And, besides, it pleases me to see all the glory go to the man who
leads such a strenuous life.
[Illustration]
But, honest Injun, I was there where the Spanish Mausers were cracking
merrily, and I wouldn't like to tell you how much foreign lead I took
that day.
Perhaps you may remember that at one time matters got so hot that there
was considerable consternation among our bold boys in blue.
One fellow, who was evidently getting his baptism in fire, had stood it
for a time, though his knees must have been knocking together some.
It became necessary to retreat temporarily, while the bullets sang
around like mad hornets; but once started for the rear this fellow's
legs actually ran away with him.
He plunged along like a rhinoceros, utterly regardless.
An officer bellowed after him.
"Here, you, what are you running for?"
I saw the scared New Englander turn his head and throw over his
shoulder:
"Because I can't fly, you darned fool!"
Hello, there, what was that--actually a mosquito trying to nip me, the
bloodsucker!
Come to think of it, skeeters are about the slickest nuisances we've
got.
Have you ever thought what sly coons they are, and how they maneuvre
to get their suction pump at work, just as if they had learned army
tactics?
Say, ever been down in Jacksonville when the mercury's so high you
can't breathe and the skeeters are humming their monotonous anthem?
This is the song they sing:
[Illustration]
When at night yer gently sleepin',
Sleepin' in your trunnle bed,
An' yer hear a buzzin', creepin',
Creepin' round yer drowsy head;
Such a gentle kind o' buzzin',
Seems like some one's sayin' "Cousin,
Couz-in, couz-zin, couz-z-zin, couz-z-z-zin!"
When ye ain't got no sich kin,
Heads in under quick, an' cheat 'er!
It's a low down female skeeter,
That's a-lyin'
And a tryin'
To break in.
An' there ain't no good o' slidin'
'Neath the bedclothes--she won't leave--
For she knows yer only hidin'
An' yer got ter rise to breathe,
So she'll hover 'round there buzzin'
'Bout that everlastin' "Cousin,
Couz-in, couz-zin, couz-z-zin, couz-z-z-zin!"
She must love that chap a lot.
Heads from under--biff! she's got yer,
An' I told yer that she'd swat yer,
General Jackson!
Say, I'm axin'
Did she swat?
If yer git as hot as tinder,
Crouchin' thar beneath that sheet,
An' she journeys out the winder,
Don't you think you've fooled that skeet,
For she'll hustle back a buzzin',
"Couz-in, couz-zin, couz-z-zin, couz-z-z-zin!"
They'll locate you in the dark--
Biff! She has 'bout all ye owe 'er,
An' ye wonder why ole Noah
Let the first two,
An' the worst two,
In the ark!
[Illustration]
Aha! There's my friend Judge Longears in the back row. Now, don't
everybody rubber. Well, well, well, he's scooted. I pity these bashful
men. Judge Longears has in his day defended all manner of criminals.
[Illustration]
Some of them escaped punishment Which they richly deserved, simply
because they were wise enough to employ a smart lawyer.
And no doubt the fee he received often constituted the proceeds of the
very robbery of which they had just been proven innocent.
Even in his early career I remember he had an experience of this
character.
In my hearing his good wife said to him:
"So you cleared that poor Mr. Liftem from the charge of stealing that
turkey? I'm glad of it, but he's such a worthless character that I
don't believe you'll ever get a cent for your services."
I have never forgotten the smile that stole over the placid face of
Longears, as he replied:
"Perhaps not, Maria, but I've got an all-fired good turkey out in the
woodshed, just the same."
[Illustration]
But I tell you Longears was a terror in his young days. I've seen him
bullyrag a poor devil in the box until he caused him to say just what
he wanted.
There are some men, however, who are the quintessence of meekness.
I knew one whose gardener used to crib and sell his fruit and
vegetables, and had to be dismissed.
For the sake of his wife and family he gave him a letter of
recommendation, which ran about like this:
"I hereby certify that Thomas Buck has been my gardener for over two
years, and that during that time he got more out of my garden than any
other man I ever employed."
I saw two disreputable citizens meet the other day, and judged they had
not run across each other for a long spell of Sundays.
"Hullo, Hans, how's the wurrld threatin' ye?" demanded the one who
bore the map of Ireland on his face.
[Illustration]
"I do not gomplain somethings mabbe. Such vindy veather is goot for my
professions quite," replied the German.
"Be jabers, it's getting up in the wurrld ye must be. 'Pon yer 'onor
now, phat do yees do to make a living?"
"I examine ribs."
"And I break the same; but phat joke is it ye're afther giving me to
say yer a surgeon?"
"You should not so quick joomp at conclusions--I am an umbrella mender."
"On me own part, it's no need I hav to wurrk at all, since discoverin'
that I belonged to a swell family."
"You don't say!"
"And that wun av me ancestors was a minute man."
"Ish it possible--tell me how that might come?"
"Why, don't ye see, ye omadhaun, didn't that same mimber av the family
wurrk on Sixty-second Street?"
Then the rattle of an elevated train drowned the rest.
I felt that I had lost five dollars by not hearing how Hans got back
again.
Sometimes when the Sunday morning bells calling to church jangle from
various spires, I think of the well-known old poem on the subject of
their music; and then my mind goes out to other belles, to be seen
parading in their best gowns, ready to break the hearts of admiring
mankind.
And talking about women makes you think of song. Wine, women and song,
you know. We'll cut out the wine and have the song. Here she goes:
Oh! the belles!
Summer belles!
What a plentitude of heartaches their giddiness compels;
How they giggle, giggle, giggle,
In the sea-breeze laden night,
How their victims squirm and wriggle
In an ecstasy of fright.
How they hurt
When they flirt,
When with ghoulish glee they gloat
On the squirming of a fellow when they have him by the throat.
Oh! the belles!
Brazen belles!
How they conjure, scheme and plan
To entrap the summer man,
The ribbon counter gentlemen who masquerade as swells.
Oh! the belles!
Greedy belles!
How they wring, wring, wring
Soda water, everything,
From the pockets of those "Cash!"-exclaiming swells.
Oh! the belles!
Foxy belles!
What a wealth of hints they fling
To compel the pleasant ring,
Diamond ring!
Ah! the heart engaging ring
Of the golden wedding bells, bells, bells, bells, bells.
Oh! the belles!
[Illustration]