Chapter 15

A YOUNG fellow in a coffee house venting a parcel of common place abuse on the clergy, in the presence of Mr. Sterne, and evidently leveled at him, Laurence introduced a panegyric on his dog, which he observed had no fault but one, namely, that whenever he saw a parson he fell a barking at him. "And how long," said the youth, "has he had this trick?" "Ever since he was a _puppy_."

A GOOD TURN.

"I UNDERSTAND, Jones, that you can turn anything neater than any other man in town."

"Yes, Mr. Smith, I said so."

"Well, Mr. Jones, I don't like to brag, but there is no man on earth that can turn a thing as well as I can whittle it, Mr. Jones. Jest name the article that I can't whittle, that you can turn, and I'll give you a dollar if I don't do it to the satisfaction of those gentlemen present."

"Well, Mr. Smith, suppose we take two grindstones, just for a trial, you may whittle and I'll turn."

A DISTINCTION.

SHUTER, one day meeting a friend with his coat patched at the elbow, observed, he should be ashamed of it. "How so?" said the other, "it is not the first time I have seen you _out at the elbows_." "Very true," replied Ned, "I should think nothing of exhibiting twenty holes; a hole is the _accident of the day_; but a patch is _premeditated poverty_."

CONSOLATION.

IN a party of young fellows, the conversation turned on their learning and education, and one of the company having delivered his thoughts on the subject very respectably, his neighbor, neither extremely wise nor witty, said, "Well, Jack, you are certainly not the greatest fool living." "No," answered he, "nor shall I be while you live."

RESULT OF KISSING THE BUTCHER.

"MY DEAR," said an affectionate wife, "what shall we have for dinner to-day?"

"One of your smiles," replied the husband. "I can dine on that every day."

"But I can't," replied the wife.

"Then take this," and he gave her a kiss and went to his business.

He returned to dinner.

"This is excellent steak," said he, "what did you pay for it?"

"Why, what you gave me this morning, to be sure," replied the wife.

"You did!" exclaimed he; "then you shall have the money next time you go to market."

NOT YOU BUT I.

A TRADESMAN pressing one of his customers for payment of a bill, the latter said, "You need not be in such a hurry; I am not going to run away." "But," says the creditor, "_I am._"

MY BROTHER'S HUNTING-LODGE.

FROM SIR JONAH BARRINGTON'S SKETCHES.

I MET with a ludicrous instance of the dissipation of even latter days, a few months after my marriage. Lady B---- and myself took a tour through some of the southern parts of Ireland, and among other places visited Castle Durrow, near which place my brother, Henry French Barrington, had built a hunting-cottage, wherein he happened to have given a house-warming the previous day.

The company, as might be expected at such a place and on such an occasion, was not the most select; in fact, they were "_hard-going_" sportsmen.

Among the rest, Mr. Joseph Kelly, of unfortunate fate, brother to Mr. Michael Kelly (who by-the-by does not say a word about him in his Reminiscences), had been invited, to add to the merriment by his pleasantry and voice, and had come down from Dublin for the purpose.

Of this convivial assemblage at my brother's, he was, I suppose, the very life and soul. The dining-room had not been finished when the day of the dinner-party arrived, and the lower parts of the walls having only that morning received their last coat of plaster, were, of course, totally wet.

We had intended to surprise my brother; but had not calculated on the scene I was to witness. On driving to the cottage-door I found it open, while a dozen dogs, of different descriptions, showed ready to receive us not in the most polite manner. My servant's whip, however, soon sent them about their business, and I ventured into the parlor to see what cheer. It was about ten in the morning: the room was strewed with empty bottles--some broken--some interspersed with glasses, plates, dishes, knives, spoons, &c., all in glorious confusion. Here and there were heaps of bones, relics of the former day's entertainment, which the dogs, seizing their opportunity, had picked. Three or four of the Bacchanalians lay fast asleep upon chairs--one or two others on the floor, among whom a piper lay on his back, apparently dead, with a table-cloth spread over him, and surrounded by four or five candles, burnt to the sockets; his chanter and bags were laid scientifically across his body, his mouth was wide open, and his nose made ample amends for the silence of his drone. Joe Kelly and a Mr. Peter Alley were fast asleep in their chairs, close to the wall.

Had I never viewed such a scene before, it would have almost terrified me; but it was nothing more than the ordinary custom which we called _waking the piper_, when he had got too drunk to make any more music.

I went out, and sent away my carriage and its inmate to Castle Durrow, whence we had come, and afterward proceeded to seek my brother. No servant was to be seen, man or woman. I went to the stables, wherein I found three or four more of the goodly company, who had just been able to reach their horses, but were seized by Morpheus before they could mount them, and so lay in the mangers awaiting a more favourable opportunity. Returning hence to the cottage, I found my brother, also asleep, on the only bed which it then afforded: he had no occasion to put on his clothes, since he had never taken them off.

I next waked Dan Tyron, a wood-ranger of Lord Ashbrook, who had acted as maitre d'hôtel in making the arrangements, and providing a horse-load of game to fill up the banquet. I then inspected the parlor, and insisted on breakfast. Dan Tyron set to work: an old woman was called in from an adjoining cabin, the windows were opened, the room cleared, the floor swept, the relics removed, and the fire lighted in the kitchen. The piper was taken away senseless, but my brother would not suffer either Joe or Alley to be disturbed till breakfast was ready. No time was lost; and, after a very brief interval, we had before us abundance of fine eggs, and milk fresh from the cow, with brandy, sugar, and nutmeg, in plenty; a large loaf, fresh butter, a cold round of beef, which had not been produced on the previous day, red herrings, and a bowl dish of potatoes roasted on the turf ashes; in addition to which, ale, whiskey, and port, made up the refreshments. All being duly in order, we at length awakened Joe Kelly, and Peter Alley, his neighbor: they had slept soundly, though with no other pillow than the wall; and my brother announced breakfast with a _view holloa_!

The twain immediately started, and roared in unison with their host most tremendously! It was, however, in a very different tone from the _view holloa_, and perpetuated much longer.

"Come, boys," says French, giving Joe a pull, "come!"

"Oh, murder!" says Joe, "I can't!"--"Murder!--murder!" echoed Peter. French pulled them again, upon which they roared the more, still retaining their places. I have in my lifetime laughed till I nearly became spasmodic; but never were my risible muscles put to greater tension than upon this occasion. The wall, as I said before, had only that day received a coat of mortar, and of course was quite soft and yielding, when Joe and Peter thought proper to make it their pillow; it was, nevertheless, setting fast, from the heat and lights of an eighteen hours' carousal; and, in the morning, when my brother awakened his guests, the mortar had completely set and their hair being the thing most calculated to amalgamate therewith, the entire of Joe's stock, together with his _queue_, and half his head, was thoroughly and irrecoverably bedded in the greedy and now marble cement, so that, if determined to move, he must have taken the wall along with him, for separate it would not. One side of Peter's head was in the same state of imprisonment. Nobody was able to assist them, and there they both stuck fast.

A consultation was now held on this pitiful case, which I maliciously endeavored to prolong as much as I could, and which was, in fact, every now and then interrupted by a roar from Peter or Joe, as they made fresh efforts to rise. At length, it was proposed by Dan Tyron to send for the stone cutter, and get him to cut them out of the wall with a chisel. I was literally unable to speak two sentences for laughing. The old woman meanwhile tried to soften the obdurate wall with melted butter and new milk--but in vain. I related the school story how Hannibal had worked through the Alps with hot vinegar and hot irons: this experiment likewise was made, but Hannibal's solvent had no better success than the old crone's.

Peter Alley, being of a more passionate nature, grew ultimately quite outrageous: he roared, gnashed his teeth, and swore vengeance against the mason; but as he was only held by one side, a thought at last struck him: he asked for two knives, which being brought, he whetted one against the other, and introducing the blades close to his skull, sawed away at cross corners till he was liberated, with the loss only of half his hair and a piece of his scalp, which he had sliced off in zeal and haste for his liberty. I never saw a fellow so extravagantly happy! Fur was scraped from the crown of a hat, to stop the bleeding; his head was duly tied up with the old woman's _praskeen_; and he was soon in a state of bodily convalescence. Our solicitude was now required solely for Joe, whose head was too deeply buried to be exhumed with so much facility. At this moment, Bob Casey, of Ballynakill, a very celebrated wig-maker, just dropped in, to see what he could pick up honestly in the way of his profession, or steal in the way of anything else; and he immediately undertook to get Mr. Kelly out of the mortar by a very expert but tedious process, namely clipping with his scissors, and then rooting out with an oyster-knife. He thus finally succeeded, in less than an hour, in setting Joe once more at liberty, at the price of his queue, which was totally lost, and of the exposure of his raw and bleeding occiput. The operation was, indeed, of a mongrel description--somewhat between a complete tonsure and an imperfect scalping, to both of which denominations it certainly presented claims. However, it is an ill wind that blows nobody good! Bob Casey got the making of a skull-piece for Joe, and my brother French had the pleasure of paying for it, as gentlemen in those days honored any order given by a guest to the family shopkeeper or artisan.

A PARTNERSHIP.

AFTER divine service at Worcester cathedral, where a remarkably fine anthem had been performed, the organ-blower observed to the organist, "I think we have performed mighty well to-day." "_We_ performed!" answered the organist, "if I am not mistaken it was _I_ that performed." Next Sunday, in the midst of a voluntary, the organ stopped all at once. The organist, enraged, cried out, "Why don't you blow?" The fellow, popping out his head, said, "Shall it be _we_ then?"

A WIT FOR LADIES.

A LADY of vivacity was by a waggish friend proposed to be made acquainted with a gentleman of infinite wit, an offer she gladly accepted. After the interview, her friend asked how she liked him. She said, "Delightfully! I have hardly ever found a person so agreeable." The damsel, uninterrupted in her own loquacity, had not discovered that this witty gentleman was----_dumb_!

A BRAGGADOCIO REPROVED.

AN officer relating his feats to the Marshal de Bessompiere, said, that in a sea-fight he had killed 300 men with his own hand: "And I," said the Marshal, "descended through a chimney in Switzerland to visit a pretty girl." "How could that be," said the captain, "since there are no chimneys in that country?" "What, Sir!" said the Marshal, "I have allowed you to kill 300 men in a fight, and surely you may permit me to descend a chimney in Switzerland."

MRS. MUNCHAUSEN.

A TRAVELED London lady gives the following incident, among others, to a circle of admiring friends, on her return from America: "I was a dinin' haboard a first-class steamboat on the Hoeigho river. The gentleman next me, on my right, was a Southerner, and the gentleman on my left was a Northerner. Well, they gets into a kind of discussion on the habbolition question, when some 'igh words hariz. 'Please to retract, Sir,' said the Southerner. 'Won't do it,' said the Northerner. 'Pray, ma'am,' said the Southerner, 'will you 'ave the goodness to lean back in your chair?' 'With the greatest pleasure,' said I, not knowin' what was a comin'. When what does my gentleman do but whips out an 'oss pistil as long as my harm, and shoots my left 'and neighbor dead! But that wasn't hall! for the bullet, comin' out of the left temple, wounded a lady in the side. She huttered an 'orrifick scream. 'Pon my word, ma'am,' said the Southerner, 'you needn't make so much noise about it, for I did it by a mistake.'" "And was justice done the murderer?" asked a horrified listener. "Hinstantly, dear madam," answered Miss L----. "The cabin passengers set right to work, and lynched him. They 'ung 'im in the lamp chains right hover the dinin' table, and then finished the dessert. But for my part, it quite spoiled my happetite."

OLD BABES.

A HIBERNIAN, seeing an old man and woman in the stocks, said that they put him in mind of "the babes in the wood."

A SELL.

THE river _Monitor_ tells the following story:

A countryman (farmer) went into a store in Boston, the other day, and told the keeper that a neighbor of his had entrusted him some money to expend to the best advantage, and he meant to do it where he would be the best treated. He had been used very ill by the traders in Boston, and he would not part with his neighbor's money until he had found a man who would treat him about right. With the utmost suavity the trader says:

"I think I can treat you to your liking; how do you want to be treated?"

"Well," said the farmer, with a leer in his eye, "in the first place, I want a glass of toddy," which was forthcoming. "Now I will have a nice cigar," says the countryman. It was promptly handed him, leisurely lighted, and then throwing himself back with his feet as high as his head, he commenced puffing away like a Spaniard.

"Now what do you want to purchase?" says the store-keeper.

"My neighbor," said the countryman, "handed me two cents when I left home, to buy a plug of tobacco--have you got that article?"

The store-keeper sloped instanter.

A SELL.

A WITTY knave bargained with a seller of lace in London for as much as would reach from one of his ears to the other. When they had agreed, it appeared that one of his ears was nailed at the pillory in Bristol.

PRACTICAL JOKING.

A FEW days since, writes an attorney, as I was sitting with Brother D----, in his office, Court Square, a client came in, and said--

"Squire D----, W----, the stabler, shaved me dreadfully, yesterday, and I want to come up with him."

"State your case," says D----.

"I asked him," said Client, "how much he would charge me for a horse and wagon to go to Dedham. He said one dollar and a half. I took the team, and when I came back, I paid him one dollar and a half, and he said he wanted another dollar and a half for coming back, and made me pay it."

D---- gave him some legal advice, which the client immediately acted upon as follows:

He went to the stabler and said--

"How much will you charge me for a horse and wagon to go to Salem?"

Stabler replied--"Five dollars."

"Harness him up!"

Client went to Salem, came back by railroad, and went to the stabler, saying--

"Here is your money," paying him five dollars.

"Where is my horse and wagon?" says W.

"He is at Salem," says Client; "I only hired him to go to Salem."

SOLITUDE.

"YOU are always yawning," said a woman to her husband. "My dear friend," replied he, "the husband and wife are _one_; and when I am _alone_, I grow weary."

SPEAKING OUT IN DREAMS.

A CORRESPONDENT of the _Richmond Dispatch_ tells the following in a letter from one of the Springs:

An amusing incident occurred in the cars of the Virginia and Tennessee road, which must be preserved in print. It is too good to be lost. As the train entered the Big Tunnel, near this place, in accordance with the usual custom _a lamp_ was lit. A servant girl, accompanying her mistress, had sunk in a profound slumber, but just as the lamp was lit she awoke, and half asleep imagined herself in the infernal regions. Frantic with fright, she implored her Maker to have mercy on her, remarking at the same time, "The devil has got me at last." Her mistress, sitting on the seat in front of the terrified negress, was deeply mortified, and called upon her--"Molly, don't make such a noise; it is I, be not afraid." The poor African immediately exclaimed, "Oh, missus, dat you? Jest what I 'spected; I always thought if eber I got to de bad place, I would see you dar." These remarks were uttered with such vehemence, that not a word was lost, and the whole coach became convulsed with laughter.

GOODBYE.

A MINIKIN three-and-a-half-feet Colonel, being one day at the drill, was examining a strapper of six feet four. "Come, fellow, hold up your head; higher, fellow!" "Yes, Sir." "Higher, fellow--higher." " What--so, Sir?" "Yes, fellow." "And am I always to remain so?" "Yes, fellow, certainly." "Why then, good bye. Colonel, for I never shall see you again."

MELANCHOLY ACCIDENT.--DEATH OF A YOUNG MAN.

FROM PHOENIXIANA.

MR. MUDGE has just arrived in San Diego from Arkansas; he brings with him four yoke of oxen, seventeen American cows, nine American children, and Mrs. Mudge. They have encamped in the rear of our office, pending the arrival of the next coasting steamer.

Mr. Mudge is about thirty-seven years of age, his hair is light, not a "sable silvered," but a _yaller_ gilded; you can see some of it sticking out of the top of his hat; his costume is the national costume of Arkansas, coat, waistcoat, and pantaloons of homespun cloth, dyed a brownish yellow, with a decoction of the bitter barked butternut--a pleasing alliteration; his countenance presents a determined, combined with a sanctimonious expression, and in his brightly gleaming eye--a red eye we think it is--we fancy a spark of poetic fervor may be distinguished.

Mr. Mudge called on us yesterday. We were eating watermelon. Perhaps the reader may have eaten watermelon, if so, he knows how difficult a thing it is to speak, when the mouth is filled with the luscious fruit, and the slippery seed and sweet though embarrassing juice is squizzling out all over the chin and shirt-bosom. So at first we said nothing, but waved with our case knife toward an unoccupied box, as who should say sit down. Mr. Mudge accordingly seated himself, and removing his hat (whereat all his hair sprang up straight like a Jack in a box), turned that article of dress over and over in his hands, and contemplated its condition with alarming seriousness.

"Take some melon, Mr. Mudge," said we, as with a sudden bolt we recovered our speech and took another slice ourself. "No, I thank you," replied Mr. Mudge, "I wouldn't choose any, now."

There was a solemnity in Mr. Mudge's manner that arrested our attention; we paused, and holding a large slice of watermelon dripping in the air, listened to what he might have to say.

"Thar was a very serious accident happened to us," said Mr. Mudge, "as we wos crossin' the plains. 'Twas on the bank of the Peacus river. Thar was a young man named Jeames Hambrick along and another young feller, he got to fooling with his pistil, and he shot Jeames. He was a good young man and hadn't a enemy in the company; we buried him thar on the Peacus river, we did, and as we went off, these here lines sorter passed through my mind." So saying, Mr. Mudge rose, drew from his pocket--his waistcoat pocket--a crumpled piece of paper, and handed it over. Then he drew from his coat-tail pocket, a large cotton handkerchief, with a red ground and yellow figure, slowly unfolded it, blew his nose--an awful blast it was--wiped his eyes, and disappeared. We publish Mr. Mudge's lines, with the remark, that any one who says they have no poets or poetry in Arkansas, would doubt the existence of William Shakspeare:

DIRGE ON THE DEATH OF JEAMES HAMBRICK.

BY MR ORION W. MUDGE, ESQ.

it was on June the tenth our hearts were very sad for it was by an awful accident we lost a fine young lad Jeames Hambric was his name and alas it was his lot to you I tell the same he was accidently shot

on the peacus river side the sun was very hot and its there he fell and died where he was accidently shot

on the road his character good without a stain or blot and in our opinions growed until he was accidently shot

a few words only he spoke for moments he had not and only then he seemed to choke I was accidently shot

we wrapped him in a blanket good for coffin we had not and then we buried him where he stood when he was accidently shot

and as we stood around his grave our tears the ground did blot we prayed to god his soul to save he was accidently shot

This is all, but I writ at the time a epitaff which I think is short and would do to go over his grave:--

EPITAFF.

here lies the body of Jeames Hambrick who was accidently shot on the bank of the peacus river by a young man

he was accidently shot with one of the large size colt's revolver with no stopper for the cock to rest on it was one of the old fashion kind brass mounted and of such is the kingdom of heaven.

truly yourn,

ORION W MUDGE ESQ

CASUISTICAL ARITHMETIC.

A BRACE of partridges being brought in to supper for three gentlemen; "Come, Tom," said one of them, "you are fresh from the schools, let us see how learnedly you can divide these two birds among us three." "With all my heart;" answered Tom, "there is one for _you two_ and here is one for _me too_."

JOHNSONIAN ADVICE.

MRS. B. desired Dr. Johnson to give his opinion of a new work she had just written; adding, that if it would not do, she begged him to tell her, for she had other _irons in the fire_, and in case of its not being likely to succeed, she could bring out something else. "Then," said the Doctor, after having turned over a few leaves, "_I advise you, Madam, to put it where your other irons are._"

BLUNDERS OF SIR BOYLE ROCHE.

FROM SIR JONAH BARRINGTON'S SKETCHES.

THE Baronet had certainly one great advantage over all other bull and blunder makers: he seldom launched a blunder from which some fine aphorism or maxim might not be easily extracted. When a debate arose in the Irish house of commons on the vote of a grant which was recommended by Sir John Parnel, chancellor of the exchequer, as one not likely to be felt burdensome for many years to come--it was observed in reply, that the house had no just right to load posterity with a weighty debt for what could in no degree operate to their advantage. Sir Boyle, eager to defend the measures of government, immediately rose, and in a very few words, put forward the most unanswerable argument which human ingenuity could possibly devise. "What, Mr. Speaker!" said he, "and so we are to beggar ourselves for fear of vexing posterity! Now, I would ask the honorable gentleman, and this _still more_ honorable house, why we should put ourselves out of our way for _posterity_: for what has _posterity_ done for _us_?"