The Wit and Humor of America Volume IX Part 15

If you're goin' to mak' de marry, kip a look out on de eye, But no matter how you're careful, it was risky anyhow-- An' if you're too unlucky, jus' remember how you try For gettin' dat poor woman, dough she may have got you now-- All de sam', it sometam happen dat your wife will pa.s.s away-- No use cryin', you can't help it--dere's your duty to you'se'f-- You don't need to ax de neighbor, dey will tell you ev'ry day Start again lak hones' feller, for dere's plaintee woman lef'-- "Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."

Poor man lak me, I'm not'ing: only w'en election's dere, An' ev'rybody's waitin' to ketch you by de t'roat-- De money I be makin' den, wall! dot was mon affaire-- An' affer all w'at diff'rence how de poor man mak' de vote?

So I do ma very bes'--me--wit' de wife an' familee-- On de church door Sunday morning, you can see us all parade-- Len' a frien' a half a dollar, an' never go on spree-- So w'en I'm comin' die--me--no use to be afraid-- "Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."

HOW I SPOKE THE WORD

FRANK L. STANTON

The snow come down in sheets of white An' made the pine trees s.h.i.+ver; 'Peared like the world had said good night An' crawled beneath the kiver.

The river's s.h.i.+ny trail wuz gone-- The winds sung out a warnin'; The mountains put their nightcaps on An' said: "Good-by till mornin'!"

'Twuz jest the night in fiel' an' wood When cabin homes look cozy, An' fine oak fires feel mighty good, An' women's cheeks look rosy.

An' that remin's me. We wuz four, A-settin' by the fire; But still it 'peared ten mile or more Betwixt me an' Maria!

"No, sir!" (I caught that eye of his, An' then I fit and floundered!) "The thing I want to tell you is--"

Says he: "The old mare's _foundered_?"

"No, sir! it ain't about no hoss!"

(My throat begin to rattle!) "I see," he said, "another loss In them fine Jersey cattle!"

An' then I lost my patience! Then I hollered high and higher (You could 'a' heard me down the glen): "_No, sir! I want Maria!_"

"An' now," says I, "the shaft'll strike: He'll let _that_ statement stay so!"

He looked at me astonished-like, Then yelled: "_Why didn't you say so?_"

THE UNIVERSITY INTELLIGENCE OFFICE

BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS

"Mr. Brief," said the Idiot the other morning as the family of Mrs.

Smithers-Pedagog gathered at the breakfast table, "don't you want to be let in on the ground floor of a sure thing?"

"I do if there's no cellar under it to fall into when the bottom drops out," smiled Mr. Brief. "What's up? You going into partners.h.i.+p with Mr.

Rockefeller?"

"No," said the Idiot. "There isn't any money in that."

"What?" cried the Bibliomaniac. "No money in a partners.h.i.+p with Rockefeller?"

"Not a cent," said the Idiot. "After paying Mr. Rockefeller his dividend of 105 per cent. of the gross receipts and deducting expenses from what's left, you'd find you owed him money. My scheme is to start an entirely new business--one that's never been thought of before apparently--incorporate it at $100,000, of which I am to receive $51,000 in stock for the idea, $24,000 worth of shares to go to Mr. Brief for legal services and the balance to be put on the market at 45."

"That sounds rich," said Mr. Brief. "I might devote an hour of my time to your scheme some rainy Sunday afternoon when there is nothing else to do, for that amount of stock, provided, of course, your scheme has no State's Prison string tied to it."

"There isn't even a county jail at the end of it," observed the Idiot.

"It's clean, clear and straight. It will fill a long felt want, and, as I see it, ought to pay fifty percent dividends the first year. They say figures don't lie, and I am in possession of some that tell me I've got a bonanza in my University Intelligence Office Company."

"The t.i.tle sounds respectable," said Mr. Whitechoker. "What is it, Mr.

Idiot--a sort of University Settlement Scheme?"

"Well--yes," said the Idiot. "It is designed to get University graduates settled, if you can call that a University Settlement Scheme. To put it briefly, it's an Intelligence Office for College graduates where they may go for the purpose of getting a job, just as our cooks, and butlers and valets and the rest do. If there's money in securing a place at good wages for the ladies who burn our steaks and promote indigestion for us, and for the gentlemen who keep our trousers pressed and wear out our linen, I don't see why there wouldn't be money in an inst.i.tution which did the same thing for the struggling young bachelor of arts who is thrown out of the arms of Alma Mater on to the hands of a cold and unappreciative world."

"At last!" cried the Doctor. "At last I find sanity in one of your suggestions. That idea of yours, Mr. Idiot, is worthy of a genius. I have a nephew just out of college and what on earth to do with him n.o.body in the family can imagine. He doesn't seem to be good for anything except sitting around and letting his hair grow long."

"That isn't much of a profession, is it," said the Idiot. "What does he want to do?"

"That's the irritating part of it," observed the Doctor. "When I asked him the other night what he intended to do for a living he said he hadn't made up his mind yet between becoming a motor-man or the Editor of the South American Review. That's a satisfactory kind of an answer, eh? Especially when the family income is hardly big enough to keep the modern youth in neckties."

"I don't believe any Intelligence Office in creation could do anything for a man like that," sneered the Bibliomaniac. "What that young man needs is a good sound spanking, and I'd like to give it to him."

"All right," said the Doctor with a laugh. "I'll see that you have the chance. If you'll go out to my sister's with me some time next week I'll introduce you to Bill and you can begin."

"Why don't you do it yourself, Doctor?" asked the Idiot, noting the twinkle in the Doctor's eye.

"I'm too busy," laughed the Doctor. "Besides I only weigh one hundred and twenty pounds and Bill is six feet two inches high and weighs two hundred and ten pounds stripped. I think if I were armed with a telegraph pole and Bill with only a tooth-pick as a weapon of defense he could thrash me with ease. However, if Mr. Bib wants to try it--"

"Send Bill to us, Doctor," said the Idiot. "I sort of like Bill and I'll bet the University Intelligence Office will get him a job in forty-eight hours. A man who is willing to mote or Edit has an adaptability that ought to locate him permanently somewhere."

"I don't quite see," said Mr. Brief, "just how you are going to work your scheme, Mr. Idiot. I must confess I should regard Bill as a pretty tough proposition."

"Not at all," said the Idiot. "The only trouble with Bill is that he hasn't found himself yet. He's probably one of those easy-going, popular youngsters who've devoted their college days to growing. Just at present he's got more vitality than brains. I imagine from his answer to the Doctor that he is a good-natured hulks who could get anything he wanted in college except a scholars.h.i.+p. I haven't any doubt that he was beloved of all his cla.s.smates and was known to his fellows as Old Hoss, or Beefy Bill or Blue-eyed Billie and could play any game from Muggins to Pit like a hero of a Bret Harte romance."

"You've sized Bill up all right," said the Doctor. "He is just that, but he has brains. The only trouble is he's been saving them up for a rainy day and now when the showers are beginning he doesn't know how to use 'em. How would you go about getting him a job, Mr. Idiot?"

"Bill ought to go into the publis.h.i.+ng business," said the Idiot. "He was cut out for a book-agent. He has a physique which, to begin with, would command respectful attention for anything he might have to say concerning the wares he had to sell. He seems to have, from your brief description of him, that suavity of manner which would surely secure his admittance into the houses of the _elite_, and his sense of humor I judge to be sufficiently highly developed to enable him to make a sale wherever he felt there was the remotest chance. Is he handsome?"

"I am told he looks like me," said the Doctor, pleasantly.

"Oh, well," rejoined the Idiot, "good looks aren't essential after all.

It would be better though if he were a man of fine presence. If he's big and genial, as you suggest, he can carry off his deficiencies in personal pulchritude."

The Doctor flushed a trifle. "Oh, Bill isn't so plain," he observed airily. "There's none of your sissy beauty about Bill, I grant you, but--oh, well"--here the Doctor twirled his mustache complacently.

"I should think the place for Bill would be on the trolley," sneered the Bibliomaniac.

"No, sir," returned the Idiot. "Never. Geniality never goes on the trolley. In the first place it isn't appreciated by the Management and in the second place it is a dangerous gift for a motor-man. I had a friend once--a college graduate of very much Bill's kind--who went on the trolley as a Conductor at seven dollars a week and, by Jingo, would you believe it, all his friends waited for his car and of course he never asked any of 'em for their fare. Gentlemen, he used to say, welcome to my car. This is on me."

"Swindled the Company by letting his friends ride free, eh?" said the Bibliomaniac.

"Never," said the Idiot. "Pete was honest and he rung 'em up same as anybody and of course had to settle with the Treasurer at the end of the trip. On his first month he was nine dollars out. Then he couldn't bring himself to ask a lady for money, and if a pa.s.senger looked like a sport Pete would offer to match him for his fare--double or quits. Consequence was he lost money steadily. All the hard luck people used to ride with him, too, and one night--it was a bitter night in December and everybody in the car was pretty near frozen--Pete stopped his car in front of the Fifth Avenue Hotel and invited everybody on board to come in and have a wee nippy. All except two old ladies and a Chinaman accepted and of course the reporters got hold of it, told the story in the papers and Pete was bounced. I don't think the average college graduate is quite suited by temperament for the trolley service."