The Wit and Humor of America Volume X Part 2

SETTIN' BY THE FIRE

BY FRANK L. STANTON

Never much on stirrin' roun'

(Sich warn't his desire), Allers certain to be foun'

Settin' by the fire.

When the frost wuz comin' down-- Col' win' creepin' nigher, Spent each day jest thataway-- Settin' by the fire.

When the dancin' shook the groun'-- Raised the ol' roof higher, Never swung the gals eroun'-- Sot thar' by the fire.

Same ol' corner night an' day-- Never 'peared to tire; Not a blessed word to say!

Jest sot by the fire.

When he died, by slow degrees, Folks said: "He's gone higher;"

But it's my opinion he's Settin' by the fire.

THE WHISPERER

BY IRONQUILL

He never tried to make a speech; A speech was far beyond his reach.

He didn't even dare to try; He did his work upon the sly.

He took the voter to the rear And gently whispered in his ear.

He never wrote; he could not write; He never tried that style of fight.

No argument of his was seen In daily press or magazine.

He only tried to get up near And whisper in the voter's ear.

It worked so well that he became A person of abundant fame.

He couldn't write; he couldn't speak, But still pursued his course unique.

He had a glorious career-- He whispered in the voter's ear.

DER OAK UND DER VINE

BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS

I don'd vas preaching voman's righdts, Or anyding like dot, Und I likes to see all beoples Shust gondented mit dheir lot; Budt I vants to gondradict dot shap Dot made dis leedle shoke: "A voman vas der glinging vine, Und man, der sht.u.r.dy oak."

Berhaps, somedimes, dot may be drue; Budt, den dimes oudt off nine, I find me oudt dot man himself Vas peen der glinging vine; Und ven hees friendts dhey all vas gone, Und he vas shust "tead proke,"

Dot's ven der voman shteps righdt in, Und peen der sht.u.r.dy oak.

Shust go oup to der paseball groundts Und see dhose "sht.u.r.dy oaks"

All planted roundt ubon der seats-- Shust hear dheir laughs und shokes!

Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs, Mit glothes oudt on der lines; Vhich vas der sht.u.r.dy oaks, mine friendts, Und vhich der glinging vines?

Vhen sickness in der householdt comes, Und veeks und veeks he shtays, Who vas id fighdts him mitoudt resdt, Dhose veary nighdts und days?

Who beace und gomfort alvays prings, Und cools dot fefered prow?

More like id vas der tender vine Dot oak he glings to, now.

"Man vants budt leedle here below,"

Der boet von time said; Dhere's leedle dot man he _don'd_ vant, I d.i.n.k id means, inshted; Und ven der years keep rolling on, Dheir cares und droubles pringing, He vants to pe der sht.u.r.dy oak, Und, also, do der glinging.

Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more, Und don'd so sht.u.r.dy peen, Der glinging vines dhey haf some shance To helb run Life's masheen.

In helt und sickness, shoy und pain, In calm or shtormy veddher, 'T was beddher dot dhose oaks und vines Should alvays gling togeddher.

ARAMINTA AND THE AUTOMOBILE

BY CHARLES BATTELL LOOMIS

Some persons spend their surplus on works of art; some spend it on Italian gardens and pergolas; there are those who sink it in golf, and I have heard of those who expended it on charity.

None of these forms of getting away with money appeal to Araminta and myself. As soon as it was ascertained that the automobile was practicable and would not cost a king's ransom, I determined to devote my savings to the purchase of one.

Araminta and I lived in a suburban town; she because she loves Nature and I because I love Araminta. We have been married for five years.

I am a bank clerk in New York, and morning and night I go through the monotony of railway travel, and for one who is forbidden to use his eyes on the train and who does not play cards it _is_ monotony, for in the morning my friends are either playing cards or else reading their papers, and one does not like to urge the claims of conversation on one who is deep in politics or the next play of his antagonist; so my getting to business and coming back are in the nature of purgatory. I therefore hailed the automobile as a Heaven-sent means of swift motion with an agreeable companion, and with no danger of encountering either newspapers or cards. I have seen neither reading nor card-playing going on in any automobile.

The community in which I live is not progressive, and when I said that I expected to buy an automobile as soon as my s.h.i.+p came in I was frowned upon by my neighbors. Several of them have horses, and all, or nearly all, have feet. The hors.e.m.e.n were not more opposed to my proposed owners.h.i.+p than the footmen--I should say pedestrians. They all thought automobiles dangerous and a menace to public peace, but of course I pooh-poohed their fears and, being a person of a good deal of stability of purpose, I went on saving my money, and in course of time I bought an automobile of the electric sort.

Araminta is plucky, and I am perfectly fearless. When the automobile was brought home and housed in the little barn that is on our property, the man who had backed it in told me that he had orders to stay and show me how it worked, but I laughed at him--good-naturedly yet firmly. I said, "Young man, experience teaches more in half an hour than books or precepts do in a year. A would-be newspaper man does not go to a school of journalism if he is wise; he gets a position on a newspaper and learns for himself, and through his mistakes. I know that one of these levers is to steer by, that another lets loose the power, and that there is a foot-brake. I also know that the machine is charged, and I need to know no more. Good day."

Thus did I speak to the young man, and he saw that I was a person of force and discretion, and he withdrew to the train and I never saw him again.

Araminta had been to Pa.s.saic shopping, but she came back while I was out in the barn looking at my new purchase, and she joined me there. I looked at her lovingly, and she returned the look. Our joint ambition was realized; we were the owners of an automobile, and we were going out that afternoon.

Why is it that cheap barns are so flimsily built? I know that our barn is cheap because the rent for house and barn is less than what many a clerk, city pent, pays for a cramped flat, but again I ask, why are they flimsily built? I have no complaint to make. If my barn had been built of good stout oak I might to-day be in a hospital.

It happened this way. Araminta said, "Let me get in, and we will take just a little ride to see how it goes," and I out of my love for her said, "Wait just a few minutes, dearest, until I get the hang of the thing. I want to see how much go she has and just how she works."

Araminta has learned to obey my slightest word, knowing that love is at the bottom of all my commands, and she stepped to one side while I entered the gayly-painted vehicle and tried to move out of the barn. I moved out. But I backed. Oh, blessed, cheaply built barn. My way was not restricted to any appreciable extent. I shot gayly through the barn into the hen yard, and the sound of the ripping clapboards frightened the silly hens who were enjoying a dust-bath, and they fled in more directions than there were fowls.