The Wit and Humor of America, Volume V. (of X.) by Marshall P. Wilder (good books to read for adults TXT) π
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- Author: Marshall P. Wilder
Read book online Β«The Wit and Humor of America, Volume V. (of X.) by Marshall P. Wilder (good books to read for adults TXT) πΒ». Author - Marshall P. Wilder
Melinda had noticed. "I suppose they came out to see the train come in," she suggested.
"Nope; not exactly." Uncle Joe explained, "Looking out for automobiles and flying airships have made trains of cars seem mighty common up this way. Nope; the folks was out on account of you a-comin'."
"Me?" Having a guilty conscience Melinda glanced backward apprehensively and made a motion as though to dodge a missile.
"Yep; and you'll find a lot of the relations at the house a-waitin' for you."
"Whyβwhatβ? Now look here, Uncle Joe, there is no occasion to be foolish about a littleβ"
"Foolish? Now, mebby some would call it foolish, but us folks up the creek here we can't help feelin' set up some over findin' out we have a second Milton or a Mrs. Stowe in the fambly."
Melinda looked at her relative's concave profile in sick suspicion. Was the trail of the serpent over them all? But no, Uncle Joe was beaming mildly with the satisfaction of having shown that although the literary hemisphere was the un[Pg 207]known land, he had heard of a mountain and a minor elevation or two; he was, as she had always believed, incapable of satire.
For once Melinda was speechless. But Uncle Joe was likely to be fluent when he got started. He cleared his throat and turned mild, suffused, half-shamed blue eyes on his shrinking niece. "Yes, your piece has come out in the paper, Melinda, and your folks are all-fired pleased with you. I told Lucy this morning I wisht your poor Pap could come back to earth for just this one day."
"Ah-h!" Melinda took a firm grip on the side of the buggy. "But I guess you'll have to write another right off. There is some jealousy amongst them that aren't in it," Uncle Joe went on. "I told 'em you couldn't put the whole connection in or it would read like a list of 'them present' at a surprise party. Your Aunt Lucy, she's just as tickled as a hen with three chickens." The old man chuckled. "There it is all down in black and white just like it happened, only different, about her spasm of economy when she was cleanin' away Mary Emmeline's medicine bottles and couldn't bear to throw away what was left over, but up and took it all herself in one powerful mixed dose to save it, and had to have the doctor with a stomach-pump to cure her of spasms, what wasn't so economical after all. It's her picture tickles her most."
"Oh!" said Melinda.
"Yes, you know the picture is as slim as a girl in her first pair o' cossets a-standin' on a chair a-reachin' bottles off a top shelf, and your Aunt Lucy's that hefty she hain't stood on a chair for ten years for fear 'twould break down, and[Pg 208] she's had to trust the top shelf to the hired girl. I guess when she goes to Heaven she'll want to stop on the way up and fix that top shelf to suit her. So she just sits and looks at that picture and smiles and smiles. She likes my whiskers, too. Yes, she's always wanted me to wear whiskers ever since we was married, but we never was a whiskery fambly and they wouldn't seem to grow thicker than your Uncle Josh's corn when he planted it one grain to the hill. But there I am in the picture in the paper with real biblical whiskers reachin' to the bottom o' my vest."
Uncle Joe cleared his throat and glanced sideways at his niece again. "I want to tell you, Melindy, that I am real obleeged to you for makin' me one of the main ones in the piece with a lot to say. Your Aunt Lucy says 'twas only right and proper, me bein' your nighest kin and you livin' with us; but I told her there was so many others that was smarter and more the story-paper kind, that I thought it showed real good feelin' on your part; yes, I did.βG'up, there, Ginger!βThen I kind o' thought I'd warn you, too, Melindy, that they all are just a-dyin' to hear you say who 'The Preacher' is. He's the only one we couldn't quite place."
Melinda took the little bottle of smelling salts from her bag and held it to her nose.
"Yes," Uncle Joe went on, "the others was easy identified because you had named the names; but him you just called 'The Preacher' all the way through. Some says it's the Reverend Graham kind of toned down and trimmed up like things you see in the moonlight on a summer night. But I told them the Reverend Graham is a nice enough chap, but that that extra-fine, way-up[Pg 209] preacher fellow in the story must be some stranger you knew from off and didn't give his name, because you didn't rightly know what it was. I thought, even if you was so soft on Reverend Graham as to see him in that illusory, moony light, that about the stranger from off was the right and proper thing for me, being your uncle, to say any way. So if you want to keep it dark about 'The Preacher' you can just talk about a stranger from off."
"I will, Uncle Joeβdear Uncle Joe." Melinda exclaimed gratefully as they stopped in front of the gate.
Melinda greeted her relatives with a warmth and enthusiasm that embarrassed and made them suspicious. She was not usually so complacent, so solicitous for the health and progress of offspring; above all she was not usually so loth to talk about herself. She acted as though she had never written a story, yet three copies of it were spread open under her noseβone on the piano, one on the parlor table, one on the sideboardβall open at the passage about "The Preacher."
The relatives retired in disgust. With the departure of the last one Melinda seized a magazine and fled to the orchard. She would read that story herself. As she turned the leaves she caught sight of a manly form carefully climbing the fence. She dropped the periodical and stood on it, gazing up pensively into the well-laden boughs of the Baldwin.
The Reverend Graham took her hands in a strong ministerial squeeze.
"It is very good of you to come to see me so soon after my return," she faltered.[Pg 210]
"GoodβMelinda! Do you think I could help coming?" he ejaculated. "I can not tell youβwords are inadequate to express what I feel," he went on,β"the deep gratitude, the humility, the wonder, the triumph, the determination, with God's aid, to live up to the high ideal you have set forth in your wonderful story. You have seen the latent qualities, the nobler potentialities; you have shown me to myself. Melinda! Do not think that I do not appreciate the difficulties of this hour for you. I know how your heart is shrinking, how your delicate maidenly modesty is up in arms. But Melinda, you know! you know! Dear Melinda!"
"I am glad you understand me, John."
"Understand you!" The Reverend Graham could restrain himself no longer. He swept her into his arms, appropriating his own.
Melinda remained there quiescently leaning against his shoulder, because there seemed nothing else to do, also because it was a broad and comfortable shoulder against which to lean. "I am done for," she reflected. "Now I will never dare to confess that I was trying to be humorous."
Then she reached up a hand and touched the Preacher's face timidly. His cheek was wet. "Why, JohnβJohn!" she whispered.[Pg 211]
ABOU BEN BUTLER By John PaulAwoke one night from a deep bottledness,
And saw, by the rich radiance of the moon,
Which shone and shimmered like a silver spoon,
A stranger writing on a golden slate
(Exceeding store had Ben of spoons and plate),
And to the stranger in his tent he said:
"Your little game?" The stranger turned his head,
And, with a look made all of innocence,
Replied: "I write the name of Presidents."
"And is mine one?" "Not if this court doth know
Itself," replied the stranger. Ben said, "Oh!"
And "Ah!" but spoke again: "Just name your price
To write me up as one that may be Vice."
He came again, and showed a wondrous sight
Of names that haply yet might fill the chairβ
But, lo! the name of Butler was not there!
[Pg 212] LATTER-DAY WARNINGS By Oliver Wendell Holmes
When banks dispense with bolts and locks,β
When berriesβwhortle, rasp, and strawβ
Grow bigger downwards through the box,β
Shows leak in roof or flaw in right,β
When haberdashers choose the stand
Whose window hath the broadest light,β
And party leaders all they mean,β
When what we pay for, that we drink,
From real grape and coffee-bean,β
And doctors give what they would take,β
When city fathers eat to live,
Save when they fast for conscience' sake,β
Shall bring his merit to the proof,
Without a lie for every nail
That holds the iron on the hoof,β
Our gloves are stitched with special care,
And guarded well the whalebone tips
Where first umbrellas need repair,[Pg 213]β
The power of suction to resist,
And claret-bottles harbor not
Such dimples as would hold your fist,β
And pay for what they stole before,β
When the first locomotive's wheel
Rolls through the Hoosac tunnel's bore;β
And Miller's saints blow up the globe;
But when you see that blessed day,
Then order your ascension robe!
[Pg 214] IT PAYS TO BE HAPPY[5] By Tom Masson
And not by fits and starts,
But ever, through each livelong day
She's sunshine to all hearts.
So wondrous is her power
That listening grief would stop and chaff
With her from hour to hour.
Grows dim, begins to fade.
A Christian scientist, meanwhile,
Is this delightful maid.
And be like unto her,
When happiness brings, as her share,
One hundred dollars per ββ?
[Pg 215]
THE MOSQUITO By William Cullen BryantAnd blood-extracting bill, and filmy wing,
Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about,
In pitiless ears, fall many a plaintive thing,
And tell how little our large veins should bleed
Would we but yield them to thy bitter need.
Full angrily, men listen to thy plaint;
Thou gettest many a brush and many a curse,
For saying thou art gaunt, and starved, and faint.
Even the old beggar, while he asks for food,
I call thee stranger, for the town, I ween,
Has not the honor of so proud a birth:
Thou com'st from Jersey meadows, fresh and green,
The offspring of the gods, though born on earth;
For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she,
The ocean-nymph that nursed thy infancy.
And when at length thy gauzy wings grew strong,
Abroad to gentle airs
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