The Rhythmical Lamentation of a British Tar On the Occasion of the Famous
Victory of the Yankee Yacht America in English Waters.
In no branch of sport is there a trophy more valuable or highly cherished
than that which is so dear to the hearts of American yachtsmen--the
America's Cup. While the original cost of this celebrated piece of
silverware was only about five hundred dollars, the expenses of fitting
out challengers and defenders and maintaining them while in commission
have aggregated many millions of dollars.
The cup was originally offered by the Royal Yacht Club and was won on
August 22, 1851, by the American schooner-yacht America, which had as
competitors no less than fourteen British yachts. The Yankee boat won by
eighteen minutes, and her victory inspired a general feeling of chagrin
among the owners and crews of the British boats who had regarded their
nation as invincible in the yachting world. The following verses,
published shortly after the America's victory, are said to have been
written by a sailor on a British ship of war from which a view of the race
had been obtained:
Oh, weep, ye British sailors true,
Above or under hatches,
Here's Yankee Doodle's been and come,
And beat our crackest yatches!
They started all to run a race,
And wor well timed with watches;
But oh! they never had no chance,
Had any of our yatches.
The Yankee she delayed at first,
Says they, "She'll never catch us,"
And flung up their tarpaulin hats--
The owners of the yatches!
But presently she walked along;
"Oh, dear," says they, "she'll match us!"
And stuck on their tarpaulin hats,
The builder of our yatches.
Then deep we plows along the sea,
The Yankee scarcely scratches;
And cracks on every stitch of sail
Upon our staggering yatches.
But one by one she passes us,
While bitterly we watches,
And utters imprecations on
The builder of our yatches.
And now she's quite hull down a-head,
Her sails like little patches,
For sand-barges and colliers we
May sell our boasted yatches.
We faintly hear the club-house gun--
The silver cup she snatches--
And all the English clubs are done,
The English clubs of yatches!
They say she didn't go by wind,
But wheels, and springs, and satches;
And that's the way she weathered on
Our quickest-going yatches.
But them's all lies, I'm bound to say--
Although they're told by batches--
'Twas bulk of hull, and cut of sail,
That did for all our yatches.
But novelty, I hear them say,
Fresh novelty still hatches!
The Yankee yatch the keels will lay
Of many new club yatches.
And then we'll challenge Yankee land,
From Boston Bay to Natchez,
To run their crackest craft agin
Our spick-and-span new yatches.
Wit and Cruelty as Allies.
The Temptation to be Clever at Another's Expense is so Irresistible That
Whenever We Find a Modern Bon Mot We See a Victim
Picking Up Pieces of His Shattered Egotism.
It is almost a proverb that a witty person is also a cruel one. True wit
does not need to be caustic; but it is so much easier to be clever at some
one's expense than in any other way, that the person with a reputation to
sustain for saying witty things will fall into the habit of sarcasm very
readily if his heart is not particularly kind.
The Parson's Suggestion.
It is related of a famous English clergyman that when presiding at a
meeting where the necessity of wood-paving a street in his parish was
under discussion he became greatly disgusted at the want of intelligence
displayed by many of those present. Finally, unable to control the
annoyance which a more than usually frivolous objection occasioned him, he
said:
"Gentlemen, do not let us discuss the matter further. You have only to put
your heads together and the thing is done at once."
Lamb's Unkind Thrust.
Charles Lamb, than whom no gentler or kinder-hearted wit ever breathed, at
times found it impossible to restrain himself from the personal; as, for
instance, when he covered a friend with shame at a whist-party by blurting
out:
"Gad, James, if--if dirt were t-t-trumps, what a hand you would have!"
A Weighty Politician.
A personal _bon mot_, perpetrated at the expense of the late Sir William
Harcourt, is harmless enough:
"You must admit that he is a most weighty politician," insisted one of his
admirers.
"A weighty politician!" said an irreverent one. "I should think so! When
he moves to the east the west tips up."
Religiously Personal.
"Sir," said a little blustering man to a religious opponent--"I say, sir,
do you know to what sect I belong?"
"Well, I don't exactly know," was the answer, "but to judge from your
make, shape, and size, I should say you belong to a class called the
in-sect."
A Beggar's Benison.
An Irish beggarwoman, following a gentleman who had had the misfortune to
lose his nose, kept exclaiming:
"Heaven preserve your honor's eyesight!"
The gentleman was at last annoyed at her importunity, and said:
"Why do you wish my eyesight to be preserved? Nothing ails my eyesight,
nor is likely to."
"No, your honor," said the Irishwoman, "but it will be a sad thing if it
does, for you will have nothing to rest your spectacles upon."
Hard Hit by Napoleon.
When Napoleon was only an officer of artillery a Prussian officer said in
his presence, with much pride:
"My countrymen fight only for glory, but Frenchmen for money."
"You are right," replied Napoleon; "each of them fights for what he is
most in want of."
A Triumph for Billingsgate.
The Rev. Matthew Wilkes, a celebrated London preacher, was caught in a
shower in the famous Billingsgate Market, where the profanity of the women
who sell fish there is proverbial. As he stopped under a shed among them,
he felt called upon to at least give his testimony against their
wickedness.
"Don't you think," said he, speaking with the greatest deliberation and
solemnity, "I shall appear as a swift witness against you in the day of
judgment?"
"I presume so," said one, "for the biggest rogue always turns state's
evidence."
David vs. Goliath.
Lord Roberts once found himself among new friends in a London club. There
was a very tall man present, who, evidently believing himself to shine as
a wit, seized every opportunity of raising a laugh at other people's
expense.
On being introduced to Lord Roberts, the wit bent down patronizingly to
his lordship and remarked:
"I have often heard of you, but"--shading his eyes with one hand as though
the famous general, being so small, could be seen only with difficulty--"I
have never seen you."
To this Lord Roberts promptly replied:
"I have often seen you, sir, but I have never heard of you."
An American Woman's Retort.
Lord Sackville was never much of a lover of America, and what love he ever
had was considerably affected by his dismissal in disgrace as British
ambassador in President Cleveland's administration.
Some time after his return he was a guest of honor at a dinner which was
also attended by Lady Randolph Churchill, now Mrs. Cornwallis West, who is
an American. His lordship did not air his personal grievances, but he lost
no opportunity of decrying everything American. He was especially severe
upon American table manners.
"Do you know," he remarked, "that I have seen Americans eating with their
knives and spilling their soup on the table-cloth?"
Lady Randolph's eyes had flashed several times during the dinner, but this
was a little too much. She leaned quietly toward the distinguished
diplomat and remarked, in her cool, sarcastic voice:
"What poor letters of recommendation you must have had, my lord!"
Silencing the Surgeon.
At a certain dinner-table with General Miles, one night, was a
distinguished Washington surgeon, who listened with a certain air of
superiority to some of the soldier's reminiscences of various experiences
during the Civil War.
"And how do you feel, general," he finally asked, with just a touch of
sarcasm, "after you've professionally killed a man?"
"Oh," replied General Miles, "I dare say I don't mind doing that any more
than you do."
Thomas Lawson's Sharp Tongue.
A Marblehead fisherman reports hearing, while out one day in the bay, this
bit of repartee between Thomas Lawson and a young woman, evidently no
respecter of persons.
As Mr. Lawson, in a naphtha launch, passed the rowboat containing the
girl, she called out:
"Hullo, Tom, how's copper?"