The Wit and Humor of America Volume III Part 2

THE PUPPY

Of all the animals I've met The Puppy is the worst one yet.

Clumsy and crude, he hasn't brains Enough to come in when it rains.

But with insufferable conceit He thinks that he is just too sweet.

THE KID

Kids are the funniest things I know; Nothing they do but eat and grow.

They're frolicsome, and it is said They eat tin cans and are not dead.

I'm not astonished at that feat, For all things else I've seen them eat.

A BALLADE OF THE "HOW TO" BOOKS

BY JOHN JAMES DAVIES

That time when Learning's path was steep, And rocks and fissures marred the way, The few who dared were forced to creep, Their souls oft quaking with dismay; The goal achieved, their hairs were gray, Their bodies bent like shepherds' crooks; How blest are we who run to-day The easy road of "How To" books!

The presses groan, and volumes heap, Our dullness we no more betray; To know the stars, or shear a sheep-- To live on air, or polo play; The trick is ours, or we may stray Beneath the seas, with science cooks, And sprint by some reflected ray The easy road of "How To" books!

Who craves the boon of dreamless sleep?

Who bricks would make, _sans_ straw or clay?

"Call spirits from the vasty deep,"

Or weave a lofty, living lay?

Let him be heartened, jocund, gay, Nor hopeless writhe on tenter-hooks,-- They meet no barriers who essay The easy road of "How To" books!

ENVOY

The critics still _will_ slash and slay Poor hapless scribes, in sanctum nooks; Lo! here's a refuge for their prey-- The easy road of "How To" books!

THE TREE-TOAD

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

"'Scurious-like," said the tree-toad, "I've twittered fer rain all day; And I got up soon, And I hollered till noon-- But the sun, hit blazed away, Till I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole, Weary at heart, and sick at soul!

"Dozed away fer an hour, And I tackled the thing agin; And I sung, and sung, Till I knowed my lung Was jest about give in; And then, thinks I, ef hit don't rain now, There're nothin' in singin', anyhow!

"Once in awhile some farmer Would come a-drivin' past; And he'd hear my cry, And stop and sigh-- Till I jest laid back, at last, And I hollered rain till I thought my th'oat Would bust right open at ever' note!

"But I _fetched_ her! O _I fetched_ her!-- 'Cause a little while ago, As I kindo' set, With one eye shet, And a-singin' soft and low, A voice drapped down on my fevered brain, Sayin',--'Ef you'll jest hush I'll rain!'"

THE HIRED HAND AND "HA'NTS"

BY E.O. LAUGHLIN

The Hired Hand was Johnnie's oracle. His auguries were infallible; from his decisions there was no appeal. The wisdom of experienced age was his, and he always stood willing to impart it to the youngest. No question was too trivial for him to consider, and none too abstruse for him to answer. He did not tell Johnnie to "never mind" or wait until he grew older, but was ever willing to pause in his work to explain things.

And his oracular qualifications were genuine. He had traveled--had even been as far as the State Fair; he had read--from _Robinson Crusoe_ to _d.i.c.k the Dead Shot_, and, more than all, he had meditated deeply.

The Hired Hand's name was Eph. Perhaps he had another name, too, but if so it had become obsolete. Far and wide he was known simply as Eph.

Eph was generally termed "a cur'ous feller," and this characterization applied equally well to his peculiar appearance and his inquiring disposition. In his confirmation nature had evidently sacrificed her love of beauty to a temporary pa.s.sion for elongation. Length seemed to have been the central thought, the theme, as it were, upon which he had been composed. This effect was heightened by generously broad hands and feet and a contrastingly abbreviated chin. The latter feature caused his countenance to wear in repose a decidedly vacant look, but it was seldom caught reposing, usually having to bear a smirk of some sort.

Eph's position in the Winkle household was as peculiar as his personality. Nominally he was a hired servant, but, in fact, from his own point of view at least, he was Mr. Winkle's private secretary and confidential adviser. He had been on the place "ever sence old Fan was a yearlin'," which was a long while, indeed; and had come to regard himself as indispensable. The Winkles treated him as one of the family, and he reciprocated in truly familiar ways. He sat at the table with them, helped entertain their guests, and often accompanied them to church. In regulating matters on the farm Mr. Winkle proposed, but Eph invariably disposed, in a diplomatic way, of course; and, although his judgment might be based on false logic, the result was generally successful and satisfactory.

With all his good qualities and her attachment to him, however, Mrs.

Winkle was not sure that Eph's moral status was quite sound, and she was inclined to discourage Johnnie's a.s.sociation with him. As a matter of fact she had overheard Johnnie utter several bad words, of which Eph was certainly the prime source. But a mother's solicitude was of little avail when compared with Eph's Delphian wisdom. Johnnie would steal away to join Eph in the field at every chance, and the information he acquired at these secret seances, was varied and valuable.

It was Eph who taught him how to tell the time of day by the sun; how to insert a "dutchman" in the place of a lost suspender b.u.t.ton; how to make bird-traps; and how to "skin the cat." Eph initiated him into the mysteries of magic and witchcraft, and showed him how to locate a subterranean vein of water by means of a twig of witch-hazel. Eph also confided to Johnnie that he himself could stanch the flow of blood or stop a toothache instantly by force of a certain charm, but he could not tell how to do this because the secret could be imparted only from man to woman, or vice versa. Even the shadowy domain of spirits had not been exempt from Eph's investigations, and he related many a terrifying experience with "ha'nts."

Johnnie was first introduced to the ghost world one summer night, when he and Eph had gone fishing together.

"If ye want to ketch the big uns, always go at night in the dark o' the moon," said Eph, and his piscatorial knowledge was absolute.

They had fished in silence for some time, and Johnnie was nodding, when Eph suddenly whispered:

"Let's go home, sonny, I think I see a ha'nt down yander."

Johnnie had no idea what a "ha'nt" might be, but Eph's constrained manner betokened something dreadful.

It was not until they had come within sight of home that Johnnie ventured to inquire:

"Say, Eph, what is a ha'nt?"

"Huh! What is ha'nts? Why, sonny, you mean to tell me you don't know what ha'nts is?"

"Not exactly; sompin' like wildcats, ain't they?"

"Well, I'll be confounded! Wildcats! Not by a long shot;" and Eph broke into the soft chuckle which always preceded his explanations. They reached the orchard fence, and, seating himself squarely on the topmost rail, Eph began impressively:

"Ha'nts is the remains of dead folks--more 'specially them that's been a.s.sinated, er, that is, kilt--understan'? They're kind o' like sperrits, ye know. After so long a time they take to comin' back to yarth an'

ha'ntin' the precise spot where they wuz murdered. They always come after dark, an' the diffrunt shapes they take on is supprisin'. I have seed ha'nts that looked like sheep, an' ha'nts that looked like human persons; but lots of 'em ye cain't see a-tall, bein' invisible, as the sayin' is. Now, fer all we know, they may be a ha'nt settin' right here betwixt us, this minute!"

With this solemn declaration Johnnie shivered and began edging closer to Eph, until restrained and appalled by the thought that he might actually sit on the unseen spirit by such movement.

"But do they hurt people, Eph?" he asked anxiously.