The Wit and Humor of America
Chapter 96 : "'Squire," said he, "that will do for a song, but it ain't no

"'Squire," said he, "that will do for a song, but it ain't no p'ints of a good hos. Trotters nowadays go in all shapes, big heads and little heads, big eyes and little eyes, short ears or long ears, thick tail and no tail; so as they have sound legs, good l'in, good barrel, and good stifle, and wind, 'squire, and speed well, they'll fetch a price. Now, this animal is what I call a hos, 'squire; he's got the p'ints, he's stylish, he's close-ribbed, a free goer, kind in harness--single or double--a good feeder." I asked him if being a good feeder was a desirable quality. He replied it was; "of course," said he, "if your hos is off his feed, he ain't good for nothin'. But what's the use," he added, "of me tellin' you the p'ints of a good hos? You're a hos man, 'squire: you know--" "It seems to me," said I, "there is something the matter with that left eye." "No, _sir_" said he, and with that he pulled down the horse's head, and, rapidly crooking his forefinger at the suspected organ, said, "see thar--don't wink a bit." "But he should wink," I replied. "Not onless his eye are weak," he said. To satisfy myself, I asked the man to let me take the bridle. He did so, and as soon as I took hold of it, the horse started off in a remarkable retrograde movement, dragging me with him into my best bed of hybrid roses. Finding we were trampling down all the best plants, that had cost at auction from three-and-sixpence to seven s.h.i.+llings apiece, and that the more I pulled, the more he backed, I finally let him have his own way, and jammed him stern-foremost into our largest climbing rose that had been all summer p.r.i.c.kling itself, in order to look as much like a vegetable porcupine as possible. This unexpected bit of satire in his rear changed his retrograde movement to a sidelong bound, by which he flirted off half the pots on the bal.u.s.ters, upsetting my gladioluses and tuberoses in the pod, and leaving great splashes of mould, geraniums, and red pottery in the gravel walk. By this time his owner had managed to give him two pretty severe cuts with the whip, which made him unmanageable, so I let him go. We had a pleasant time catching him again, when he got among the Lima-bean poles; but his owner led him back with a very self-satisfied expression. "Playful, ain't he, 'squire?" I replied that I thought he was, and asked him if it was usual for his horse to play such pranks. He said it was not "You see, 'squire, he feels his oats, and hain't been out of the stable for a month. Use him, and he's as kind as a kitten." With that he put his foot in the stirrup, and mounted. The animal really looked very well as he moved around the gra.s.s-plot, and, as Mrs. Sparrowgra.s.s seemed to fancy him, I took a written guarantee that he was sound, and bought him. What I gave for him is a secret; I have not even told Mrs. Sparrowgra.s.s....

We had pa.s.sed Chicken Island, and the famous house with the stone gable and the one stone chimney, in which General Was.h.i.+ngton slept, as he made it a point to sleep in every old stone house in Westchester County, and had gone pretty far on the road, past the cemetery, when Mrs.

Sparrowgra.s.s said suddenly, "Dear, what is the matter with your horse?"

As I had been telling the children all the stories about the river on the way, I managed to get my head pretty well inside of the carriage, and, at the time she spoke, was keeping a lookout in front with my back.

The remark of Mrs. Sparrowgra.s.s induced me to turn about, and I found the new horse behaving in a most unaccountable manner. He was going down hill with his nose almost to the ground, running the wagon first on this side and then on the other. I thought of the remark made by the man, and turning again to Mrs. Sparrowgra.s.s, said, "Playful, isn't he?" The next moment I heard something breaking away in front, and then the rockaway gave a lurch and stood still. Upon examination I found the new horse had tumbled down, broken one shaft, gotten the other through the check-rein so as to bring his head up with a round turn, and besides had managed to put one of the traces in a single hitch around his off hind leg. So soon as I had taken all the young ones and Mrs. Sparrowgra.s.s out of the rockaway, I set to work to liberate the horse, who was choking very fast with the check-rein. It is unpleasant to get your fis.h.i.+ng-line in a tangle when you are in a hurry for bites, but I never saw fis.h.i.+ng-line in such a tangle as that harness. However, I set to work with a pen-knife, and cut him out in such a way as to make getting home by our conveyance impossible. When he got up, he was the sleepiest-looking horse I ever saw. "Mrs. Sparrowgra.s.s," said I, "won't you stay here with the children until I go to the nearest farm-house?" Mrs. Sparrowgra.s.s replied that she would. Then I took the horse with me to get him out of the way of the children, and went in search of a.s.sistance. The first thing the new horse did when he got about a quarter of a mile from the scene of the accident was to tumble down a bank. Fortunately the bank was not over four feet high, but as I went with him, my trousers were rent in a grievous place. While I was getting the new horse on his feet again, I saw a colored person approaching, who came to my a.s.sistance.

The first thing he did was to pull out a large jack-knife, and the next thing he did was to open the new horse's mouth and run the blade two or three times inside the new horse's gums. Then the new horse commenced bleeding. "Dah, sah," said the man, shutting up his jack-knife, "ef 't hadn't been for dat yer, your hos would a' bin a goner." "What was the matter with him?" said I. "Oh, he's only jis got de blind-staggers, das all. Say," said he, before I was half indignant enough at the man who had sold me such an animal, "say, ain't your name Sparrowgra.s.s?" I replied that my name was Sparrowgra.s.s. "Oh," said he, "I knows you, I brung some fowls once down to you place. I heerd about you and your hos.

Dats de hos dats got de heaves so bad, heh! heh! You better sell dat hoss." I determined to take his advice, and employed him to lead my purchase to the nearest place where he would be cared for. Then I went back to the rockaway, but met Mrs. Sparrowgra.s.s and the children on the road coming to meet me. She had left a man in charge of the rockaway.

When we got to the rockaway we found the man missing, also the whip and one cus.h.i.+on. We got another person to take charge of the rockaway, and had a pleasant walk home by moonlight. I think a moonlight night delicious, upon the Hudson.

Does any person want a horse at a low price? A good stylish-looking animal, close-ribbed, good loin, and good stifle, sound legs, with only the heaves and blind-staggers, and a slight defect in one of his eyes?

If at any time he slips his bridle and gets away, you can always approach him by getting on his left side. I will also engage to give a written guarantee that he is sound and kind, signed by the brother of his former owner.

SONNET OF THE LOVABLE La.s.s AND THE PLETHORIC DAD[6]

BY J.W. FOLEY

Shee sez shee neavur neavur luvd befoar shee saw me pa.s.sen bi hur paws frunt dore wenn shee wuz hangen on the gait ann i Lookt foolish att hur wenn ime goen bi.

Uv korse sheed hadd sum boze b.u.t.t nun thatt st.u.r.d hur hart down too itts deppths until shee hurd me wissel ann shee saw mi fais. Ann wenn shee furst saw mee sheed neavur luv agen shee sedd shee noo. ann iff i shunnd hur eye sheed be a nunn ann bidd thee wurld good bi.

How swete itt is wenn munnys on thee throan uv life to bee luvd fore ureself aloan Ann no thatt u have gott thee powr to stur a woomans hart wenn u jusst look att hur.

ann o itts sweeter still iff u kan no hur paw has gott jusst oshuns uv thee doe Ann u jusst hav to furnish luv ann hee wil furnish munny fore boath u ann shee.

i wood nott kair iff shee wuz poor b.u.t.t o itts dubley swete too no sheez gott thee doe:

i wood nott hezzetait iff shee wuz poor Too marrie hur. togeathur weed endoor wottever forchun sennt with rite good will b.u.t.t sins sheeze rich itts awl thee bettur stil.

ide luv hur in a cottidge jusst thee saim fore luv is such a holey sakerud flaim thatt burns like tindur wenn u strike a lite b.u.t.t still itt burns moar gloarious ann brite wenn shee has lotts uv munny ann hur paw with menny thowsunds is ure fawthernlaw.

[Footnote 6: By permission of Life Publis.h.i.+ng Company.]

THE LOVE SONNETS OF A HUSBAND

BY MAURICE SMILEY

I LOVE YOU STILL

You ask me if I love you still, tho' you And I were wed scarce one short happy year Agone. How well do I remember, dear, The day you put your hand in mine, and through Life's good and ill, tho' skies were gray or blue, We plighted faith that should not know a fear.

That was the day I kissed away the tear That trembled on your cheek like morning dew.

Of course I love you--still. You're at your best, Your perihelion, when you're silentest.

I'd love you as I did, dear heart, of yore, And still a little more, nor ever tire: Why, I would love you like a house afire If you were only still a little more.

SOUL TO SOUL

I think I loved you first when in your eyes I saw the glad, rapt answer to the spell Of Paderewski, when we heard him tell Life's gentler meaning, Love's sweet sacrifice.

The master caught the rhythm of your sighs And then, inspired, the story rose and fell And sang of moonlight in a leafy dell, Of souls' Arcadias and dreaming skies, Of hearts and hopes and purposes that blend.

Your bosom heaved beneath the witcheries That seemed to set a halo on his brow, And then the message sobbed on to its end.

"That's fine," you murmured, chewing faster; "please Ask him if he won't play 'Bedelia' now."

YOU SAID THAT YOU WOULD DIE FOR ME

You said that you would die for me, if e'er That price would buy me happiness. I dreamed Not of devotion like to that, that seemed To joy in sacrifice; that, tenderer Than selfish Life's small immolations were, Made Love an altar whereupon it deemed It naught to offer all; a shrine that gleamed With utter loyalty's red drops. I ne'er Believed that you were just quite in your head In saying death would prove Fidelity.

But when I saw the packages of white and red Your druggist showed me--he's my chum, you see-- I knew you meant, dear heart, just what you said, When you declared that you would dye for me.

I CAN NOT BEAR YOUR SIGHS

Your smiles, dear one, have all the glad surprise The suns.h.i.+ne hath for roses; what the day Brings to the waiting lark. When you are gay My spirit sings in tune, and sorrow flies Away. But, dear, I can not bear your sighs When on my knees you nestle and you lay Your tear-wet face upon my shoulder. Nay, I can not help the pain that fills mine eyes.

So, love, whatever cup of Life you drain I'll stand for. Send the cas.h.i.+er's check to me.

"Smile" all you want to; smile and smile again.

But as you weigh two hundred pounds, you see Why, when you cuddle down upon my knee, It is your size, dear heart, that gives me pain.

A HAND I HELD

The heartless years have many hopes dispelled.

But they have left me one dear night in June.

They've left the still white splendor of the moon.

They've left the mem'ry of a hand I held, While up thro' all my soul the rapture welled Of victory. I hear again the croon Of twilight time, the lullaby that soon To all the day's glad music shall have swelled.

I hold a hand I never held before, A hand like which I'll never hold some more.

It was the first time I had ever "called."

'Twas at the club, as we began to leave.

I held five aces, but the dealer balled The ones that he had planted up his sleeve.

YOUR CHEEK

To feel your hands stray shyly to my head And flutter down like birds that find their nest, To see the gentle rise and fall of your dear breast, To hear again some tender word you said, To watch the little feet whose dainty tread Fell light as flowers upon the way they pressed, To touch again the lips I have caressed-- All these are precious. But your cheek of red Outlives the mem'ry of all other things.

I'd known you scarce a month, or maybe two; I had not yet made up my mind to speak, You trots out Tifny's catalogue of rings; Says No. 6 (200 yen) will do.

So I remember best of all your cheek.

WITH ALL YOUR FAULTS

You would not stop this side the farthest line Of Truth, you said, nor hide one little falsity From my sweet faith that was too kind to see.

You said a keener vision would divine All failings later, bare each hid design, Each poor disguise of loving's treachery That screened its weaknesses from even me.

How oft you said those cherry lips were mine Alone. The cherries came in little jars, I learned. Those auburn locks, I found with pain, Cost forty plunks, according to the bill I saw. Those pearly teeth were porcelain.

But I forgive you for each fault that mars.

With all your faults, dear heart, I love you still.