The Wit and Humor of America Volume V Part 1
The Wit and Humor of America.
Volume V.
THE MARRIAGE OF SIR JOHN SMITH
BY PHOEBE CARY
Not a sigh was heard, nor a funeral tone, As the man to his bridal we hurried; Not a woman discharged her farewell groan, On the spot where the fellow was married.
We married him just about eight at night, Our faces paler turning, By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the gas-lamp's steady burning.
No useless watch-chain covered his vest, Nor over-dressed we found him; But he looked like a gentleman wearing his best, With a few of his friends around him.
Few and short were the things we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow, But we silently gazed on the man that was wed, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we silently stood about, With spite and anger dying, How the merest stranger had cut us out, With only half our trying.
Lightly we'll talk of the fellow that's gone, And oft for the past upbraid him; But little he'll reck if we let him live on, In the house where his wife conveyed him.
But our hearty task at length was done, When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the spiteful squib and pun The girls were sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we turned to go,-- We had struggled, and we were human; We shed not a tear, and we spoke not our woe, But we left him alone with his woman.
THE SPRING BEAUTIES
BY HELEN AVERY CONE
The Puritan Spring Beauties stood freshly clad for church; A thrush, white-breasted, o'er them sat singing on his perch.
"Happy be! for fair are ye!" the gentle singer told them; But presently a buff-coat Bee came booming up to scold them.
"Vanity, oh, vanity!
Young maids, beware of vanity!"
Grumbled out the buff-coat Bee, Half parson-like, half soldierly.
The sweet-faced maidens trembled, with pretty, pinky blushes, Convinced that it was wicked to listen to the thrushes; And when that shady afternoon, I chanced that way to pa.s.s, They hung their little bonnets down and looked into the gra.s.s.
All because the buff-coat Bee Lectured them so solemnly-- "Vanity, oh, vanity!
Young maids, beware of vanity!"
GOING UP AND COMING DOWN
BY MARY F. TUCKER
This is a simple song, 'tis true-- My songs are never over-nice,-- And yet I'll try and scatter through A little pinch of good advice.
Then listen, pompous friend, and learn To never boast of much renown, For fortune's wheel is on the turn, And some go up and some come down.
I know a vast amount of stocks, A vast amount of pride insures; But Fate has picked so many locks I wouldn't like to warrant yours.
Remember, then, and never spurn The one whose hand is hard and brown, For he is likely to go up, And you are likely to come down.
Another thing you will agree, (The truth may be as well confessed) That "Codfish Aristocracy"
Is but a scaly thing at best.
And Madame in her robe of lace, And Bridget in her faded gown, Both represent a goodly race, From father Adam handed down.
Life is uncertain--full of change; Little we have that will endure; And 't were a doctrine new and strange That places high are most secure; And if the fickle G.o.ddess smile, Yielding the scepter and the crown, 'Tis only for a little while, Then B. goes up and A. comes down.
This world, for all of us, my friend Hath something more than pounds and pence; Then let me humbly recommend, A little use of common sense.
Thus lay all pride of place aside, And have a care on whom you frown; For fear you'll see him going up, When you are only coming down.
THE SET OF CHINA
BY ELIZA LESLIE
"Mr. Gummage," said Mrs. Atmore, as she entered a certain drawing-school, at that time the most fashionable in Philadelphia, "I have brought you a new pupil, my daughter, Miss Marianne Atmore. Have you a vacancy?"
"Why, I can't say that I have," replied Mr. Gummage; "I never have vacancies."
"I am very sorry to hear it," said Mrs. Atmore; and Miss Marianne, a tall, handsome girl of fifteen, looked disappointed.
"But perhaps I could strain a point, and find a place for her," resumed Mr. Gummage, who knew very well that he never had the smallest idea of limiting the number of his pupils, and that if twenty more were to apply, he would take them every one, however full his school might be.
"Do pray, Mr. Gummage," said Mrs. Atmore; "do try and make an exertion to admit my daughter; I shall regard it as a particular favor."
"Well, I believe she may come," replied Gummage: "I suppose I can take her. Has she any turn for drawing?"
"I don't know," answered Mrs. Atmore, "she has never tried."
"Well, madam," said Mr. Gummage, "what do you wish your daughter to learn? figures, flowers, or landscape?"
"Oh! all three," replied Mrs. Atmore. "We have been furnishing our new house, and I told Mr. Atmore that he need not get any pictures for the front parlor, as I would much prefer having them all painted by Marianne. She has been four quarters with Miss Julia, and has worked Friendship and Innocence, which cost, altogether, upwards of a hundred dollars. Do you know the piece, Mr. Gummage? There is a tomb with a weeping willow, and two ladies with long hair, one dressed in pink, the other in blue, holding a wreath between them over the top of the urn.
The ladies are Friendship. Then on the right hand of the piece is a cottage, and an oak, and a little girl dressed in yellow, sitting on a green bank, and putting a wreath round the neck of a lamb. Nothing can be more natural than the lamb's wool. It is done entirely in French knots. The child and the lamb are Innocence."
"Ay, ay," said Gummage, "I know the piece well enough--I've drawn them by dozens."
"Well," continued Mrs. Atmore, "this satin piece hangs over the front parlor mantel. It is much prettier and better done than the one Miss Longst.i.tch worked of Charlotte at the tomb of Werter, though she did sew silver spangles all over Charlotte's lilac gown, and used chenille, at a fi'-penny-bit a needleful, for all the banks and the large tree. Now, as the mantel-piece is provided for, I wish a landscape for each of the recesses, and a figure-piece to hang on each side of the large looking-gla.s.s, with flower-pieces under them, all by Marianne. Can she do all these in one quarter?"
"No, that she can't," replied Gummage; "it will take her two quarters hard work, and maybe three, to get through the whole of them."