"Say, are you a Mason, or a Nodfellow, or anything?" asked the bad boy
of the grocery man, as he went to the cinnamon bag on the shelf and
took out a long stick of cinnamon bark to chew.
"Why, yes, of course I am; but what set you to thinking of that?" asked
the grocery man, as he went to the desk and charged the boy's father
with a half-pound of cinnamon.
"Well, do the goats bunt when you nishiate a fresh candidate?"
"No, of course not. The goats are cheap ones, that have no life, and
we muzzle them, and put pillows over their heads so they can't hurt
anybody," said the grocery man, as he winked at a brother Oddfellow who
was seated on a sugar barrel, looking mysterious. "But why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothin', only I wish me and my chum had muzzled our goat with
a pillow. Pa would have enjoyed his becoming a member of our lodge
better. You see, Pa had been telling us how much good the Masons and
Oddfellers did, and said we ought to try and grow up good so we could
jine the lodges when we got big; and I asked Pa if it would do any
hurt for us to have a play lodge in my room, and purtend to nishiate,
and Pa said it wouldn't do any hurt. He said it would improve our minds
and learn us to be men. So my chum and me borried a goat that lives in
a livery stable. Say, did you know they keep a goat in a livery stable
so the horses won't get sick? They get used to the smell of the goat,
and after that nothing can make them sick but a glue factory. You see,
my chum and me had to carry the goat up to my room when Ma and Pa was
out riding, and he blatted so we had to tie a handkerchief around his
nose, and his feet made such a noise on the floor that we put some
baby's socks on his hoofs.
"Well, my chum and me practised with that goat until he could bunt the
picture of a goat every time. We borried a bock-beer sign from a saloon
man and hung it on the back of a chair, and the goat would hit it every
time. That night Pa wanted to know what we were doing up in my room,
and I told him we were playing lodge, and improving our minds; and Pa
said that was right, there was nothing that did boys of our age half so
much good as to imitate men, and store by useful nollidge. Then my chum
asked Pa if he didn't want to come up and take the grand bumper degree,
and Pa laffed and said he didn't care if he did, just to encourage
us boys in innocent pastime that was so improving to our intellex.
We had shut the goat up in a closet in my room, and he had got over
blatting; so we took off the handkerchief and he was eating some of my
paper collars and skate straps. We went upstairs and told Pa to come
up pretty soon and give three distinct raps, and when we asked him who
comes there he must say, 'A pilgrim, who wants to join your ancient
order and ride the goat.' Ma wanted to come up, too, but we told her
if she come in it would break up the lodge, 'cause a woman couldn't
keep a secret, and we didn't have any side-saddle for the goat. Say, if
you never tried it, the next time you nishiate a man in your Mason's
lodge you sprinkle a little kyan pepper on the goat's beard just before
you turn him loose. You can get three times as much fun to the square
inch of goat. You wouldn't think it was the same goat. Well, we got
all fixed, and Pa rapped, and we let him in and told him he must be
blindfolded, and he got on his knees a-laffing, and I tied a towel
around his eyes, and then I turned him around and made him get down on
his hands also, and then his back was right toward the closet sign, and
I put the bock-beer sign right against Pa's clothes. He was a-laffing
all the time, and said we boys were as full of fun as they made 'em,
and we told him it was a solemn occasion, and we wouldn't permit no
levity, and if he didn't stop laffing we couldn't give him the grand
bumper degree. Then everything was ready, and my chum had his hand on
the closet door, and some kyan pepper in his other hand, and I asked
Pa in low bass tones if he felt as though he wanted to turn back, or if
he had nerve enough to go ahead and take the degree. I warned him that
it was full of dangers, as the goat was loaded for bear, and told him
he yet had time to retrace his steps if he wanted to. He said he wanted
the whole bizness, and we could go ahead with the menagerie. Then I
said to Pa that if he had decided to go ahead, and not blame us for the
consequences, to repeat after me the following, 'Bring forth the Royal
Bumper and let him Bump.'
"Pa repeated the words, and my chum sprinkled the kyan pepper on the
goat's mustache, and he sneezed once and looked sassy, and then he
see the lager-beer goat rearing up, and he started for it just like a
crow-catcher, and blatted. Pa is real fat, but he knew he got hit, and
he grunted and said, 'What you boys doin'?' and then the goat gave him
another degree, and Pa pulled off the towel and got up and started for
the stairs, and so did the goat; and Ma was at the bottom of the stairs
listening, and when I looked over the banisters Pa and Ma and the goat
were all in a heap, and Pa was yelling murder, and Ma was screaming
fire, and the goat was blatting, and sneezing, and bunting, and the
hired girl came into the hall and the goat took after her, and she
crossed herself just as the goat struck her and said, 'Howly mother,
protect me!' and went downstairs the way we boys slide down hill,
with both hands on herself, and the goat reared up and blatted, and Pa
and Ma went into their room and shut the door, and then my chum and me
opened the front door and drove the goat out. The minister, who comes
to see Ma every three times a week, was just ringing the bell, and
the goat thought he wanted to be nishiated, too, and gave him one for
luck, and then went down the sidewalk, blatting, and sneezing, and the
minister came in the parlor and said he was stabbed, and then Pa came
out of his room with his suspenders hanging down, and he didn't know
the minister was there, and he said cuss words, and Ma cried and told
Pa he would go to the bad place sure, and Pa said he didn't care, he
would kill that kussid goat afore he went, and I told Pa the minister
was in the parlor, and he and Ma went down and said the weather was
propitious for a revival, and it seemed as though an outpouring of the
spirit was about to be vouchsafed, and none of them sot down but Ma,
cause the goat didn't hit her, and while they were talking relidgin
with their mouths, and kussin' the goat inwardly, my chum and me
adjourned the lodge, and I went and stayed with him all night, and I
haven't been home since. But I don't believe Pa will lick me, 'cause he
said he would not hold us responsible for the consequences. He ordered
the goat hisself, and we filled the order, don't you see? Well, I guess
I will go and sneak in the back way, and find out from the hired girl
how the land lays. She won't go back on me, 'cause the goat was not
loaded for hired girls. She just happened to get in at the wrong time.
Good-by, sir. Remember and give your goat kyan pepper in your lodge."
* * * * *
The average American at home or abroad does not take kindly to anything
that would seem to cast the shadow of a shade upon his native land.
A story told one evening at the Richmond Avenue Methodist Episcopal
Church by the Rev. George W. Peck might be cited in illustration. An
Englishman was traveling through Italy with an American friend, and
in the course of their sojournings each maintained the superiority
of his own country. Finally, the grand spectacle of Mount Vesuvius
in eruption, throwing its brilliant rays across the Bay of Naples,
burst upon their astonished gaze. "Now, look at that," chuckled the
Englishman; "you haven't got anything in America that can come anywhere
near that." "No," moodily replied the Yankee. "It is true we have not
got a Vesuvius, but we have got a waterfall that could put that thing
out in less than five minutes."
* * * * *
An Illinois paper has the following: "The funeral services of the late
William P. Lewis were somewhat hurried to enable his estimable and
grief-stricken widow to catch the two o'clock train for Chicago, where
she goes to visit friends."
* * * * *
"Fellow-citizens," said the candidate, "I have fought against the
Indians. I have often had no bed but the battle-field, and no canopy
but the sky. I have marched over the frozen ground till every step has
been marked with blood."
His story told well, till a dried-up looking voter came to the front.
"Did yer say yer'd fought for the Union?"
"Yes," replied the candidate.
"And agin the Indians?"
"Yes, many a time."
"And that you had slept on the ground with only the sky for a kiver?"
"Certainly."
"And that your feet bled in marching over the frozen ground?"
"That they did," cried the exultant candidate.
"Then I'll be darned if you hain't done enough for your country. Go
home and rest. I'll vote for the other fellow."
* * * * *
Mrs. L---- had often told Mamie, her four-year-old daughter, that she
was never alone, because God was always with her. One day Mrs. L----
was called from the room and left Mamie for a longer time than she
expected. When she came back she said pityingly: "Why, Mamie, have you
been here alone all the time? I thought some one would come in." "Oh, I
haven't been alone, mamma," Mamie answered, "because God has been with
me; but," she added, gravely, "he's _dretful_ poor company."