them all astonished by his lore;
+      Not a continental cared he for the fruits such lessons bore,
+          So he bowed and left the floor.
+
+    Then a Colonel, cold and smiling, with a stately air beguiling,
+      Who punctuates his paragraphs on Newport's sounding shore,
+    Said his friend was wise and witty, and yet it seemed a pity
+      To destroy in this old city the belief it had before
+      In the ancient superstitions of the days of yore.
+          This he said, and something more.
+
+    Orthodoxy, he lamented, thought the Christian world demented,
+      Yet still he felt a rev'rence as he read the Bible o'er,
+    And he thought the modern preacher, though a poor stick for a teacher,
+      Or a broken reed, like Beecher, ought to have his claims looked o'er,
+      And the "tyranny of science" was indeed, he felt quite sure,
+          _Our_ danger more and more.
+
+    His remarks our pulses quicken, when a British Lion, stricken
+      With his wondrous self-importance--he knew everything and more--
+    Said he _loathed_ such moderation; and he made his declaration
+      That, in spite of all creation, he found no God to adore;
+      And his voice was like the ocean as its surges loudly roar;
+          Only this and nothing more.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    But the interest now grew lukewarm, for an ancient Concord book-worm
+      With authoritative tramping, forward came and took the floor,
+    And in Orphic mysticisms talked of life and light and prisms,
+      And the Infinite baptisms on a transcendental shore,
+      And the concrete metaphysic, till we yawned in anguish sore;
+          But still he kept the floor.
+
+    Then uprose a kindred spirit almost ready to inherit
+      The rare and radiant Aiden that he begged us to adore;
+    His smile was beaming brightly, and his soft hair floated whitely
+      Round a face as fair and sightly as a pious priest's of yore;
+      And we forgave the arguments worn out years before,
+          For we loved this saintly bore.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Then a lively little charmer, noted as a dress reformer,
+      Because that mystic garment, chemiloon, she wore,
+    Said she had no "views" of Jesus, and therefore would not tease us,
+      But that she thought 'twould please us to look her figure o'er,
+      For she wore no bustles _anywhere_, and corsets, she felt sure,
+          Should squeeze her _nevermore_.
+
+    This pretty little pigeon said of course the true religion
+      Demanded ease of body before the mind could soar;
+    But that no emancipation could come unto our nation
+      Until the aggregation of the clothes that women wore
+      Were suspended from the shoulders, and smooth with many a gore,
+          Plain behind and plain before!
+
+    Her remarks were full of reason, but a little out of season,
+      And the proper tone of talking Mr. Fairman did restore,
+    When he sneered at priests and preaching, and indorsed
+            the _Index_ teaching,
+      And with philanthropic screeching, said he sought for evermore
+      The light of sense and freedom into darkened minds to pour;
+          Truly this, but something more!
+
+    Then with eyes as bright as Phoebus, and hair dark as Erebus,
+      A maid with stunning eye-glass next appeared upon the floor;
+    In her aspect she looked regal, though her words were few and feeble,
+      But she vowed his logic legal and as pure as golden ore,
+      And indorsed the _Index_ editor in every word he swore,
+              And then--said nothing more.
+
+    Then a tall and red-faced member, large and loose and somewhat limber
+      (And though his creed was shaky, he the name of Bishop bore),
+    Said that if he lived forever, he should forget, ah! never,
+      The Radicals so clever, in Boston by the shore;
+      But a bad _gold_ in his 'ead _bust_ stop his saying _bore_,
+              And we all cried _encore_.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Then a rarely gifted mortal, to whom the triple portal
+      Of Music, Art, and Poesy had opened years before,
+    With a look of sombre feeling, depths within his soul revealing,
+      Leaving room for no appealing, he decided o'er and o'er
+      The old, old vexing questions of the _why_ and the _wherefore_,
+              And taught us--nothing more.
+
+    There are others I could mention who took part in this contention,
+      And at first 'twas my intention, but at present I forbear;
+    There's young Look-sharp, and Wriggle, who would make an angel giggle,
+      And a young conceited Zeigel, who was seated near the door;
+      If you could only see them, you'd laugh till you were sore,
+              And then you'd laugh some more.
+
+    But, dear friends, I now must close, of these Radicals dispose,
+      For I am sad and weary as I view their folly o'er;
+    In their wild Utopian dreaming, and impracticable scheming
+      For a sinful world's redeeming, common sense flies out the door,
+      And the long-drawn dissertations come to--words and nothing more;
+              Only words, and nothing more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mary Clemmer Hudson has spoken of Phoebe Cary as "the wittiest woman
+in America." But she truly adds:
+
+"A flash of wit, like a flash of lightning, can only be remembered, it
+cannot be reproduced. Its very marvel lies in its spontaneity and
+evanescence; its power is in being struck from the present. Divorced
+from that, the keenest representation of it seems cold and dead. We read
+over the few remaining sentences which attempt to embody the repartees
+and _bon mots_ of the most famous wits of society, such as Beau Nash,
+Beau Brummel, Madame du Deffand, and Lady Mary Montagu; we wonder at the
+poverty of these memorials of their fame. Thus it must be with Phoebe
+Cary. Her most brilliant sallies were perfectly unpremeditated, and by
+herself never repeated or remembered. When she was in her best moods
+they came like flashes of heat lightning, like a rush of meteors, so
+suddenly and constantly you were dazzled while you were delighted, and
+afterward found it difficult to single out any distinct flash or
+separate meteor from the multitude.... This most wonderful of her gifts
+can only be represented by a few stray sentences gleaned here and there
+from the faithful memories of loving friends....
+
+"One tells how, at a little party, where fun rose to a great height, one
+quiet person was suddenly attacked by a gay lady with the question: 'Why
+don't you laugh? You sit there just like a post!'
+
+"'There! she called you a post; why don't you rail at her?' was Phoebe's
+quick exclamation.
+
+"Mr. Barnum mentioned to her that the skeleton man and the fat woman
+then on exhibition in his 'greatest show on earth' were married.
+
+"'I suppose they loved through thick and thin,' was her comment.
+
+"'On one occasion, when Phoebe was at the Museum looking about at the
+curiosities,' says Mr. Barnum, 'I preceded her and had passed down a
+couple of steps. She, intently watching a big anaconda in a case at the
+top of the stairs, walked off, not noticing them, and fell. I was just
+in time to catch her in my arms and save her from a good bruising'.
+
+"'I am more lucky than that first woman was who fell through the
+influence of the serpent,' said Phoebe, as she recovered herself.
+
+"And when asked by some one at a dinner-party what brand of champagne
+they kept, she replied: 'Oh, we drink Heidsieck, but we keep Mum.'
+
+"Again, a certain well-known actor, then recently deceased, and more
+conspicuous for his professional skill than for his private virtues, was
+discussed. 'We shall never,' remarked some one, 'see ---- again.'
+
+"'No,' quietly responded Phoebe, 'not unless we go to the pit.'"
+
+These stray shots may not fairly represent Miss Cary's brilliancy, but
+we are grateful for what has been preserved, meagre as it would seem to
+those who had the privilege of knowing her intimately and enjoying those
+Sunday evening receptions, where, unrestrained and happy, every one was
+at his best.
+
+Her verses on the subject of Woman's Rights, as discussed in masculine
+fashion, with masculine logic, by Chanticleer Dorking, are capital, and
+her parodies, shockingly literal, have been widely copied. Enjoy these
+as given in her life, written by Mary Clemmer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+GINGER-SNAPS.
+
+
+I will now offer you some good things of various degrees of humor. I do
+not feel it necessary to impress their merits upon you, for they speak
+for themselves Here is a quaint bit of satire from a bright Boston
+woman, which those on her side of the vexed Indian question will enjoy:
+
+
+THE INDIAN AGENT.
+
+BY LOUISA HALL.
+
+He was a long, lean man, with a sad expression, as if weighed down by
+pity for poor humanity. His heart was evidently a great many sizes too
+large for him. He yearned to enfold all tribes and conditions of men in
+his encircling arms. He surveyed his audience with such affectionate
+interest that he seemed to look into the very depths of their pockets.
+
+A few resolute men buttoned their coats, but the majority knew that this
+artifice would not save them, and they rather enjoyed it as a species of
+harmless dissipation. They liked to be talked into a state of
+exhilaration which obliged them to give without thinking much about it,
+and they felt very good and benevolent afterward. So they cheered the
+agent enthusiastically, as a signal for him to begin, and he came
+forward bowing, while the three red brothers who accompanied him
+remained seated on the platform. He appeared to smile on every one
+present as he said:
+
+"Friends and Fellow-Citizens, I have the honor to introduce to you these
+chiefs of the Laughing Dog Nation. Twenty-five years ago this tribe was
+one of the fiercest on our Western plains. Snarling Bear, the most noted
+chief of his tribe, was a great warrior. Fifty scalps adorned his
+wigwam. Some of them had once belonged to his best friends. He was
+murdered while in the prime of life by a white man whose wife he had
+accidentally shot at the door of her cabin. He was one of the first to
+welcome the white men and adopt the improvements they brought with them.
+When he became sufficiently civilized to understand that polygamy was
+unlawful, he separated from his oldest wife. Her scalp was carefully
+preserved among those of the great warriors he had conquered. His son,
+Flying Deer, who is with us to-day, will address you in his own
+language, which I shall interpret for you. The last twenty years have
+made a great change in their condition. These men are not savages, but
+educated gentlemen. They are all graduates of Tomahawk College, at
+Bloody Mountain, near the Gray Wolf country. They are chiefs of their
+tribes, each one holding a position equal to the Governor of our own
+State. Their influence at the West is great. Last year they sent a small
+party of missionaries to the highlands of the Wolf country, where the
+women and children pasture the ponies during the dry season. Not one of
+these noble men ever returned. Unfortunately for the success of this
+mission, the Gray Wolf warriors were at home. The medicine man's dreams
+had been unfavorable, and they dared not set out on their annual hunt.
+This year they will send a larger party well armed.
+
+"These devoted men have left their Western homes and come here to assure
+you of their confidence in your affection, and the love and gratitude
+they feel toward you. They come to ask for churches and schools, that
+their children may grow up like yours. But these things require money.
+On account of the great scarcity of stone in the Rocky Mountains, and
+the necessity of preserving standing timber for the Indian
+hunting-grounds, all building materials for churches and school-houses
+must be carried from the East at great expense. The door-steps of the
+third orthodox Kickapoo church cost one hundred and fifty dollars. But
+it is money well invested. The gradual decrease of crime at the West has
+convinced the most sceptical that a great work can be done among these
+people. The number of murders committed in this country last year was
+one hundred and twenty-five; this year only one hundred and
+twenty-three.
+
+"Although a great deal has been done for these people, you will be
+surprised to learn how much remains to be done. I need not tell you that
+every dollar intrusted to me will be spent, and I hope you will live to
+see the result of your generosity.
+
+"I wish to build at least fifteen churches and school-houses before the
+cold weather sets in. The cost of building has been greatly lessened by
+employing native workmen, who are capable of designing and erecting
+simple edifices. The pulpits will be supplied by native preachers, and
+the expense of light and heat will be paid by the congregation.
+
+"We have at least twenty-five well-qualified native teachers, who will
+require no salary beyond the necessary expense of food and clothing.
+
+"A few boarding-houses must be built and tastefully furnished. We have a
+large number of Laughing Dog widows, who would gladly take charge of
+such establishments.
+
+"The native committee will make a careful selection of such matrons as
+are most capable of guiding and encouraging young people.
+
+"All money for the benefit of these people has been used with the
+strictest economy; and will be while I retain the agency. I have secured
+a slender provision for my declining years, and shall return to spend my
+days with my adopted people.
+
+"But I will let these men who once owned this great country speak for
+themselves. Flying Deer, who will now address you, is about forty years
+of age. He lives with his wife and ten children near the agency, at a
+place called Humanketchet."
+
+Flying Deer came forward and spoke very distinctly, though rapidly.
+
+"O hoo bree-gutchee, gumme maw choo kibbe showain nemeshin. Dawmasse
+choochugah goo waugh; kawboo. Nokka brewis goo, honowin nudwag moonoo
+shugh kawmun menjeis. Babas kwasind waugh muskoday, wawa gessonwon goo.
+Nahna naskeen oza yenadisse mayben mudjo, kenemoosha. Wawconassee
+nushka kahgagoo, jossahut, wabenas ogu winemon jabs. Ahmuck wana
+wayroossen chooponnuk segwan maysen. Opeechee annewayman, kewadoda
+shenghen kad goo tagamengow."
+
+"He says, my friends, that he has always loved and trusted the white
+people. He says that since he has seen the great cities and towns of the
+East, he loves his white brothers more than before. His red brothers,
+White Crow and the Rock on End, wish him to say that they also love you.
+He says the savage Gray Wolf tribe threaten to shoot and scalp them if
+they continue friendly to the whites. He asks for powder, guns, and
+ponies, that they may defend themselves from their enemies. He wants to
+convince you that they are rapidly becoming a civilized nation. The
+assistance you are about to give will only be required for a short time.
+They will soon become self-supporting, and relieve the Government of a
+heavy tax. They thank you for the kindness you have shown, and for the
+generous collection which will now be taken up.
+
+"Will some friend close the doors while we give every one an opportunity
+to contribute to this good cause? Remember that he who shutteth up his
+ears to the cry of the poor, he shall also cry himself and shall not be
+heard. Those who prefer can leave a check with Deacon Meekham at the
+door, or with me at the hotel. These substantial tokens of your regard
+will cause the wilderness to blossom as the rose.
+
+"In the name of our red brethren, let me again thank you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If one inclines to Irish fun, try this burlesque from Mrs. Lippincott.
+
+
+MISTRESS O'RAFFERTY ON THE WOMAN QUESTION.
+
+BY GRACE GREENWOOD.
+
+    No! I wouldn't demane myself, Bridget,
+      Like you, in disputin' with men--
+    Would I fly in the face of the blissed
+      Apostles, an' Father Maginn?
+
+    It isn't the talent I'm wantin'--
+      Sure my father, ould Michael McCrary,
+    Made a beautiful last spache and confession
+      When they hanged him in ould Tipperary.
+
+    So, Bridget Muldoon, howld yer talkin'
+      About Womins' Rights, and all that!
+    Sure all the rights I want is the one right,
+      To be a good helpmate to Pat;
+
+    For he's a good husband--and niver
+      Lays on me the weight of his hand
+    Except when he's far gone in liquor,
+      And I nag him, you'll plase understand.
+
+    Thrue for ye, I've one eye in mournin',
+      That's becaze I disputed his right,
+    To tak' and spind all my week's earnin's
+      At Tim Mulligan's wake, Sunday night.
+
+    But it's sildom when I've done a washin',
+      He'll ask for more'n half of the pay;
+    An' he'll toss me my share, wid a smile, dear,
+      That's like a swate mornin' in May!
+
+    Now where, if I rin to convintions,
+      Will be Patrick's home-comforts and joys?
+    Who'll clane up his broghans for Sunday,
+      Or patch up his ould corduroys.
+
+    If we tak' to the polls, night and mornin',
+      Our dilicate charms will all flee--
+    The dew will be brushed from the rose, dear,
+      The down from the pache--don't you see?
+
+    We'll soon tak' to shillalahs and shindies
+      Whin we get to be sovereign electors,
+    And turn all our husbands' hearts from us,
+      Thin what will we do for protectors?
+
+    We'll have to be crowners an' judges,
+      An' such like ould malefactors,
+    Or they'll make Common Councilmin of us;
+      Thin where will be our char-acters?
+
+    Oh, Bridget, God save us from votin'!
+      For sure as the blissed sun rolls,
+    We'll land in the State House or Congress,
+      Thin what will become of our sowls?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Or the triumphs of a quack, by Miss Amanda T. Jones.
+
+
+DOCHTHER O'FLANNIGAN AND HIS WONDHERFUL CURES.
+
+    I.
+
+    I'm Barney O'Flannigan, lately from Cork;
+    I've crossed the big watther as bould as a shtork.
+    'Tis a dochther I am and well versed in the thrade;
+    I can mix yez a powdher as good as is made.
+    Have yez pains in yer bones or a throublesome ache
+    In yer jints afther dancin' a jig at a wake?
+    Have yez caught a black eye from some blundhering whack?
+    Have yez vertebral twists in the sphine av yer back?
+    Whin ye're walkin' the shtrates are yez likely to fall?
+    Don't whiskey sit well on yer shtomick at all?
+    Sure 'tis botherin' nonsinse to sit down and wape
+    Whin a bit av a powdher ull put yez to shlape.
+    Shtate yer symptoms, me darlins, and niver yez doubt
+    But as sure as a gun I can shtraighten yez out!
+          Thin don't yez be gravin' no more;
+            Arrah! quit all yer sighin' forlorn;
+          Here's Barney O'Flannigan right to the fore,
+            And bedad! he's a gintleman born!
+
+    II.
+
+    Coom thin, ye poor craytures and don't yez be scairt!
+    Have yez batin' and lumberin' thumps at the hairt,
+    Wid ossification, and acceleration,
+    Wid fatty accretion and bad vellication,
+    Wid liver inflation and hapitization,
+    Wid lung inflammation and brain-adumbration,
+    Wid black aruptation and schirrhous formation,
+    Wid nerve irritation and paralyzation,
+    Wid extravasation and acrid sacration,
+    Wid great jactitation and exacerbation,
+    Wid shtrong palpitation and wake circulation,
+    Wid quare titillation and cowld perspiration?
+    Be the powers! but I'll bring all yer woes to complation,
+    Onless yer in love--thin yer past all salvation!
+          Coom, don't yez be gravin' no more!
+            Be quit wid yer sighin' forlorn;
+          Here's the man all yer haling potations to pour,
+            And ye'll prove him a gintleman born
+
+    III.
+
+    Sure, me frinds, 'tis the wondherful luck I have had
+    In the thratement av sickness no matther how bad.
+    All the hundhreds I've cured 'tis not aisy to shpake,
+    And if any sowl dies, faith I'm in at the wake;
+    There was Misthriss O'Toole was tuck down mighty quare,
+    That wild there was niver a one dared to lave her;
+    And phat was the matther? Ye'll like for to hare;
+    'Twas the double quotidian humerous faver.
+    Well, I tuck out me lancet and pricked at a vein,
+    (Och, murther! but didn't she howl at the pain!)
+    Six quarts, not a dhrap less I drew widout sham,
+    And troth she shtopped howlin', and lay like a lamb.
+    Thin for fare sich a method av thratement was risky,
+    I hasthened to fill up the void wid ould whiskey.
+          Och! niver be gravin' no more!
+            Phat use av yer sighin' forlorn?
+          Me patients are proud av me midical lore--
+            They'll shware I'm a gintleman born.
+
+    IV.
+
+    Well, Misthriss O'Toole was tuck betther at once,
+    For she riz up in bed and cried: "Paddy, ye dunce!
+    Give the dochther a dhram." So I sat at me aise
+    A-brewin' the punch jist as fine as ye plaze.
+    Thin I lift a prascription all written down nate
+    Wid ametics and diaphoretics complate;
+    Wid anti-shpasmodics to kape her so quiet,
+    And a toddy so shtiff that ye'd all like to thry it.
+    So Paddy O'Toole mixed 'em well in a cup--
+    All barrin' the toddy, and that be dhrunk up;
+    For he shwore 'twas a shame sich good brandy to waste
+    On a double quotidian faverish taste;
+    And troth we agrade it was not bad to take,
+    Whin we dhrank that same toddy nixt night--at the wake!
+          Arrah! don't yez be gravin' no more,
+            Wid yer moanin' and sighin' forlorn;
+          Here's Barney O'Flannigan thrue to the core
+            Av the hairt of a gintleman born!
+
+    V.
+
+    There was Michael McDonegan down wid a fit
+    Caught av dhrinkin' cowld watther--whin tipsy--a bit.
+    'Twould have done yer hairt good to have heard him cry out
+    For a cup of potheen or a tankard av shtout,
+    Or a wee dhrap av whiskey, new out av the shtill;--
+    And the shnakes that he saw--troth 'twas jist fit to kill!
+    It was Mania Pototororum, bedad!
+    Holy Mither av Moses! the divils he had!
+    Thin to scare 'em away we surroonded his bed,
+    Clapt on forty laches and blisthered his head,
+    Bate all the tin pans and set up sich a howl,
+    That the last fiery divil ran off, be me sowl!
+    And we writ on his tombsthone, "He died av a shpell
+    Caught av dhrinkin' cowld watther shtraight out av a well."
+          Now don't yez be gravin' no more,
+            Surrinder yer sighin' forlorn!
+          'Twill be fine whin ye cross to the Stygian shore,
+            To be sint by a gintleman born.
+
+    VI.
+
+    There was swate Ellen Mulligan, sazed wid a cough,
+    And ivery one said it would carry her off.
+    "Whisht," says I, "thrust to me, now, and don't yez go crazy;
+    If the girlie must die, sure I'll make her die aisy!"
+    So I sairched through me books for the thrue diathesis
+    Of morbus dyscrasia tuburculous phthasis;
+    And I boulsthered her up wid the shtrongest av tonics.
+    Wid iron and copper and hosts av carbonics;
+    Wid whiskey served shtraight in the finest av shtyle,
+    And I grased all her inside wid cod-liver ile!
+    And says she (whin she died), "Och, dochther, me honey,
+    'Tis you as can give us the worth av our money;
+    And begorra, I'll shpake to the divil this day
+    Not to kape yez a-waitin' too long for yer pay."
+          So don't yez be gravin' no more!
+            To the dogs wid yer sighin' forlorn!
+          Here's dhrugs be the handful and pills be the score,
+            And to dale thim a gintleman born.
+
+    VII.
+
+    There was Teddy Maloney who bled at the nose
+    Afther blowin' the fife; and mayhap ye'd suppose
+    'Twas no matther at all; but the books all agrade
+    Twas a serious visceral throuble indade;
+    Wid the blood swimmin' roond in a circle elliptic,
+    The Schneidarian membrane was wantin' a shtyptic;
+    The anterior nares were nadin' a plug,
+    And Teddy himself was in nade av a jug.
+    Thin I rowled out a big pill av sugar av lead,
+    And I dosed him, and shtood him up firm on his head,
+    And says I: "Now, me lad, don't be atin' yer lingth,
+    But dhrink all ye plaze, jist to kape up yer shtringth."
+    Faith! His widdy's a jewel! But whisht! don't ye shpake!
+    She'll be Misthriss O'Flannigan airly nixt wake.
+          Coom, don't yez be gravin' no more!
+            Shmall use av yer sighin' forlorn;
+          For yer widdies, belike, whin their mournin' is o'er,
+            May marry some gintleman born.
+
+    VIII.
+
+    Ould Biddy O'Cardigan lived all alone,
+    And she felt mighty nate wid a house av her own--
+    Shwate-smellin' and houlsome, swaped clane wid a rake,
+    Wid two or thray pigs jist for company's sake.
+    Well, phat should she get but the malady vile
+    Av cholera-phobia-vomitus-bile!
+    And she sint straight for me: "Dochther Barney, me lad,"
+    Says she, "I'm in nade av assistance, bedad!
+    Have yez niver a powdher or bit av a pill?
+    Me shtomick's a rowlin'; jist make it kape shtill!"
+    "I'm the boy can do that," says I; "hould on a minit,
+    Here's me midicine-chist wid me calomel in it,
+    And I'll make yez a bowle full av rid pipper tay
+    So shtrong ye'll be thinkin' the divil's to pay,"
+          Now don't yez be gravin' no more!
+            Be quit wid yer sighin' forlorn,
+          Wid shtrychnine and vitriol and opium galore,
+            Behould me--a gintleman born.
+
+    IX.
+
+    Wid a gallon av rum thin a flip I created,
+    Shwate, wid musthard and shpice; and the poker I hated
+    As rid as a guinea jist out av the mint--
+    And into her shtomick, begorra, it wint!
+    Och, niver belave me, but didn't she roar!
+    I'd have kaped her alive wid a quart or two more;
+    And the thray little pigs in that house av her own
+    Wouldn't now be a-shtarvin' and shqualin' alone.
+    And that gossoon, her boy--the shpalpeen altogither!--
+    Would niver have shworn that I murdhered his mither.
+    Troth, for sayin' that same, but I served him a thrick,
+    Whin I met him by chance wid a bit av a shtick.
+    Faith, I dochthered him well till the cure I complated,
+    And, be jabers! there's one man alive that I thrated!
+          So don't yez be gravin' no more;
+            To the dogs wid yez sighin' forlorn!
+          Arrah! knock whin ye're sick at O'Flannigan's door,
+            And die for a gintleman born!
+
+                              --_Scribner's Magazine._ 1880.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Or, if one prefers to laugh at the experience of a "culled" brother,
+what can be found more irresistible than this?
+
+
+THE OLD-TIME RELIGION.
+
+BY JULIA PICKERING.
+
+_Brother Simon._ I say, Brover Horace, I hearn you give Meriky de
+terriblest beating las' nite. What you and she hab a fallin'-out about?
+
+_Brother Horace._ Well, Brover Simon, you knows yourself I never has no
+dejection to splanifying how I rules my folks at home, and 'stablishes
+order dar when it's p'intedly needed; and 'fore gracious! I leab you to
+say dis time ef 'twant needed, and dat pow'ful bad.
+
+You see, I'se allers been a plain, straight-sided nigger, an' hain't
+never had no use for new fandangles, let it be what it mout; 'ligion,
+polytix, bisness--don't ker what. Ole Horace say: "De ole way am de bes'
+way, an' you niggers dat's all runnin' teetotleum crazy 'bout ebery new
+gimerack dat's started, better jes' stay whar you is and let them things
+alone." But dey won't do it; no 'mount of preaching won't sarve um. And
+dat is jes' at this partickeler pint dat Meriky got dat dressin'. She
+done been off to Richmun town, a-livin' in sarvice dar dis las' winter,
+and Saturday a week ago she camed home ter make a visit. Course we war
+all glad to see our darter. But you b'l'eve dat gal hadn't turned stark
+bodily naked fool? Yes, sir; she wa'n't no more like de Meriky dat went
+away jes' a few munts ago dan chalk's like cheese. Dar she come in wid
+her close pinned tight enuff to hinder her from squattin', an' her ha'r
+a-danglin' right in her eyes, jes' for all de worl' like a ram
+a-looking fru a brush-pile, and you think dat nigger hain't forgot how
+to talk! She jes' rolled up her eyes ebery oder word, and fanned and
+talked like she 'spected to die de nex' breff. She'd toss dat mush-head
+ob hern and talk proper as two dixunarys. 'Stead ob she call-in' ob me
+"daddy" and her mudder "mammy," she say: "Par and mar, how can you bear
+to live in sech a one-hoss town as this? Oh! I think I should die." And
+right about dar she hab all de actions ob an' old drake in a
+thunder-storm. I jes' stared at dat gal tell I make her out, an' says I
+to myself: "It's got to come;" but I don't say nothin' to nobody 'bout
+it--all de same I knowed it had to come fus' as las'. Well, I jes' let
+her hab more rope, as de sayin' is, tell she got whar I 'cluded war
+'bout de end ob her tedder. Dat was on last Sunday mornin', when she
+went to meetin' in sich a rig, a-puttin' on airs, tell she couldn't keep
+a straight track. When she camed home she brung kumpny wid her, and, ob
+course, I couldn't do nuthin' then; but I jes' kept my ears open, an' ef
+dat gal didn't disquollify me dat day, you ken hab my hat. Bimeby dey
+all gits to talkin' 'bout 'ligion and de churches, and den one young
+buck he step up, an' says he: "Miss Meriky, give us your 'pinion 'bout
+de matter." Wid dat she flung up her head proud as de Queen Victory, an'
+says she: "I takes no intelligence in sich matters; dey is all too
+common for _me_. Baptisses is a foot or two below _my_ grade. I 'tends
+de 'Pisclopian Church whar I resides, an' 'specs to jine dat one de nex'
+anniversary ob de bishop. Oh! dey does eberything so lovely, and in so
+much style. I declar' nobody but common folks in de city goes to de
+Babtiss Church. It made me sick 't my stomuck to see so much shoutin'
+and groanin' dis mornin'; 'tis so ungenteel wid us to make so much
+sarcumlocutions in meetin'." And thar she went a-giratin' 'bout de
+preacher a-comin' out in a white shirt, and den a-runnin' back and
+gittin' on a black one, and de people a-jumpin' up and a-jawin' ob de
+preacher outen a book, and a-bowin' ob deir heads, and a-saying long
+rigmaroles o' stuff, tell my head fairly buzzed, and were dat mad at de
+gal I jes' couldn't see nuffin' in dat room. Well, I jes' waited tell
+the kumpny riz to go, and den I steps up, and says I: "Young folks, you
+needn't let what Meriky told you 'bout dat church put no change inter
+you. She's sorter out ob her right mine now, but de nex' time you comes
+she'll be all right on dat and seberal oder subjicks;" and den dey
+stared at Meriky mighty hard and goed away.
+
+Well, I jes' walks up to her, and I says: "Darter," says I, "what chu'ch
+are dat you say you gwine to jine?" And says she, very prompt like: "De
+'Pisclopian, pa." And says I: "Meriky, I'se mighty consarned 'bout you,
+kase I knows your mine ain't right, and I shall jes' hab to bring you
+roun' de shortest way possible." So I retch me a fine bunch of hick'ries
+I done prepared for dat 'casion. And den she jumped up, and says she:
+"What make you think I loss my senses?" "Bekase, darter, you done forgot
+how to walk and to talk, and dem is sure signs." And wid dat I jes' let
+in on her tell I 'stonished her 'siderably. 'Fore I were done wid her
+she got ober dem dying a'rs, and jumped as high as a hopper-grass.
+Bimeby she 'gins to holler: "Oh, Lordy, daddy! daddy! don't give me no
+more."
+
+And says I: "You're improvin', dat's a fac'; done got your natural voice
+back. What chu'ch does you 'long to, Meriky?" And says she, a-cryin':
+"I don't 'long to none, par."
+
+Well, I gib her anodder leetle tetch, and says I: "What chu'ch does you
+'long to, darter?" And says she, all choked like: "I doesn't 'long to
+none."
+
+Den I jes' make dem hick'ries ring for 'bout five minutes, and den I
+say: "What chu'ch you 'longs to now, Meriky?" And says she, fairly
+shoutin': "Baptiss; I'se a deep-water Baptiss." "Berry good," says I.
+"You don't 'spect to hab your name tuck offen dem chu'ch books?" And
+says she: "No, sar; I allus did despise dem stuck-up 'Pisclopians; dey
+ain't got no 'ligion nohow."
+
+Brover Simon, you never see a gal so holpen by a good genteel thrashin'
+in all your days. I boun' she won't neber stick her nose in dem
+new-fandangle chu'ches no more. Why, she jes' walks as straight dis
+morning, and looks as peart as a sunflower. I'll lay a tenpence she'll
+be a-singin' before night dat good ole hyme she usened to be so fond ob.
+You knows, Brover Simon, how de words run:
+
+    "Baptis, Baptis is my name,
+       My name is written on high;
+     'Spects to lib and die de same,
+       My name is written on high."
+
+_Brother Simon._ Yes, dat she will, I be boun'; ef I does say it, Brover
+Horace, you beats any man on church guberment an' family displanement ob
+anybody I ever has seen.
+
+_Brother Horace._ Well, Brover, I does my bes'. You mus' pray for me, so
+dat my han's may be strengthened. Dey feels mighty weak after dat
+conversion I give dat Meriky las' night.--_Scribner's Monthly_,
+_Bric-a-Brac_, 1876.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If it is unadulterated consolation that you need, try
+
+
+AUNTY DOLEFUL'S VISIT.
+
+BY MARY KYLE DALLAS.
+
+How do you do, Cornelia? I heard you were sick, and I stepped in to
+cheer you up a little. My friends often say: "It's such a comfort to see
+you, Aunty Doleful. You have such a flow of conversation, and _are_ so
+lively." Besides, I said to myself, as I came up the stairs: "Perhaps
+it's the last time I'll ever see Cornelia Jane alive."
+
+You don't mean to die yet, eh? Well, now, how do you know? You can't
+tell. You think you are getting better, but there was poor Mrs. Jones
+sitting up, and every one saying how smart she was, and all of a sudden
+she was taken with spasms in the heart, and went off like a flash.
+Parthenia is young to bring the baby up by hand. But you must be
+careful, and not get anxious or excited. Keep quite calm, and don't fret
+about anything. Of course, things can't go on jest as if you were
+down-stairs; and I wondered whether you knew your little Billy was
+sailing about in a tub on the mill-pond, and that your little Sammy was
+letting your little Jimmy down from the veranda-roof in a
+clothes-basket.
+
+Gracious goodness, what's the matter? I guess Providence'll take care of
+'em. Don't look so. You thought Bridget was watching them? Well, no, she
+isn't. I saw her talking to a man at the gate. He looked to me like a
+burglar. No doubt she'll let him take the impression of the door-key in
+wax, and then he'll get in and murder you all. There was a family at
+Bobble Hill all killed last week for fifty dollars. Now, don't fidget
+so; it will be bad for the baby.
+
+Poor, little dear! How singular it is, to be sure, that you can't tell
+whether a child is blind, or deaf and dumb, or a cripple at that age. It
+might be _all_, and you'd never know it.
+
+Most of them that have their senses make bad use of them though; _that_
+ought to be your comfort, if it does turn out to have anything dreadful
+the matter with it. And more don't live a year. I saw a baby's funeral
+down the street as I came along.
+
+How is Mr. Kobble? Well, but finds it warm in town, eh? Well, I should
+think he would. They are dropping down by hundreds there with
+sun-stroke. You must prepare your mind to have him brought home any day.
+Anyhow, a trip on these railroad trains is just risking your life every
+time you take one. Back and forth every day as he is, it's just trifling
+with danger.
+
+Dear! dear! now to think what dreadful things hang over us all the time!
+Dear! dear!
+
+Scarlet fever has broken out in the village, Cornelia. Little Isaac
+Potter has it, and I saw your Jimmy playing with him last Saturday.
+
+Well, I must be going now. I've got another sick friend, and I sha'n't
+think my duty done unless I cheer her up a little before I sleep.
+Good-by. How pale you look, Cornelia! I don't believe you have a good
+doctor. Do send him away and try some one else. You don't look so well
+as you did when I came in. But if anything happens, send for me at once.
+If I can't do anything else, I can cheer you up a little.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Dallas, who lives in New York City, is a regular correspondent of
+the New York _Ledger_, having taken Fanny Fern's place on that widely
+circulated paper, is a prominent member of "Sorosis," and her Tuesday
+evening receptions draw about her some of the brightest society of that
+cosmopolitan centre.
+
+All these selections are prizes for the long-suffering elocutionist who
+is expected to entertain his friends with something new,
+laughter-provoking, and fully up to the mark.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Ames, of Brooklyn, known to the public as "Eleanor Kirk," has
+revealed in her "Thanksgiving Growl" a bit of honest experience,
+refreshing with its plain Saxon and homely realism, which, when recited
+with proper spirit, is most effective.
+
+
+A THANKSGIVING GROWL.
+
+    Oh, dear! do put some more chips on the fire,
+      And hurry up that oven! Just my luck--
+    To have the bread slack. Set that plate up higher!
+      And for goodness' sake do clear this truck
+    Away! Frogs' legs and marbles on my moulding-board!
+      What next I wonder? John Henry, wash your face;
+    And do get out from under foot, "Afford more
+      Cream?" Used all you had? If that's the case,
+    Skim all the pans. Do step a little spryer!
+      I wish I hadn't asked so many folks
+    To spend Thanksgiving. Good gracious! poke the fire
+      And put some water on. Lord, how it smokes!
+    I never was so tired in all my life!
+      And there's the cake to frost, and dough to mix
+    For tarts. I can't cut pumpkin with this knife!
+      Some women's husbands know enough to fix
+    The kitchen tools; but, for all mine would care,
+      I might tear pumpkin with my teeth. John Henry,
+    If you don't plant yourself on that 'ere chair,
+      I'll set you down so hard that you'll agree
+    You're stuck for good. Them cranberries are sour,
+    And taste like gall beside. Hand me some flour,
+    And do fly round. John Henry, wipe your nose!
+      I wonder how 'twill be when I am dead?
+      "How my nose'll be?" Yes, how _your nose'll_ be,
+      And how _your back_'ll be. If that ain't red
+    I'll miss my guess. I don't expect you'll see--
+      You nor your father neither--what I've done
+    And suffered in this house. As true's I live
+      Them pesky fowl ain't stuffed! The biggest one
+    Will hold two loaves of bread. Say, wipe that sieve,
+      And hand it here. You are the slowest poke
+    In all Fairmount. Lor'! there's Deacon Gubben's wife!
+      She'll be here to-morrow. That pan can soak
+    A little while. I never in my life
+      Saw such a lazy critter as she is.
+    If she stayed home, there wouldn't be a thing
+      To eat. You bet she'll fill up here! "It's riz?"
+    Well, so it has. John Henry! Good king!
+      How did that boy get out? You saw him go
+    With both fists full of raisins and a pile
+      Behind him, and you never let me know!
+    There! you've talked so much I clean forgot the rye.
+      I wonder if the Governor had to slave
+    As I do, if he would be so pesky fresh about
+      Thanksgiving Day? He'd been in his grave
+    With half my work. What, get along without
+      An Indian pudding? Well, that would be
+    A novelty. No friend or foe shall say
+      I'm close, or haven't as much variety
+    As other folks. There! I think I see my way
+      Quite clear. The onions are to peel. Let's see:
+    Turnips, potatoes, apples there to stew,
+      This squash to bake, and lick John Henry!
+    And after that--I really think I'm through.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+PROSE, BUT NOT PROSY.
+
+
+Mrs. Alice Wellington Rollins, in those interesting articles in the
+_Critic_ which induced me to look further, says:
+
+"We claim high rank for the humor of women because it is almost
+exclusively of this higher, imaginative type. A woman rarely tells an
+anecdote, or hoards up a good story, or comes in and describes to you
+something funny that she has seen. Her humor is like a flash of
+lightning from a clear sky, coming when you least expect it, when it
+could not have been premeditated, and when, to the average
+consciousness, there is not the slightest provocation to humor,
+possessing thus in the very highest degree that element of surprise
+which is not only a factor in all humor, but to our mind the most
+important factor. You tell her that you cannot spend the winter with her
+because you have promised to spend it with some one else, and she
+exclaims: 'Oh, Ellen! why were you not born twins!' She has, perhaps,
+recently built for herself a most charming home, and coming to see
+yours, which happens to be just a trifle more luxurious and charming,
+she remarks as she turns away: 'All I can say is, when you want to see
+_squalor_, come and visit me in Oxford Street!' She puts down her heavy
+coffee-cup of stone-china with its untasted coffee at a little country
+inn, saying, with a sigh: 'It's no use; I can't get at it; it's like
+trying to drink over a stone wall.' She writes in a letter: 'We parted
+this morning with mutual satisfaction; that is, I suppose we did; I know
+my satisfaction was mutual enough for two.' She asks her little restless
+daughter in the most insinuating tones if she would not like to sit in
+papa's lap and have him tell her a story; and when the little daughter
+responds with a most uncompromising 'no!' turns her inducement into a
+threat, and remarks with severity: 'Well, be a good girl, or you will
+have to!' She complains, when you have kept her waiting while you were
+buying undersleeves, that you must have bought 'undersleeves enough for
+a centipede.' You ask how poor Mr. X---- is--the disconsolate widower
+who a fortnight ago was completely prostrated by his wife's death, and
+are told in calm and even tones that he is 'beginning to take notice.'
+You tell her that one of the best fellows in the class has been unjustly
+expelled, and that the class are to wear crape on their left arms for
+thirty days, and that you only hope that the President will meet you in
+the college-yard and ask why you wear it; to all of which she replies
+soothingly, 'I wouldn't do that, Henry; for the President might tell you
+not to mourn, as your friend was not lost, only _gone before_.' You tell
+her of your stunned sensation on finding some of your literary work
+complimented in the _Nation_, and she exclaims: 'I should think so! It
+must be like meeting an Indian and seeing him put his hand into his
+no-pocket to draw out a scented pocket-handkerchief, instead of a
+tomahawk.' Or she writes that two Sunday-schools are trying to do all
+the good they can, but that each is determined at any cost to do more
+good than the other."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have selected several specimens of this higher type of humor.
+
+Mrs. Ellen H. Rollins was pre-eminently gifted in this direction. The
+humor in her exquisite "New England Bygones" is so interwoven with the
+simple pathos of her memories that it cannot be detached without
+detriment to both. But I will venture to select three sketches from
+
+
+OLD-TIME CHILD LIFE.
+
+BY E.H. ARR.
+
+Betsy had the reddest hair of any girl I ever knew. It was quite short
+in front, and she had a way of twisting it, on either temple, into two
+little buttons, which she fastened with pins. The rest of it she brought
+quite far up on the top of her head, where she kept it in place with a
+large-sized horn comb. Her face was covered with freckles, and her eyes,
+in winter, were apt to be inflamed. She always seemed to have a mop in
+her hand, and she had no respect for paint. She was as neat as old Dame
+Safford herself, and was continually "straightening things out," as she
+called it. Her temper, like her hair, was somewhat fiery; and when her
+work did not suit her, she was prone to a gloomy view of life. If she
+was to be believed, things were always "going to wrack and ruin" about
+the house; and she had a queer way of taking time by the forelock. In
+the morning it was "going on to twelve o'clock," and at noon it was
+"going on to midnight."
+
+She kept her six kitchen chairs in a row on one side of the room, and
+as many flatirons in a line on the mantelpiece. Everything where she was
+had, she said, to "stand just so;" and woe to the child who carried
+crookedness into her straight lines! Betsy had a manner of her own, and
+made a wonderful kind of a courtesy, with which her skirts puffed out
+all around like a cheese. She always courtesied to Parson Meeker when
+she met him, and said: "I hope to see you well, sir." Once she
+courtesied in a prayer-meeting to a man who offered her a chair, and
+told him, in a shrill voice, to "keep his setting," though she was "ever
+so much obleeged" to him. This was when she was under conviction, and
+Parson Meeker said he thought she had met with a change of heart. Father
+Lathem's wife hoped so too, for then "there would be a chance of having
+some Long-noses and Pudding-sweets left over in the orchard."
+
+It was in time of the long drought, when fire ran over Grayface, and a
+great comet appeared in the sky. Some of the people of Whitefield
+thought the world was coming to an end. The comet stayed for weeks,
+visible even at noon-day, stretching its tail from the zenith far toward
+the western horizon, and at night staring in at windows with its eye of
+fire. It was the talk of the people, who pondered over it with a
+helpless wonder. I recall two Whitefield women as they stood, one
+morning, bare-armed in a doorway, staring at and chattering about it.
+One says they "might as well stop work" and "take it easy" while they
+can. The other thinks the better way is to "keep on a stiddy jog until
+it comes." They wish they knew "how near it is," and "what the tail
+means anyway."
+
+Betsy comes along with a pail, which she sets down, and then looks up to
+the comet. The air is dense with smoke from Grayface, and the dry earth
+is full of cracks. Betsy declares that it is "going on two months since
+there has been any rain." Everything is "going to wrack and ruin," and
+"if that thing up there should burst, there'll be an end to Whitefield."
+
+Then she catches sight of me listening wide-mouthed, and she tells me
+that I needn't suppose she is "going home to iron my pink muslin," for
+she thinks the tail of the comet "has started, and is coming right down
+to whisk it off from the line." I believe her, and distinctly remember
+the terror that took hold of me as I rushed home and tore the pink
+muslin from the line, lest it should be whisked off by the comet's tail.
+
+When the drought broke, a single day's rain washed all the smoke from
+the air. Directly, the tail of the comet began to fade, and all of a
+sudden its fiery eye went out of the sky.
+
+Some of the villagers thought it had "burst," others that it had "burned
+out." Betsy said: "Whatever it was, it was a humbug;" and the wisest man
+in Whitefield could neither tell whence it came nor whither it went. One
+thing, however, was certain: Farmer Lathem said that never, since his
+orchard began to bear, had he gathered such a crop of apples as he did,
+despite the drought, in the year of the great comet.
+
+
+MRS. MEEKER.
+
+BY E.H. ARR.
+
+When I read of Roman matrons I always think of Mrs. Meeker. Her features
+were marked, and her eyes of deepest blue. She wore her hair combed
+closely down over her ears, so that her forehead seemed to run up in a
+point high upon her head: Its color was of reddish-brown, and, I am
+sorry to say, so far as it was seen, it was not her own. It was called a
+scratch, and Betsy said Mrs. Meeker "would look enough sight better if
+she would leave it off." Whether any hair at all grew upon Mrs. Meeker's
+head was a great problem with the village children, and nothing could
+better illustrate the dignity of this woman than the fact that for more
+than thirty years the whole neighborhood tried in vain to find out.
+
+
+PARSON MEEKER.
+
+BY E.H. ARR.
+
+Every Sunday he preached two long sermons, each with five heads, and
+each head itself divided. After the fifthly came an application, with an
+exhortation at its close. The sermons were called very able, or, more
+often, "strong discourses." I used to think this was because Mrs. Meeker
+had stitched their leaves fast together. Betsy said they were just like
+Deacon Saunders's breaking-up plough, "and went tearing right through
+sin." The parson, when I knew him, was a little slow of speech and dull
+of sight. He sometimes lost his place on his page. How afraid I used to
+be lest, not finding it, he should repeat his heads! He always brought
+himself up with a jerk, however, and sailed safely through to the
+application.
+
+When that came, Benny almost always gave me a jog with his elbow or
+foot. Once he stuck a pin into my arm, which made me jump so that Deacon
+Saunders, who sat behind, waked up with a loud snort. The deacon was
+always talking about the sermons being "powerful in doctrine." When
+Benny asked Betsy what doctrines were, she told him to "let doctrines
+alone;" that they were "pizen things, only fit for hardened old
+sinners."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There are many delightful articles which must be merely alluded to in
+passing, as the "Old Salem Shops," by Eleanor Putnam, so delicate and
+delicious that, once read, it will ever be a fragrant memory; Louise
+Stockton's "Woman in the Restaurant" I want to give you, and Mrs.
+Barrow's "Pennikitty People;" a chapter from Miss Baylor's "On This
+Side," and the opening chapters of Miss Phelps's "Old Maids' Paradise;"
+also the description of "Joppa," by Grace Denio Litchfield, in "Only an
+Incident." There are others from which it is not possible to make
+extracts. Miss Woolson's admirable "For the Major," though pathetic,
+almost tragic, in its underlying feeling, is, at the same time, a story
+of exquisite humor, from which, nevertheless, not a single sentence
+could be quoted that would be called "funny." Her work, and that of
+Frances Hodgson Burnett, as well as that of Miss Phelps and Mrs.
+Spofford, shine with a silver thread of humor, worked too intimately
+into the whole warp and woof to be extracted without injuring both the
+solid material and the tinsel. To appreciate the point and delicacy of
+their finest wit, you must read the whole story and grasp the entire
+character or situation.
+
+Mrs. E.W. Bellamy, a Southern lady, published in last year's _Atlantic
+Monthly_ a sketch called "At Bent's Hotel," which ought to have a place
+in this volume; but my publisher says authoritatively that there must be
+a limit somewhere; so this gem must be included in--a second series!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is so much truth as well as humor in the following article, that
+it must be included. It gives in prose the agonies which Saxe told so
+feelingly in verse:
+
+
+A FATAL REPUTATION.
+
+BY ISABEL FRANCES BELLOWS.
+
+I am impelled to write this as an awful warning to young men and women
+who are just entering upon life and its responsibilities. Years ago I
+thoughtlessly took a false step, which at the time seemed trivial and of
+little import, but which has since assumed colossal proportions that
+threaten to overshadow much of the innocent happiness of my otherwise
+placid existence. What wonder, then, that I try to avert this danger
+from young and inexperienced minds who in their gay thoughtlessness rush
+into the very jaws of the disaster, and before they are well aware find
+they are entrapped for life, as there is no escape for those who have
+thus brought their doom upon themselves.
+
+I will try and relate how, like the Lady of Shalott, when I first began
+to gaze upon the world of realities "the curse" came upon me. It was in
+this wise:
+
+I lived in my youth an almost cloistral life of seclusion and
+self-absorption, from which I was suddenly shaken by circumstances, and
+forced to mingle in the busy world; to which, after the first shock, I
+was not at all averse, but found very interesting, and also--and there
+was the weight that pulled me down--tolerably amusing. For I met some
+curious people, and saw and heard some remarkable things; and as I went
+among my friends I often used to give an account of my observations,
+until at last I discovered that wherever I went, and under whatever
+circumstances (except, of course, at the funeral of a member of the
+family), I was expected to be amusing! I found myself in the same
+relation to society that the clown bears to the circus-master who has
+engaged him--he must either be funny or leave the troupe.
+
+Now, I am unfortunate in having no particular accomplishments. I cannot
+sing either the old songs or the new; neither am I a performer on divers
+instruments. I can paint a little, but my paintings do not seem to rouse
+any enthusiasm in the beholder, nor do they add an inspiring strain to
+conversation. I can, indeed, make gingerbread and six different kinds of
+pudding, but I hesitate to mention it, because the cook is far in
+advance of me in all these particulars, not to mention numerous other
+ways in which she excels. I have thus but one resource in life; and when
+I give one or two instances of the humiliation and distress of mind to
+which I have been subjected on its account I am sure I shall win a
+sympathizing thought even from those who are more favored by nature, and
+possibly save a few young spirits from the pain of treading in my
+footsteps.
+
+In the first place, I am not naturally witty. Epigrams do not rise
+spontaneously to my lips, and it sometimes takes days and even weeks of
+consideration after an opportunity of making one has occurred before the
+appropriate words finally dawn upon me. By that time, of course, the
+retort is what the Catholics call "a work of supererogation." I perhaps
+possess a slight "sense of the humorous," which has undoubtedly given
+rise to the fatal demand upon me, but I do not remember ever having been
+very funny. There never was any danger of my experiencing difficulties
+like Dr. Holmes on that famous occasion when he was as funny as he could
+be. I have often been as funny as I could be, but the smallest of
+buttons on the slenderest of threads never detached itself on my
+account. I have never had to restrain my humorous remarks in the
+slightest degree, but on the contrary have sometimes been driven into
+making the most atrocious jokes, and even puns, because it was evident
+something of the sort was expected from me--only, of course, something
+better.
+
+One occurrence of this kind will remain forever fixed in my memory. I
+was invited to a picnic, that most ghastly device of the human mind for
+playing at having a good time. At first I had declined to go, but it was
+represented to me that no less than three families had company for whose
+entertainment something must be done; that two young and interesting
+friends of mine just about to be engaged to each other would be simply
+inconsolable if the plan were given up; and, in short, that I should
+show by not going an extremely hateful and unseemly spirit--"besides, it
+wouldn't do to have it without you, my dear," continued my amiable
+friend, "because you know you are always the life of the party." So I
+sighed and consented.
+
+The day arrived, and before nine o'clock in the morning the mercury
+stood at ninety degrees in the shade. The cook overslept herself, and
+breakfast was so late that William Henry missed the train into the city,
+which didn't make it pleasanter for any of us. I had made an especially
+delicate cake to take with me as my share of the feast, and while we
+were at breakfast I heard a crash in the direction of the kitchen, and
+hastening tremblingly to discover the origin of it I found the cake and
+the plate containing it in one indistinguishable heap on the floor.
+
+"It slipped between me two hands as if it was alive, bad luck to it,"
+said the cook; "and it was meself that saw the heavy crack in the plate
+before you set the cake onto it, mum!"
+
+I took cookies and boiled eggs to the picnic.
+
+The wreck had hardly been cleared away before my son and heir appeared
+in the doorway with a hole of unimagined dimensions in his third worst
+trousers. His second worst were already in the mending basket, so
+nothing remained for me but to clothe him in his best suit and wonder
+all day in which part of them I should find the largest hole when I came
+home.
+
+Lastly, I had just put on my hat, and was preparing to set forth, warm,
+tired and demoralized, when my youngest, in her anxiety to bid me a
+sufficiently affectionate farewell, lost her small balance, and came
+rolling down-stairs after me. No serious harm was done, but it took
+nearly an hour before I succeeded in soothing and comforting her
+sufficiently to be able to leave her, with two brown-paper patches on
+her head and elbow, in the care of the nurse.
+
+When I arrived late, discouraged and with a headache, at the picnic
+grounds, I found the assembled company sitting vapidly about among
+mosquitoes and beetles, already looking bored to death, and I soon
+perceived that it was expected of me to provide amusement and
+entertainment for the crowd. I tried to rally, therefore, and proposed a
+few games, which went off in a spiritless manner enough, and apparently
+in consequence I began to be assailed with questions and remarks of a
+reproachful character.
+
+"Don't you feel well to-day?" "Has anything happened?" "You don't seem
+as lively as usual!" No one took the slightest notice of my
+explanations, until at last, goaded into desperation by one evil-minded
+old woman, who asked me if it were true that my husband was involved in
+the failure of Smith, Jones & Co., I launched out and became wildly and
+disgracefully silly. Nothing seemed too foolish, too senseless to say if
+it only answered the great purpose of keeping off the attack of personal
+questions.
+
+Thus the wretched day wore on, until at last it was time to go home, and
+the first feeling approaching content was stealing into my weary bosom
+as I gathered up my basket and shawls, when it was rudely dashed by the
+following conversation, conducted by two ladies to whom I had been
+introduced that day. They were standing at a little distance from the
+rest of the company and from me, and evidently thought themselves far
+enough away to talk quite loud, so that these words were plainly borne
+to my ears:
+
+"I hate to see people try to make themselves so conspicuous, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, indeed; and to try to be funny when they haven't any fun in them."
+
+"I can't imagine what Maria was thinking about to call her witty!"
+
+"I know it. I should think such people had better keep quiet when they
+haven't anything to say. I'm glad it's time to go home. Picnics are such
+stupid things!"
+
+What more was said I do not know, for I left the spot as quickly as
+possible, making an inward resolution to avoid all picnics in the
+future till I should arrive at my second childhood.
+
+I cannot refrain from giving one other little instance of my sufferings
+from this cause. I was again invited out; this time to a lunch party,
+specially to meet the friend of a friend of mine. The very morning of
+the day it was to take place I received a telegram stating that my
+great-aunt had died suddenly in California. Now people don't usually
+care much about their great-aunts. They can bear to be chastened in this
+direction very comfortably; but I did care about mine. She had been very
+kind to me, and though the width of a continent had separated us for the
+last ten years her memory was still dear to me.
+
+I sat down immediately to write a note excusing myself from my friend's
+lunch party, when, just as I took the paper, it occurred to me that it
+was rather a selfish thing to do. My friend's guests were invited, and
+her arrangements all made; and as the visit of her friend was to be very
+short the opportunity of our meeting would probably be lost. So I wrote
+instead a note to the daughter of my great aunt, and when the time came
+I went to the lunch party with a heavy heart. I had no opportunity of
+telling my friend of the sad news I had received that morning, and I
+suppose I may have been quiet; perhaps I even seemed indifferent, though
+I tried not to be. I could not have been very successful, however, for I
+was just going up-stairs to put on my "things" to go home, when I heard
+this little conversation in the dressing-room:
+
+"It's too bad she wasn't more interesting to-day, but you never can tell
+how it will be. She will do as she likes, and that's the end of it."
+
+"Yes," said another voice, "I think she is rather a moody person anyway;
+she won't say a word if she doesn't feel like it."
+
+"'Sh--'sh--here she comes," said another, with the tone and look that
+told me it was I of whom they were talking.
+
+And so I adjure all youthful and hopeful persons, who have a tendency to
+be funny, to keep it a profound secret from the world. Indulge in your
+propensities to any extent in your family circle; keep your immediate
+relatives, if you like, in convulsions of inextinguishable laughter all
+the time; but when you mingle in society guard your secret with your
+life. Never make a joke, and, if necessary, never take one; and by so
+doing you shall peradventure escape that wrath to come to which I have
+fallen an innocent victim, and which I doubt not will bring me to an
+untimely end.--_The Independent._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And a few pages from Miss Murfree, who has shown such rare power in her
+short character sketches.
+
+
+A BLACKSMITH IN LOVE.
+
+BY CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK.
+
+The pine-knots flamed and glistened under the great wash-kettle. A
+tree-toad was persistently calling for rain in the dry distance. The
+girl, gravely impassive, beat the clothes with the heavy paddle. Her
+mother shortly ceased to prod the white heaps in the boiling water, and
+presently took up the thread of her discourse.
+
+"An' 'Vander hev got ter be a mighty suddint man. I hearn tell, when I
+war down ter M'ria's house ter the quiltin', ez how in that sorter
+fight an' scrimmage they hed at the mill las' month, he war powerful
+ill-conducted. Nobody hed thought of hevin' much of a fight--thar hed
+been jes' a few licks passed atwixt the men thar; but the fust finger ez
+war laid on this boy, he jes' lit out, an' fit like a catamount. Right
+an' lef' he lay about him with his fists, an' he drawed his
+huntin'-knife on some of 'em. The men at the mill war in no wise pleased
+with him."
+
+"'Pears like ter me ez 'Vander air a peaceable boy enough, ef he ain't
+jawed at an' air lef' be," drawled Cynthia.
+
+Her mother was embarrassed for a moment. Then, with a look both sly and
+wise, she made an admission--a qualified admission. "Waal,
+wimmen--ef--ef--ef they air young an' toler'ble hard-headed _yit_, air
+likely ter jaw _some_, ennyhow. An' a gal oughtn't ter marry a man ez
+hev sot his heart on bein' lef' in peace. He is apt ter be a mighty sour
+an' disapp'inted critter."
+
+This sudden turn to the conversation invested all that had been said
+with new meaning, and revealed a subtle diplomatic intention. The girl
+seemed deliberately to review it as she paused in her work. Then, with a
+rising flush: "I ain't studyin' 'bout marryin' nobody," she asserted
+staidly. "I hev laid off ter live single."
+
+Mrs. Ware had overshot the mark, but she retorted, gallantly reckless:
+"That's what yer Aunt Malviny useter declar' fur gospel sure, when she
+war a gal. An' she hev got ten chil'ren, an' hev buried two husbands;
+an' ef all they say air true, she's tollin' in the third man now. She's
+a mighty spry, good-featured woman, an' a fust-rate manager, yer Aunt
+Malviny air, an' both her husbands lef' her suthin--cows, or wagons, or
+land. An' they war quiet men when they war alive, an' stays whar they
+air put now that they air dead; not like old Parson Hoodenpyle, what his
+wife hears stumpin' round the house an' preachin' every night, though
+she air ez deef ez a post, an' he hev been in glory twenty year--twenty
+year an' better. Yer Aunt Malviny hed luck, so mebbe 'tain't no killin'
+complaint fur a gal ter git ter talking like a fool about marryin' an'
+sech. Leastwise I ain't minded ter sorrow."
+
+She looked at her daughter with a gay grin, which, distorted by her
+toothless gums and the wreathing steam from the kettle, enhanced her
+witch-like aspect and was spuriously malevolent. She did not notice the
+stir of an approach through the brambly tangles of the heights above
+until it was close at hand; as she turned, she thought only of the
+mountain cattle and to see the red cow's picturesque head and crumpled
+horns thrust over the sassafras bushes, or to hear the brindle's
+clanking bell. It was certainly less unexpected to Cynthia when a young
+mountaineer, clad in brown jean trousers and a checked homespun shirt,
+emerged upon the rocky slope. He still wore his blacksmith's leather
+apron, and his powerful corded hammer-arm was bare beneath his
+tightly-rolled sleeve. He was tall and heavily built; his sunburned face
+was square, with a strong lower jaw, and his features were accented by
+fine lines of charcoal, as if the whole were a clever sketch.
+
+His black eyes held fierce intimations, but there was mobility of
+expression about them that suggested changing impulses, strong but
+fleeting. He was like his forge-fire; though the heat might be intense
+for a time, it fluctuated with the breath of the bellows. Just now he
+was meekly quailing before the old woman, whom he evidently had not
+thought to find here. It was as apt an illustration as might be,
+perhaps, of the inferiority of strength to finesse. She seemed an
+inconsiderable adversary, as, haggard, lean, and prematurely aged, she
+swayed on her prodding-stick about the huge kettle; but she was as a
+veritable David to this big young Goliath, though she, too, flung hardly
+more than a pebble at him.
+
+"Laws-a-me!" she cried, in shrill, toothless glee; "ef hyar ain't
+'Vander Price! What brung ye down hyar along o' we-uns, 'Vander?" she
+continued, with simulated anxiety. "Hev that thar red heifer o' ourn
+lept over the fence agin, an' got inter Pete's corn? Waal, sir, ef she
+ain't the headin'est heifer!"
+
+"I hain't seen none o' yer heifer, ez I knows on," replied the young
+blacksmith, with gruff, drawling deprecation. Then he tried to regain
+his natural manner. "I kem down hyar," he remarked, in an off-hand way,
+"ter git a drink o' water." He glanced furtively at the girl, then
+looked quickly away at the gallant red-bird, still gayly parading among
+the leaves.
+
+The old woman grinned with delight. "Now, ef that ain't s'prisin'," she
+declared. "Ef we hed knowed ez Lost Creek war a-goin' dry over yander
+a-nigh the shop, so ye an' Pete would hev ter kem hyar thirstin' fur
+water, we-uns would hev brung suthin' down hyar ter drink out'n. We-uns
+hain't got no gourd hyar, hev we, Cynthy?"
+
+"'Thout it air the little gourd with the saft-soap in it," said Cynthia,
+confused and blushing. Her mother broke into a high, loud laugh.
+
+"Ye ain't wantin' ter gin 'Vander the soap-gourd ter drink out'n,
+Cynthy! Leastwise, I ain't goin' ter gin it ter Pete. Fur I s'pose ef ye
+hev ter kem a haffen mile ter git a drink, 'Vander, ez surely Pete'll
+hev ter kem, too. Waal, waal, who would hev b'lieved ez Lost Creek would
+go dry nigh the shop, an' yit be a-scuttlin' along like that
+hyarabouts!" and she pointed with her bony finger at the swift flow of
+the water.
+
+He was forced to abandon his clumsy pretence of thirst. "Lost Creek
+ain't gone dry nowhar, ez I knows on," he admitted, mechanically rolling
+the sleeve of his hammer-arm up and down as he talked.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From Miss Woolson's story of "Anne," I give the pen-portrait of the
+precise
+
+"MISS LOIS."
+
+"Codfish balls for breakfast on Sunday morning, of course," said Miss
+Lois, "and fried hasty-pudding. On Wednesdays, a boiled dinner. Pies on
+Tuesdays and Saturdays."
+
+The pins stood in straight rows on her pincushion; three times each week
+every room in the house was swept, and the floors, as well as the
+furniture, dusted. Beans were baked in an iron pot on Saturday night,
+and sweet-cake was made on Thursday. Winter or summer, through scarcity
+or plenty, Miss Lois never varied her established routine, thereby
+setting an example, she said, to the idle and shiftless. And certainly
+she was a faithful guide-post, continually pointing out an industrious
+and systematic way, which, however, to the end of time, no
+French-blooded, French-hearted person will ever travel, unless dragged
+by force. The villagers preferred their lake trout to Miss Lois's salt
+codfish, their tartines to her corn-meal puddings, and their
+_eau-de-vie_ to her green tea; they loved their disorder and their
+comfort; her bar soap and scrubbing-brush were a horror to their eyes.
+They washed the household clothes two or three times a year. Was not
+that enough? Of what use the endless labor of this sharp-nosed woman,
+with glasses over her eyes, at the church-house? Were not, perhaps, the
+glasses the consequence of such toil? And her figure of a long leanness
+also?
+
+The element of real heroism, however, came into Miss Lois's life in her
+persistent effort to employ Indian servants. Through long years had she
+persisted, through long years would she continue to persist. A
+succession of Chippewa squaws broke, stole, and skirmished their way
+through her kitchen, with various degrees of success, generally in the
+end departing suddenly at night with whatever booty they could lay their
+hands on. It is but justice to add, however, that this was not much, a
+rigid system of keys and excellent locks prevailing in the well-watched
+household. Miss Lois's conscience would not allow her to employ
+half-breeds, who were sometimes endurable servants; duty required, she
+said, that she should have full-blooded natives. And she had them. She
+always began to teach them the alphabet within three days after their
+arrival, and the spectacle of a tearful, freshly-caught Indian girl,
+very wretched in her calico dress and white apron, worn out with the
+ways of the kettles and the brasses, dejected over the fish-balls, and
+appalled by the pudding, standing confronted by a large alphabet on the
+well-scoured table, and Miss Lois by her side with a pointer, was
+frequent and even regular in its occurrence, the only change being in
+the personality of the learners. No one of them had ever gone through
+the letters, but Miss Lois was not discouraged.
+
+
+THE CIRCUS AT DENBY.
+
+BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT.
+
+I cannot truthfully say that it was a good show; it was somewhat dreary,
+now that I think of it quietly and without excitement. The creatures
+looked tired, and as if they had been on the road for a great many
+years. The animals were all old, and there was a shabby great elephant
+whose look of general discouragement went to my heart, for it seemed as
+if he were miserably conscious of a misspent life. He stood dejected and
+motionless at one side of the tent, and it was hard to believe that
+there was a spark of vitality left in him. A great number of the people
+had never seen an elephant before, and we heard a thin, little old man,
+who stood near us, say delightedly: "There's the old creatur', and no
+mistake, Ann 'Liza. I wanted to see him most of anything. My sakes
+alive, ain't he big!"
+
+And Ann 'Liza, who was stout and sleepy-looking, droned out: "Ye-es,
+there's consider'ble of him; but he looks as if he ain't got no
+animation."
+
+Kate and I turned away and laughed, while Mrs. Kew said, confidentially,
+as the couple moved away: "_She_ needn't be a reflectin' on the poor
+beast. That's Mis' Seth Tanner, and there isn't a woman in Deep Haven
+nor East Parish to be named the same day with her for laziness. I'm glad
+she didn't catch sight of me; she'd have talked about nothing for a
+fortnight." There was a picture of a huge snake in Deep Haven, and I
+was just wondering where he could be, or if there ever had been one,
+when we heard a boy ask the same question of the man whose thankless
+task it was to stir up the lions with a stick to make them roar. "The
+snake's dead," he answered, good-naturedly. "Didn't you have to dig an
+awful long grave for him?" asked the boy; but the man said he reckoned
+they curled him up some, and smiled as he turned to his lions, that
+looked as if they needed a tonic. Everybody lingered longest before the
+monkeys, that seemed to be the only lively creatures in the whole
+collection....
+
+Coming out of the great tent was disagreeable enough, and we seemed to
+have chosen the worst time, for the crowd pushed fiercely, though I
+suppose nobody was in the least hurry, and we were all severely jammed,
+while from somewhere underneath came the wails of a deserted dog. We had
+not meant to see the side shows; but when we came in sight of the
+picture of the Kentucky giantess, we noticed that Mrs. Kew looked at it
+wistfully, and we immediately asked if she cared anything about going to
+see the wonder, whereupon she confessed that she never heard of such a
+thing as a woman's weighing six hundred and fifty pounds; so we all
+three went in. There were only two or three persons inside the tent,
+beside a little boy who played the hand-organ.
+
+The Kentucky giantess sat in two chairs on a platform, and there was a
+large cage of monkeys just beyond, toward which Kate and I went at once.
+"Why, she isn't more than two thirds as big as the picture," said Mrs.
+Kew, in a regretful whisper; "but I guess she's big enough; doesn't she
+look discouraged, poor creatur'?" Kate and I felt ashamed of ourselves
+for being there. No matter if she had consented to be carried round for
+a show, it must have been horrible to be stared at and joked about day
+after day; and we gravely looked at the monkeys, and in a few minutes
+turned to see if Mrs. Kew were not ready to come away, when, to our
+surprise, we saw that she was talking to the giantess with great
+interest, and we went nearer.
+
+"I thought your face looked natural the minute I set foot inside the
+door," said Mrs. Kew; "but you've altered some since I saw you, and I
+couldn't place you till I heard you speak. Why, you used to be spare. I
+am amazed, Marilly! Where are your folks?"
+
+"I don't wonder you are surprised," said the giantess. "I was a good
+ways from this when you knew me, wasn't I? But father, he ran through
+with every cent he had before he died, and 'he' took to drink, and it
+killed him after a while; and then I begun to grow worse and worse, till
+I couldn't do nothing to earn a dollar, and everybody was a-coming to
+see me, till at last I used to ask 'em ten cents apiece, and I scratched
+along somehow till this man came round and heard of me; and he offered
+me my keep and good pay to go along with him. He had another giantess
+before me, but she had begun to fall away considerable, so he paid her
+off and let her go. This other giantess was an awful expense to him, she
+was such an eater; now, I don't have no great of an appetite"--this was
+said plaintively--"and he's raised my pay since I've been with him
+because we did so well."...
+
+"Have you been living in Kentucky long?" asked Mrs. Kew. "I saw it on
+the picture outside."
+
+"No," said the giantess; "that was a picture the man bought cheap from
+another show that broke up last year. It says six hundred and fifty
+pounds, but I don't weigh more than four hundred. I haven't been weighed
+for some time past. Between you and me, I don't weigh as much as that,
+but you mustn't mention it, for it would spoil my reputation and might
+hinder my getting another engagement."
+
+Then they shook hands in a way that meant a great deal, and when Kate
+and I said good-afternoon, the giantess looked at us gratefully, and
+said: "I'm very much obliged to you for coming in, young ladies."
+
+"Walk in! Walk in!" the man was shouting as we came away. "Walk in and
+see the wonder of the world, ladies and gentlemen--the largest woman
+ever seen in America--the great Kentucky giantess!"
+
+
+NEW YORK TO NEWPORT.
+
+_A Trip of Trials_.
+
+BY LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.
+
+The Jane Moseley was a disappointment--most Janes are. If they had
+called her Samuel, no doubt she would have behaved better; but they
+called her Jane, and the natural consequences of our mistakes cannot be
+averted from ourselves or others. A band was playing wild strains of
+welcome as we approached. Come and sail with us, it said--it is summer,
+and the days are long. Care is of the land--here the waves flow, and the
+winds blow, and captain smiles, and stewardess beguiles, and all is
+music, music, music. How the wild, exultant strains rose and fell--but
+everything rose and fell on that boat, as we found out afterward. Just
+here a spirit of justice falls on me, like the gentle dew from heaven,
+and forces me to admit that it rained like a young deluge; that it had
+been raining for two days, and the bosom of the deep was heaving with
+responsive sympathy; as what bosom would not on which so many tears had
+been shed? Perhaps responsive sympathy was the secret of the Jane
+Moseley's behavior; but I would her heart had been less tender. Then,
+too, the passengers were few; and of course as we had to divide the roll
+and tumble between us, there was a great deal for each one.
+
+There was a Pretty Girl, and she had a sister who was not pretty. It
+seemed to me that even the sad sea waves were kinder to the Pretty Girl,
+such is the influence of youth and beauty. There were various men--heavy
+swells I should call some of them, only that that would be slang; but
+heavy swells were the order of the day. Then there was a benevolent old
+lady who believed in everything--in the music, and the Jane Moseley, and
+the long days, and the summer. There was another old lady of restless
+mind, who evidently believed in nothing, hoped for nothing, expected
+nothing. She tried all the lounges and all the corners, and found each
+one a separate disappointment. There was a fat, fair one, of friendly
+face, and beside her her grim guardian, a man so thin that you at once
+cast him for the part of Starveling in this Midsummer Day's Dream of
+Delusion.
+
+We put out from shore--quite out of sight of shore, in short--and then
+the perfidious music ceased. To the people on land it had sung, "Come
+and make merry with us," but from us, trying in vain to make merry, it
+withheld its deceitful inspiration. For the exceeding weight of sorrow
+that presently settled down upon us it had no balm. When you are on a
+pleasure trip it is unpleasant to be miserable; so I tried hard to shake
+off the mild melancholy that began to steal over me. I said to myself, I
+will not affront the great deep with my personal woes. I am but a woman,
+yet perhaps on this so great occasion magnanimity of soul will be
+possible even to me. I will consider my neighbors and be wise. At one
+end of the long saloon a banquet-board was spread. Its hospitality was,
+like the other attractions of the Jane Moseley, a perfidious pageant.
+Nobody sought its soup or claimed its clams. One or two sad-eyed young
+men made their way in that direction from time to time--after their
+sea-legs, perhaps. From their gait when they came back I inferred they
+did not find them. The human nature in the saloon became a weariness to
+me. Even the gentle gambols of the dog Thaddeus, a sportive and spotted
+pointer in whom I had been interested, failed to soothe my perturbed
+spirits. De Quincey speaks somewhere of "the awful solitariness of every
+human soul." No wonder, then, that I should be solitary among the
+festive few on board the Jane Moseley--no wonder I felt myself darkly,
+deeply, desperately blue. I thought I would go on deck. I clung to my
+companion with an ardor which would have been flattering had it been
+voluntary. My faltering steps were guided to a seat just within the
+guards. I sat there thinking that I had never nursed a dear gazelle, so
+I could not be quite sure whether it would have died or not, but I
+thought it would. I mused on the changing fortunes of this unsteady
+world, and the ingratitude of man. I thought it would be easier going to
+the Promised Land if Jordan did not roll between. Rolling had long
+ceased to be a pleasant figure of speech with me. How frail are all
+things here below, how false, and yet how fair! My mind is naturally
+picturesque. In the midst of my sadness the force of nature compelled me
+to grope after an illustration. I could only think that my own foothold
+was frail, that the Jane Moseley was false, that the Pretty Girl was
+fair. A dizziness of brain resulted from this rhetorical effort. I
+silently confided my sorrows to the sympathizing bosom of the sea. I was
+soothed by the kindred melancholy of the sad sea waves. If the size of
+the waves were remarkable, other sighs abounded also, and other things
+waved--many of them.
+
+True to my purpose of studying my fellow-beings, and learning wisdom by
+observation, I surveyed the Pretty Girl and her sister, who had by that
+time come on deck. They were surrounded by a group of audacious male
+creatures, who surrounded most on the side where the Pretty Girl sat.
+She did not look feeble. She was like the red, red rose. It was a
+conundrum to me why so much greater anxiety should be bestowed upon her
+health than upon her sister's. It needed some moral reflection to make
+it out; but I concluded that pretty girls were, by some law of nature,
+more subject to sea-sickness than plain ones; therefore, all these
+careful cares were quite in order. I saw the two old ladies--the
+benevolent one who had believed so implicitly in all things, but over
+whose benign visage doubt had now begun to settle like a cloud; and the
+other, who had hoped nothing from the first, and therefore over whom no
+disappointment could prevail--and, seeing, I mildly wondered whether,
+indeed, 'twere better to have loved and lost, or never to have loved at
+all.
+
+My thoughts grew solemn. The green shores beyond the swelling flood
+seemed farther off than ever. The Jane Moseley had promised to land us
+at Newport pier at seven o'clock. It was already half-past seven; oh,
+perfidious Jane! Darkness had settled upon the face of the deep. We went
+inside. The sad-eyed young men had evidently been hunting for their
+sea-legs again, in the neighborhood of the banqueting-table, where
+nobody banqueted. Failing to find the secret of correct locomotion, they
+had laid themselves down to sleep, but in that sleep at sea what dreams
+did come, and how noisy they were! The dog Thaddeus walked by
+dejectedly, sniffing at the ghost of some half-forgotten joy. At last
+there rose a cry--Newport! The sleepers started to their feet. I started
+to mine, but I discreetly and quietly sat down again. Was it Newport, at
+last? Not at all. The harbor lights were gleaming from afar; and the cry
+was of the bandmaster shouting to his emissaries, arousing fiddle and
+flute and bassoon to their deceitful duty. They had played us out of
+port--they would play us in again. They had promised us that all should
+go merry as a marriage-bell, and--I would not be understood to complain,
+but it had been a sad occasion. Now the deceitful strains rose and fell
+again upon the salt sea wind. The many lights glowed and twinkled from
+the near shore. We are all at play, come and play with us, screamed the
+soft waltz music. It is summer, and the days are long, and trouble is
+not, and care is banished. If the waves sigh, it is with bliss. Our
+voyage is ended. It is sad that you did not sail with us, but we will
+invite you again to-morrow, and the band shall play, and the crowd be
+gay, and airs beguile, and blue skies smile, and all shall be music,
+music, music. But I have sailed with you, on a summer day, bland master
+of a faithless band; and I know how soon your pipes are dumb--I know the
+tricks and manners of the clouds and the wind, and the swelling sea, and
+Jane Moseley, the perfidious.
+
+I must, after all, have strong local attachments, for when at last the
+time came to land I left the ship with lingering reluctance. My feet
+seemed fastened to the deck where I had made my brief home on the much
+rolling deep. I had grown used to pain and resigned to fate. I walked
+the plank unsteadily. I stood on shore amid the rain and the mist. A
+hackman preyed upon me. I was put into an ancient ark and trundled on
+through the queer, irresolute, contradictory old streets, beside the
+lovely bay, all aglow with the lighted yachts, as a Southern swamp is
+with fire-flies. A torchlight procession met and escorted me. To this
+hour I am at a loss to know whether this attention was a delicate
+tribute on the part of the city of Newport to a distinguished guest, or
+a parting attention from the company who sail the Jane Moseley, and
+advertise in the _Tribune_--a final subterfuge to persuade a tortured
+passenger, by means of this transitory glory, that the sail upon a
+summer sea had been a pleasure trip.--_Letter to New York Tribune._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+HUMOROUS POEMS.
+
+
+I will next group a score of poems and doggerel rhymes with their
+various degrees of humor.
+
+
+THE FIRST NEEDLE.
+
+BY LUCRETIA P. HALE.
+
+    "Have you heard the new invention, my dears,
+     That a man has invented?" said she.
+         "It's a stick with an eye
+         Through which you can tie
+     A thread so long, it acts like a thong,
+         And the men have such fun,
+         To see the thing run!
+     A firm, strong thread, through that eye at the head,
+     Is pulled over the edges most craftily,
+     And makes a beautiful seam to see!"
+
+    "What, instead of those wearisome thorns, my dear,
+     Those wearisome thorns?" cried they.
+         "The seam we pin
+         Driving them in,
+     But where are they by the end of the day,
+     With dancing, and jumping, and leaps by the sea?
+         For wintry weather
+         They won't hold together,
+     Seal-skins and bear-skins all dropping round
+     Off from our shoulders down to the ground.
+     The thorns, the tiresome thorns, will prick,
+     But none of them ever consented to stick!
+     Oh, won't the men let us this new thing use?
+     If we mend their clothes they can't refuse.
+     Ah, to sew up a seam for them to see--
+     What a treat, a delightful treat, 'twill be!"
+
+    "Yes, a nice thing, too, for the babies, my dears--
+     But, alas, there is but one!" cried she.
+    "I saw them passing it round, and then
+     They said it was fit for only men!
+         What woman would know
+         How to make the thing go?
+     There was not a man so foolish to dream
+     That any woman could sew up a seam!"
+     Oh, then there was babbling and scrabbling, my dears!
+    "At least they might let us do that!" cried they.
+         "Let them shout and fight
+         And kill bears all night;
+     We'll leave them their spears and hatchets of stone
+     If they'll give us this thing for our very own.
+     It will be like a joy above all we could scheme,
+     To sit up all night and sew such a seam."
+
+    "Beware! take care!" cried an aged old crone,
+    "Take care what you promise," said she.
+         "At first 'twill be fun,
+         But, in the long run,
+     You'll wish you had let the thing be.
+         Through this stick with an eye
+         I look and espy
+     That for ages and ages you'll sit and you'll sew,
+     And longer and longer the seams will grow,
+     And you'll wish you never had asked to sew.
+         But naught that I say
+         Can keep back the day,
+     For the men will return to their hunting and rowing,
+     And leave to the women forever the sewing."
+
+     Ah, what are the words of an aged crone?
+     For all have left her muttering alone;
+     And the needle and thread that they got with such pains,
+     They forever must keep as dagger and chains.
+
+
+THE FUNNY STORY.
+
+BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.
+
+    It was such a funny story! how I wish you could have heard it,
+      For it set us all a-laughing, from the little to the big;
+    I'd really like to tell it, but I don't know how to word it,
+      Though it travels to the music of a very lively jig.
+
+    If Sally just began it, then Amelia Jane would giggle,
+      And Mehetable and Susan try their very broadest grin;
+    And the infant Zachariah on his mother's lap would wriggle,
+      And add a lusty chorus to the very merry din.
+
+    It was such a funny story, with its cheery snap and crackle,
+      And Sally always told it with so much dramatic art,
+    That the chickens in the door-yard would begin to "cackle-cackle,"
+      As if in such a frolic they were anxious to take part.
+
+    It was all about a--ha! ha!--and a--ho! ho! ho!--well really,
+      It is--he! he! he!--I never could begin to tell you half
+    Of the nonsense there was in it, for I just remember clearly
+      It began with--ha! ha! ha! ha! and it ended with a laugh.
+
+    But Sally--she could tell it, looking at us so demurely,
+      With a woe-begone expression that no actress would despise;
+    And if you'd never heard it, why you would imagine surely
+      That you'd need your pocket-handkerchief to wipe your weeping eyes.
+
+    When age my hair has silvered, and my step has grown unsteady,
+      And the nearest to my vision are the scenes of long ago,
+    I shall see the pretty picture, and the tears may come as ready
+      As the laugh did, when I used to--ha! ha! ha! and--ho! ho! ho!
+
+
+A SONNET.
+
+BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.
+
+    Once a poet wrote a sonnet
+    All about a pretty bonnet,
+    And a critic sat upon it
+        (On the sonnet,
+        Not the bonnet),
+          Nothing loath.
+
+    And as if it were high treason,
+    He said: "Neither rhyme nor reason
+    Has it; and it's out of season,"
+        Which? the sonnet
+        Or the bonnet?
+          Maybe both.
+
+    "'Tis a feeble imitation
+    Of a worthier creation;
+    An aesthetic innovation!"
+        Of a sonnet
+        Or a bonnet?
+          This was hard.
+
+    Both were put together neatly,
+    Harmonizing very sweetly,
+    But the critic crushed completely
+        Not the bonnet,
+        Or the sonnet,
+          But the bard.
+
+
+WANTED, A MINISTER.
+
+BY MRS. M.E.W. SKEELS.
+
+    We've a church, tho' the belfry is leaning,
+      They are talking I think of repair,
+    And the _bell_, oh, pray but excuse us,
+      'Twas _talked of_, but never's been there.
+    Now, "Wanted, a _real live minister_,"
+      And to settle the same for _life_,
+    We've an organ and some one to play it,
+      So we don't care a fig for his wife.
+
+    We once had a pastor (don't tell it),
+      But we chanced on a time to discover
+    That his sermons were writ long ago,
+      And he had preached them twice over.
+    How sad this mistake, tho' unmeaning,
+      Oh, it made such a desperate muss!
+    Both deacon and laymen were vexed,
+      And decided, "He's no man for us."
+
+    And then the "old nick" was to pay,
+      "Truth indeed is stranger than fiction,"
+    His _prayers_ were so tedious and long,
+      People slept, till the benediction.
+    And then came another, on trial,
+      Who _actually preached in his gloves_,
+    His manner so _awkward_ and _queer_,
+      That we _settled him off_ and he moved.
+
+    And then came another so meek,
+      That his name really ought to 've been _Moses_;
+    We almost considered him _settled_,
+      When lo! the secret discloses,
+    He'd attacks of nervous disease,
+      That unfit him for every-day duty;
+    His sermons, oh, never can please,
+      They lack both in force and beauty.
+
+    Now, "wanted, a minister," really,
+      That won't preach his _old sermons over_,
+    That will make _short prayers_ while in church,
+      With no fault that the ear can discover,
+    That is very forbearing, yes very,
+      That blesses wherever he moves--
+    Not too zealous, nor lacking for zeal,
+      That _preaches without any gloves!_
+
+    Now, "wanted, a minister," really,
+      "That was born ere nerves came in fashion,"
+    That never complains of the "headache,"
+      That never is roused to a passion.
+    He must add to the wisdom of Solomon
+      The unwearied patience of Job,
+    Must be _mute in political matters_,
+      Or doff his clerical robe.
+
+    If he pray for the present Congress,
+      He must speak in an undertone;
+    If he pray for President Johnson,
+      _He_ NEEDS _'em_, why let him go on.
+    He must touch upon doctrines so lightly,
+      That no one can take an offence,
+    Mustn't meddle with _predestination_--
+    In short, must preach "common sense."
+
+    Now really wanted a minister,
+      With religion enough to sustain him,
+    For the _salary's exceedingly_ small,
+      And _faith alone_ must _maintain him_.
+    He must visit the sick and afflicted,
+      Must mourn with those that mourn,
+    Must preach the "funeral sermons"
+      With a very _peculiar_ turn.
+
+    He must preach at the north-west school-house
+      On every Thursday eve,
+    And things too numerous to mention
+      He must do, and must believe.
+    He must be of careful demeanor,
+      Both graceful and eloquent too,
+    Must adjust his cravat "a la mode,"
+      Wear his beaver, decidedly, so.
+
+    Now if _some one_ will deign to be shepherd
+      To this "our _peculiar people_,"
+    Will be first to subscribe for a bell,
+      And help us to right up the steeple,
+    If _correct_ in doctrinal points
+      (We've _a committee of investigation_),
+    If possessed of these requisite graces,
+      We'll accept him perhaps on probation.
+
+    Then if two-thirds of the church can agree,
+      We'll settle him here for life;
+    Now, we advertise, "_Wanted, a Minister_,"
+      And not a minister's wife.
+
+
+THE MIDDY OF 1881.
+
+BY MAY CROLY ROPER.
+
+    I'm the dearest, I'm the sweetest little mid
+      To be found in journeying from here to Hades,
+    I am also, nat-u-rally, _a prodid-_
+      Gious favorite with all the pretty ladies.
+    I _know_ nothing, but say a mighty deal;
+      My elevated nose, likewise, comes handy;
+    I stalk around, my great importance feel--
+      In short, I'm a brainless little dandy.
+
+    My hair is light, and waves above my brow,
+      My mustache can just be seen through opera-glasses;
+    I originate but flee from every row,
+      And no one knows as well as I what "sass" is!
+    The officers look down on me with scorn,
+      The sailors jeer at me--behind my jacket,
+    But still my heart is not "with anguish torn,"
+      And life with me is one continued racket.
+
+    Whene'er the captain sends me with a boat,
+      The seamen know an idiot has got 'em;
+    They make their wills and are prepared to die,
+      Quite certain they are going to the bottom.
+    But what care I! For when I go ashore,
+      In uniform with buttons bright and shining,
+    The girls all cluster 'round me to adore,
+      And lots of 'em for love of me are pining.
+
+    I strut and dance, and fool my life away;
+      I'm nautical in past and future tenses!
+    Long as I know an ocean from a bay,
+      I'll shy the rest, and take the consequences.
+    I'm the dearest, I'm the sweetest little mid
+      That ever graced the tail-end of his classes,
+    And through a four years' course of study slid,
+      First am I in the list of Nature's--donkeys!
+
+                              --_Scribner's Magazine Bric-a-Brac, 1881._
+
+
+INDIGNANT POLLY WOG.
+
+BY MARGARET EYTINGE.
+
+     A tree-toad dressed in apple-green
+       Sat on a mossy log
+     Beside a pond, and shrilly sang,
+       "Come forth, my Polly Wog--
+     My Pol, my Ly,--my Wog,
+       My pretty Polly Wog,
+     I've something very sweet to say,
+       My slender Polly Wog!
+
+    "The air is moist, the moon is hid
+       Behind a heavy fog;
+     No stars are out to wink and blink
+       At you, my Polly Wog--
+     My Pol, my Ly--my Wog,
+       My graceful Polly Wog;
+     Oh, tarry not, beloved one!
+       My precious Polly Wog!"
+
+     Just then away went clouds, and there
+       A sitting on the log--
+     The other end I mean--the moon
+       Showed angry Polly Wog.
+
+     Her small eyes flashed, she swelled until
+       She looked almost a frog;
+     "How _dare_ you, sir, call _me_," she asked,
+       "Your _precious_ Polly Wog?
+
+    "Why, one would think you'd spent your life
+       In some low, muddy bog.
+     I'd have you know--to _strange_ young men
+       My name's Miss Mary Wog."
+
+     One wild, wild laugh that tree-toad gave,
+       And tumbled off the log,
+     And on the ground he kicked and screamed,
+       "Oh, Mary, Mary Wog.
+       Oh, May! oh, Ry--oh, Wog!
+       Oh, proud Miss Mary Wog!
+     Oh, goodness gracious! what a joke!
+       Hurrah for Mary Wog!"
+
+
+"KISS PRETTY POLL!"
+
+BY MARY D. BRINE.
+
+    "Kiss Pretty Poll!" the parrot screamed,
+       And "Pretty Poll," repeated I,
+     The while I stole a merry glance
+       Across the room all on the sly,
+     Where some one plied her needle fast,
+       Demurely by the window sitting;
+     But I beheld upon her cheek
+       A multitude of blushes flitting.
+
+    "Kiss Pretty Poll," the parrot coaxed:
+       "I would, but dare not try," I said,
+     And stole another glance to see
+       How some one drooped her golden head,
+     And sought for something on the floor
+       (The loss was only feigned, I knew)--
+     And still, "Kiss Poll," the parrot screamed,
+       The very thing I longed to do.
+
+     But some one turned to me at last,
+       "Please, won't you keep that parrot still?"
+     "Why, yes," said I, "at least--you see
+       If you will let me, dear, I will."
+     And so--well, never mind the rest;
+       But some one said it was a shame
+     To take advantage just because
+       A foolish parrot bore her name.
+
+                              --_Harper's Weekly._
+
+
+THANKSGIVING-DAY (THEN AND NOW).
+
+BY MARY D. BRINE.
+
+    Thanksgiving-day, a year ago,
+      A bachelor was I,
+    Free as the winds that whirl and blow,
+      Or clouds that sail on high:
+    I smoked my meerschaum blissfully,
+      And tilted back my chair,
+    And on the mantel placed my feet,
+      For who would heed or care?
+
+    The fellows gathered in my room
+      For many an hour of fun,
+    Or I would meet them at the club
+      For cards, till night was done.
+    I came or went as pleased me best,
+      Myself the first and last.
+    One year ago! Ah, can it be
+      That freedom's age is past?
+
+    Now, here's a note just come from Fred:
+      "Old fellow, will you dine
+    With me to-day? and meet the boys,
+      A jolly number--nine?"
+    Ah, Fred is quite as free to-day
+      As just a year ago,
+    And ignorant, happily, I may say,
+      Of things _I've_ learned to know.
+
+    I'd like, yes, if the truth were known,
+      I'd like to join the boys,
+    But then a Benedick must learn
+      To cleave to other joys.
+    So, here's my answer: "Fred, old chum,
+      I much regret--oh, pshaw!
+    To tell the truth, I've got to dine
+      With--_my dear mother-in-law!_"
+
+                              --_Harper's Weekly._
+
+
+CONCERNING MOSQUITOES.
+
+_Feelingly Dedicated to their Discounted Bills._
+
+BY MISS ANNA A. GORDON.
+
+    Skeeters have the reputation
+    Of continuous application
+    To their poisonous profession;
+    Never missing nightly session,
+    Wearing out your life's existence
+    By their practical persistence.
+
+    Would I had the power to veto
+    Bills of every mosquito;
+    Then I'd pass a peaceful summer,
+    With no small nocturnal hummer
+    Feasting on my circulation,
+    For his regular potation.
+
+    Oh, that rascally mosquito!
+    He's a fellow you must see to;
+    Which you can't do if you're napping,
+    But must evermore be slapping
+    Quite promiscuous on your features;
+    For you'll seldom hit the creatures.
+
+    But the thing most aggravating
+    Is the cool and calculating
+    Way in which he tunes his harpstring
+    To the melody of sharp sting;
+    Then proceeds to serenade you,
+    And successfully evade you.
+
+    When a skeeter gets through stealing,
+    He sails upward to the ceiling,
+    Where he sits in deep reflection
+    How he perched on your complexion,
+    Filled with solid satisfaction
+    At results of his extraction.
+
+    Would you know, in this connection,
+    How you may secure protection
+    For yourself and city cousins
+    From these bites and from these buzzin's?
+    Show your sense by quickly getting
+    For each window--skeeter netting.
+
+
+THE STILTS OF GOLD.
+
+BY METTA VICTORIA VICTOR.
+
+    Mrs. Mackerel sat in her little room,
+      Back of her husband's grocery store,
+    Trying to see through the evening gloom,
+      To finish the baby's pinafore.
+    She stitched away with a steady hand,
+      Though her heart was sore, to the very core,
+    To think of the troublesome little band,
+        (There were seven, or more),
+    And the trousers, frocks, and aprons they wore,
+    Made and mended by her alone.
+    "Slave, slave!" she said, in a mournful tone;
+    "And let us slave, and contrive, and fret,
+    I don't suppose we shall ever get
+    A little home which is all our own,
+        With my own front door
+        Apart from the store,
+    And the smell of fish and tallow no more."
+
+    These words to herself she sadly spoke,
+      Breaking the thread from the last-set stitch,
+    When Mackerel into her presence broke--
+      "Wife, we're--we're--we're, wife, we're--we're _rich_!"
+    "_We_ rich! ha, ha! I'd like to see;
+    I'll pull your hair if you're fooling me."
+    "Oh, don't, love, don't! the letter is here--
+    You can read the news for yourself, my dear.
+    The one who sent you that white crape shawl--
+    There'll be no end to our gold--he's dead;
+      You know you always would call him stingy,
+      Because he didn't invite us to Injy;
+    And I am his only heir, 'tis said.
+    A million of pounds, at the very least,
+      And pearls and diamonds, likely, beside!"
+    Mrs. Mackerel's spirits rose like yeast--
+      "How lucky I married you, Mac," she cried.
+    Then the two broke forth into frantic glee.
+      A customer hearing the strange commotion,
+    Peeped into the little back-room, and he
+      Was seized with the very natural notion
+    That the Mackerel family had gone insane;
+    So he ran away with might and main.
+
+    Mac shook his partner by both her hands;
+      They dance, they giggle, they laugh, they stare;
+    And now on his head the grocer stands,
+      Dancing a jig with his feet in air--
+    Remarkable feat for a man of his age,
+    Who never had danced upon any stage
+    But the High-Bridge stage, when he set on top,
+    And whose green-room had been a green-grocer's shop.
+    But that Mrs. Mac should perform so well
+    Is not very strange, if the tales they tell
+    Of her youthful days have any foundation.
+      But let that pass with her former life--
+      An opera-girl may make a good wife,
+    If she happens to get such a nice situation.
+
+    A million pounds of solid gold
+      One would have thought would have crushed them dead;
+    But dear they bobbed, and courtesied, and rolled
+      Like a couple of corks to a plummet of lead.
+    'Twas enough the soberest fancy to tickle
+    To see the two Mackerels in such a pickle!
+    It was three o'clock when they got to bed;
+    Even then through Mrs. Mackerel's head
+    Such gorgeous dreams went whirling away,
+    "Like a Catherine-wheel," she declared next day,
+    "That her brain seemed made of sparkles of fire
+    Shot off in spokes, with a ruby tire."
+
+      Mrs. Mackerel had ever been
+          One of the upward-tending kind,
+        Regarded by husband and by kin
+        As a female of very ambitious mind.
+    It had fretted her long and fretted her sore
+    To live in the rear of the grocery-store.
+      And several times she was heard to say
+        She would sell her soul for a year and a day
+        To the King of Brimstone, Fire, and Pitch,
+        For the power and pleasure of being rich.
+
+    Now her ambition had scope to work--
+      Riches, they say, are a burden at best;
+    Her onerous burden she did not shirk,
+      But carried it all with commendable zest;
+    Leaving her husband with nothing in life
+    But to smoke, eat, drink, and obey his wife.
+    She built a house with a double front-door,
+      A marble house in the modern style,
+    With silver planks in the entry floor,
+      And carpets of extra-magnificent pile.
+    And in the hall, in the usual manner,
+    "A statue," she said, "of the chased Diana;
+    Though who it was chased her, or whether they
+    Caught her or not, she could, really, not say."
+    A carriage with curtains of yellow satin--
+      A coat-of-arms with these rare devices:
+      "A mackerel sky and the starry Pisces--"
+    And underneath, in the purest fish-latin,
+          _If fishibus flyabus
+          They may reach the skyabus!_
+
+    Yet it was not in common affairs like these
+      She showed her original powers of mind;
+    Her soul was fired, her ardor inspired,
+      To stand apart from the rest of mankind;
+    "To be A No. one," her husband said;
+    At which she turned very angrily red,
+    For she couldn't endure the remotest hint
+    Of the grocery-store, and the mackerels in't.
+    Weeks and months she plotted and planned
+      To raise herself from the common level;
+    Apart from even the few to stand
+      Who'd hundreds of thousands on which to revel.
+    Her genius, at last, spread forth its wings--
+    Stilts, golden stilts, are the very things--
+    "I'll walk on stilts," Mrs. Mackerel cried,
+    In the height of her overtowering pride.
+    Her husband timidly shook his head;
+    But she did not care--"For why," as she said,
+    "Should the owner of more than a million pounds
+          Be going the rounds
+          On the very same grounds
+    As those low people, she couldn't tell who,
+    They might keep a shop, for all she knew."
+
+    She had a pair of the articles made,
+    Of solid gold, gorgeously overlaid
+    With every color of precious stone
+    Which ever flashed in the Indian zone.
+    She privately practised many a day
+      Before she ventured from home at all;
+    She had lost her girlish skill, and they say
+      That she suffered many a fearful fall;
+    But pride is stubborn, and she was bound
+    On her golden stilts to go around,
+    Three feet, at least, from the plebeian ground.
+          'Twas an exquisite day,
+          In the month of May,
+    That the stilts came out for a promenade;
+          Their first _entree_
+    Was made on the shilling side of Broadway;
+    The carmen whistled, the boys went mad,
+    The omnibus-drivers their horses stopped.
+    The chestnut-roaster his chestnuts dropped,
+    The popper of corn no longer popped;
+    The daintiest dandies deigned to stare,
+    And even the heads of women fair
+    Were turned by the vision meeting them there.
+    The stilts they sparkled and flashed and shone
+    Like the tremulous lights of the frigid zone,
+    Crimson and yellow and sapphire and green,
+    Bright as the rainbows in summer seen;
+    While the lady she strode along between
+    With a majesty too supremely serene
+    For anything _but_ an American queen.
+    A lady with jewels superb as those,
+    And wearing such very expensive clothes,
+    Might certainly do whatever she chose!
+    And thus, in despite of the jeering noise,
+    And the frantic delight of the little boys,
+      The stilts were a very decided success.
+    The _creme de la creme_ paid profoundest attention,
+      The merchants' clerks bowed in such wild excess,
+    When she entered their shops, that they strained their spines,
+    And afterward went into rapid declines.
+    The papers, next day, gave her flattering mention;
+    "The wife of our highly-esteemed fellow-citizen,
+      A Mackerel, of Codfish Square, in this city,
+    Scorning French fashions, herself has hit on one
+      So very piquant and stylish and pretty,
+    We trust our fair friends will consider it treason
+    _Not_ to walk upon stilts, by the close of the season."
+
+    Mrs. Mackerel, now, was never seen
+      Out of her chamber, day or night,
+    Unless her stilts were along--her mien
+      Was very imposing from such a height,
+      It imposed upon many a dazzled wight,
+    Who snuffed the perfume floating down
+    From the rustling folds of her gorgeous gown,
+    But never could smell through these bouquets
+          The fishy odor of former days.
+    She went on her golden stilts to pray,
+      Which never became her better than then,
+    When her murmuring lips were heard to say,
+      "Thank God, I am not as my fellow-men!"
+    Her pastor loved as a pastor might--
+      His house that was built on a golden rock;
+    He pointed it out as a shining light
+      To the lesser lambs of his fleecy flock.
+    The stilts were a help to the church, no doubt,
+      They kindled its self-expiring embers,
+    So that before the season was out
+      It gained a dozen excellent members.
+
+    Mrs. Mackerel gave a superb soiree,
+      Standing on stilts to receive her guests;
+    The gas-lights mimicked the glowing day
+      So well, that the birds, in their flowery nests,
+      Almost burst their beautiful breasts,
+    Trilling away their musical stories
+    In Mrs. Mackerel's conservatories.
+    She received on stilts; a distant bow
+      Was all the loftiest could attain--
+    Though some of her friends she did allow
+      To kiss the hem of her jewelled train.
+    One gentleman screamed himself quite hoarse
+    Requesting her to dance; which, of course,
+    Couldn't be done on stilts, as she
+    Halloed down to him rather scornfully.
+
+    The fact is, when Mackerel kept a shop,
+    His wife was very fond of a hop,
+    And now, as the music swelled and rose,
+    She felt a tingling in her toes,
+    A restless, tickling, funny sensation
+    Which didn't agree with her exaltation.
+
+    When the maddened music was at its height,
+    And the waltz was wildest--behold, a sight!
+    The stilts began to hop and twirl
+    Like the saucy feet of a ballet-girl.
+    And their haughty owner, through the air,
+    Was spin, spin, spinning everywhere.
+    Everybody got out of the way
+    To give the dangerous stilts fair play.
+      In every corner, at every door,
+    With faces looking like unfilled blanks,
+    They watched the stilts at their airy pranks,
+      Giving them, unrequested, the floor.
+      They never had glittered so bright before;
+    The light it flew in flashing splinters
+    Away from those burning, revolving centres;
+    While the gems on the lady's flying skirts
+    Gave out their light in jets and spirts.
+    Poor Mackerel gazed in mute dismay
+    At this unprecedented display.
+    "Oh, stop, love, stop!" he cried at last;
+    But she only flew more wild and fast,
+    While the flutes and fiddles, bugle and drum,
+    Followed as if their time had come.
+
+    She went at such a bewildering pace
+    Nobody saw the lady's face,
+    But only a ring of emerald light
+    From the crown she wore on that fatal night.
+    Whether the stilts were propelling her,
+    Or she the stilts, none could aver.
+    Around and around the magnificent hall
+    Mrs. Mackerel danced at her own grand ball.
+
+    "As the twig is bent the tree's inclined;"
+    This must have been a case in kind.
+    "What's in the blood will sometimes show--"
+    'Round and around the wild stilts go.
+
+    It had been whispered many a time
+    That when poor Mack was in his prime
+      Keeping that little retail store,
+    He had fallen in love with a ballet-girl,
+    Who gave up fame's entrancing whirl
+      To be his own, and the world's no more.
+    She made him a faithful, prudent wife--
+    Ambitious, however, all her life.
+    Could it be that the soft, alluring waltz
+      Had carried her back to a former age,
+    Making her memory play her false,
+      Till she dreamed herself on the gaudy stage?
+    Her crown a tinsel crown--her guests
+    The pit that gazes with praise and jests?
+
+    "Pride," they say, "must have a fall--"
+      Mrs. Mackerel was very proud--
+    And now she danced at her own grand ball,
+      While the music swelled more fast and loud.
+
+    The gazers shuddered with mute affright,
+    For the stilts burned now with a bluish light,
+    While a glimmering, phosphorescent glow
+    Did out of the lady's garments flow.
+    And what was that very peculiar smell?
+    Fish, or brimstone? no one could tell.
+    Stronger and stronger the odor grew,
+    And the stilts and the lady burned more blue;
+    'Round and around the long saloon,
+    While Mackerel gazed in a partial swoon,
+    She approached the throng, or circled from it,
+    With a flaming train like the last great comet;
+          Till at length the crowd
+          All groaned aloud.
+    For her exit she made from her own grand ball
+    Out of the window, stilts and all.
+
+    None of the guests can really say
+    How she looked when she vanished away.
+    Some declare that she carried sail
+    On a flying fish with a lambent tail;
+    And some are sure she went out of the room
+    Riding her stilts like a witch a broom,
+    While a phosphorent odor followed her track:
+    Be this as it may, she never came back.
+    Since then, her friends of the gold-fish fry
+      Are in a state of unpleasant suspense,
+    Afraid, that unless they unselfishly try
+      To make better use of their dollars and sense
+    To chasten their pride, and their manners mend,
+    They may meet a similar shocking end.
+
+                              --_Cosmopolitan Art Journal._
+
+
+JUST SO.
+
+BY METTA VICTORIA VICTOR.
+
+    A youth and maid, one winter night,
+      Were sitting in the corner;
+    His name, we're told, was Joshua White,
+      And hers was Patience Warner.
+
+    Not much the pretty maiden said,
+      Beside the young man sitting;
+    Her cheeks were flushed a rosy red,
+      Her eyes bent on her knitting.
+
+    Nor could he guess what thoughts of him
+      Were to her bosom flocking,
+    As her fair fingers, swift and slim,
+      Flew round and round the stocking.
+
+    While, as for Joshua, bashful youth,
+      His words grew few and fewer;
+    Though all the time, to tell the truth,
+      His chair edged nearer to her.
+
+    Meantime her ball of yarn gave out,
+      She knit so fast and steady;
+    And he must give his aid, no doubt,
+      To get another ready.
+
+    He held the skein; of course the thread
+      Got tangled, snarled and twisted;
+    "Have Patience!" cried the artless maid,
+      To him who her assisted.
+
+    Good chance was this for tongue-tied churl
+      To shorten all palaver;
+    "Have Patience!" cried he, "dearest girl!
+      And may I really have her?"
+
+    The deed was done; no more, that night,
+      Clicked needles in the corner:--
+    And she is Mrs. Joshua White
+      That once was Patience Warner.
+
+
+THE INVENTOR'S WIFE.
+
+BY E.T. CORBETT.
+
+    It's easy to talk of the patience of Job. Humph! Job had nothin'
+            to try him;
+    Ef he'd been married to 'Bijah Brown, folks wouldn't have dared
+            come nigh him.
+    Trials, indeed! Now I'll tell you what--ef you want to be sick
+            of your life,
+    Jest come and change places with me a spell, for I'm an
+            inventor's wife.
+    And sech inventions! I'm never sure when I take up my coffee-pot,
+    That 'Bijah hain't been "improvin'" it, and it mayn't go off
+            like a shot.
+    Why, didn't he make me a cradle once that would keep itself
+            a-rockin',
+    And didn't it pitch the baby out, and wasn't his head bruised
+            shockin'?
+    And there was his "patent peeler," too, a wonderful thing I'll say;
+    But it hed one fault--it never stopped till the apple was peeled away.
+    As for locks and clocks, and mowin' machines, and reapers, and all
+            such trash,
+    Why, 'Bijah's invented heaps of them, but they don't bring in no cash!
+    Law! that don't worry him--not at all; he's the aggravatinest man--
+    He'll set in his little workshop there, and whistle and think and plan,
+    Inventin' a Jews harp to go by steam, or a new-fangled powder-horn,
+    While the children's goin' barefoot to school, and the weeds is
+            chokin' our corn.
+    When 'Bijah and me kep' company, he wasn't like this, you know;
+    Our folks all thought he was dreadful smart--but that was years ago.
+    He was handsome as any pictur' then, and he had such a glib,
+            bright way--
+    I never thought that a time would come when I'd rue my weddin'-day;
+    But when I've been forced to chop the wood, and tend to the
+            farm beside,
+    And look at 'Bijah a-settin' there, I've jest dropped down and cried.
+    We lost the hull of our turnip crop while he was inventin' a gun,
+    But I counted it one of my marcies when it bust before 'twas done.
+    So he turned it into a "burglar alarm." It ought to give
+            thieves a fright--
+    'Twould scare an honest man out of his wits, ef he sot it
+            off at night.
+    Sometimes I wonder ef 'Bijah's crazy, he does such curious things.
+    Have I told you about his bedstead yit? 'Twas full of wheels
+            and springs;
+    It hed a key to wind it up, and a clock-face at the head;
+    All you did was to turn them hands, and at any hour you said
+    That bed got up and shook itself, and bounced you on the floor,
+    And then shet up, jest like a box, so you couldn't sleep any more.
+    Wa'al, 'Bijah he fixed it all complete, and he sot it at
+            half-past five,
+    But he hadn't more 'n got into it, when--dear me! sakes alive!
+    Them wheels began to whizz and whirr! I heard a fearful snap,
+    And there was that bedstead with 'Bijah inside shet up jest
+            like a trap!
+    I screamed, of course, but 'twant no use. Then I worked that
+            hull long night
+    A-tryin' to open the pesky thing. At last I got in a fright:
+    I couldn't hear his voice inside, and I thought he might be dyin',
+    So I took a crowbar and smashed it in. There was 'Bijah
+            peacefully lyin',
+    Inventin' a way to git out agin. That was all very well to say,
+    But I don't believe he'd have found it out if I'd left him in all day.
+    Now, since I've told you my story, do you wonder I'm tired of life,
+    Or think it strange I often wish I warn't an inventor's wife?
+
+
+AN UNRUFFLED BOSOM.
+
+(_Story of an old Woman who knew Washington._)
+
+BY LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY.
+
+    An aged negress at her door
+      Is sitting in the sun;
+    Her day of work is almost o'er,
+      Her day of rest begun.
+    Her face is black as darkest night,
+      Her form is bent and thin,
+    And o'er her bony visage tight
+      Is stretched her wrinkled skin.
+    Her dress is scant and mean; yet still
+      About her ebon face
+    There flows a soft and creamy frill
+      Of costly Mechlin lace.
+    What means the contrast strange and wide?
+      Its like is seldom seen--
+    A pauper's aged face beside
+      The laces of a queen.
+    Her mien is stately, proud, and high,
+      And yet her look is kind,
+    And the calm light within her eye
+      Speaks an unruffled mind.
+    "Dar comes anodder ob dem tramps,"
+      She mumbles low in wrath,
+    "I know dose sleek Centennial chaps
+      Quick as dey mounts de path."
+    A-axing ob a lady's age
+      I tink is impolite,
+    And when dey gins to interview
+      I disremembers quite.
+    Dar was dat spruce photometer
+      Dat tried to take my head,
+    And Mr. Squibbs, de porterer,
+      Wrote down each word I said.
+    Six hundred years I t'ought it was,
+      Or else it was sixteen--
+    Yes; I'd shook hands wid Washington
+      And likewise General Greene.
+    I tole him all de generals' names
+      Dar ebber was, I guess,
+    From General Lee and La Fayette
+      To General Distress.
+    Den dar's dem high-flown ladies
+      My _old_ tings came to see;
+    Wanted to buy dem some heirlooms
+      Of real Aunt Tiquity.
+    Says I, "Dat isn't dis chile's name,
+      Dey calls me Auntie Scraggs,"
+    And den I axed dem, by de pound
+      How much dey gabe for rags?
+    De missionary had de mose
+      Insurance of dem all;
+    He tole me I was ole, and said,
+      Leabes had dar time to fall.
+    He simply wished to ax, he said,
+      As pastor and as friend,
+    If wid unruffled bosom I
+      Approached my latter end.
+    Now how he knew dat story I
+      Should mightily like to know.
+
+    I 'clar to goodness, Massa Guy,
+      If dat ain't really you!
+    You say dat in your wash I sent
+      You only one white vest;
+    And as you'se passin' by you t'ought
+      You'd call and get de rest.
+    Now, Massa Guy, about your shirts,
+      At least, it seems to me
+    Dat you is more particular
+      Dan what you used to be.
+    Your family pride is stiff as starch,
+      Your blood is mighty blue--
+    I nebber spares de indigo
+      To make your shirts so, too.
+    I uses candle ends, and wax,
+      And satin-gloss and paints,
+    Until your wristbands shine like to
+      De pathway ob de saints.
+    But when a gemman sends to me
+      Eight white vests eberry week,
+    A stain ob har-oil on each one,
+      I tinks it's time to speak.
+
+    When snarled around a button dar's
+      A golden har or so,
+    Dat young man's going to be wed,
+      Or someting's wrong, I know.
+    You needn't laugh, and turn it off
+      By axing 'bout my cap;
+    You didn't use to know nice lace,
+      And never cared a snap
+    What 'twas a lady wore. But folks
+      Wid teaching learn a lot,
+    And dey do say Miss Bella buys
+      De best dat's to be got.
+    But if you really want to know,
+      I don't mind telling you
+    Jus' how I come by dis yere lace--
+      It's cur'us, but it's true.
+    My mother washed for Washington
+      When I warn't more'n dat tall;
+    I cut one of his shirt-frills off
+      To dress my corn-cob doll;
+    And when de General saw de shirt,
+      He jus' was mad enough
+    To tink he got to hold review
+      Widout his best Dutch ruff.
+    Ma'am said she 'lowed it was de calf
+      Dat had done chawed it off;
+    But when de General heard dat ar,
+      He answered with a scoff;
+    He said de marks warn't don' of teef,
+      But plainly dose ob shears;
+    An' den he showed her to de do'
+      And cuffed me on ye years.
+    And when my ma'am arribed at home
+      She stretched me 'cross her lap,
+    Den took de lace away from me
+      An' sewed it on her cap.
+    And when I dies I hope dat dey
+      Wid it my shroud will trim.
+
+    Den when we meets on Judgment Day,
+      I'll gib it back to him.
+    So dat's my story, Massa Guy,
+      Maybe I's little wit;
+    But I has larned to, when I'm wrong,
+      Make a clean breast ob it.
+    Den keep a conscience smooth and white
+      (You can't if much you flirt),
+    And an unruffled bosom, like
+      De General's Sunday shirt.
+
+
+HAT, ULSTER AND ALL.
+
+BY CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES.
+
+_John Verity's Experience._
+
+    I saw the congregation rise,
+    And in it, to my great surprise,
+        A Kossuth-covered head.
+    I looked and looked, and looked again,
+    To make quite sure my sight was plain,
+        Then to myself I said:
+
+    That fellow surely is a Jew,
+    To whom the Christian faith is new,
+        Nor is it strange, indeed,
+    If used to wear his hat in church,
+    His manners leave him in the lurch
+        Upon a change of creed.
+
+    Joining my friend on going out,
+    Conjecture soon was put to rout
+        By smothered laugh of his:
+    Ha! ha! too good, too good, no Jew,
+    Dear fellow, but Miss Moll Carew,
+        Good Christian that she is!
+
+    Bad blunder all I have to say,
+    It is a most unchristian way
+        To rig Miss Moll Carew--
+    She has my hat, my cut of hair,
+    Just such an ulster as I wear,
+        And heaven knows what else, too.
+
+
+AUCTION EXTRAORDINARY.
+
+BY LUCRETIA DAVIDSON.
+
+    I dreamed a dream in the midst of my slumbers,
+    And as fast as I dreamed it, it came into numbers;
+    My thoughts ran along in such beautiful meter,
+    I'm sure I ne'er saw any poetry sweeter:
+    It seemed that a law had been recently made
+    That a tax on old bachelors' pates should be laid;
+    And in order to make them all willing to marry,
+    The tax was as large as a man could well carry.
+    The bachelors grumbled and said 'twas no use--
+    'Twas horrid injustice and horrid abuse,
+    And declared that to save their own hearts' blood from spilling,
+    Of such a vile tax they would not pay a shilling.
+    But the rulers determined them still to pursue,
+    So they set all the old bachelors up at vendue:
+    A crier was sent through the town to and fro,
+    To rattle his bell and a trumpet to blow,
+    And to call out to all he might meet in his way,
+    "Ho! forty old bachelors sold here to-day!"
+    And presently all the old maids in the town,
+    Each in her very best bonnet and gown,
+    From thirty to sixty, fair, plain, red and pale,
+    Of every description, all flocked to the sale.
+    The auctioneer then in his labor began,
+    And called out aloud, as he held up a man,
+    "How much for a bachelor? Who wants to buy?"
+    In a twink, every maiden responsed, "I--I!"
+    In short, at a highly extravagant price,
+    The bachelors all were sold off in a trice:
+    And forty old maidens, some younger, some older,
+    Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder.
+
+
+A APELE FOR ARE TO THE SEXTANT.
+
+BY ARABELLA WILSON.
+
+    O Sextant of the meetinouse which sweeps
+    And dusts, or is supposed to! and makes fiers,
+    And lites the gas, and sumtimes leaves a screw loose,
+    In which case it smells orful--wus than lampile;
+    And wrings the Bel and toles it when men dies
+    To the grief of survivin' pardners, and sweeps paths,
+    And for these servaces gits $100 per annum;
+    Wich them that thinks deer let 'em try it;
+    Gittin up before starlite in all wethers, and
+    Kindlin' fiers when the wether is as cold
+    As zero, and like as not green wood for kindlins
+    (I wouldn't be hierd to do it for no sum);
+    But o Sextant there are one kermodity
+    Wuth more than gold which don't cost nuthin;
+    Wuth more than anything except the Sole of man!
+    I mean pewer Are, Sextant, I mean pewer Are!
+    O it is plenty out o' dores, so plenty it doant no
+    What on airth to do with itself, but flize about
+    Scatterin leaves and bloin off men's hats;
+    In short its jest as free as Are out dores;
+    But O Sextant! in our church its scarce as piety,
+    Scarce as bankbills when ajunts beg for mishuns,
+    Which sum say is purty often, taint nuthin to me,
+    What I give aint nuthing to nobody; but O Sextant!
+    You shet 500 men women and children
+    Speshily the latter, up in a tite place,
+    Sum has bad breths, none of em aint too sweet,
+    Sum is fevery, sum is scroflus, sum has bad teeth
+    And sum haint none, and sum aint over clean;
+    But evry one of em brethes in and out and in
+    Say 50 times a minnet, or 1 million and a half breths an hour;
+    Now how long will a church full of are last at that rate?
+    I ask you; say fifteen minnets, and then what's to be did?
+    Why then they must breth it all over agin,
+    And then agin and so on, till each has took it down
+    At least ten times and let it up agin, and what's more,
+    The same individible doant have the privilege
+    Of breathin his own are and no one else,
+    Each one must take wotever comes to him,
+    O Sextant! doant you know our lungs is belluses
+    To blo the fier of life and keep it from
+    Going out: und how can bellusses blo without wind?
+    And aint wind are? I put it to your konshens,
+    Are is the same to us as milk to babies,
+    Or water is to fish, or pendlums to clox,
+    Or roots and airbs unto an Injun doctor,
+    Or little pills unto an omepath,
+    Or Boze to girls. Are is for us to brethe.
+    What signifize who preaches ef I cant brethe?
+    What's Pol? What's Pollus to sinners who are ded?
+    Ded for want of breth! Why Sextant when we dye
+    Its only coz we cant brethe no more--that's all.
+    And now O Sextant? let me beg of you
+    To let a little are into our cherch
+    (Pewer are is sertin proper for the pews);
+    And dew it week days and on Sundays tew--
+    It aint much trobble--only make a hoal,
+    And then the are will come in of itself
+    (It love to come in where it can git warm).
+    And O how it will rouze the people up
+    And sperrit up the preacher, and stop garps
+    And yorns and fijits as effectool
+    As wind on the dry boans the Profit tels of.
+
+                              --_Christian Weekly._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+GOOD-NATURED SATIRE.
+
+
+Women show their sense of humor in ridiculing the foibles of their own
+sex, as Miss Carlotta Perry seeing the danger of "higher education," and
+Helen Gray Cone laughing over the exaggerated ravings and moanings of a
+stage-struck girl, or the very one-sided sermon of a sentimental goose.
+
+
+A MODERN MINERVA.
+
+BY CARLOTTA PERRY.
+
+    'Twas the height of the gay season, and I cannot tell the reason,
+      But at a dinner party given by Mrs. Major Thwing
+    It became my pleasant duty to take out a famous beauty--
+      The prettiest woman present. I was happy as a king.
+
+    Her dress beyond a question was an artist's best creation;
+      A miracle of loveliness was she from crown to toe.
+    Her smile was sweet as could be, her voice just as it should be--
+      Not high, and sharp, and wiry, but musical and low.
+
+    Her hair was soft and flossy, golden, plentiful and glossy;
+      Her eyes, so blue and sunny, shone with every inward grace;
+    I could see that every fellow in the room was really yellow
+      With jealousy, and wished himself that moment in my place.
+
+    As the turtle soup we tasted, like a gallant man I hasted
+      To pay some pretty tribute to this muslin, silk, and gauze;
+    But she turned and softly asked me--and I own the question tasked me--
+      What were my fixed opinions on the present Suffrage laws.
+
+    I admired a lovely blossom resting on her gentle bosom;
+      The remark I thought a safe one--I could hardly made a worse;
+    With a smile like any Venus, she gave me its name and genus,
+      And opened very calmly a botanical discourse.
+
+    But I speedily recovered. As her taper fingers hovered,
+      Like a tender benediction, in a little bit of fish,
+    Further to impair digestion, she brought up the Eastern Question.
+      By that time I fully echoed that other fellow's wish.
+
+    And, as sure as I'm a sinner, right on through that endless dinner
+      Did she talk of moral science, of politics and law,
+    Of natural selection, of Free Trade and Protection,
+      Till I came to look upon her with a sort of solemn awe.
+
+    Just to hear the lovely woman, looking more divine than human,
+      Talk with such discrimination of Ingersoll and Cook,
+    With such a childish, sweet smile, quoting Huxley, Mill, and Carlyle--
+      It was quite a revelation--it was better than a book.
+
+    Chemistry and mathematics, agriculture and chromatics,
+      Music, painting, sculpture--she knew all the tricks of speech;
+    Bas-relief and chiaroscuro, and at last the Indian Bureau--
+      She discussed it quite serenely, as she trifled with a peach.
+
+    I have seen some dreadful creatures, with vinegary features,
+      With their fearful store of learning set me sadly in eclipse;
+    But I'm ready quite to swear if I have ever heard the Tariff
+      Or the Eastern Question settled by such a pair of lips.
+
+    Never saw I a dainty maiden so remarkably o'erladen
+      From lip to tip of finger with the love of books and men;
+    Quite in confidence I say it, and I trust you'll not betray it,
+      But I pray to gracious heaven that I never may again.
+
+                              --_Chicago Tribune._
+
+
+THE BALLAD OF CASSANDRA BROWN.
+
+BY HELEN GRAY CONE.
+
+    Though I met her in the summer, when one's heart lies 'round at ease,
+    As it were in tennis costume, and a man's not hard to please;
+    Yet I think at any season to have met her was to love,
+    While her tones, unspoiled, unstudied, had the softness of the dove.
+
+    At request she read us poems, in a nook among the pines,
+    And her artless voice lent music to the least melodious lines;
+    Though she lowered her shadowing lashes, in an earnest reader's wise,
+    Yet we caught blue gracious glimpses of the heavens that were her eyes.
+
+    As in Paradise I listened. Ah, I did not understand
+    That a little cloud, no larger than the average human hand,
+    Might, as stated oft in fiction, spread into a sable pall,
+    When she said that she should study elocution in the fall.
+
+    I admit her earliest efforts were not in the Ercles vein:
+    She began with "Lit-tle Maaybel, with her faayce against the paayne,
+    And the beacon-light a-trrremble--" which, although it made me wince,
+    Is a thing of cheerful nature to the things she's rendered since.
+
+    Having learned the Soulful Quiver, she acquired the Melting Mo-o-an,
+    And the way she gave "Young Grayhead" would have liquefied a stone;
+    Then the Sanguinary Tragic did her energies employ,
+    And she tore my taste to tatters when she slew "The Polish Boy."
+
+    It's not pleasant for a fellow when the jewel of his soul
+    Wades through slaughter on the carpet, while her orbs in frenzy roll:
+    What was I that I should murmur? Yet it gave me grievous pain
+    When she rose in social gatherings and searched among the slain.
+
+    I was forced to look upon her, in my desperation dumb--
+    Knowing well that when her awful opportunity was come
+    She would give us battle, murder, sudden death at very least--
+    As a skeleton of warning, and a blight upon the feast.
+
+    Once, ah! once I fell a-dreaming; some one played a polonaise
+    I associated strongly with those happier August days;
+    And I mused, "I'll speak this evening," recent pangs forgotten quite.
+    Sudden shrilled a scream of anguish: "Curfew SHALL not ring to-night!"
+
+    Ah, that sound was as a curfew, quenching rosy warm romance!
+    Were it safe to wed a woman one so oft would wish in France?
+    Oh, as she "cull-imbed!" that ladder, swift my mounting hope came down.
+    I am still a single cynic; she is still Cassandra Brown!
+
+
+THE TENDER HEART.
+
+BY HELEN GRAY CONE.
+
+    She gazed upon the burnished brace
+      Of plump, ruffed grouse he showed with pride,
+    Angelic grief was in her face:
+      "How _could_ you do it, dear?" she sighed.
+    "The poor, pathetic moveless wings!"
+      The songs all hushed--"Oh, cruel shame!"
+    Said he, "The partridge never sings,"
+      Said she, "The sin is quite the same."
+
+    "You men are savage, through and through,
+      A boy is always bringing in
+    Some string of birds' eggs, white and blue,
+      Or butterfly upon a pin.
+    The angle-worm in anguish dies,
+      Impaled, the pretty trout to tease--"
+    "My own, we fish for trout with flies--"
+      "Don't wander from the question, please."
+
+    She quoted Burns's "Wounded Hare,"
+      And certain burning lines of Blake's,
+    And Ruskin on the fowls of air,
+      And Coleridge on the water-snakes.
+    At Emerson's "Forbearance" he
+      Began to feel his will benumbed;
+    At Browning's "Donald" utterly
+      His soul surrendered and succumbed.
+
+    "Oh, gentlest of all gentle girls!
+      He thought, beneath the blessed sun!"
+    He saw her lashes hang with pearls,
+      And swore to give away his gun.
+    She smiled to find her point was gained
+      And went, with happy parting words
+    (He subsequently ascertained),
+      To trim her hat with humming birds.
+
+                              --_From the Century._
+
+
+A dozen others equally good must be reserved for that encyclopaedia! This
+specimen, of _vers de societe_ rivals Locker or Baker:
+
+
+PLIGHTED: A.D. 1874.
+
+BY ALICE WILLIAMS.
+
+    "Two souls with but a single thought,
+     Two hearts that beat as one."
+
+
+    NELLIE, _loquitur_.
+
+    Bless my heart! You've come at last,
+      Awful glad to see you, dear!
+    Thought you'd died or something, Belle--
+      _Such_ an age since you've been here!
+    My engagement? Gracious! Yes.
+      Rumor's hit the mark this time.
+    And the victim? Charley Gray.
+      Know him, don't you? Well, he's _prime_.
+    Such mustachios! splendid style!
+      Then he's not so horrid fast--
+    Waltzes like a seraph, too;
+      Has some fortune--best and last.
+    Love him? Nonsense. Don't be "soft;"
+      Pretty much as love now goes;
+    He's devoted, and in time
+      I'll get used to him, I 'spose.
+    First love? Humbug. Don't talk stuff!
+      Bella Brown, don't be a fool!
+    Next you'd rave of flames and darts,
+      Like a chit at boarding-school;
+    Don't be "miffed." I talked just so
+      Some two years back. Fact, my dear!
+    But two seasons kill romance,
+      Leave one's views of life quite clear.
+    Why, if Will Latrobe had asked
+      When he left two years ago,
+    I'd have thrown up all and gone
+      Out to Kansas, do you know?
+    Fancy me a settler's wife!
+      Blest escape, dear, was it not?
+    Yes; it's hardly in my line
+      To enact "Love in a Cot."
+    Well, you see, I'd had my swing,
+      Been engaged to eight or ten,
+    Got to stop some time, of course,
+      So it don't much matter when.
+    Auntie hates old maids, and thinks
+      Every girl should marry young--
+    On that theme my whole life long
+      I have heard the changes sung.
+    So, _ma belle_, what could I do?
+      Charley wants a stylish wife.
+    We'll suit well enough, no fear,
+      When we settle down for life.
+    But for love-stuff! See my ring!
+      Lovely, isn't it? Solitaire.
+    Nearly made Maud Hinton turn
+      Green with envy and despair.
+    Her's ain't half so nice, you see.
+      _Did_ I write you, Belle, about
+    How she tried for Charley, till
+      I sailed in and cut her out?
+    Now, she's taken Jack McBride,
+      I believe it's all from pique--
+    Threw him over once, you know--
+      Hates me so she'll scarcely speak.
+    Oh, yes! Grace Church, Brown, and that--
+      Pa won't mind expense at last
+    I'll be off his hands for good;
+      Cost a fortune two years past.
+    My trousseau shall outdo Maud's,
+      I've _carte blanche_ from Pa, you know--
+    Mean to have my dress from Worth!
+      Won't she be just RAVING though!
+
+                              --_Scribner's Monthly Magazine, 1874._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Women are often extremely humorous in their newspaper letters, excelling
+in that department. As critics they incline to satire. No one who read
+them at the time will ever forget Mrs. Runkle's review of "St. Elmo," or
+Gail Hamilton's criticism of "The Story of Avis," while Mrs. Rollins, in
+the _Critic_, often uses a scimitar instead of a quill, though a smile
+always tempers the severity. She thus beheads a poetaster who tells the
+public that his "solemn song" is
+
+    "Attempt ambitious, with a ray of hope
+     To pierce the dark abysms of thought, to guide
+     Its dim ghosts o'er the towering crags of Doubt
+     Unto the land where Peace and Love abide,
+     Of flowers and streams, and sun and stars."
+
+"His 'solemn song' is certainly very solemn for a song with so cheerful
+a purpose. We have rarely read, indeed, a book with so large a
+proportion of unhappy words in it. Frozen shrouds, souls a-chill with
+agony, things wan and gray, icy demons, scourging willow-branches,
+snow-heaped mounds, black and freezing nights, cups of sorrow drained to
+the lees, etc., are presented in such profusion that to struggle through
+the 'dark abyss' in search of the 'ray of hope' is much like taking a
+cup of poison to learn the sweetness of its antidote. Mr. ---- in one of
+his stanzas invites his soul to 'come and walk abroad' with him. If he
+ever found it possible to walk abroad without his soul, the fact would
+have been worth chronicling; but if it is true that he only desires to
+have his soul with him occasionally, we should advise him to walk abroad
+alone, and invite his soul to sit beside him in the hours he devotes to
+composition."
+
+Then humor is displayed in the excellent parodies by women--as Grace
+Greenwood's imitations of various authors, written in her young days,
+but quite equal to the "Echo Club" of Bayard Taylor. How perfect her
+mimicry of Mrs. Sigourney!
+
+
+A FRAGMENT.
+
+BY L.H.S.
+
+    How hardly doth the cold and careless world
+    Requite the toil divine of genius-souls,
+    Their wasting cares and agonizing throes!
+      I had a friend, a sweet and precious friend,
+    One passing rich in all the strange and rare,
+    And fearful gifts of song.
+                               On one great work,
+    A poem in twelve cantos, she had toiled
+    From early girlhood, e'en till she became
+    An olden maid.
+                   Worn with intensest thought,
+    She sunk at last, just at the "finis" sunk!
+    And closed her eyes forever! The soul-gem
+    Had fretted through its casket!
+                                    As I stood
+    Beside her tomb, I made a solemn vow
+    To take in charge that poor, lone orphan work,
+    And edit it!
+                 My publisher I sought,
+    A learned man and good. He took the work,
+    Read here and there a line, then laid it down,
+    And said, "It would not pay." I slowly turned,
+    And went my way with troubled brow, "but more
+    In sorrow than in anger."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Phoebe Cary's parody on "Maud Muller" I never fancied; it seems almost
+wicked to burlesque anything so perfect. But so many parodies have been
+made on Kingsley's "Three Fishers" that now I can enjoy a really good
+one, like this from Miss Lilian Whiting, of the Boston _Daily
+Traveller_, the well-known correspondent of various Western papers:
+
+
+THE THREE POETS.
+
+_After Kingsley._
+
+BY LILIAN WHITING.
+
+    Three poets went sailing down Boston streets,
+      All into the East as the sun went down,
+    Each felt that the editor loved him best
+      And would welcome spring poetry in Boston town.
+    For poets must write tho' the editors frown,
+    Their aesthetic natures will not be put down,
+            While the harbor bar is moaning!
+
+    Three editors climbed to the highest tower
+      That they could find in all Boston town,
+    And they planned to conceal themselves, hour after hour,
+      Till the sun or the poets had both gone down.
+    For Spring poets must write, though the editors rage,
+    The artistic spirit must thus be engaged--
+            Though the editors all were groaning.
+
+    Three corpses lay out on the Back Bay sand,
+      Just after the first spring sun went down,
+    And the Press sat down to a banquet grand,
+      In honor of poets no more in the town.
+    For poets will write while editors sleep,
+    Though they've nothing to earn and no one to keep;
+            And the harbor bar keeps moaning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The humor of women is constantly seen in their poems for children, such
+as "The Dead Doll," by Margaret Vandergrift, and the "Motherless
+Turkeys," by Marian Douglas. Here are some less known:
+
+
+BEDTIME.
+
+BY NELLIE K. KELLOGG.
+
+    'Twas sunset-time, when grandma called
+        To lively little Fred:
+    "Come, dearie, put your toys away,
+        It's time to go to bed."
+
+    But Fred demurred. "He wasn't tired,
+        He didn't think 'twas right
+    That he should go so early, when
+        Some folks sat up all night."
+
+    Then grandma said, in pleading tone,
+        "The little chickens go
+    To bed at sunset ev'ry night,
+        All summer long, you know."
+
+    Then Freddie laughed, and turned to her
+        His eyes of roguish blue,
+    "Oh, yes, I know," he said; "but then,
+        Old hen goes with them, too."
+
+                              --_Good Cheer_.
+
+
+THE ROBIN AND THE CHICKEN.
+
+BY GRACE F. COOLIDGE.
+
+    A plump little robin flew down from a tree,
+    To hunt for a worm, which he happened to see;
+    A frisky young chicken came scampering by,
+    And gazed at the robin with wondering eye.
+
+    Said the chick, "What a queer-looking chicken is that!
+    Its wings are so long and its body so fat!"
+    While the robin remarked, loud enough to be heard:
+    "Dear me! an exceedingly strange-looking bird!"
+
+    "Can you sing?" robin asked, and the chicken said "No;"
+    But asked in its turn if the robin could crow.
+    So the bird sought a tree and the chicken a wall,
+    And each thought the other knew nothing at all.
+
+                              --_St. Nicholas._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Harriette W. Lothrop, wife of the popular publisher--better known by her
+pen name of "Margaret Sidney"--has done much in a humorous way to amuse
+and instruct little folks. She has much quiet humor.
+
+
+WHY POLLY DOESN'T LOVE CAKE!
+
+BY MARGARET SIDNEY.
+
+          They all said "No!"
+          As they stood in a row,
+    The poodle, and the parrot, and the little yellow cat,
+          And they looked very solemn,
+          This straight, indignant column,
+    And rolled their eyes, and shook their heads, a-standing on the mat.
+
+          Then I took a goodly stick,
+          Very short and very thick,
+    And I said, "Dear friends, you really now shall rue it,
+          For one of you did take
+          That bit of wedding-cake,
+    And so I'm going to whip you all. I honestly will do it."
+
+          Then Polly raised her claw!
+          "I never, never saw
+    That stuff. _I'd_ rather have a cracker,
+          And so it would be folly,"
+          Said this naughty, naughty Polly,
+    "To punish me; but Pussy, you can whack her."
+
+          The cat rolled up her eyes
+          In innocent surprise,
+    And waved each trembling whisker end.
+          "A crumb I have not taken,
+          But Bose ought to be shaken.
+    And then, perhaps, his thieving, awful ways he'll mend."
+
+          "I'll begin right here
+          With you, Polly, dear,"
+    And my stick I raised with righteous good intent.
+          "Oh, dear!" and "Oh, dear!"
+          The groans that filled my ear.
+    As over head and heels the frightened column went!
+
+          The cat flew out of window,
+            The dog flew under bed,
+          And Polly flapped and beat the air,
+            Then settled on my head;
+          When underneath her wing,
+            From feathered corner deep,
+          A bit of wedding-cake fell down,
+            That made poor Polly weep.
+
+    The cat raced off to cat-land, and was never seen again,
+    And the dog sneaked out beneath the bed to scud with might and main;
+    While Polly sits upon her roost, and rolls her eyes in fear,
+    And when she sees a bit of cake, she always says, "Oh, dear!"
+
+
+KITTEN TACTICS.
+
+BY ADELAIDE CILLEY WALDRON.
+
+          Four little kittens in a heap,
+          One wide awake and three asleep.
+    Open-eyes crowded, pushed the rest over,
+    While the gray mother-cat went playing rover.
+
+          Three little kittens stretched and mewed;
+          Cried out, "Open-eyes, you're too rude!"
+    Open-eyes, winking, purred so demurely,
+    All the rest stared at him, thinking "surely
+
+          _We_ were the ones that were so rude,
+          _We_ were the ones that cried and mewed;
+    Let us lie here like good little kittens;
+    We cannot sleep, so we'll wash our mittens."
+
+          Four little kittens, very sleek,
+          Purred so demurely, looked so meek,
+    When the gray mother came home from roving--
+    "What good kittens!" said she; "and how loving!"
+
+
+BOTH SIDES.
+
+BY GAIL HAMILTON.
+
+    "Kitty, Kitty, you mischievous elf,
+     What have you, pray, to say for yourself?"
+
+             But Kitty was now
+             Asleep on the mow,
+     And only drawled dreamily, "Ma-e-ow!"
+
+    "Kitty, Kitty, come here to me,--
+     The naughtiest Kitty I ever did see!
+     I know very well what you've been about;
+     Don't try to conceal it, murder will out.
+     Why do you lie so lazily there?"
+
+    "Oh, I have had a breakfast rare!"
+    "Why don't you go and hunt for a mouse?"
+    "Oh, there's nothing fit to eat in the house."
+
+            "Dear me! Miss Kitty,
+             This is a pity;
+     But I guess the cause of your change of ditty.
+     What has become of the beautiful thrush
+     That built her nest in the heap of brush?
+     A brace of young robins as good as the best;
+     A round little, brown little, snug little nest;
+     Four little eggs all green and gay,
+     Four little birds all bare and gray,
+     And Papa Robin went foraging round,
+     Aloft on the trees, and alight on the ground.
+     North wind or south wind, he cared not a groat,
+     So he popped a fat worm down each wide-open throat;
+     And Mamma Robin through sun and storm
+     Hugged them up close, and kept them all warm;
+     And me, I watched the dear little things
+     Till the feathers pricked out on their pretty wings,
+     And their eyes peeped up o'er the rim of the nest.
+     Kitty, Kitty, you know the rest.
+     The nest is empty, and silent and lone;
+     Where are the four little robins gone?
+     Oh, puss, you have done a cruel deed!
+     Your eyes, do they weep? your heart, does it bleed?
+     Do you not feel your bold cheeks turning pale?
+     Not you! you are chasing your wicked tail.
+     Or you just cuddle down in the hay and purr,
+     Curl up in a ball, and refuse to stir,
+     But you need not try to look good and wise:
+     I see little robins, old puss, in your eyes.
+     And this morning, just as the clock struck four,
+     There was some one opening the kitchen door,
+     And caught you creeping the wood-pile over,--
+     Make a clean breast of it, Kitty Clover!"
+
+             Then Kitty arose,
+             Rubbed up her nose,
+     And looked very much as if coming to blows;
+             Rounded her back,
+             Leaped from the stack,
+     On _her_ feet, at _my_ feet, came down with a whack,
+     Then, fairly awake, she stretched out her paws,
+     Smoothed down her whiskers, and unsheathed her claws,
+             Winked her green eyes
+             With an air of surprise,
+     And spoke rather plainly for one of her size.
+
+    "Killed a few robins; well, what of that?
+     What's virtue in man can't be vice in a cat.
+     There's a thing or two I should like to know,--
+     Who killed the chicken a week ago,
+     For nothing at all that I could spy,
+     But to make an overgrown chicken-pie?
+             'Twixt you and me,
+             'Tis plain to see,
+     The odds is, you like fricassee,
+              While my brave maw
+              Owns no such law,
+     Content with viands _a la_ raw.
+
+    "Who killed the robins? Oh, yes! oh, yes!
+     I _would_ get the cat now into a mess!
+             Who was it put
+             An old stocking-foot,
+             Tied up with strings
+             And such shabby things,
+     On to the end of a sharp, slender pole,
+     Dipped it in oil and set fire to the whole,
+     And burnt all the way from here to the miller's
+     The nests of the sweet young caterpillars?
+             Grilled fowl, indeed!
+             Why, as I read,
+     You had not even the plea of need;
+             For all you boast
+             Such wholesome roast,
+     I saw no sign at tea or roast,
+     Of even a caterpillar's ghost.
+
+    "Who killed the robins? Well, I _should_ think!
+     Hadn't somebody better wink
+     At my peccadillos, if houses of glass
+     Won't do to throw stones from at those who pass?
+     I had four little kittens a month ago--
+     Black, and Malta, and white as snow;
+     And not a very long while before
+     I could have shown you three kittens more.
+     And so in batches of fours and threes,
+     Looking back as long as you please,
+     You would find, if you read my story all,
+     There were kittens from time immemorial.
+
+    "But what am I now? A cat bereft,
+     Of all my kittens, but one is left.
+     I make no charges, but this I ask,--
+     What made such a splurge in the waste-water cask?
+     You are quite tender-hearted. Oh, not a doubt!
+     But only suppose old Black Pond could speak out.
+     Oh, bother! don't mutter excuses to me:
+     _Qui facit per alium facit per se_."
+
+    "Well, Kitty, I think full enough has been said,
+     And the best thing for you is go straight back to bed.
+             A very fine pass
+             Things have come to, my lass,
+             If men must be meek
+             While pussy-cats speak
+     Great moral reflections in Latin and Greek!"
+
+                              --_Our Young Folks._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+PARODIES--REVIEWS--CHILDREN'S POEMS--COMEDIES BY WOMEN--A DRAMATIC
+TRIFLE--A STRING OF FIRECRACKERS.
+
+
+It is surprising that we have so few comedies from women. Dr. Doran
+mentions five Englishwomen who wrote successful comedies. Of these,
+three are now forgotten; one, Aphra Behn, is remembered only to be
+despised for her vulgarity. She was an undoubted wit, and was never
+dull, but so wicked and coarse that she forfeited all right to fame.
+
+Susanna Centlivre left nineteen plays full of vivacity and fun and
+lively incident. The _Bold Stroke for a Wife_ is now considered her
+best. The _Basset Table_ is also a superior comedy, especially
+interesting because it anticipates the modern blue-stocking in Valeria,
+a philosophical girl who supports vivisection, and has also a prophecy
+of exclusive colleges for women.
+
+There is nothing worthy of quotation in any of these comedies. Some
+sentences from Mrs. Centlivre's plays are given in magazine articles to
+prove her wit, but we say so much brighter things in these days that
+they must be considered stale platitudes, as:
+
+"You may cheat widows, orphans, and tradesmen without a blush, but a
+debt of honor, sir, must be paid."
+
+"Quarrels, like mushrooms, spring up in a moment."
+
+"Woman is the greatest sovereign power in the world."
+
+Hans Andersen in his Autobiography mentions a Madame von Weissenthurn,
+who was a successful actress and dramatist. Her comedies are published
+in fourteen volumes. In our country several comedies written by women,
+but published anonymously, have been decided hits. Mrs. Verplanck's
+_Sealed Instructions_ was a marked success, and years ago _Fashion_, by
+Anna Cora Mowatt, had a remarkable run. By the way, those roaring
+farces, _Belles of the Kitchen_ and _Fun in a Fog_, were written for the
+Vokes family by an aunt of theirs. And I must not forget to state that
+Gilbert's _Palace of Truth_ was cribbed almost bodily from Madame de
+Genlis's "Tales of an Old Castle." Mrs. Julia Schayer, of Washington,
+has given us a domestic drama in one act, entitled _Struggling Genius_.
+
+
+STRUGGLING GENIUS.
+
+_Dramatis Personae._
+
+    MRS. ANASTASIUS.
+    GIRL OF TEN YEARS.
+    GIRL OF TWO YEARS.
+    MR. ANASTASIUS.
+    GIRL OF EIGHT YEARS.
+    INFANT OF THREE MONTHS.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. NURSERY.
+
+[_Time, eight o'clock A.M. In the background nurse making bed, etc.;
+Girl of Two amusing herself surreptitiously with pins, buttons,
+scissors, etc.; Girl of Eight practising piano in adjoining room; Mrs.
+A. in foreground performing toilet of infant. Having lain awake half the
+preceding night wrestling with the plot of a new novel for which rival
+publishers are waiting with outstretched hands (full of checks), Mrs. A.
+believes she has hit upon an effective scene, and burns to commit it to
+paper. Washes infant with feverish haste._]
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_soliloquizing_). Let me see! How was it? Oh! "Olga raised
+her eyes with a sweetly serious expression. Harold gazed moodily at her
+calm face. It was not the expression that he longed to see there. He
+would have preferred to see--" Good gracious, Maria! That child's mouth
+is full of buttons! "He would have preferred--preferred--" (_Loudly._)
+Leonora! That F's to be sharped! There, there, mother's sonny boy! Did
+mamma drop the soap into his mouth instead of the wash-bowl? There,
+there! (_Sings._) "There's a land that is fairer than this," etc.
+
+    [_Infant quiet._
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_resuming_). "He would have preferred--preferred--" Maria,
+don't you see that child has got the scissors? "He would have--" There
+now, let mamma put on its little socks. Now it's all dressed so nice and
+clean. Don'ty ky! No, don'ty! Leonora! Put more accent on the first
+beat. "Harold gazed moodily into--" His bottle, Maria! Quick! He'll
+scream himself into fits!
+
+    [_Exit nurse. Baby having got both fists into his mouth beguiles
+    himself into quiet._
+
+_Mrs. A._ Let me see! How was it? Oh! "Harold gazed moodily into her
+calm, sweet face. It was not the expression he would have liked to find
+there. He would have preferred--" (_Shriek from girl of two._) Oh, dear
+me! She has shut her darling fingers in the drawer! Come to mamma,
+precious love, and sit on mamma's lap, and we'll sing about little
+pussy.
+
+    _Enter nurse with bottle. Curtain falls._
+
+
+SCENE II. STUDY.
+
+[_Three hours later; infant and Girl of Two asleep; house in order;
+lunch and dinner arranged; buttons sewed on Girl of Eight's boots,
+string on Girl of Ten's hood, and both dispatched to school, etc. Enter
+Mrs. A. Draws a long sigh of relief and seats herself at desk. Reads a
+page of Dickens and a poem or two to attune herself for work. Seizes
+pen, scribbles erratically a few seconds and begins to write._]
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_after some moments_). I think that is good. Let us hear how
+it reads. (_Reads aloud._) "He would have preferred to find more passion
+in those deep, dark eyes. Had he then no part in the maiden meditations
+of this fair, innocent girl--he whom proud beauties of society vied with
+each other to win? He could not guess. A stray breeze laden with violet
+and hyacinth perfume stole in at the open window, ruffling the soft
+waves of auburn hair which shaded her alabaster forehead." It seems to
+me I have read something similar before, but it is good, anyhow. "Harold
+could not endure this placid, unruffled calm. His own veins were full of
+molten lava. With a wild and passionate cry he--"
+
+    _Enter cook bearing a large, dripping piece of corned beef._
+
+_Cook._ Please, Miss Anastasy, is dis de kin' of a piece ye done
+wanted? I thought I'd save ye de trouble o' comin' down.
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_desperately_). It is!
+
+    [_Exit cook, staring wildly._
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_resuming_). "With a wild, passionate cry, he--"
+
+    _Re-enter cook._
+
+_Cook._ Ten cents for de boy what put in de wood, please, ma'am!
+
+[_Mrs. A. gives money; exit cook. Mrs. A., sighing, takes up MS. Clock
+strikes twelve; soon after the lunch-bell rings._]
+
+Voice of Girl of Ten, calling: Mamma, why _don't_ you come to lunch?
+
+
+SCENE III. DINING-ROOM.
+
+    _Enter Mrs. A._
+
+_Girl of Ten._ Oh, what a mean lunch! Nothing but bread and ham. I hate
+bread and ham! All the girls have jelly-cake. Why don't _we_ have
+jelly-cake? We _used_ to have jelly-cake.
+
+_Mrs. A._ You can have some pennies to buy ginger-snaps.
+
+_Girl of Ten._ I hate ginger-snaps! When are you going to make
+jelly-cake?
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_sternly_). When my book is done.
+
+_Girl of Ten_ (_with inexpressible meaning_): Hm!
+
+    _Curtain falls._
+
+
+SCENE IV. STUDY.
+
+    _Enter Mrs. A. Children, still asleep; girls at school; deck again
+    cleared for action._
+
+_Mrs. A._ It is one o'clock. If I can be let alone until three I can
+finish that last chapter.
+
+[_Takes up pen; lays it down; reads a poem of Mrs. Browning to take the
+taste of ham-sandwiches out of her mouth, then resumes pen, and writes
+with increasing interest for fifteen minutes. Everything is steeped in
+quiet. Suddenly a faint murmur of voices is heard; it increases, it
+approaches, mingled with the tread of many feet, and a rumbling as of
+mighty chariot-wheels. It is only Barnum's steam orchestrion, Barnum's
+steam chimes, and Barnum's steam calliope, followed by an array of
+ruff-scruff. They stop exactly opposite the house. The orchestrion
+blares, the chimes ring a knell to peace and harmony, the calliope
+shrieks to heaven. The infants wake and shriek likewise. Exit Mrs. A.
+Curtain falls._]
+
+
+SCENE V. STUDY.
+
+    _Enter Mrs. A. Peace restored; children happy with nurse. Seizes
+    pen and writes rapidly. Doorbell rings, cook announces caller;
+    nobody Mrs. A. wants to see, but somebody she MUST see. Exit
+    Mrs. A. in a state of rigid despair._
+
+
+SCENE VI. HALL.
+
+[_Visitor gone; Mrs. A. starts for study. Enter Girl of Eight followed
+by Girl of Ten._]
+
+    _Duettino._
+
+_Girl of Ten._ Mamma, _please_ give me my music lesson now, so I can go
+and skate; and then won't you _please_ make some jelly-cake? And see, my
+dress is torn, and my slate-frame needs covering.
+
+_Girl of Eight._ Where are my roller-skates? Where is the strap? Can I
+have a pickle? Please give me a cent. A girl said _her_ mother wouldn't
+let her wear darned stockings to school. I'm _ashamed_ of my stockings.
+You might let me wear my new ones.
+
+[_Mrs. A. gives music lesson; mends dress; covers slate-frame; makes
+jelly-cake and a pudding; goes to nursery and sends nurse down to finish
+ironing._]
+
+
+SCENE VII. NURSERY.
+
+[_Mrs. A. with babies on her lap. Enter husband and father with hands
+full of papers and general air of having finished his day's work._]
+
+_Mr. A._ Well, how is everything? Children all right, I see. You must
+have had a nice, quiet day. Written much?
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_faintly_). Not very much.
+
+_Mr. A._ (_complacently_). Oh, well, you can't force these things. It
+will be all right in time.
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_in a burst of repressed feeling_). We need the money so
+much, Charles!
+
+_Mr. A._ (_with an air of offended dignity_). Oh, bother! You are not
+expected to support the family.
+
+[_Mrs. A., thinking of that dentist's bill, that shoe bill, and the
+summer outfit for a family of six, says nothing. Exit Mr. A., who
+re-enters a moment later._]
+
+_Mr. A._ You--a--haven't fixed my coat, I see.
+
+_Mrs. A._ (_with a guilty start_). I--I forgot it!
+
+_Gibbering Fiend Conscience._ Ha, ha! Ho, ho!
+
+    _Curtain falls amid chorus of exulting demons._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have reserved for the close numerous instances of woman's facility at
+badinage and repartee. It is there, after all, that she shines perennial
+and pre-eminent. You will excuse me if I give them to you one after
+another without comment, like a closing display of fireworks.
+
+And first let me quote from Mrs. Rollins, as an instance of the way in
+which women often react upon each other in repartee, a little
+conversation which it was once her privilege to overhear:
+
+"_Margaret._ I wonder you never have been married, Kate. Of course
+you've had lots of chances. Won't you tell us how many?
+
+"_Kate._ No, indeed! I could not so cruelly betray my rejected lovers.
+
+"_Helen._ Of course you wouldn't tell us _exactly_; but would you mind
+giving it to us in round numbers?
+
+"_Kate._ Certainly not; the roundest number of all exactly expresses the
+chances I have had.
+
+"_Charlotte_ (_with a sigh_). Now I know what people mean by Kate's
+_circle of admirers_!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A lady was discussing the relative merits and demerits of the two sexes
+with a gentleman of her acquaintance. After much badinage on one side
+and the other, he said: "Well, you never yet heard of casting seven
+devils out of a man." "No," was the quick retort, "_they've got 'em
+yet_!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What would you do in time of war if you had the suffrage?" said Horace
+Greeley to Mrs. Stanton.
+
+"Just what you have done, Mr. Greeley," replied the ready lady; "stay at
+home and urge others to go and fight!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was Margaret Fuller who worsted Mrs. Greeley in a verbal encounter.
+The latter had a decided aversion to kid gloves, and on meeting Margaret
+shrank from her extended hand with a shudder, saying: "Ugh! Skin of a
+beast! skin of a beast!"
+
+"Why," said Miss Fuller, in surprise, "what do you wear?"
+
+"_Silk_," said Mrs. Greeley, stretching out her palm with satisfaction.
+
+Miss Fuller just touched it, saying, with a disgusted expression, "Ugh!
+entrails of a worm! entrails of a worm!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mademoiselle de Mars, the former favorite of the Theatre de Francais,
+had in some way offended the Gardes du Corps. So one night they came in
+full force to the theatre and tried to hiss her down.
+
+The actress, unabashed, came to the front of the stage, and alluding to
+the fact that the Gardes du Corps never went to war, said: "What has
+Mars to do with the Gardes du Corps?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Madame Louis de Segur is daughter of the late Casimir Perier, who was
+Minister of the Interior during Thiers's administration. When once out
+of office, but still an influential member of the House, he once tried
+to form a new Moderate Republican party, meeting with but little
+success.
+
+Once his daughter, who was sitting in the gallery, saw him entering the
+House _all alone_.
+
+"Here comes my father with his party," she said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was greatly amused at the quiet reprimand given by a literary lady of
+New York to a stranger at her receptions, who, with hands crossed
+complacently under his coat-tails, was critically examining the various
+treasures in her room, humming obtrusively as he passed along.
+
+The hostess paused near him, surveyed him critically, and then inquired,
+in a gentle tone: "Do you play also?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A young girl being asked why she had not been more frequently to Lenten
+services, excused herself in this fashion, severe, but truthful: "Oh,
+Dr. ---- is on such intimate terms with the Almighty that I felt _de
+trop_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At a reception in Washington this spring an admirable answer was given
+by a level-headed woman--we are all proud of Miss Cleveland--to a
+fine-looking army officer, who has been doing guard duty in that
+magnificent city for the past seventeen years. "Pray," said he, "what do
+ladies find to think about besides dress and parties?"
+
+"They can think of the heroic deeds of our modern army officers," was
+her smiling reply.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Do you remember Lydia Maria Child's reply to her husband when he wished
+he was as rich as Croesus: "At any rate, you are King of Lydia;" and
+Lucretia Mott's humorous comment when she entered a room where her
+husband and his brother Richard were sitting, both of them remarkable
+for their taciturnity and reticence: "I thought you must both be
+here--it was so still!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In my own home I recall a sensible old maid of Scotch descent with her
+cosey cottage and the dear old-fashioned garden where she loved to work.
+Our physician, a man of infinite humor, who honestly admired her
+sterling worth, and was attracted by her individuality, leaned over her
+fence one bright spring morning, with the direct question: "Miss Sharp,
+why did you never get married?"
+
+She looked up from her weeding, rested on her hoe-handle, and looking
+steadily at his hair, which was of a sandy hue, answered: "I'll tell you
+all about it, Doctor. I made up my mind, when I was a girl, that, come
+what would, I would never marry a red-headed man, and none but men with
+red hair have ever offered themselves."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We all know women whose capacity for monologue exhausts all around them.
+So that the remark will be appreciated of a lady to whom I said,
+alluding to such a talker: "Have you seen Mrs. ---- lately?"
+
+"No, I really had to give up her acquaintance in despair, for I had been
+trying two years to tell her something in particular."
+
+A lady once told me she could always know when she had taken too much
+wine at dinner--her husband's jokes began to seem funny!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lastly and--_finally_, there is a reason for our apparent lack of humor,
+which it may seem ungracious to mention. Women do not find it politic to
+cultivate or express their wit. No man likes to have his story capped
+by a better and fresher from a lady's lips. What woman does not risk
+being called sarcastic and hateful if she throws back the merry dart, or
+indulges in a little sharp-shooting? No, no, it's dangerous--if not
+fatal.
+
+    "Though you're bright, and though you're pretty,
+     They'll not love you if you're witty."
+
+Madame de Stael and Madame Recamier are good illustrations of this
+point. The former, by her fearless expressions of wit, exposed herself
+to the detestation of the majority of mankind. "She has shafts," said
+Napoleon, "which would hit a man if he were seated on a rainbow."
+
+But the sweetly fawning, almost servile adulation of the _listening_
+beauty brought her a corresponding throng of admirers. It sometimes
+seems that what is pronounced wit, if uttered by a distinguished man,
+would be considered commonplace if expressed by a woman.
+
+Parker's illustration of Choate's _rare humor_ never struck me as
+felicitous. "Thus, a friend meeting him one ten-degrees-below-zero
+morning in the winter, said: 'How cold it is, Mr. Choate.' 'Well, it is
+not absolutely tropical,' he replied, with a most mirthful emphasis."
+
+And do you recollect the only time that Wordsworth was _really_ witty?
+He told the story himself at a dinner. "Gentlemen, I never was really
+witty but once in my life." Of course there was a general call for the
+bright but solitary instance. And the contemplative bard continued:
+"Well, gentlemen, I was standing at the door of my cottage on Rydal
+Mount, one fine summer morning, and a laborer said to me: 'Sir, have you
+seen my wife go by this way?' And I replied: 'My good man, I did not
+know until this moment that you _had_ a wife!'"
+
+He paused; the company waited for the promised witticism, but
+discovering that he had finished, burst into a long and hearty roar,
+which the old gentleman accepted complacently as a tribute to his
+brilliancy.
+
+The wit of women is like the airy froth of champagne, or the witching
+iridescence of the soap-bubble, blown for a moment's sport. The sparkle,
+the life, the fascinating foam, the gay tints vanish with the occasion,
+because there is no listening Boswell with unfailing memory and
+capacious note-book to preserve them.
+
+Then, unlike men, women do not write out their impromptus beforehand and
+carefully hoard them for the publisher--and posterity!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now, dear friends, a cordial _au revoir_.
+
+My heartiest thanks to the women who have so generously allowed me to
+ransack their treasuries, filching here and there as I chose, always
+modestly declaiming against the existence of wit in what they had
+written.
+
+To various publishers in New York and Boston, who have been most
+courteous and liberal, credit is given elsewhere.
+
+Touched by the occasion, I "drop into" doggerel:
+
+    If you pronounce this book not funny,
+    And wish you hadn't spent your money,
+    There soon will be a general rumor
+    That you're no judge of Wit or Humor.
+
+
+
+
+    INDEX.
+
+                                                                    PAGE.
+
+    INTRODUCTION                                                     iii.
+
+    CONTENTS                                                           v.
+
+    DEDICATION                                                       vii.
+
+    ARGUMENT                                                          ix.
+
+    PROEM                                                             xi.
+
+                                                              CHAP. PAGE.
+
+    Alcott, Louisa: "Transcendental Wild Oats"                  IV.   68
+
+    American Early Writers: Some of them who were thought
+      Witty--Anne Bradstreet; Mercy Warren; Tabitha Tenney     III.   47
+      Satirical Poem, by Mercy Warren                          III.   47
+      Mrs. Sigourney's Johnsonese Humor; Extracts from her
+        Note-Book                                              III.   48
+      Miss Sedgwick's Witty Imagination,                       III.   49
+      Mrs. Caroline Gilman's humorous Poem, "Joshua's
+        Courtship"                                             III.   49
+
+    Andersen, Hans, Reference to Woman Dramatist in his
+      Autobiography                                              X.  196
+
+    Aphorisms by the Queen of Roumania (Carmen Sylva)            I.   24
+
+    "Auction Extraordinary"                                   VIII.  176
+
+    "Aunty Doleful's Visit," by M.K.D.--"If I can't do
+      anything else, I can cheer you up a little"               VI.  118
+
+
+    Barnum and Phoebe Cary                                     V.  102
+
+    Bates, Charlotte Fiske: "Hat, Ulster and All," Satirical
+      Poem, Quatrain and Epigram                              VIII.  175
+
+    "Beechers," Old Family Epigram applied to the                I.   22
+
+    Behn, Aphra: Wrote Comedies; her unsavory Wit                X.  195
+
+    Bellows, Isabel Frances: "A Fatal Reputation" (for
+      wit)--"A picnic, that most ghastly device of the human
+      mind"                                                    VII.  129
+
+    Bremer, Frederika, her genuine Humor; First Quarrel with
+      her "Bear"                                                II.   41
+
+    Brine, Mary D.: Poems, "Kiss Pretty Poll"                 VIII.  158
+
+      "     "      "Thanksgiving Day--Then and Now"           VIII.  159
+
+    Burleigh, Pun on, by Queen Elizabeth                         I.   16
+
+    Butter, Punning Poem on, by Caroline B. Le Row               I.   18
+
+
+    Cary, Phoebe, "The wittiest woman in America": Her
+      quick retorts and merry repartees; her parodies and
+      humorous poems                                             V.  101
+
+    Champney, Lizzie W.: "An Unruffled Bosom"--a Tragical
+      Tale of a Negress who "knew Washington"                 VIII.  171
+
+    Clarke, Lady, and her Irish Songs                           II.   44
+
+    Cleveland's, Elizabeth Rose, Pun                             I.   21
+
+    Cleaveland's, Mrs., "No Sects in Heaven"                    IV.   69
+
+    Clemmer, Mary: Her Life of Phoebe Cary                       V.  102
+
+    Comedies--Few written by Women; Five Englishwomen
+      produced successful; Susanna Centlivre wrote nearly
+      a score--contain some wit, but old-fashioned; Aphra
+      Behn wrote several comedies, witty but coarse              X.  195
+
+    Cooke's, Rose Terry, "Knoware"                              IV.   68
+      "        "    "    "Miss Lucinda's Pig"                   IV.   69
+      "        "    "    Story of "A Gift Horse"                IV.   71
+
+    Coolidge, Grace F.: "The Robin and Chicken"                 IX.  188
+
+    Conclusion. _See_ "Fireworks."
+
+    Cone, Helen Gray: Satirical Poems--"Cassandra Brown"        IX.  180
+      "     "    "    "The Tender Heart"                        IX.  182
+
+    Corbett, E.T.: "The Inventor's Wife," a Poetical Lament   VIII.  170
+
+    _Critic_, article in, on "Woman's Sense of Humor"            I.   13
+
+    Cynicism of Frenchwomen                                      I.   23
+
+
+    Davidson, Lucretia: "Auction Extraordinary" (Sale of
+      Old Bachelors)                                          VIII.  176
+
+    Deffand, Madame du                                           I.   23
+
+    Diaz, Mrs. Abby M., writer of the famous "William
+      Henry Letters"                                            IV.   69
+
+    Dodge, Mary Mapes--"inimitable satirist": "The Insanity
+                                              of Cain"          IV.   68
+      "     "     "    "Miss Molony on the Chinese Question"
+                       (read before the Prince of Wales)        IV.   69
+
+    "Dromy," Satirical Notes on Derivation of                   II.   35
+
+
+    "Eliot's, George," Humor; Examples from "Adam Bede"
+      and "Silas Marner"                                        II.   45
+
+    Epigrams, Makers of                                          I.   21
+       "      by Jane Austen: on the Name of "Wake"              I.   21
+       "      "  Lady Townsend: on the Herveys--applied to
+                 the Beechers; on Walpole                        I.   22
+       "      "  Miss Evans: on a Musical Woman                  I.   22
+       "      "  Hannah More                                     I.   22
+       "      "  "Ouida"                                         I.   22
+       "      "  Miss Phelps                                     I.   29
+       "      "  Mrs. Rose Terry Cooke                           I.   30
+       "      "  Mrs. A.D.T. Whitney                             I.   31
+       "      "  Marguerite de Valois; by Madame de Lambert;
+                 by Sophie Arnould; by Madame de Sevigne         I.   24
+       "      "  Lady Harriet Ashburton                          I.   25
+       "      "  Mrs. Carlyle, "herself an epigram;" by Hannah
+                 F. Gould, on Caleb Cushing                      I.   26
+       "      "  "Gail Hamilton"                                 I.   27
+       "      "  Kate Field                                      I.   27
+       "      Mrs. Whicher's "Widow Bedott"                      I.   31
+       "      Marietta Holley's "Josiah Allen's Wife"            I.   31
+
+    Eytinge, Margaret: "Indignant Polly Wog"                  VIII.  157
+
+
+    "Fanny, Aunt": _Jeu d'esprit_ on Minerva                     I.   29
+
+    "Fanny Fern's" Arithmetical Mania                          III.   54
+
+    "Fanny Forrester's" Letter to N.P. Willis                  III.   52
+
+    Ferrier's, Mary, Genial Wit; Scott's Description of her;
+      her "Sensible Woman," Satirical                           II.   39
+
+    "Fireworks": Miscellaneous Closing Display of Wit:
+      Mrs. Rollins' illustration of woman's quickness
+        at repartee                                              X.  202
+      Mrs. Stanton's Reply to Horace Greeley; Miss Margaret
+        Fuller; Mademoiselle Mars                                X.  203
+      Madame Louisa Segur; Miss Cleveland; Lydia Maria Child     X.  204
+      Madame de Stael; Madame Recamier                           X.  206
+
+    French Women's Cynicism                                      I.   23
+
+
+    "Gail Hamilton"                                             IV.   68
+
+    Gaskell's, Mrs., Humor                                      II.   36
+
+    "Gell and Gill"                                              I.   21
+
+    Genlis, Madame de                                            X.  196
+
+    Genuine Fun--Sketches from C.M. Kirkland                    IV.   67
+
+    Gilman, Mrs. Caroline: A New England Ballad, "Joshua's
+      Courtship"                                               III.   49
+
+    Gordon, Anna A.: "'Skeeters have the Reputation"          VIII.  160
+
+    "Grace Greenwood's" many Puns                                I.   17
+
+       "       "       "Mistress O'Rafferty on the Woman
+                       Question"                                VI.  108
+
+    Greek Lady's Wit                                             I.   15
+
+
+    Hale, Lucretia P.: "Peterkin Letters"                       IV.   69
+
+      "      "     "   "The First Needle," a poetical Bit
+                       of History                             VIII.  150
+
+    Hall, Louisa: "The Indian Agent"--"With affectionate
+      interest he looked into the very depths of their
+      pockets"                                                  VI.  103
+
+    "Hamilton, Gail": "Both Sides," an amusing poetical
+      Satire                                                    IX.  191
+
+    Holley's, Miss, "Samantha"                                  IV.   69
+
+    Hudson's, Mary Clemmer, Opinions on Wit; her Anecdotes
+      of Phoebe Cary                                             V.  100
+
+    Humor, Miss Jewett's                                         I.   27
+
+
+    Irish Fun                                                   VI.  107
+
+
+    Jewett, Sarah Orne: "The Circus at Denby"                  VII.  141
+
+    Jones', Amanda T., Poem, "Dochther O'Flannigan and his
+      Wondherful Cures"                                         VI.  109
+
+
+    Kirkland, Caroline M.: "Borrowing Out West"                 IV.   67
+
+
+    Le Row, Caroline B.: Poetic Pun on the "Butter Woman"        I.   18
+
+    Lothrop, Harriette W. (_nom de plume_ "Margaret Sidney"):
+      "Why Polly Doesn't Love Cake"                             IX.  189
+
+    "Lover and Lever," Epigram on, by C.F. Bates                 I.   28
+
+
+    McDowell, Mrs., "Sherwood Bonner:" "Aunt Anniky's Teeth"     V.   85
+      "My soul and body is a-yearnin' fur a han'sum chaney set
+        o' teef"                                                 V.   86
+      Pen-Portrait of Dr. Alonzo Babb                            V.   87
+      His first Tooth                                            V.   89
+      How Anniky Lost her "Teef"                                 V.   91
+      Ned Cuddy's Letter                                         V.   94
+      Specimens of her Wit: The Radical Club--a Satirical Poem   V.   97
+
+    McLean, Miss Sallie: "Cape Cod Folks"                       IV.   69
+
+    Mitford's, Mary Russell, "Talking Lady"                     II.   36
+
+    Mohl, Madame                                                 I.   25
+
+    Montagu's, Lady, Famous Speech                               I.   14
+
+    More's, Hannah, Contest of Wit with Johnson                 II.   34
+
+    Morgan's, Lady, A "Fast Horse"                               I.   16
+
+      "        "    Receptions                                  II.   44
+
+    Mott, Lucretia                                               X.  204
+
+    Moulton, Louisa Chandler: "The Jane Moseley was a
+      Disappointment"                                          VII.  144
+
+    Mowatt, Anna Cora: Her Popular Play of "Fashion"             X.  196
+
+    Murfree, Miss (_nom de plume_ "Charles Egbert Craddock"):
+      "A Blacksmith in Love"                                   VII.  135
+
+
+    "New York to Newport"--a Trip of Trials                    VII.  144
+
+
+    Old-fashioned Wit--Examples: Bon-mots of "Stella"; Jane
+        Taylor; Miss Burney; Mrs. Barbauld                      II.   32
+      Hannah More                                               II.   33
+
+    "Ouida's" Epigrams                                           I.   22
+
+
+    Parodies: Phoebe Cary's on "Maud Muller" not justifiable;
+        Grace Greenwood on Mrs. Sigourney                       IX.  186
+      Lilian Whiting's on Kingsley's "Three Fishers"            IX.  187
+
+    Perry, Carlotta: "A Modern Minerva"                         IX.  179
+
+    Pickering, Julia: "The Old-Time Religion"--"I allus did
+      dispise dem stuck-up 'Piscopalians"                       VI.  114
+
+    Poems, Laughable and Satirical:
+      "The First Needle," L.P. Hale                           VIII.  150
+      "The Funny Story," J. Pollard                           VIII.  152
+      "Wanted, a Minister," M.E.W. Skeels                     VIII.  153
+      "The Middy of 1881," May Croly Roper                    VIII.  156
+      "Indignant Polly Wog," M. Eytinge                       VIII.  157
+      "Kiss Pretty Poll," M.D. Brine                          VIII.  158
+      "Thanksgiving Day--Then and Now," M.D. Brine            VIII.  159
+      "Concerning Mosquitoes," A.A. Gordon                    VIII.  160
+      "The Stilts of Gold;" "Just So," M.V. Victor            VIII.  161
+      "The Inventor's Wife," E.T. Corbett                     VIII.  170
+      "An Unruffled Bosom," L.W. Champney                     VIII.  171
+      "Hat, Ulster and All," C.F. Bates                       VIII.  175
+      "Auction Extraordinary," L. Davidson                    VIII.  176
+      "A Sonnet," J. Pollard                                  VIII.  152
+
+    Puns:
+      Miss Mary Wadsworth's; Louisa Alcott's; Grace
+        Greenwood prolific in; a Mushroom Pun;
+        a Pillar-sham Pun                                        I.   17
+      Horseshoe Pun                                              I.   18
+      Miss Cleveland's                                           I.   21
+      Queen Elizabeth's                                          I.   16
+
+
+    "Radical Club," Satirical Poem                               V.   97
+
+    Rollins, Mrs. Alice Wellington, article in _Critic_          I.   13
+
+      "       "     "       "                                  VII.  122
+
+    Rollins, Mrs. Ellen H. (_nom de plume_ "E.H. Arr"),
+        pre-eminently gifted as a humorist--Extracts from her
+        "Old-Time Child Life"                                  VII.  124
+      "Effect of the Comet"                                    VII.  126
+      "Doctrines are pizen things"                             VII.  128
+
+    Roper, May Croly: Poem                                    VIII.  156
+
+
+    Schayer, Mrs. Julia, Author of "Struggling Genius," an
+      amusing Domestic Drama; Extracts from the Play,
+      "Nursery," "Study," and "Dining-Room" Scenes               X.  196
+
+    "Sherwood Bonner." _See_ McDowell, Mrs.
+
+    Sigourney, Mrs., her melancholy Style                       IX.  186
+
+    Skeels, Mrs. M.E.W.: Satirical Poem                       VIII.  153
+
+
+    Thanksgiving Growl, A (poetical)                            VI.  120
+
+
+    Verplanck's, Mrs., Comedy, "Sealed Instructions"             X.  196
+
+    Victor, Metta Victoria: "Miss Slimmins Surprised"           IV.   81
+
+      "       "      "      "The Stilts of Gold" (a
+                            reminiscence of Hood's "Miss
+                            Kilmansegg and her Precious
+                            Leg")                             VIII.  161
+
+    "Vokes Family" Farces (written by an aunt of the
+      performers), "Belles of the Kitchen" and "Fun in a Fog"    X.  196
+
+
+    Waldron, Adelaide Cilley, "Kitten Tactics"                  IX.  190
+
+    Walker's, Mrs., famous Epigram                               I.   28
+
+    Weissenthurn, Madame von: her Comedies fill fourteen
+      volumes                                                    X.  196
+
+    Whicher, Mrs., "Widow Bedott"                               IV.   68
+
+    White's, Richard Grant. Opinion of Woman's Wit               I.   13
+
+    Whiting, Miss Lilian: "The Three Poets"                     IX.  187
+
+    Williams, Alice: "Plighted,"                                IX.  183
+
+    Wilson, Arabella: "O Sextant of the Meetinouse"           VIII.  177
+
+    Woman's Wit, Search for, Neglected by Men                    I.   13
+
+    Women Poets generally Despondent                             I.   14
+
+      "   Humorous Newspaper Correspondents: Mrs. Runkle;
+          Mrs. Rollins; Gail Hamilton                           IX.  185
+
+    Women Inclined to Ridicule Foibles of their Sex             IX.  186
+
+    Woolson, Constance Fenimore: Her "Miss Lois"
+      (housekeeping, with Chippewa squaws for servants)        VII.  139
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIT OF WOMEN***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 28503.txt or 28503.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/0/28503
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/28503.zip b/28503.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fb8793c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28503.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a5e8bfb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #28503 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28503)