The Wit and Humor of America, Volume III. (of X.) by Marshall P. Wilder (good ebook reader .TXT) đź“•
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- Author: Marshall P. Wilder
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"Well, I don't care which I take, but I'm willing to be[Pg 442] the principal. I can teach sifring, reading, writing, joggerfee, surveying, grammur, spelling, definition, parsin—"
"Are you a linguist?"
"Sir?"
"You, of course, understand the dead languages?"
"Well, can't say I ever seed much of them, though I have heerd tell of them; but I can soon larn them—they ain't more than a few of them I allow?"
"Oh! my dear sir, it is not possible—we—can't—"
"Well, I never seed what I couldn't larn about as smart as anybody—"
"Mr. Rapid, I do not mean to question your abilities; but if you are now wholly unacquainted with the dead languages, it is impossible for you or any other talented man to learn them under four or five years."
"Pshoo! foo! I'll bet I larn one in three weeks! Try me, sir,—let's have the furst one furst—how many are there?"
"Mr. Rapid, it is utterly impossible; but if you insist, I will loan you a Latin book—"
"That's your sort, let's have it, that's all I want, fair play."
Accordingly, I handed him a copy of Historiæ Sacræ, with which he soon went away, saying, he "didn't allow it would take long to git through Latin, if 'twas only sich a thin patch of a book as that."
In a few weeks, to my no small surprise, Mr. Solomon Rapid again presented himself; and drawing forth the book began with a triumphant expression of countenance:
"Well, sir, I have done the Latin."
"Done the Latin!"
"Yes, I can read it as fast as English."
"Read it as fast as English!!"[Pg 443]
"Yes, as fast as English—and I didn't find it hard at all."
"May I try you on a page?"
"Try away, try away; that's what I've come for."
"Please read here then, Mr. Rapid;" and in order to give him a fair chance, I pointed to the first lines of the first chapter, viz.: "In principio Deus creavit cœlum et terram intra sex dies; primo die fecit lucem," etc.
"That, sir?" and then he read thus, "In prinspo duse creevit kalelum et terrum intra sex dyes—primmo dye fe-fe-sit looseum," etc.
"That will do, Mr. Rapid—"
"Ah! ha! I told you so."
"Yes, yes—but translate."
"Translate!" (eyebrows elevating.)
"Yes, translate, render it."
"Render it!! how's that?" (forehead more wrinkled.)
"Why, yes, render it into English—give me the meaning of it."
"Meaning!!" (staring full in my face, his eyes like saucers, and forehead wrinkled with the furrows of eighty)—"Meaning!! I didn't know it had any meaning. I thought it was a Dead language!!"
Well, reader, I am glad you are not laughing at Mr. Rapid; for how should anything dead speak out so as to be understood? And indeed, does not his definition suit the vexed feelings of some young gentlemen attempting to read Latin without any interlinear translation? and who inwardly, cursing both book and teacher, blast their souls "if they can make any sense out of it." The ancients may yet speak in their own languages to a few; but to most who boast the honor of their acquaintance, they are certainly dead in the sense of Solomon Rapid.[Pg 444]
LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEYAn' wash the cups and saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other childern, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!
An' when he went to bed at night, away up stairs,
His mammy heerd him holler, an' his daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess;
[Pg 445] But all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout!
An' the Gobble-uns'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
An' onc't when they was "company," an' ole folks was there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!
An' the lampwick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,—
You better mind yer parents, and yer teachers fond and dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!
[Pg 446] HANS BREITMANN'S PARTY BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND
Dey had biano-blayin;
I felled in lofe mit a Merican frau,
Her name vas Madilda Yane.
She hat haar as prown ash a pretzel,
Her eyes vas himmel-plue,
Und ven dey looket indo mine,
Dey shplit mine heart in two.
I vent dere you'll pe pound.
I valtzet mit Madilda Yane
Und vent shpinnen round und round.
De pootiest Fraeulein in de House,
She vayed 'pout dwo hoondred pound,
Und efery dime she gife a shoomp
She make de vindows sound.
I dells you it cost him dear.
Dey rolled in more ash sefen kecks
Of foost-rate Lager Beer.
Und venefer dey knocks de shpicket in
De Deutschers gifes a cheer.
I dinks dat so vine a barty,
Nefer coom to a het dis year.
[Pg 447]
Dere all vas Souse und Brouse,
Ven de sooper comed in, de gompany
Did make demselfs to house;
Dey ate das Brot and Gensy broost,
De Bratwurst and Braten fine,
Und vash der Abendessen down
Mit four parrels of Neckarwein.
We all cot troonk ash bigs.
I poot mine mout to a parrel of bier
Und emptied it oop mit a schwigs.
Und denn I gissed Madilda Yane
Und she shlog me on de kop,
Und de gompany fited mit daple-lecks
Dill de coonshtable made oos shtop.
Where ish dat barty now!
Where ish de lofely golden cloud
Dat float on de moundain's prow?
Where ish de himmelstrablende Stern—
De shtar of de shpirit's light?
All goned afay mit de Lager Beer—
Afay in de ewigkeit!
[Pg 448] ROLLO LEARNING TO READ BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE
When Rollo was five years young, his father said to him one evening:
"Rollo, put away your roller skates and bicycle, carry that rowing machine out into the hall, and come to me. It is time for you to learn to read."
Then Rollo's father opened the book which he had sent home on a truck and talked to the little boy about it. It was Bancroft's History of the United States, half complete in twenty-three volumes. Rollo's father explained to Rollo and Mary his system of education, with special reference to Rollo's learning to read. His plan was that Mary should teach Rollo fifteen hours a day for ten years, and by that time Rollo would be half through the beginning of the first volume, and would like it very much indeed.
Rollo was delighted at the prospect. He cried aloud:
"Oh, papa! thank you very much. When I read this book clear through, all the way to the end of the last volume, may I have another little book to read?"
"No," replied his father, "that may not be; because you will never get to the last volume of this one. For as fast as you read one volume, the author of this history, or his heirs, executors, administrators, or assigns, will write another as an appendix. So even though you should live to be a very old man, like the boy preacher, this history will always be twenty-three volumes ahead of you.[Pg 449] Now, Mary and Rollo, this will be a hard task (pronounced tawsk) for both of you, and Mary must remember that Rollo is a very little boy, and must be very patient and gentle."
The next morning after the one preceding it, Mary began the first lesson. In the beginning she was so gentle and patient that her mother went away and cried, because she feared her dear little daughter was becoming too good for this sinful world, and might soon spread her wings and fly away and be an angel.
But in the space of a short time, the novelty of the expedition wore off, and Mary resumed running her temper—which was of the old-fashioned, low-pressure kind, just forward of the fire-box—on its old schedule. When she pointed to "A" for the seventh time, and Rollo said "W," she tore the page out by the roots, hit her little brother such a whack over the head with the big book that it set his birthday back six weeks, slapped him twice, and was just going to bite him, when her mother came in. Mary told her that Rollo had fallen down stairs and torn his book and raised that dreadful lump on his head. This time Mary's mother restrained her emotion, and Mary cried. But it was not because she feared her mother was pining away. Oh, no; it was her mother's rugged health and virile strength that grieved Mary, as long as the seance lasted, which was during the entire performance.
That evening Rollo's father taught Rollo his lesson and made Mary sit by and observe his methods, because, he said, that would be normal instruction for her. He said:
"Mary, you must learn to control your temper and curb your impatience if you want to wear low-neck dresses, and teach school. You must be sweet and patient, or you will never succeed as a teacher. Now, Rollo, what is this letter?"[Pg 450]
"I dunno," said Rollo, resolutely.
"That is A," said his father, sweetly.
"Huh," replied Rollo, "I knowed that."
"Then why did you not say so?" replied his father, so sweetly that Jonas, the hired boy, sitting in the corner, licked his chops.
Rollo's father went on with the lesson:
"What is this, Rollo?"
"I dunno," said Rollo, hesitatingly.
"Sure?" asked his father. "You do not know what it is?"
"Nuck," said Rollo.
"It is A," said his father.
"A what?" asked Rollo.
"A nothing," replied his father, "it is just A. Now, what is it?"
"Just A," said Rollo.
"Do not be flip, my son," said Mr. Holliday, "but attend to your lesson. What letter is this?"
"I dunno," said Rollo.
"Don't fib to me," said his father, gently, "you said a minute ago that you knew. That is N."
"Yes, sir," replied Rollo, meekly. Rollo, although he was a little boy, was no slouch, if he did wear bibs; he knew where he lived without looking at the door-plate. When it came time to be meek, there was no boy this side of the planet Mars who could be meeker, on shorter notice. So he said, "Yes, sir," with that subdued and well pleased alacrity of a boy who has just been
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