The Wit and Humor of America, Volume V. (of X.)

by Finley Peter Dunne

  The ship sailed--and Marianne continued three quarters at Mr. Gummage'sschool, where she nominally affected another flower-piece, and alsoperpetrated Kemble in Rolla, Edwin and Angelina, the Falls ofSchuylkill, and the Falls of Niagara, all of which were duly framed, andhung in their appointed places.

  During the year that followed the departure of the ship _Voltaire_ greatimpatience for her return was manifested by the ladies of the Atmorefamily,--anxious to see how the china would look, and frequently hopingthat the colors would be bright enough, and none of the flowersomitted--that the gilding would be rich, and everything inserted in itsproper place, exactly according to the pattern. Mrs. Atmore's onlyregret was, that she had not sent for a tea-set also; not that she wasin want of one, but then it would be so much better to have a dinner-setand a tea-set precisely alike, and Marianne's beautiful wreath on all.

  "Why, my dear," said Mr. Atmore, "how often have I heard you say thatyou would never have another _tea_-set from Canton, because the Chinesepersist in making the principal articles of such old-fashioned, awkwardshapes. For my part, I always disliked the tall coffee-pots, with theirstraight spouts, looking like light-houses with bowsprits to them; andthe short, clumsy teapots, with their twisted handles, and lids thatalways fall off."

  "To be sure," said Mrs. Atmore, "I have been looking forward to thetime when we can get a French tea-set upon tolerable terms. But in themeanwhile I should be very glad to have cups and saucers with Marianne'sbeautiful wreath, and of course when we use them on the table we shouldalways bring forward our silver pots."

  Spring returned, and there was much watching of the vanes, and great joywhen they pointed easterly, and the ship-news now became the mostinteresting column of the papers. A vessel that had sailed from New Yorkto Canton on the same day the _Voltaire_ departed from Philadelphia hadalready got in; therefore, the _Voltaire_ might be hourly expected. Atlength she was reported below; and at this period the river Delawaresuffered much, in comparison with the river Hudson, owing to thetediousness of its navigation from the capes to the city.

  At last the _Voltaire_ cast anchor at the foot of Market Street, and ourladies could scarcely refrain from walking down to the wharf to see theship that held the box that held the china. But invitations wereimmediately sent out for a long projected dinner-party, which Mrs.Atmore had persuaded her husband to defer till they could exhibit thebeautiful new porcelain.

  The box was landed, and conveyed to the house. The whole family werepresent at the opening, which was performed in the dining-room by Mr.Atmore himself--all the servants peeping in at the door. As soon as apart of the lid was split off, and a handful of the straw removed, apile of plates appeared, all separately wrapped in India paper. Each ofthe family snatched up a plate and hastily tore off the covering. Therewere the flowers glowing in beautiful colors, and the gold star and thegold A, admirably executed. But under the gold star, on every plate,dish and tureen were the words, "THIS IN THE MIDDLE!"--being thedirection which the literal and exact Chinese had minutely copied from acrooked line that Mr. Atmore had hastily scrawled on the pattern with avery bad pen, and of course without the slightest fear of its beinginserted _verbatim_ beneath the central ornament.

  Mr. Atmore laughed--Mrs. Atmore cried--the servants giggled aloud--andMarianne cried first, and laughed afterwards.

  SUPPRESSED CHAPTERS[1]

  BY CAROLYN WELLS

  Zenobia, they tell us, was a leader born and bred; Of any sort of enterprise she'd fitly take the head. The biggest, burliest buccaneers bowed down to her in awe; To Warriors, Emperors or Kings, Zenobia's word was law.

  Above her troop of Amazons her helmet plume would toss, And every one, with loud accord, proclaimed Zenobia's boss. The reason of her power (though the part she didn't look), Was simply that Zenobia had once lived out as cook.

  Xantippe was a Grecian Dame--they say she was the wife Of Socrates, and history shows she led him a life! They say she was a virago, a vixen and a shrew, Who scolded poor old Socrates until the air was blue.

  She never stopped from morn till night the clacking of her tongue, But this is thus accounted for: You see, when she was young-- (And 'tis an explanation that explains, as you must own), Xantippe was the Central of the Grecian telephone.

  [Footnote 1: By permission of Life Publishing Company.]

  OLD GRIMES

  BY ALBERT GORTON GREENE

  Old Grimes is dead, that good old man We never shall see more: He used to wear a long black coat All button'd down before.

  His heart was open as the day, His feelings all were true; His hair was some inclined to gray-- He wore it in a queue.

  Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, His breast with pity burn'd; The large, round head upon his cane From ivory was turn'd.

  Kind words he ever had for all; He knew no base design: His eyes were dark and rather small, His nose was aquiline.

  He lived at peace with all mankind, In friendship he was true; His coat had pocket-holes behind, His pantaloons were blue.

  Unharm'd, the sin which earth pollutes He pass'd securely o'er, And never wore a pair of boots For thirty years or more.

  But good old Grimes is now at rest, Nor fears misfortune's frown: He wore a double-breasted vest-- The stripes ran up and down.

  He modest merit sought to find, And pay it its desert: He had no malice in his mind, No ruffles on his shirt.

  His neighbors he did not abuse-- Was sociable and gay: He wore large buckles on his shoes, And changed them every day.

  His knowledge hid from public gaze, He did not bring to view, Nor made a noise town-meeting days, As many people do.

  His worldly goods he never threw In trust to fortune's chances, But lived (as all his brothers do) In easy circumstances.

  Thus undisturb'd by anxious cares, His peaceful moments ran; And everybody said he was A fine old gentleman.

  MISS LEGION

  BY BERT LESTON TAYLOR

  She is hotfoot after Cultyure; She pursues it with a club. She breathes a heavy atmosphere Of literary flub. No literary shrine so far But she is there to kneel; And-- Her favorite bunch of reading Is O. Meredith's "Lucile."

  Of course she's up on pictures-- Passes for a connoisseur; On free days at the Institute You'll always notice her. She qualifies approval Of a Titian or Corot, But-- She throws a fit of rapture When she comes to Bouguereau.

  And when you talk of music, Why, she's Music's devotee. She will tell you that Beethoven Always makes her wish to pray, And "dear old Bach!" his very name, She says, her ear enchants; But-- Her favorite piece is Weber's "Invitation to the Dance."

  HAVE YOU SEEN THE LADY?

  BY JOHN PHILIP SOUSA

  "Have I told you the name of a lady? Have I told you the name of a dear? 'Twas known long ago, And ends with an O; You don't hear it often round here.

  Have I talked of the eyes of a lady? Have I talked of the eyes that are bright? Their color, you see, Is B-L-U-E; They're the gin in the cocktail of light.

  Have I sung of the hair of a lady? Have I sung of the hair of a dove? What shade do you say? B-L-A-C-K; It's the fizz in the champagne of love.

  Can you guess it--the name of the lady? She is sweet, she is fair, she is coy. Your guessing forego, It's J-U-N-O; She's the mint in the julep of joy."

  THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW

  BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

  'Twas a Funny Little Fellow Of the very purest type, For he had a heart as mellow As an apple over-ripe; And the brightest little twinkle When a funny thing occurred, And the lightest little tinkle Of a laugh
you ever heard!

  His smile was like the glitter Of the sun in tropic lands, And his talk a sweeter twitter Than the swallow understands; Hear him sing--and tell a story-- Snap a joke--ignite a pun,-- 'Twas a capture--rapture--glory, And explosion--all in one!

  Though he hadn't any money-- That condiment which tends To make a fellow "honey" For the palate of his friends; Sweet simples he compounded-- Sovereign antidotes for sin Or taint,--a faith unbounded That his friends were genuine.

  He wasn't honored, may be-- For his songs of praise were slim,-- Yet I never knew a baby That wouldn't crow for him; I never knew a mother But urged a kindly claim Upon him as a brother, At the mention of his name.

  The sick have ceased their sighing, And have even found the grace Of a smile when they were dying As they looked upon his face; And I've seen his eyes of laughter Melt in tears that only ran As though, swift dancing after, Came the Funny Little Man.

  He laughed away the sorrow, And he laughed away the gloom We are all so prone to borrow From the darkness of the tomb; And he laughed across the ocean Of a happy life, and passed, With a laugh of glad emotion, Into Paradise at last.

  And I think the Angels knew him, And had gathered to await His coming, and run to him Through the widely-opened Gate-- With their faces gleaming sunny For his laughter-loving sake, And thinking, "What a funny Little Angel he will make!"

  MUSICAL REVIEW EXTRAORDINARY

  BY JOHN PHOENIX

  SAN DIEGO, July 10th, 1854.

  As your valuable work is not supposed to be so entirely identified withSan Franciscan interests as to be careless what takes place in otherportions of this great _kentry_, and as it is received and read in SanDiego with great interest (I have loaned my copy to over four differentliterary gentlemen, most of whom have read some of it), I have thoughtit not improbable that a few critical notices of the musicalperformances and the drama of this place might be acceptable to you, andinterest your readers. I have been, moreover, encouraged to this task bythe perusal of your interesting musical and theatrical critiques on SanFrancisco performers and performances; as I feel convinced that if youdevote so much space to them you will not allow any little feeling ofrivalry between the two great cities to prevent your noticing ours,which, without the slightest feeling of prejudice, I must consider asinfinitely superior. I propose this month to call your attention to thetwo great events in our theatrical and musical world--the appearance ofthe talented Miss PELICAN, and the production of Tarbox's celebrated"Ode Symphonie" of "The Plains."

  The critiques on the former are from the columns of the VallecetosSentinel, to which they were originally contributed by me, appearing onthe respective dates of June 1st and June 31st.

  _From the Vallecetos Sentinel, June 1st_

  MISS PELICAN.--Never during our dramatic experience has a more exciting event occurred than the sudden bursting upon our theatrical firmament, full, blazing, unparalleled, of the bright, resplendent and particular star whose honored name shines refulgent at the head of this article. Coming among us unheralded, almost unknown, without claptrap, in a wagon drawn by oxen across the plains, with no agent to get up a counterfeit enthusiasm in her favor, she appeared before us for the first time at the San Diego Lyceum last evening, in the trying and difficult character of Ingomar, or the Tame Savage. We are at a loss to describe our sensations, our admiration, at her magnificent, her super-human efforts. We do not hesitate to say that she is by far the superior to any living actress; and, as we believe that to be the perfection of acting, we cannot be wrong in the belief that no one hereafter will ever be found to approach her. Her conception of the character of Ingomar was perfection itself; her playful and ingenuous manner, her light girlish laughter, in the scene with Sir Peter, showed an appreciation of the savage character which nothing but the most arduous study, the most elaborate training could produce; while her awful change to the stern, unyielding, uncompromising father in the tragic scene of Duncan's murder, was indeed nature itself. Miss Pelican is about seventeen years of age, of miraculous beauty, and most thrilling voice. It is needless to say she dresses admirably, as in fact we have said all we can say when we called her, most truthfully, perfection. Mr. John Boots took the part of Parthenia very creditably, etc., etc.

  _From the Vallecetos Sentinel, June 31st_

  MISS PELICAN.--As this lady is about to leave us to commence an engagement on the San Francisco stage, we should regret exceedingly if anything we have said about her should send with her a _prestige_ which might be found undeserved on trial. The fact is, Miss Pelican is a very ordinary actress; indeed, one of the most indifferent ones we have ever happened to see. She came here from the Museum at Fort Laramie, and we praised her so injudiciously that she became completely spoiled. She has performed a round of characters during the last week, very miserably, though we are bound to confess that her performance of King Lear last evening was superior to anything of the kind we ever saw. Miss Pelican is about forty-three years of age, singularly plain in her personal appearance, awkward and embarrassed, with a cracked and squeaking voice, and really dresses quite outrageously. _She has much to learn--poor thing!_

  I take it the above notices are rather ingenious. The fact is, I'm nojudge of acting, and don't know how Miss Pelican will turn out. If well,why there's my notice of June the 1st; if ill, then June 31st comes inplay, and, as there is but one copy of the Sentinel printed, it's aneasy matter to destroy the incorrect one; _both can't be wrong_; so I'vemade a sure thing of it in any event. Here follows my musical critique,which I flatter myself is of rather superior order:

  THE PLAINS. ODE SYMPHONIE PAR JABEZ TARBOX.--This glorious compositionwas produced at the San Diego Odeon on the 31st of June, ult., for thefirst time in this or any other country, by a very full orchestra (theperformance taking place immediately after supper), and a choruscomposed of the entire "Sauer Kraut-Verein," the "Wee GatesAssociation," and choice selections from the "Gyascutus" and"Pike-harmonic" societies. The solos were rendered by Herr Tuden Links,the recitations by Herr Von Hyden Schnapps, both performers beingassisted by Messrs. John Smith and Joseph Brown, who held their coats,fanned them, and furnished water during the more overpowering passages.

  "The Plains" we consider the greatest musical achievement that has beenpresented to an enraptured public. Like Waterloo among battles; Napoleonamong warriors; Niagara among falls, and Peck among senators, thismagnificent composition stands among Oratorios, Operas, MusicalMelodramas and performances of Ethiopian Serenaders, peerless andunrivaled. _Il frappe toute chose parfaitement froid._

  "It does not depend for its success" upon its plot, its theme, itsschool or its master, for it has very little if any of them, but uponits soul-subduing, all-absorbing, high-faluting effect upon theaudience, every member of which it causes to experience the mostsingular and exquisite sensations. Its strains at times remind us ofthose of the old master of the steamer McKim, who never went to seawithout being unpleasantly affected;--a straining after effect he usedto term it. Blair in his lecture on beauty, and Mills in his treatise onlogic, (p. 31,) have alluded to the feeling which might be produced inthe human mind by something of this transcendentally sublimedescription, but it has remained for M. Tarbox, in the production of"The Plains," to call this feeling forth.

  The symphonie opens upon the wide and boundless plains in longitude 115degrees W., latitude 35 degrees 21 minutes 03 seconds N., and aboutsixty miles from the west bank of Pitt River. These data are beautifullyand clearly expressed by a long (topographically) drawn note from an Eflat clarionet. The sandy nature of the soil, sparsely dotted withbunches of cactus and artemisia, the extended view, flat and unbroken tothe horizon, save by the risin
g smoke in the extreme verge, denoting thevicinity of a Pi Utah village, are represented by the bass drum. A fewnotes on the piccolo call attention to a solitary antelope picking upmescal beans in the foreground. The sun, having an altitude of 36degrees 27 minutes, blazes down upon the scene in indescribable majesty."Gradually the sounds roll forth in a song" of rejoicing to the God ofDay:

  "Of thy intensity And great immensity Now then we sing; Beholding in gratitude Thee in this latitude, Curious thing."

  Which swells out into "Hey Jim along, Jim along Josey," then_decrescendo_, _mas o menos_, _poco pocita_, dies away and dries up.

  Suddenly we hear approaching a train from Pike County, consisting ofseven families, with forty-six wagons, each drawn by thirteen oxen; eachfamily consists of a man in butternut-colored clothing driving the oxen;a wife in butternut-colored clothing riding in the wagon, holding abutternut baby, and seventeen butternut children running promiscuouslyabout the establishment; all are barefooted, dusty, and smellunpleasantly. (All these circumstances are expressed by pretty rapidfiddling for some minutes, winding up with a puff from the orpheclideplayed by an intoxicated Teuton with an atrocious breath--it isimpossible to misunderstand the description.) Now rises o'er the plains,in mellifluous accents, the grand Pike County Chorus:

  "Oh we'll soon be thar In the land of gold, Through the forest old, O'er the mounting cold, With spirits bold-- Oh, we come, we come, And we'll soon be thar. Gee up Bolly! whoo, up, whoo haw!"