The Wit and Humor of America
Chapter 17 : "Hollins stared at the speaker in utter amazement. Sh.e.l.ldrake gave a long whist

"Hollins stared at the speaker in utter amazement. Sh.e.l.ldrake gave a long whistle, and finally gasped out:

"'Well, what next?'

"None of us were prepared for such a sudden and complete wreck of our Arcadian scheme. The foundations had been sapped before, it is true; but we had not perceived it; and now, in two short days, the whole edifice tumbled about our ears. Though it was inevitable, we felt a shock of sorrow, and a silence fell upon us. Only that scamp of a Perkins Brown, chuckling and rubbing his boot, really rejoiced. I could have kicked him.

"We all went to bed, feeling that the charm of our Arcadian life was over.... In the first revulsion of feeling, I was perhaps unjust to my a.s.sociates. I see now, more clearly, the causes of those vagaries, which originated in a genuine aspiration, and failed from an ignorance of the true nature of Man, quite as much as from the egotism of the individuals. Other attempts at reorganizing Society were made about the same time by men of culture and experience, but in the A.C. we had neither. Our leaders had caught a few half-truths, which, in their minds, were speedily warped into errors." ...

WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS

BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

Guvener B. is a sensible man; He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks; He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can, An' into n.o.body's tater-patch pokes; But John P.

Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B.

My! ain't it terrible? Wut shall we du?

We can't never choose him, o' course,--thet's flat; Guess we shall hev to come round (don't you?) An' go in fer thunder an' guns, an' all that; Fer John P.

Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B.

Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man: He's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf; But consistency still was a part of his plan,-- He's ben true to _one_ party,--an' thet is himself;-- So John P.

Robinson he Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C.

Gineral C. he goes in fer the war; He don't vally principle more'n an old cud; Wut did G.o.d make us raytional creeturs fer, But glory an' gunpowder, plunder an' blood?

So John P.

Robinson he Sez he shall vote for Gineral C.

We were gettin' on nicely up here to our village, With good old idees o' wut's right an' wut ain't, We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage, An' thet eppyletts worn't the best mark of a saint; But John P.

Robinson he Sez this kind o' thing's an exploded idee.

The side of our country must ollers be took, An' Presidunt Polk, you know, _he_ is our country, An' the angel thet writes all our sins in a book Puts the _debit_ to him, an' to us the _per contry_; An' John P.

Robinson he Sez this is his view o' the thing to a T.

Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies; Sez they're nothin' on airth but jest _fee, faw, fum_; An' thet all this big talk of our destinies Is half on it ign'ance, an' t'other half rum; But John P.

Robinson he Sez it ain't no sech thing; an', of course, so must we.

Parson Wilbur sez _he_ never heerd in his life Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats, An' marched round in front of a drum an' a fife, To git some on 'em office, an' some on 'em votes; But John P.

Robinson he Sez they didn't know everythin' down in Judee.

Wall, it's a marcy we've gut folks to tell us The rights an' the wrongs o' these matters, I vow,-- G.o.d sends country lawyers, an' other wise fellers, To start the world's team wen it gits in a slough; Fer John P.

Robinson he Sez the world'll go right, ef he hollers out Gee!

THE DAY WE DO NOT CELEBRATE

BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE

One famous day in great July John Adams said, long years gone by,

"This day that makes a people free Shall be the people's jubilee,

With games, guns, sports, and shows displayed, With bells, pomp, bonfires, and parade,

Throughout this land, from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, From this time forth, forevermore."

The years pa.s.sed on, and by and by, Men's hearts grew cold in hot July.

And Mayor Hawarden Cholmondely said "Hof rockets Hi ham sore hafraid;

Hand hif you send one hup hablaze, Hi'll send you hup for sixty days."

Then said the Mayor O'Shay McQuade, "Thayre uz no nade fur no perade."

And Mayor Hans Von Schwartzenmeyer Proclaimed, "I'll haf me no bonfier!"

Said Mayor Baptiste Raphael "No make-a ring-a dat-a bell!"

"By gar!" cried Mayor Jean c.r.a.paud, "Zis July games vill has to go!"

And Mayor Knud Christofferrssonn Said, "Djeath to hjjim who fjjres a gjjunn!"

At last, cried Mayor Wun Lung Lee-- "Too muchee hoop-la boberee!"

And so the Yankee holiday, Of proclamations pa.s.sed away.

THE YANKEE DUDE'LL DO

BY S.E. KISER

When Cholly swung his golf-stick on the links, Or knocked the tennis-ball across the net, With his bangs done up in cunning little kinks-- When he wore the tallest collar he could get, Oh, it was the fas.h.i.+on then To impale him on the pen-- To regard him as a being made of putty through and through; But his racquet's laid away, He is roughing it to-day, And heroically proving that the Yankee dude'll do.

When Algy, as some knight of old arrayed, Was the leading figure at the "fawncy ball,"

We loathed him for the silly part he played, He was set down as a monkey--that was all!

Oh, we looked upon him then As unfit to cla.s.s with men, As one whose heart was putty, and whose brains were made of glue; But he's thrown his cane away, And he grasps a gun to-day, While the world beholds him, knowing that the Yankee dude'll do.

When Clarence cruised about upon his yacht, Or drove out with his footman through the park, His mamma, it was generally thought, Ought to have him in her keeping after dark!

Oh, we ridiculed him then, We impaled him on the pen, We thought he was effeminate, we dubbed him "Sissy," too; But he n.o.bly marched away, He is eating pork to-day, And heroically proving that the Yankee dude'll do.

How they hurled themselves against the angry foe, In the jungle and the trenches on the hill!