The Wit and Humor of America
Chapter 50 : "Oach! No wonder he wants to be an anchel, and wiss the anchels stand--holding sin

"Oach! No wonder he wants to be an anchel, and wiss the anchels stand--holding sings in his hands and on his head! He's too good for this wile world. He'd linger s.h.i.+fering on the brink and fear to launch away all his durn life--if some one didn't push him in. So here goes!"

This was spoken to the skies, apparently, but now he turned to his son again.

"Look a-yere, you young dummer-ux,[2] feelings is the same to gals like Sally, as money is to you and me. You ken buy potatoes wiss 'em! Do you understand?"

Seffy said that he did, now.

"Well, then, I'fe tried to _buy_ that pasture-field a sousand times--"

Seffy started.

"Yas, that's a little bit a lie--mebby a dozen times. And at last Sally's daddy said he'd lick me if I efer said pasture-field ag'in, and I said it ag'in and he licked me! He was a big man--and red-headed yit, like Sally. Now, look a-yere--_you_ ken git that pasture-field wissout money and wissout price--except you' dam' feelings which ain't no other use. Sally won't lick _you_--if she is bigger--don't be a-skeered. You got tons of feelin's you ain't got no other use for--don't waste 'em--they're good green money, and we'll git efen wiss Sally's daddy for licking me yit--and somesing on the side! Huh?"

[Footnote 2: Dumb ox--a term of reproach.]

At last it was evident that Seffy fully understood, and his father broke into that discordant whistle once more.

"A gal that ken jump a six-rail fence--and wissout no running start--don't let her git apast you!"

"Well, I'm going to set up with her to-night," said Seffy again, with a huge ahem. And the tune his father whistled as he opened the door for him sounded something like "I want to be an angel."

"But not to buy no pasture-land!" warned Seffy.

"Oach, no, of course not!" agreed his wily old father. "That's just one of my durn jokes. But I expect I'll take the fence down to-morrow! Say, Sef, you chust marry the gal. I'll take keer the fence!"

III

It took Seffy a long time to array himself as he had threatened. And when it was all done you wouldn't have known him--you wouldn't have cared to know him. For his fine yellow hair was changed to an ugly brown by the patent hair-oil with which he had dressed it--and you would not have liked its fragrance, I trust. Bergamot, I think it was. His fine young throat was garroted within a starched standing collar, his feet were pinched in creaking boots, his hands close-gauntleted in buckskin gloves, and he altogether incomparable, uncomfortable, and triumphant.

Down stairs his father paced the floor, watch in hand. From time to time he would call out the hour, like a watchman on a minaret. At last:

"Look a-yere, Seffy, it's about two inches apast seven--and by the time you git there--say, _nefer_ gif another feller a chance to git there afore you or to leave after you!"

Seffy descended at that moment with his hat poised in his left hand.

His father dropped his watch and picked it up.

Both stood at gaze for a moment.

"Sunder, Sef! You as beautiful as the sun, moon and stars--and as stinky as seferal apothecary shops. Yere, take the watch and git along--so's you haf some time wiss you--now git along! You late a'ready. Goshens!

You wa.s.s behind time when you wa.s.s born! Yas, your mammy wa.s.s disapp'inted in you right at first. You wa.s.s seventy-six hours late! But now you reformed--sank G.o.d! I always knowed it wa.s.s a cure for it, but I didn't know it wa.s.s anysing as nice as Sally."

Seffy issued forth to his first conquest--lighted as far as the front gate by the fat lamp held in his father's hand.

"A--Sef--Seffy, shall I set up for you tell you git home?" he called into the dark.

"No!" shouted Seffy.

"Aha--aha--aha! That sounds _right_! Don't you forgit when you bose--well--comfortable--aha--aha! Mebby on one cheer aha--ha-ha. And we'll bose take the fence down to-morrow. Mebby all three!"

AN ARCHaeOLOGICAL CONGRESS

BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE

"'There's none can tell about my birth For I'm as old as the big round earth; Ye young Immortals clear the track, I'm the bearded Joke on the Carpet tack."

Thus spoke A Joke With boastful croak; And as he said, Upon his head He stood, and waited for the tread Of thoughtless wight, Who, in the night, Gets up, arrayed in garments white, And indiscreet, With unshod feet, Prowls round for something good to eat.

But other Jokes His speech provokes; And old, and bald, and lame, and gray, With loftiest scorn they say him Nay; And bid him hold his unweaned tongue, For they were blind ere he was young.

So hot They grew, This complot Crew, They laid a plan To catch a Man; That all the clan Might then trepan His skull with Jokes; they thus began:

First Mule, his heel its skill to try, Amid his ribs like lightning laid-- And back recoiled--he well knew why; "Insurance Man," he faintly sayed.

Next Stove Pipe rushed, as hot as fire, "Put up!" he cried, in accents bold; With Elbow joint he struck the lyre, And knocked the Weather Prophet cold.

But thou, Ice Cream, with hair so gray, Three thousand years before the Flood, Cold, bitter cold, will be the day Thou dost not warm the Jester's blood.

"Spoons for the spooney," was her ancient song, That with slow measure dragged its deathless length along.

And longer had she sung, but with a frown, Old Pie, impatient, rose And roared, "Behold, I am the Funny Clown!

And without me there is no Joke that goes.

"To every Jester in the land, I lend my omnipresent hand; I've filled in Jokes of every grade Since ever Jokes and Pies were made; Sewed, pegged and pasted, glued or cast, If not the first of Jokes, I'll be the last."

With heart unripe and mottled hide, Pale summer watermeloncholly sighed, And--but the Muse would find it vain To give a list of all the train; The hairless, purblind, toothless crew, That burst on Man's astonished view-- The Bull dog and the Garden gate; The Girl's Papa in wrathful state; Ma'ma in law; the Leathern Clam; The Woodshed Cat; the Rampant Ram; The Fly, the Goat, the Skating Rink, The Paste-brush plunging in the Ink; The Baby wailing in the Dark; The Songs they sang upon the Ark; Things that were old when Earth was new, And as they lived still old and older grew, And as these Jokes about him cried, And all their Ancient Arts upon him tried, Their hapless victim, Man, lay down and died.

A BOY'S VIEW OF IT

BY FRANK L. STANTON

Mother--she's always a-sayin', she is, Boys must be looked after--got to be strict; When I tear my breeches like Billy tears his, It helps 'em considerable when I am licked!

But it ain't leapin' over the fence or the post-- It's jest that same lickin' 'at tears 'em the most!

Mother--she's always a-sayin' to me, Boys must have people to foller 'em roun'; Never kin tell where they're goin' to be; Sure to git lost, an' then have to be foun'.

An' then--when they find 'em, they're so full of joy They can't keep from lovin' an' lickin' the boy!

There's Jimmy Johnson--got lost on the road; Daddy wuz drivin' to market one day, Fell out the wagon, an' n.o.body knowed Till they come to a halt, an' his daddy said: "Hey!

Wonder where Jimmy is gone to?" But Jim-- Warn't no two hosses could keep up with him!

Jest kept a-goin', an' got to a place Where wuz a circus; took up with the clown, Cut off his ringlets and painted his face, An' then come right back to his daddy's own town!