Le'me tell you how it was.
Some business took me to a certain quarter over in Newark, to see a man
about a matter of importance.
He was out, but expected in shortly.
So I said I would wait, for it meant nearly half a day wasted if I had
my trip for nothing.
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The old lady gave me a chair in the kitchen, for they were good, honest
German folks, you know.
I soon became interested watching a young girl who was busily engaged
kneading bread.
Casual observation induced me to believe she might be about twelve
years of age.
After some time, I broke the silence by remarking:
"Don't you go to school?"
"No; I stopped school some time ago," she replied, smiling.
"I should think that a girl of your age would want to get as much
education as possible before taking the responsibility attending
household duties," I said.
"Yes, maybe."
"But why don't you go to school, then?"
"Well," she stammered, "because my husband thinks I had better stay at
home."
About that time something occurring outside the window attracted my
attention.
I don't believe I've ever felt so cheap since I was a boy and used to
join the other fellows in a genuine old country serenade when a wedding
took place.
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Did I tell you about it?
Well, this is what happened:
We heard that there was to be a wedding over at old Squire Joskins'--a
niece of his had come home to be married to some fellow or other.
Little we cared.
A wedding was all the same to us, if we could only indulge in a
downright rollicking shivaree.
So a lot of us got together--I guess there was a dozen.
We had fishhorns and cowbells and tin pans galore.
Well, the racket we put up was enough to wake up the dead.
An hour went by, and not even a light showed.
This made us mad, for you see it's customary after a time to beg off
from the serenade by calling the boys in and giving a spread.
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We did it some more.
Another hour passed.
There was a lot of tired arms and ringing ears in that gang--say, we
could hardly talk above a whisper.
Yet, with true American grit, we were determined to keep the ball
rolling until we dropped dead or they gave in.
I think it must have been near the end of the third watch that I saw a
head with a nightcap on it stuck out of a second-story window.
Immediately we all quit pounding and waited to hear the glad summons.
And this is what old Squire Joskins said:
"Don't stop if you're havin' a good time, boys. You ain't disturbin'
nobody. The young folks that was married here this evenin' are both
deaf and dumb."
Then the window was lowered and deep silence immediately began to reign.
We went home.
If any one tells you we are losing our fine sense of humor, don't you
believe it.
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To my mind as the years go on, human nature is taking more and more
interest in whatever pertains to the funny side of life.
The growth of vaudeville proves it.
At the same time I must say some people go to extremes, like a certain
individual I happened to run across one night on the Bowery.
I chanced to be passing a tough joint near Grand Street when they were
ejecting a foreigner who bore all the signs of extremely rough usage,
nevertheless was laughing immoderately.
"What is the joke?" I asked, holding him up.
"Why," said he, "a man came up to me in the bar just now, gave me
a fearful punch on the nose, and said, 'Take that, you blooming
Norwegian,'" and he fell to laughing again as though his sides would
split.
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