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The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VI
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Год написания книги
2019
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II
You're at an evening party, with
A group of pleasant folks,—
You venture quietly to crack
The least of little jokes:
A lady doesn't catch the point,
And begs you to explain,—
Alas for one who drops a jest
And takes it up again!
III
You're taking deep philosophy
With very special force,
To edify a clergyman
With suitable discourse:
You think you've got him,—when he calls
A friend across the way,
And begs you'll say that funny thing
You said the other day!
IV
You drop a pretty jeu-de-mot
Into a neighbor's ears,
Who likes to give you credit for
The clever thing he hears,
And so he hawks your jest about,
The old, authentic one,
Just breaking off the point of it,
And leaving out the pun!
V
By sudden change in politics,
Or sadder change in Polly,
You lose your love, or loaves, and fall
A prey to melancholy,
While everybody marvels why
Your mirth is under ban,
They think your very grief "a joke,"
You're such a funny man!
VI
You follow up a stylish card
That bids you come and dine,
And bring along your freshest wit
(To pay for musty wine);
You're looking very dismal, when
My lady bounces in,
And wonders what you're thinking of,
And why you don't begin!
VII
You're telling to a knot of friends
A fancy-tale of woes
That cloud your matrimonial sky,
And banish all repose,—
A solemn lady overhears
The story of your strife,
And tells the town the pleasant news:—
You quarrel with your wife!
VIII
My dear young friend, whose shining wit
Sets all the room ablaze,
Don't think yourself "a happy dog,"
For all your merry ways;
But learn to wear a sober phiz,
Be stupid, if you can,
It's such a very serious thing
To be a funny man!
THE MERCHANT AND THE BOOK-AGENT
ANONYMOUS
A book-agent importuned James Watson, a rich merchant living a few miles out of the city, until he bought a book,—the "Early Christian Martyrs." Mr. Watson didn't want the book, but he bought it to get rid of the agent; then, taking it under his arm, he started for the train which takes him to his office in the city.
Mr. Watson hadn't been gone long before Mrs. Watson came home from a neighbor's. The book-agent saw her, and went in and persuaded the wife to buy a copy of the book. She was ignorant of the fact that her husband had bought the same book in the morning. When Mr. Watson came back in the evening, he met his wife with a cheery smile as he said, "Well, my dear, how have you enjoyed yourself to-day? Well, I hope?"
"Oh, yes! had an early caller this morning."
"Ah, and who was she?"
"It wasn't a 'she' at all; it was a gentleman,—a book-agent."
"A what?"
"A book-agent; and to get rid of his importuning I bought his book,—the 'Early Christian Martyrs.' See, here it is," she exclaimed, advancing toward her husband.
"I don't want to see it," said Watson, frowning terribly.
"Why, husband?" asked his wife.
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