The Book of Humorous Verse Part 52

"He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said, "And in his time was reckoned good."

"A saddler, eh? and taught you Greek, Instead of teaching you to sew!

Pray, why did not your father make A saddler, sir, of you?"

Each parasite, then, as in duty bound, The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.

At length Modestus, bowing low, Said (craving pardon, if too free he made), "Sir, by your leave, I fain would know Your father's trade!"

"My father's trade! by Heaven, that's too bad!

My father's trade? Why, blockhead, are you mad?

My father, sir, did never stoop so low-- He was a gentleman, I'd have you know."

"Excuse the liberty I take,"

Modestus said, with archness on his brow, "Pray, why did not your father make A gentleman of you?"

_Selleck Osborn._

THE LATEST DECALOGUE

Thou shalt have one G.o.d only, who Would be at the expense of two?

No graven images may be Wors.h.i.+pped, except the currency: Swear not at all; for, for thy curse Thine enemy is none the worse: At Church on Sunday to attend Will serve to keep the world thy friend: Honour thy parents; that is, all From whom advancement may befall: Thou shalt not kill; but need'st not strive Officiously to keep alive: Do not adultery commit; Advantage rarely comes of it: Thou shalt not steal; an empty feat, When it's so lucrative to cheat: Bear not false witness; let the lie Have time on its own wings to fly: Thou shalt not covet, but tradition Approves all forms of compet.i.tion.

_Arthur Hugh Clough._

A SIMILE

Dear Thomas, didst thou never pop Thy head into a tin-man's shop?

There, Thomas, didst thou never see ('Tis but by way of simile) A squirrel spend his little rage, In jumping round a rolling cage?

The cage, as either side turn'd up, Striking a ring of bells a-top?-- Mov'd in the orb, pleas'd with the chimes, The foolish creature thinks he climbs: But here or there, turn wood or wire, He never gets two inches higher.

So fares it with those merry blades, That frisk it under Pindus' shades.

In n.o.ble songs, and lofty odes, They tread on stars, and talk with G.o.ds; Still dancing in an airy round, Still pleas'd with their own verses' sound; Brought back, how fast soe'er they go, Always aspiring, always low.

_Matthew Prior._

BY PARCELS POST

A DOMESTIC IDYLL

I sent my love a parcel In the days when we were young, Or e'er by care and trouble Our heart-strings had been wrung.

By parcels post I sent it-- What 'twas I do not know-- In the days when we were courting, A long time ago.

The spring-time waxed to summer, Then autumn leaves grew red, And in the sweet September My love and I were wed.

But though the Church had blessed us, My little wife looked glum; I'd posted her a parcel, And the parcel hadn't come.

Ah, many moons came after, And then there was a voice, A little voice whose music Would make our hearts rejoice.

And, singing to her baby, My dear one oft would say, "I wonder, baby darling, Will that parcel come to-day?"

The gold had changed to silver Upon her matron brow; The years were eight-and-twenty Since we breathed our marriage vow, And our grandchildren were playing Hunt-the-slipper on the floor, When they saw the postman standing By our open cottage door.

Then they ran with joy to greet him, For they knew he'd come at last; They had heard me tell the story Very often in the past.

He handed them a parcel, And they brought it in to show-- 'Twas the parcel I had posted Eight-and-twenty years ago.

_George R. Sims._

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

A friend of mine was married to a scold, To me he came, and all his troubles told.

Said he, "She's like a woman raving mad."

"Alas! my friend," said I, "that's very bad!"

"No, not so bad," said he; "for, with her, true I had both house and land, and money too."

"That was well," said I; "No, not so well," said he; "For I and her own brother Went to law with one another; I was cast, the suit was lost, And every penny went to pay the cost."-- "That was bad," said I; "No, not so bad," said he: "For we agreed that he the house should keep, And give to me four score of Yorks.h.i.+re sheep All fat, and fair, and fine, they were to be."

"Well, then," said I, "sure that was well for thee?"

"No, not so well," said he; "For, when the sheep I got, They every one died of the rot."

"That was bad," said I; "No, not so bad," said he; "For I had thought to sc.r.a.pe the fat, And keep it in an oaken vat; Then into tallow melt for winter store."

"Well, then," said I, "that's better than before?"

"'Twas not so well," said he; "For having got a clumsy fellow To sc.r.a.pe the fat and melt the tallow; Into the melting fat the fire catches, And, like brimstone matches, Burnt my house to ashes."

"That _was_ bad," said I; "No! not so bad," said he; "for, what is best, My scolding wife has gone among the rest."

_Unknown._

THE CONTRAST

In London I never know what I'd be at, Enraptured with this, and enchanted with that; I'm wild with the sweets of variety's plan, And life seems a blessing too happy for man.

But the country, Lord help me! sets all matters right, So calm and composing from morning to night; Oh, it settles the spirits when nothing is seen But an a.s.s on a common, a goose on a green!

In town, if it rain, why it damps not our hope, The eye has her choice, and the fancy her scope; What harm though it pour whole nights or whole days?

It spoils not our prospects, or stops not our ways.

In the country, what bliss, when it rains in the fields, To live on the transports that shuttlec.o.c.k yields; Or go crawling from window to window, to see A pig on a dunghill or crow on a tree.