I The Height of the Ridiculous. WROTE some lines once on a time In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say They were so queer, so very queer, A sober man am I. I called my servant, and he came; To mind a slender man like me, "These to the printer," I exclaimed, And, in my humorous way, I added (as a trifling jest), He took the paper, and I watched, And saw him peep within; At the first line he read, his face He read the next; the grin grew broad, He read the third; a chuckling noise The fourth; he broke into a roar; The fifth; his waistband split; Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, -Oliver Wendell Ho'mes. Saved by His Wit. (A sailor, having been sentenced to the cat-o'-nine tails, when tied for punishment, spoke the following lines to his commander, who had an aversion to a cat.) "O elderly man, it's little I know "At once a cook and a captain bold, Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which And having got rid of a thumping quid He spun this painful yarn:— "'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell That we sailed to the Indian Sea, And there on a a reef we came to grief, Which has often occurred to me. "And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul); And only ten of the Nancy's men Said Here' to the muster-roll. [bold, "There was me, and the cook, and the captain "For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, So we drawed a lot, and accordin', shot "The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, "And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, "Then only the cook and me was left, ་་ "So he boils the water, and takes the salt And the pepper in portions true (Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot, And some sage and parsley too. "Come here,' says he, with a proper pride. Which his smiling features tell; "'T will soothing be if I let you see How extremely nice you'll smell.' "And he stirred it round, and round, and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth; When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth. "And I eat that cook in a week or less, And as I eating be The last of his chops, why I almost drops, For a vessel in sight I see. * "And I never larf, and I never smile, "O, I am a cook and a captain bold UNTO NTO a little negro, A-swimming in the Nile, Appeared quite unexpectedly, A hungry crocodile. Who, with that chill politeness That makes the warm blood freeze, Remarked: 'I'll take some dark meat ་་ Without dressing, if you please." Gluggity Glug. [From "The Myrtle and the Vine."] A JOLLY fat friar loved liquor good store, And he had drunk stoutly at supper; He mounted his horse in the night at the door, And sat with his face to the crupper: "Some rogue," quoth the friar, "quite dead to remorse, Some thief, whom a halter will throttle, Some scoundrel has cut off the head of my horse, While I was engaged at the bottle, Which went gluggity, gluggity—glugglug-glug." The tail of the steed pointed south on the dale, 'T was the friar's road home, straight and level; But when spurred, a horse follows his nose, not his tai', So he scampered due north, like a devil: "This new mode of docking," the friar then said, WE The Vagabonds. E are two travelers, Roger and I. Roger s my dog;-come here, you scamp! Jump for the gentleman,-mind your eye! Over the table,-look out for the lamp,The rogue is growing a little old : Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow ! (This out door business is bad for strings,) Then a few nice buckwheats, hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings! I'd sell out heaven for something warm To prop a horrible inward sinking. Is there a way to forget to think? At your age, sir, home, fortune and friends, A dear girl's love,-but I took to drink,— The same old story; you know how it ends. If you could have seen these classic features,-You needn't laugh sir; they were not then Such a burning libel on God's creatures: I was one of your handsome men ! If you had seen her, so fair and young, When the wine went round, you wouldn't have guessed That ever I, sir, should be straying From door to door, with fiddle and dog, Ragged and penniless, and playing To you to-night for a glass of grog! She's married since, -a parson's wife: 'Twas better for her that we should part,Better the soberest, prosiest life Than a blasted home and a broken heart. |