Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

things, & bimeby I axed him how he liked bein' Prince, as fur as he'd got.

"To speak plain, Mister Ward," he sed, "I don't much like it. I'm sick of all this bowin' & scrapin' & crawlin' & hurrain over a boy like me. I would rather go through the country. quietly & enjoy myself in my own way, with the other boys, & not be made a Show of to be gaped at by everybody. When the peple cheer me I feel pleesed, fur I know they meen it; but if these one-horse offishuls cood know how I see threw all their moves & understan' exactly what they air after, & knowd how I larft at 'em in private, thayd stop kissin' my hands & fawnin' over me as thay now do. But you know, Mister Ward, I can't help bein' a Prince, & I must do all I kin to fit myself for the persishun I must sumtime ockepy."

"That's troo," sez I; "sickness & the docters will carry the Queen orf one of these dase, sure's yer born."

The time hevin' arove fur me to take my departer, I rose up & sed: "Albert Edard, I must go, but previs to doin' so, I will obsarve that you soot me. Yure a good feller, Albert Edard, & tho I'm agin Princes as a gineral thing, I must say I like the cut of your Gib. When you git to be King, try & be as good a man as your muther has bin! Be just & be Jenerus, espeshully to showmen, who have allers bin aboosed sins the dase of Noah, who was the fust man to go into the Menagery bizniss, & ef the daily papers of his time air to be beleeved, Noah's colleckshun of livin' wild beests beet ennything ever seen sins, tho I make bold to dowt ef his snaiks was ahead of mine. Albert Edard, adoo!" I tuk his hand, which he shook warmly, & givin' him a perpetooal free pars to my show, & also parses to take hum for the Queen & Old Albert, I put on my hat and walkt away.

"Mrs. Ward," I solilerquized as I walkt along " Mrs. Ward, ef you could see your husband now, just as he prowdly emerjis from the presunts of the futer King of Ingland, you'd be sorry you called him a Beest jest becaws he cum home tired 1 nite & wantid to go to bed without takin' off his boots. You'd be sorry for tryin' to deprive yure husband of the priceless Boon of liberty, Betsy Jane!"

Jest then I met a long perseshun of men with gownds onto 'em. The leader was on horseback, & ridin' up to me, he sed:

"Air you Orange ?"

Sez I, "Which ?"

"Air you a Orangeman?" he repeated, sternly.

"I used to peddle lemins," sed I, "but never delt in oranges. They are apt to spile on yure hands. What particler Loonatic Asylum hev you & yure friends escaped frum, if I may be so bold?" Just then a suddent thawt struck me, & I sed, “Oh, yure the fellers who air worryin' the Prince so, & givin' the Juke of Noocastle cold sweats at nite, by yure infernal catawalins, air you? Wall, take the advice of a Amerykin sitterzen, take off them gownds & don't try to get up a religious fite, which is 40 times wuss nor a prize fite, over Albert Edard, who wants to receive you all on a ekal footin' not keerin' a tinker's cuss what meetin'-house you sleep in Sundays. Go home & mind yure bisness, & not make noosenses of yourselves." With which

observashuns I left 'em.

I shall leave British sile 4thwith.

BRILLIANT DRUNKARDS.

BY C. D. WARNER.

It is a temptation to a temperate man to become a sot, to hear what talent, what versatility, what genius, is almost always attributed to a moderately bright man who is habitually drunk. Such a mechanic, such a mathematician, such a poet he would be if he were only sober; and then he is sure to be the most generous,

A BRILLIANT DRUNKARD.

magnanimous, friendly soul, conscientiously honorable, if he were not so conscientiously drunk. I suppose it is now notorious that the most brilliant and promising men have been lost to the world in this way. It is sometimes almost painful to think what a surplus of talent and genius there would be in the world if the habit of intoxication should suddenly cease; and what a slim chance there would be for the plodding people who have always had tolerable good habits. The fear is only mitigated by the observation that the reputation of a person for great talent sometimes ceases with his reformation.

BIRDOFREDOM SAWIN AS A VOLUNTEER.

BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

[The first series of the "Biglow Papers" appeared during the Mexican War in the Boston Courier. Each paper was introduced by a letter from the Rev. Homer Wilbur, of Jaalam Centre, covering a note and poem from his young parishioner, Hosea Biglow.]

MISTER BUCKINUM, the follerin Billet was writ hum by a Yung feller of our town that wuz cussed fool enuff to goe a-trottin' inter Miss Chiff arter a Drum and fife. It ain't Nater for a feller to let on that he's sick o' any bizness that He went intu off his own free will and a Cord, but I rather cal'late he's middlin' tired o' voluntearin By this I b'leeve u may put dependunts

Time.

on his statemence. For I never heered nothin' bad on him let Alone his havin what Parson Wilbur cals a pongshong for cocktales, and he sees it was a soshiashun of idees sot him a-goin' arter the Crootin Sargient cos he wore a cocktale onto his hat.

his Folks gin the letter to me and i shew it to parson Wilbur and he ses it oughter Bee printed. send It to mister Buckinum, ses he, i don't ollers agree with him, ses he, but by Time,* ses he, I du like a feller that aint a Feared.

I have intuspussed a Few refleckshuns hear and thair. We're kind o' prest with Hayin.

Ewers respecfly

HOSEA BIGLOW.

This kind o' sogerin' aint a mite like our October trainin'

A chap could clear right out from there ef 't only looked liked rainin',
An' th' Cunnles, tu, could kiver up their shappoes with bandanners,

An' send the insines skootin' to the bar-room with their banners

(Fear o' gittin' on 'em spotted), an' a feller could cry quarter

Ef he fired away his ramrod arter tu much rum an' water.
Recollect wut fun we hed, you 'n I an' Ezry Hollis,

Up there to Waltham plain last fall, along o' the Cornwallis? †

In relation to this expression, I cannot but think that Mr. Biglow has been too hasty in attributing it to me. Though Time be a comparatively innocent personage to swear by, and though Longinus in his discourse Пepì "Yors has commended timely oaths as not only a useful but sublime figure of speech, yet I have always kept my lips free from that abomination Odi profanum vulgus, I hate your swearing and hectoring fellows.-H. W.

ti hait the Site of a feller with a muskit as I du pizn But there is fun to a cornwallis I aint agoin' to deny it.-H. B.

This sort o' thing aint jest like thet-I wish thet I wuz furder-
Nimepunce a day for killin' folks comes kind o' low fer murder,
(Wy, I've worked out to slarterin' some fer Deacon Cephas Billas,
An' in the hardest times there wuz I ollers tetched ten shillins),
There's sutthin' gits into my throat thet makes it hard to swaller,
It comes so nateral to think about a hempen collar;

It's glory-but, in spite o' all my tryin' to git callous,

I feel a kind o' in a cart aridin' to the gallus.

But wen it comes to bein' killed-I tell ye I felt streaked

The fust time 't ever I found out wy baggonets wuz peaked ;
Here's how it wuz: I started out to go to a fandango,

The sentinel he ups an' sez, "Thet 's furder an' you can go."

"None o' your sarse,” sez I; sez he, “Stan' back!” “Aint you a buster?"

Sez I, "I'm up to all thet air, I guess I've ben to muster;

I know wy sentinels air sot; you ain't agoin' to eat us;
Caleb hain't no monopoly to court the seenoritas ;
My folks to hum air full ez good as hisn be, by golly!"
An' so ez I wuz goin' by, not thinkin' wut would folly,
The everlastin' cus he stuck his one-pronged pitchfork in me
An' made a hole right thru my close ez ef I wuz an in'my.

Wal, it beats all how big I felt hoorawin' in ole Funnel
Wen Mister Bolles he gin the sword to our Leftenant Cunnle,
(It's Mister Secondary Bolles, † thet writ the prize peace essay;
Thet's why he didn't list himself along o' us, I dessay),

An' Rantoul, tu, talked pooty loud, but don't put his foot in it,
Coz human life's so sacred thet he's principled agin it-
Though I myself can't rightly see it's any wus achokin' on 'em,
Than puttin' bullets thru their lights, or with a bagnet pokin' on 'em ;
How dreffle slick he reeled it off (like Blitz at our lyceum
Ahaulin' ribbins from his chops so quick you skeercely see 'em),
About the Anglo-Saxon race (an' saxons would be handy
To du the buryin' down here upon the Rio Grandy),
About our patriotic pas an' our star-spangled banner,
Our country's bird alookin' on an' singin' out hosanner,
An' how he (Mister B. himself) wuz happy fer Ameriky-
I felt, ez sister Patience sez, a little mite histericky.

I felt, I swon, ez though it wuz a dreffle kind o' privilege
Atrampin' round thru Boston streets among the gutter's drivelage;
I act'lly thought it wuz a treat to hear a little drummin',

An' it did bonyfidy seem millanyum wuz acomin'

*he means Not quite so fur I guess.-H. B.

the ignerant creeter means Sekketary; but he ollers stuck to his books like cobbler's wax to an ile-stone.-H. B.

« ZurückWeiter »