The Art of Amusing Part 4

Both these individuals, however, refused to give the solution until the next meeting of the a.s.sembled company. Others were more obliging, but as their riddles were mostly old friends, somebody knew the answers and revealed them. It is a mistake to suppose that a good thing ought not to be repeated more than once. There are certain funny things that we remember for the last twenty years, and yet we never recall them without enjoying a hearty laugh. We have read Holmes's _Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table_ once every six months, ever since it was published, and enjoy it better each time. We have been working away at the _Sparrowgra.s.s Papers_ for years, and yet we raise just as good a crop of laughter from them as ever. These books resemble some of our rich Western lands: they are inexhaustible. So when one of the company asked, "When does a sculptor die of a fit?" we waited quietly for the answer, "When he makes faces and busts," and laughed as heartily as though it were quite new, although we had been intimate with the old con ever since it was made, some fifteen years ago. We even enjoyed the time-honored riddle: "What was Joan of Arc made of?" "Why, she was Maid of Orleans, of course." But then this was put by a seraph with amber eyes, and a very bewildering way of using them. The success attending this effort seemed to stimulate the gentleman in gold spectacles, who rushed into the arena with the inquiry: "What was Eve made for?" Most of us knew the answer well enough, but we waited politely to let him deliver it himself. Our surprise may be readily conceived when he informed us, with evident glee, that "she was made for Harnden's Express Company." Some looked blank, and others t.i.ttered, whilst Nix explained to the ladies the true solution. It was for Adam's Express Company that Eve was made. After this followed in quick succession a shower of riddles, some of them so abominably bad, that an old gentleman, who did not seem to take kindly to that sort of amus.e.m.e.nt, gave the finishing-stroke to the entertainment by the annexed:

Question. "Why is an apple-tart like a slipper?"

Answer. "Because you can put your foot in it--if you like."

After that we all went home.

CHAPTER VI.

A friend of ours, Dudley Wegger, who recently gave an extemporaneous entertainment, amongst other things, devised a new kind of play, of such exceedingly simple construction that we have judged it expedient to put it on record. It must be observed that it is his _method_ especially which we applaud and recommend, and further be it observed, that we applaud and recommend it on account of no other excellence save that of simplicity.

Mr. Wegger possessed the power of imitating one or two popular actors.

He had read our instructions on _make-up_--viz.: curled hair, turn-up nose, high shoulders, etc., and from these slender materials he made the body of his play. As soon as we arrived, he seized upon ourself, dragged us into a back room, put a hideous mask on our face (which smelt painfully of glue and brown paper, by the way), and then commanded us to don sundry articles of female attire--to wit, a hat and gown. To our earnest appeals as to what we were to do, he only replied:

"Oh, nothing; just come on the stage, kick about, and answer my questions. You hold the stage and talk to the audience, whilst I go off and change my dress."

This we pledged ourself to do, and were nearly suffocated in the mask as a consequence.

When the curtain rose, Wegger marched on the stage attired in blue coat, bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, striped pantaloons, yellow vest, and stylish hat stuck on one side. In his hand he held a small walking-cane, with which he frequently slapped his leg. This was the walking-gentleman part.

"Egad! here I am at last, after the fastest run across country on record. Slipped the Billies, took flying hollow at a leap, gave my admirable aunt the go-by, extracted the governor's lynch-pin, sent them all sprawling in the ditch, just in time to be picked up by old Hodge, the carrier, jogging along with his blind mare and rumbling old shandrydan. Gad, Mortimer, you are a sad rogue! I must turn over a new leaf, ecod! become steady, forget kissing and claret, go to church, read the _Times_, and in fact, become a respectable member of society. Ah, ha, ha! What has brought me here? Gad, I deserve success. Heard from my valet last night that certain lady just come into immense fortune; lovely as she is wealthy, Venus and an heiress; total stranger, no means of procuring introduction; hired coach and four, gave post-boy guinea, told drive like devil, and here I am in a strange country, a strange house, and amongst strange people, to kill or conquer, _veni, vidi, vici_! Ha! ha! ha! first in the field--fair start and a free run; back myself at long odds to be in at the death. But gad! here she comes, the country Hebe, the pastoral Venus, the naiad of turnip-tops and mangel-wurzel.

Enter _Heiress_ (ourself).

Gad! she is a devilish fine-looking woman. I must approach her (_advances_). Have I the honor to address the Lady Cicily de Rhino?"

_Lady Cicily de Rhino._ "You get eout!"

_Mortimer_ (aside). "Charming! Gad! I am over head and ears in love already. Oh, bright divinity, why hide those radiant charms in sylvan shades, when charms of fashion and bon-ton beckon you away! With me your life shall be one live-long summer's day, and you and I two b.u.t.terflies sipping sweet nectar from the ruby rims of endless br.i.m.m.i.n.g goblets.

Say you'll be mine! A chaise awaits us, and on the wings of love we'll fly away! Say, charmer, say the word, and I am your slave for life."

_Lady Cicily de Rhino._ "Wal, slavery's bin abolished even in New Jersey--guess you forgot that. However, I don't keer if I do; jist hold on till I git my things."

[Exit.

_Mortimer._ "Gad! I took the citadel by storm--but some one approaches; I must withdraw for a moment."

[Withdraws.

Re-enter _Lady C._, with bundle and umbrella.

_Lady C._ "Wal, if the young man arn't gone; now that's mean."

Enter _Reginald Spooneigh_ (Wegger, in a new dress).

_Reginald._ "Kynde fortune has thrown me in the angel's path. The belue skuye already smyles more beounteously on my poor fate. Fayer laydee, turn not away those gentle eyes, that e'en the turtle-dove might sigh, and dying, envy, envying, die of envy."

_Lady C._ "Oh, git eout!"

_Reginald._ "Say not so, fair laydee. A wanderer on this cruel earth, a lover of the sweet songs of birds, the murmuring of streams, the gay garb of nature, from mighty mountain-tops to rustling glens. I bring an aching spirit seeking sympathy to thee."

_Lady C._ "Dew tell!"

_Reginald._ "A sympathetic heart within your bosom burns; say, let it beat in unison with mine?"

_Lady C._ "Well, I don't keer if I do; only hurry up, there's some one coming."

_Reginald._ "Coming? sayest though; then will I retire for a brief s.p.a.ce."

[Retires.

_Lady C._ "He seems a pretty nice kind or young man, tho' he ain't got so much style into him as tother feller. Wal, them folks didn't come this way arter all, so he'd no call to be so scart," etc., etc.

Enter _General Hab-grabemall_ (Wegger again).

_General._ "Thunder and Mars! I thought I should never have got here.

Road as dusty as a canteen of ashes; coach as slow as a commissary mule.

Had half a mind to bivouac on the roadside--make a fire of the axletrees, and roast the postilion for dinner. But sh.e.l.ls and rockets! I must beat up the quarters of this fair one, or some jackanapes civilian will be stealing a march upon me (sees _Lady C._). Gad! there she is! I must make a charge on her left wing. Hey! my little beauty, here's a battered old soldier, wounded everywhere except in his heart, crying surrender at your first fire. He yields himself prisoner-of-war, and gives up his untarnished sword to you and you alone."

_Lady C._ "Wal, I ain't no use for swords, and there are summeny solgers straggling round now with old weppins--"

_General._ "I have fought for my king and country through many a burning summer noon, and many an Arctic winter night, and now I would plant my laurels in the sunshine of your eyes, that they may bring forth bright blossoms."

_Lady C._ "Wal, if them's the case, they makes a difference."

_General_ (aside). "Now for a bold charge! (aloud). Share, oh fairest of your s.e.x, my niche in the Temple of Fame, my hand and heart as true as steel. Say, will you accept a rough old soldier's hand and a Major-General's c.o.c.ked hat."

_Lady C._ "Wal, I don't mind if I dew, only don't you fool me as them other fellers did."

_General._ "What, blood and ouns! have any fellers dared to fool the fairest of her s.e.x. I will demand satisfaction; where are they?"

[Exit.

_Lady C._ "I want to know! Ef the Genrl ain't gone off to whip them two fellers! O my! won't there be a muss, jest. But Lor! he'd no call to be so mad about it. I didn't keer.

(_Sings_)--"When the moon is on the mountain, My heart it is with you, And stirring thoughts come stirring up The extra oyster stew."

Enter _Adolphus Tinkletop_ (Wegger again).

_Adolphus._ "Well I declare, if here ain't a feminine young woman of the female persuasion a-singing a song. Go on, most charming of your s.e.x, and I'll jine in the chorus. But hold! pause--be calm, Tinkletop: this must be she, the lovely heiress I have come in search of. The young and lovely female heiress, who has just dropt into a very large fortune in silver and gold, sing tooral lol, looral, lol looral le day. Tinkletop, my boy, you are a lucky fellow. I think I may venture to remark, without any immediate dread of contradiction, that I am an exceedingly fortunate individual. I must put on my most insinuating manner without further procrastination, which is the thief of time. Ah! ahem! how shall I begin? Ahem! how de do, my dear? How's the folks?"

_Lady C._ "Purty well; how's yourself?"

_Adolphus._ "Oh! I'm exceedingly well; remarkably well; excessively well. I've quite got over that pain in my chest."