Und den outshpoke de maiden Vot hadn't got nodings on: "I tont dink mooch of beoplesh Dat goes mit demselfs alone.
"You'd petter coom down in de wasser, Vere deres heaps of dings to see, Und hafe a shplendid tinner Und drafel along mit me.
"Dere you sees de fisch a schwimmin, Und you catches dem efery one:"-- So sang dis wasser maiden Vot hadn't got nodings on.
"Dere ish drunks all full mit money In ships dat vent down of old; Und you helpsh yourself, by dunder! To shimmerin crowns of gold.
"Shoost look at dese shpoons und vatches! Shoost see dese diamant rings! Coom down und full your bockets, Und I'll giss you like avery dings.
"Vot you vantsh mit your schnapps und lager? Coom down into der Rhine! Der ish pottles der Kaiser Charlemagne Vonce filled mit gold-red wine!"
_Dat_ fetched him--he shtood all shpell pound; She pooled his coat-tails down, She drawed him oonder der wasser, De maidens mit nodings on.
THE HOOSIER AND THE SALT PILE
BY DANFORTH MARBLE
"I'm sorry," said Dan, as he knocked the ashes from his regalia, as hesat in a small crowd over a glass of sherry, at Florence's, New York,one evening,--"I'm sorry that the stages are disappearing so rapidly. Inever enjoyed traveling so well as in the slow coaches. I've made a goodmany passages over the Alleghanies, and across Ohio, from Cleveland toColumbus and Cincinnati, all over the South, down East, and up North, instages, and I generally had a good time.
"When I passed over from Cleveland to Cincinnati, the last time, in astage, I met a queer crowd. Such a corps, such a time, you never didsee. I never was better amused in my life. We had a good team,--spankinghorses, fine coaches, and one of them drivers you read of. Well, therewas nine 'insiders,' and I don't believe there ever was a stage full ofChristians ever started before, so chuck full of music.
"There was a beautiful young lady going to one of the Cincinnatiacademies; next to her sat a Jew peddler,--Cowes and a market; wedginghim was a dandy black-leg, with jewelry and chains around about hisbreast and neck enough to hang him. There was myself, and an oldgentleman with large spectacles, gold-headed cane, and a jolly,soldering-iron-looking nose; by him was a circus-rider, whose breath wasenough to breed yaller fever and could be felt just as easy as cottonvelvet! A cross old woman came next, whose look would have given anyreasonable man the double-breasted blues before breakfast; alongside ofher was a rale backwoods preacher, with the biggest and ugliest mouthever got up since the flood. He was flanked by the low comedian of theparty, an Indiana Hoosier, 'gwine down to Orleans to get an armycontrac' to supply the forces, then in Mexico, with beef.
"We rolled along for some time. Nobody seemed inclined to 'open.' Theold aunty sat bolt upright, looking crab-apples and persimmons at thehoosier and the preacher; the young lady dropped the green curtain ofher bonnet over her pretty face, and leaned back in her seat to nod anddream over japonicas and jumbles, pantalets and poetry; the oldgentleman, proprietor of the Bardolph nose, looked out at the corduroyand swashes; the gambler fell off into a doze, and the circus convoyfollowed suit, leaving the preacher and me _vis-a-vis_ and sayingnothing to nobody. 'Indiany,' he stuck his mug out of the window andcriticized the cattle we now and then passed. I was wishing somebodywould give the conversation a start, when 'Indiany' made a break.
"'This ain't no great stock country,' says he to the old gentleman withthe cane.
"'No, sir,' says the old gentleman. 'There's very little grazing here,and the range is pretty much wore out.'
"Then there was nothing said again for some time. Bimeby the hoosieropened ag'in:
"'It's the d----dest place for 'simmon-trees and turkey-buzzards I everdid see!'
"The old gentleman with the cane didn't say nothing, and the preachergave a long groan. The young lady smiled through her veil, and the oldlady snapped her eyes and looked sideways at the speaker.
"'Don't make much beef here, I reckon,' says the hoosier.
"'No,' says the gentleman.
"'Well, I don't see how in h----ll they all manage to get along in acountry whar thar ain't no ranges and they don't make no beef. A manain't considered worth a cuss in Indiany what hasn't got his brand on ahundred head.'
"'Yours is a great beef country, I believe,' says the old gentleman.
"'Well, sir, it ain't anything else. A man that's got sense enuff tofoller his own cow-bell with us ain't in no danger of starvin'. I'mgwine down to Orleans to see if I can't git a contract out of Uncle Samto feed the boys what's been lickin' them infernal Mexicans so bad. Is'pose you've seed them cussed lies what's been in the papers about theIndiany boys at Bony Visty.'
"'I've read some accounts of the battle,' says the old gentleman, 'thatdidn't give a very flattering account of the conduct of some of ourtroops.'
"With that, the Indiany man went into a full explanation of the affair,and, gettin' warmed up as he went along, begun to cuss and swear likehe'd been through a dozen campaigns himself. The old preacher listenedto him with evident signs of displeasure, twistin' and groanin' till hecouldn't stand it no longer.
"'My friend,' says he, 'you must excuse me, but your conversation wouldbe a great deal more interesting to me--and I'm sure would please thecompany much better--if you wouldn't swear so terribly. It's very wrongto swear, and I hope you'll have respect for our feelin's, if you hain'tno respect for your Maker.'
"If the hoosier had been struck with thunder and lightnin', he couldn'thave been more completely tuck aback. He shut his mouth right in themiddle of what he was sayin', and looked at the preacher, while hisface got as red as fire.
"'Swearin',' says the old preacher, 'is a terrible bad practice, andthere ain't no use in it, nohow. The Bible says, Swear not at all, and Is'pose you know the commandments about swearin'?'
"The old lady sort of brightened up,--the preacher was her 'duck of aman'; the old fellow with the nose and cane let off a few 'umph, ah!umphs'; but 'Indiany' kept shady; he appeared to be cowed down.
"'I know,' says the preacher, 'that a great many people swear withoutthinkin', and some people don't b'lieve the Bible.'
"And then he went on to preach a regular sermon ag'in swearing, and toquote Scripture like he had the whole Bible by heart. In the course ofhis argument he undertook to prove the Scriptures to be true, and toldus all about the miracles and prophecies and their fulfilment. The oldgentleman with the cane took a part in the conversation, and the hoosierlistened, without ever opening his head.
"'I've just heard of a gentleman,' says the preacher, 'that's been tothe Holy Land and went over the Bible country. It's astonishin' to hearwhat wonderful things he has seen. He was at Sodom and Gomorrow, andseen the place whar Lot's wife fell.'
"'Ah!' says the old gentleman with the cane.
"'Yes,' says the preacher; 'he went to the very spot; and, what's theremarkablest thing of all, he seen the pillar of salt what she wasturned into.'
"'Is it possible!' says the old gentleman.
"'Yes, sir; he seen the salt, standin' thar to this day.'
"'What!' says the hoosier, 'real genewine, good salt?'
"'Yes, sir, a pillar of salt, jest as it was when that wicked woman waspunished for her disobedience.'
"All but the gambler, who was snoozing in the corner of the coach,looked at the preacher,--the hoosier with an expression of countenancethat plainly told us that his mind was powerfully convicted of animportant fact.
"'Right out in the open air?' he asked.
"'Yes, standin' right in the open field, whar she fell.'
"'Well, sir,' says 'Indiany,' 'all I've got to say is, if she'd droppedin our parts, the cattle would have licked her up afore sundown!'
"The preacher raised both his hands at such an irreverent remark, andthe old gentleman laughed himself into a fit of asthmatics, what hedidn't get over till we came to the next change of horses. The hoosierhad played the mischief with the gravity of the whole party; even
theold maid had to put her handkerchief to her face, and the young lady'seyes were filled with tears for half an hour afterward. The old preacherhadn't another word to say on the subject; but whenever we came to anyplace, or met anybody on the road, the circus-man nursed the thing alongby asking what was the price of salt."
A RIVAL ENTERTAINMENT
BY KATE FIELD
I once heard a bright child declare that if circuses were prohibited inheaven, she did not wish to go there. She had been baptized, was underChristian influences, and, previous to this heterodoxy, had never givenher good parents a moment's anxiety. Her naive utterance touched aresponsive chord within my own breast, for well did I remember howgloriously the circus shone by the light of other days; how thering-master, in a wrinkled dress-coat, seemed the most enviable ofmortals, being on speaking terms with all the celestial creatures whojumped over flags and through balloons; how the clown was the dearest,funniest of men; how the young athletes in tights and spangles were my_beau-ideals_ of masculinity; and how La Belle Rose, with one foot uponher native heath, otherwise a well-padded saddle, and the other pointedin the direction of the sweet little cherubs that sat up aloft, was themost fascinating of her sex. I am persuaded that circuses fill an achingvoid in the universe. What children did before their invention I shudderto think, for circuses are to childhood what butter is to bread; andwhat the world did before the birth of Barnum is an almost equallyfrightful problem. Some are born to shows, others attain shows, and yetagain others have shows thrust upon them. Barnum is a born showman. Ifever a man fulfills his destiny, it is the discoverer of Tom Thumb. Withthe majority of men and women life is a failure. Not until one legdangles in the grave is their _raison d'etre_ disclosed. The roundpeople always find themselves sticking in the square holes, and _viceversa_; but with Barnum we need not deplore a _vie manquee_. We cansmile at his reverses, for even the phoenix has cause to blush in hispresence. Though pursued by tongues of fire, Barnum remains invinciblewhen iron, stone, and mortar crumble around him; and while yet the smokeis telling volumes of destruction, the cheery voice of the showmanexclaims, "Here you are, gentlemen; admission fifty cents, children halfprice."
Apropos of Barnum, once in my life I gave myself up to unmitigated joy.Weary of lecturing, singing the song "I would I were a boy again," Iwent to see the elephant. To speak truly, I saw not one elephant, buthalf a dozen. I had a feast of roaring and a flow of circus. In fact Iindulged in the wildest dissipation. I visited Barnum's circus andsucked peppermint candy in a way most childlike and bland. The reasonseems obscure, but circuses and peppermint candy are as inseparable aspeanuts and the Bowery. Appreciating this solemn fact, Barnum providesbigger sticks adorned with bigger red stripes than ever Romans sucked inthe palmy days of the Coliseum. In the dim distance I mistook them forbarbers' poles, but upon direct application I recognized them for mylong lost own.
However, let me, like the Germans, begin with the creation. "Here,ladies and gentlemen, is for sale Mr. Barnum's Autobiography, full ofinterest and anecdote, one of the most charming productions ever issuedfrom the press, 900 pages, thirty-two full-page engravings, reduced from$3.50 to $1.50. Every purchaser enters free."
How ordinary mortals can resist buying Barnum's Autobiography for onedollar--such a bargain as never was--is incomprehensible. I believethey can not. I believe they do their duty like men. As one man Iresisted, because I belong to the press, and therefore am not mortal.Who ever heard of a journalist getting a bargain? With Spartan firmnessI turned a deaf ear to the persuasive music of the propagandist, andentered where hope is all before. I was not staggered by a welcome fromall the Presidents of the United States, Fitz-Greene Halleck, GeneralHooker, and Gratz Brown. These personages are rather woodeny and redabout the face, as though flushed with victories of the platform or thetable, but I recognize their fitness in a menagerie. What athlete hasturned more somersaults than some of these representative men? What lionhas roared more gently than a few of these sucking doves? Barnum's tactin appropriately grouping curiosities, living and dead, is too wellknown to require comment. Passing what Sam Weller would call "a reg'larknock-down of intellect," I took my seat high in the air amid a densethrong of my fellow-creatures, and realized how many people it takes tomake up the world. What did I see? I saw double. I beheld not one ringbut two, in each of which the uncommon variety of man was disporting inan entertaining manner. I felt for these uncommon men. Think whatimmortal hates must arise from these dual performances! We all like toreceive the reward of merit, but when two performances are going onsimultaneously, how are the artists to know for whom it is intended?Applause is the sweet compensation for which all strive privately orpublicly, and to be cheated out of it, or left in doubt as to itsdestination, is a refined form of the Inquisition. Fancy the sensationsof the man balancing plates on the little end of nothing,--a feat towhich he has consecrated his life,--at thought of his neighbor'sperformance of impossible feats in the air! It would be more than humanin both not to wish the other in Jericho, or in some equally remotequarter of the globe. I sympathized with them. I became bewildered in myendeavors to keep one eye on each. If human beings were constructed onthe same principles as Janus, and had two faces, a fore-and-aft circuswould be convenient; but as nowadays double-faced people only wear twoeyes in their heads, the Barnumian conception muddles the intellect. Ipray you, great and glorious showman, take pity on your artists and youraudiences. Don't drive the former mad and the latter distracted.Remember that insanity is on the increase, and that accommodations inasylums are limited. Take warning before you undermine the reason of anentire continent. Beware! Beware!
I hear much and see more of the physical weakness of woman. Michelettells the sentimental world that woman is an exquisite invalid, with aperennial headache and nerves perpetually on the rack. It is a mistake.When I gaze upon German and French peasant-women, I ask Michelet whichis right, he or Nature? And since my introduction to Barnum's femalegymnast,--a good-looking, well-formed mother of a family, who walksabout unflinchingly with men and boys on her shoulders, and carries a300-pound gun as easily as the ordinary woman carries aclothes-basket,--I have been persuaded that "the coming woman," likeBrother Jonathan, will "lick all creation." In that good time, womanwill have her rights because she will have her muscle. Then, if thereare murders and playful beatings between husbands and wives, the wiveswill enjoy all the glory of crime. What an outlook! And what a sublimeconsolation to the present enfeebled race of wives that are having theirthroats cut and their eyes carved out merely because their biceps havenot gone into training! Barnum's female gymnast is an example to hersex. What woman has done woman may do again. Mothers, train up yourdaughters in the way they should fight, and when they are married theywill not depart this life. God is on the side of the stoutest muscle aswell as of the heaviest battalions. It is perfectly useless to talkabout the equality of the sexes as long as a man can strangle his ownmother-in-law.
I was exceedingly thrilled by the appearance of the two young gentlemenfrom the Cannibal Islands, who are beautifully embossed in green andred, and compassionated them for the sacrifices they make in putting onblankets and civilization. Is it right to deprive them of their dailybread,--I mean their daily baby? Think what self-restraint they mustexercise while gazing upon the toothsome infants that congregate at thecircus! That they do gaze and smack their overhanging lips I know,because, after going through their cannibalistic dance, they sat behindme and howled in a subdued manner. The North American Indian whooccupied an adjoining seat, favored me with a translation of theircharming conversation, by which I learned many important factsconcerning man as an article of diet. It appears that babies, after all,do not make the daintiest morsels. Tender they are, of course, but,being immature, they have not the rich flavor of a youthful adult. Thisseems reasonable. Veal is tender, but can it be favorably compared withbeef? The cases are parallel. The embossed young men consider babiesexcellent for _entrees_, but for roasts there is nothing like plumpmaidens in their teens. Men of t
wenty are not bad eating. When older,they are invariably boiled. Commenting upon the audience, the criticsdid not consider it appetizing; and, strange as it may appear, I feltsomewhat hurt by the remark, for who is not vain enough to wish to lookgood enough to eat? Fancy being shipwrecked off the Fiji Islands, anddiscarded by cannibals as a tough subject, while your companions areliterally killed with attention! Can you not imagine, that, under suchcircumstances, a peculiar jealousy of the superior tenderness of yourfriends would be a thorn in the flesh, rendering existence a temporaryburden? If we lived among people who adored squinting, should we not alltake to it, and cherish it as the apple of our eye? And if we fell amonganthropophagi, would not our love of approbation make us long to be assucculent as young pigs? What glory to escape from the jaws of death, ifthe jaws repudiate us? So long as memory holds a seat in this distractedbrain, I shall entertain unpleasant feelings toward the embossed younggentlemen who did not sigh to fasten their affections--otherwise theirteeth--on me. It was worse than a crime: it was bad taste.
Roaming among the wild animals, I made the acquaintance of thecassowary, in which I have been deeply interested since childhood'ssunny hours, for then't was oft I sang a touching hymn running thus:
"If I were a cassowary Far away in Timbuctoo, I should eat a missionary, Hat, and boots, and hymn-book too."
From that hour the cassowary occupied a large niche in my heart. Thedesire to gaze upon a bird capable of digesting food to which even theostrich never aspired, pursued me by day and tinctured my dreams bynight. "What you seek for all your life you will come upon suddenly whenthe whole family is at dinner," says Thoreau. I met the cassowary atdinner. He was dining alone, having left his family in Africa, and Imust say that I never met with a greater disappointment. Were it not forthe touching intimation of the hymn, I should believe it impossible forhim to eat a missionary. A quieter, more amiable bird never stood on twolegs. A polite attendant stirred him up for me, yet his temper and hisfeathers remained unruffled. Perhaps if our geographical position hadchanged to Timbuctoo, and I had been a missionary with hymn-book inhand, the cassowary might have realized my expectations. As it was, onemore illusion vanished.