Nye and Riley's Wit and Humor (Poems and Yarns) by Nye and Riley (read book .TXT) π
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- Author: Nye and Riley
Read book online Β«Nye and Riley's Wit and Humor (Poems and Yarns) by Nye and Riley (read book .TXT) πΒ». Author - Nye and Riley
I met a man in Cleveland, O., whose name was Macdonald. He was at the Weddell House, and talked freely with me about our country, asking me a great many questions about myself and where I lived and how I was prospering. While we were talking at one time he saw something in the paper which interested[Pg 116] him and called him away. After he had gone I noticed the paragraph he had been reading, and saw that it spoke of a man named Macdonald who had recently arrived in town from New York, and who was introducing a new line of green goods.
I have often wondered what there is about my general appearance which seemed to draw about me a cluster of green-goods men wherever I go. Is it the odor of new-mown hay, or the frank, open way in which I seem to measure the height of the loftiest buildings with my eye as I penetrate the busy haunts of men and throng the crowded marts of trade? Or do strangers suspect me of being a man of means?
In Cleveland I was rather indisposed, owing to the fact that I had been sitting up until 2 or 3 o'clock a. m. for several nights in order to miss early trains. I went to a physician, who said I was suffering from some new and attractive disease, which he could cope with in a day or two. I told him to cope. He prescribed a large 42-calibre capsule which he said contained medical properties. It might have contained theatrical properties and still had room left for a baby grand piano. I do not know why the capsule should be so popular. I would rather swallow a porcelain egg or a live turtle. Doctors claim that it is to prevent the bad taste of the medicines, but I have never yet participated in any medicine which was more disagreeable than the gluey shell of an adult capsule, which looks like an overgrown bott and tastes like a rancid nightmare.
I doubt the good taste of any one who will turn up his nose at castor-oil or quinine and yet meekly swallow a chrysalis with varnish on the outside.[Pg 117]
Everywhere I go I find people who seem pleased with the manner in which I have succeeded in resembling the graphic pictures made to represent me in The World. I can truly say that I am not a vain man, but it is certainly pleasing and gratifying to be greeted by a glance of recognition and a yell of genuine delight from total strangers. Many have seemed to suppose that the massive and undraped head shown in these pictures was the result of artistic license or indolence and a general desire to evade the task of making hair. For such people the thrill of joy they feel when they discover that they have not been deceived is marked and genuine.
These pictures also stimulate the press of the country to try it themselves and to add other horrors which do not in any way interfere with the likeness, but at the same time encourage me to travel mostly by night.[Pg 118]
"Curly Locks!""Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swineβ
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,
And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream."
Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine?
The throb of my heart is in every line,
And the pulse of a passion, as airy and glad
[Pg 119]In its musical beat as the little Prince had!
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine!β
O, I'll dapple thy hands with these kisses of mine
Till the pink of the nail of each finger shall be
As a little pet blush in full blossom for me.
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,
And thou shalt have fabric as fair as a dream,β
The red of my veins, and the white of my love,
And the gold of my joy for the braiding thereof.
And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream
From a service of silver, with jewels agleam,β
At thy feet will I bide, at thy beck will I rise,
And twinkle my soul in the night of thine eyes!
"Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine;
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,
And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream."
[Pg 120]
ome newspaper men claim that they feel a great deal freer if they pay their fare.
That is true, no doubt; but too much freedom does not agree with me. It makes me lawless. I sometimes think that a little wholesome restriction is the best thing in the world for me. That is the reason I never murmur at the conditions on the back of an annual pass. Of course they restrict me from bringing suit against the road in case of death, but I don't mind that. In case of my death it is my intention to lay aside the cares and details of business and try to[Pg 121] secure a change of scene and complete rest. People who think that after my demise I shall have nothing better to do than hang around the musty, tobacco-spattered corridors of a court-room and wait for a verdict of damages against a courteous railroad company do not thoroughly understand my true nature.
But the interstate-commerce bill does not shut out the employe! Acting upon this slight suggestion of hope, I wrote, a short time ago, to Mr. St. John, the genial and whole-souled general passenger agent of the Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railroad, as follows:
Asheville, N. C., Feb. 10, 1887.
E. St. John, G. P. A., C., R. I. & P. R'y, Chicago.
Dear Sir:βDo you not desire an employe on your charming road? I do not know what it is to be an employe, for I was never in that condition, but I pant to be one now.
Of course I am ignorant of the duties of an employe, but I have always been a warm friend of your road and rejoiced in its success. How are your folks?
Yours truly,
Col. Bill Nye.
Day before yesterday I received the following note from General St. John, printed on a purple typewriter:
Chicago, Feb. 13, 1887.
Col. Bill Nye, Asheville, N. C.
Sir:βMy folks are quite well.
Yours truly,
E. St. John.
I also wrote to Gen. A. V. H. Carpenter, of the Milwaukee road, at the same time, for we had corre[Pg 122]sponded some back and forth in the happy past. I wrote in about the following terms:
Asheville, N. C., Feb. 10, 1887.
A. V. H. Carpenter, G. P. A. C., M. & St. P. R'y, Milwaukee, Wis.
Dear Sir:βHow are you fixed for employes this spring?
I feel like doing something of that kind and could give you some good endorsements from prominent people both at home and abroad.
What does an employe have to do?
If I can help your justly celebrated road any here in the South do not hesitate about mentioning it.
I am still quite lame in my left leg, which was broken in the cyclone, and cannot walk without great pain.
Yours with kindest regards,
Bill Nye.
I have just received the following reply from Mr. Carpenter:
Milwaukee, Wis., Feb. 14, 1887.
Bill Nye, Esq., Asheville, N. C.
Dear Sir:βYou are too late. As I write this letter, there is a string of men extending from my office door clear down to the Soldiers' Home. All of them want to be employes. This crowd embraces the Senate and House of Representatives of the Wisconsin Legislature, State officials, judges, journalists, jurors, justices of the peace, orphans, overseers of highways, fish commissioners, pugilists, widows of pugilists, unidentified orphans of pugilists, etc., etc., and they are all just about as well qualified to be employes as you are.
I suppose you would poultice a hot box with pounded ice, and so would they.
I am sorry to hear about your lame leg. The surgeon of our road says perhaps you do not use it enough.
Yours for the thorough enforcement of law,
A. V. H. Carpenter. Per G. [Pg 123]
Not having written to Mr. Hughitt of the Northwestern road for a long time, and fearing that he might think I had grown cold toward him, I wrote the following note on the 9th:
Asheville, N. C., Feb. 9, 1887.
Marvin Hughitt, Second Vice-President and General
Manager Chicago & Northwestern Railway,
Chicago, Ill.
Dear Sir:β
Excuse me for not writing before. I did not wish to write you until I could do so in a bright and cheery manner, and for some weeks I have been the hot-bed of twenty-one Early Rose boils. It was extremely humorous without being funny. My enemies gloated over me in ghoulish glee.
I see by a recent statement in the press that your road has greatly increased in business. Do you feel the need of an employe? Any light employment that will be honorable without involving too much perspiration would be acceptable.
I am traveling about a good deal these days, and if I can do you any good as an agent or in referring to your smooth road-bed and the magnificent scenery along your line, I would be glad to regard that in the light of employment. Everywhere I go I hear your road very highly spoken of.
Yours truly,
Bill Nye.
I shall write to some more roads in a few weeks. It seems to me there ought to be work for a man who is able and willing to be an employe.[Pg 124]
That NightYou and I, and that night,
with its perfume and glory!β
The scent of the locustsβ
the light of the moon;
And the violin weaving the
waltzers a story,
Enmeshing their feet in the
weft of the tune,
Till their shadows uncertain,
Reeled round on the curtain,
[Pg 125]While under the trellis we drank in the June.
Soaked through with the midnight, the cedars were sleeping.
Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright
Crystal, moon-smitten mists, where the fountain's heart leaping
Forever, forever burst, full with delight;
And its lisp on my spirit
Fell faint as that near it
Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night.
O your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses!
The breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay!
And the rose at your throat was a nest of spi'led kisses!β
And the music!βin fancy I hear it to-day,
As I sit here, confessing
Our secret, and blessing
My rival who found us, and waltzed you away.
[Pg 126]
e first met Methuselah in the capacity of a son. At the age of sixty-five Enoch arose one night and telephoned his family physician to come over and assist him in meeting Methuselah.
Day at last dawned on Enoch's happy home, and its first red rays lit up the still redder
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