The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VIII (of X), Marshall P. Wilder [the best e book reader .txt] 📗
- Author: Marshall P. Wilder
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Cut out the kraut, cut out Rhine wine,
Cut out the Schützenfest,
The Sängerbund, the Turnverein,
The Kommers, and the rest.
And if some fool society
"Die Wacht am Rhein" should sing,
You sing "My Country 'tis of Thee"—
The tune's "God Save the King."
To our own kindred in that land
There's not much you need tell.
Just tell them that you saw me, and
That I was looking well.
[Pg 1570] JOHNNY'S LESSONS[9] BY CARROLL WATSON RANKIN
'Tis very, very late; poor mamma and Cousin Kate,
Papa and Aunty Jane, all know it to their sorrow.
Struggling with the mystery of Latin, Greek, and history,
They're learning Johnny's lessons for the morrow.
His relatives are bright; still, it takes them half the night
With only four of them—ofttimes a friend they borrow—
To grapple with hard sums, and to fill young John with crumbs
Of wisdom 'gainst the coming of the morrow.
They bitterly complain; still, with only one small brain,
The boy needs all his kin can give him, for oh!
These lessons, if they slight 'em, how can poor John recite 'em
To a dozen wiser teachers on the morrow.
[Pg 1571]
"My grandfather Squeers," said the Raggedy Man,
As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began—
"The most indestructible man, for his years,
And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers!
"He said, when he rounded his three-score-and-ten,
'I've the hang of it now and can do it again!'
"He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he
Could tell by them just what the weather would be;
"And would laugh and declare, 'while the Almanac would
Most falsely prognosticate, he never could!'
"Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers
That, though he'd used 'navy' for sixty odd years,
"He still chewed a dime's-worth six days of the week,
While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek:
"Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack
Of sitting around on the small of his back,
"With his legs like a letter Y stretched o'er the grate
[Pg 1572]Wherein 'twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate.
"He was fond of tobacco in manifold ways,
And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days,
"And smoke leaf-tobacco he'd raised strictly for
The pipe he'd used all through The Mexican War."
And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl
Of his own pipe and leisurely picking a coal
From the stove with his finger and thumb, "You can see
What a tee-nacious habit he's fastened on me!
"And my grandfather Squeers took a special delight
In pruning his corns every Saturday night
"With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused
By saying 'twas one that his grandfather used;
"And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same
Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm's name,
"'Twas my grandfather's custom to boast of the blade
As 'A Seth Thomas razor—the best ever made!'
"No Old Settlers' Meeting, or Pioneers' Fair,
Was complete without grandfather Squeers in the chair,
"To lead off the programme by telling folks how
'He used to shoot deer where the Court-House stands now'—
"How 'he felt, of a truth, to live over the past,
When the country was wild and unbroken and vast,
"'That the little log cabin was just plenty fine
[Pg 1573]For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine!—
"'When they didn't have even a pump, or a tin,
But drunk surface-water, year out and year in,
"'From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, by odds,
Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods!'"
Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say
It was clockin' along to'rds the close of the day—
And he'd ought to get back to his work on the lawn,—
Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on:
"His teeth were imperfect—my grandfather owned
That he couldn't eat oysters unless they were 'boned';
"And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of sight,
He couldn't sleep with them unless, every night,
"He put on his spectacles—all he possessed,—
Three pairs—with his goggles on top of the rest.
"And my grandfather always, retiring at night,
Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light;
"Then he'd curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed,
And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said:
"And would snore oftentimes, as the legends relate,
Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state,—
"Then he'd snort, and rear up, and roll over; and there
In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air.
"And so glaringly bald was the top of his head
[Pg 1574]That many's the time he has musingly said,
"As his eyes journeyed o'er its reflex in the glass,—
'I must set out a few signs of Keep Off the Grass!'
"So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers
That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears
"To even hear thunder—and oftentimes then
He was forced to request it to thunder again."
[Pg 1575]
The Idiot was very late at breakfast, so extremely late in fact that some apprehension was expressed by his fellow boarders as to the state of his health.
"I hope he isn't ill," said Mr. Whitechoker. "He is usually so prompt at his meals that I fear something is the matter with him."
"He's all right," said the Doctor, whose room adjoins that of the Idiot in Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog's Select Home for Gentlemen. "He'll be down in a minute. He's suffering from an overdose of vacation—rested too hard."
Just then the subject of the conversation appeared in the doorway, pale and haggard, but with an eye that boded ill for the larder.
"Quick!" he cried, as he entered. "Lead me to a square meal. Mary, please give me four bowls of mush, ten medium soft-boiled eggs, a barrel of sautée potatoes and eighteen dollars' worth of corned beef hash. I'll have two pots of coffee, Mrs. Pedagog, please, four pounds of sugar and a can of condensed milk. If there is any extra charge you may put it on the bill, and some day when Hot Air Common goes up thirty or forty points I'll pay."
"What's the matter with you, Mr. Idiot?" asked Mr. Brief. "Been fasting for a week?"
"No," replied the Idiot. "I've just taken my first week's vacation, and between you and me I've come back to business so as to get rested up for the second."[Pg 1576]
"Doesn't look as though vacation agreed with you," said the Bibliomaniac.
"It doesn't," said the Idiot. "Hereafter I am an advocate of the Russell Sage system. Never take a day off if you can help it. There's nothing so restful as paying attention to business, and no greater promoter of weariness of spirit and vexation of your digestion than the modern style of vacating. No more for mine, if you please."
"Humph!" sneered the Bibliomaniac. "I suppose you went to Coney Island to get rested up Bumping the Bump and Looping the Loop and doing a lot of other crazy things."
"Not I," quoth the Idiot. "I didn't have sense enough to go to some quiet place like Coney Island, where you can get seven square meals a day, and then climb into a Ferris Wheel and be twirled around in the air until they have been properly shaken down. I took one of the 400 Vacations. Know what that is?"
"No," said Mr. Brief. "I didn't know there were 400 Vacations with only 365 days in the year. What do you mean?"
"I mean the kind of Vacation the people in the 400 take," explained the Idiot. "I've been to a house-party up in Newport with some friends of mine who're in the swim, and I tell you it's hard swimming. You'll never hear me talking about a leisure class in this country again. Those people don't know what leisure is. I don't wonder they're always such a tired-looking lot."
"I was not aware that you were in with the smart set," said the Bibliomaniac.
"Oh yes," said the Idiot. "I'm in with several of 'em—way in. So far in that I'm sometimes afraid I'll never get out. We're carrying a whole lot of wild-cats on margin[Pg 1577] for Billie Van Gelder, the cotillion leader; Tommy de Cahoots, the famous yachtsman, owes us about $8,000 more than he can spare from his living expenses on one of his plunges into Copper, and altogether we are pretty long on swells in our office."
"And do you mean to say those people invite you out?" asked the Bibliomaniac.
"All the time," said the Idiot. "Just as soon as one of our swell customers finds he can't pay his margins he comes down to the office and gets very chummy with all of us. The deeper he is in it the more affable he becomes. The result is there are house-parties and yacht cruises and all that sort of thing galore on tap for us every summer."
"And you accept them, eh?" said the Bibliomaniac scornfully.
"As a matter of business, of course," replied the Idiot. "We've got to get something out of it. If one of our customers can't pay cash, why we get what we can. In this particular case Mr. Reginald Squandercash had me down at Newport for five full days, and I know now why he can't pay up his little shortage of $800. He's got the money, but he needs it for other things, and now that I know it I shall recommend the firm to give him an extension of thirty days. By that time he will have collected from the De Boodles, whom he is launching in society—C. O. D.—and will be able to square matters with us."
"Your conversation is Greek to me," said the Bibliomaniac. "Who are the De Boodles, and for what do they owe your friend Reginald Squandercash money?"
"The De Boodles," explained the Idiot, "are what is known as Climbers, and Reginald Squandercash is a Booster."
"A what?" cried the Bibliomaniac.[Pg 1578]
"A Booster," said the Idiot. "There are several Boosters in the 400. For a consideration they will boost wealthy Climbers into Society. The Climbers are people like the De Boodles, who have suddenly come into great wealth, and who wish to be in it with others of great wealth who are also of high social position. They don't know how to do the trick, so they seek out some Booster like Reggie, strike a bargain with him, and he steers 'em up against the 'Among Those Present' Game until finally you find the De Boodles have a social cinch."
"Do you mean to say that Society tolerates such a business as that?" demanded the Bibliomaniac.
"Tolerates?" laughed the Idiot. "What a word to use!
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