Puck — December 10, 1879 — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

(OVE meal little, love meal long,” , Sang the dusty miller To his wheat-art, and his song Did a maize and thrill her. “Bid me barley hope; Oh! give Me one grain of comfort; « I would oat on thee and live Holding on to some fort. “In your ryes now love-looks shine; There rice cereal pleasure; Oh! hominy joys are mine Filling up my measure.” Came the maiden’s corn-full laugh At the miller fawning, “You can winnow girl with chaff— Sir! to you good morning.” H.C. Donce, me little—me long sweetheart amaze barely grain doat your eyes 1 see real how many measure scornful win no—chaff REFLECTIONS OF CAPADURA HARDTACK, ESQ. Or course, of course! Good enough weather for this time of year. I don’t deny it. Fine, clear skies— balmy winds— everything generally lush. For Decem- ber, I ppate it is what you'd fine weather. Fine enough for you fel- lows—I don’t say anything derogatory of you; but there ain't sou/ enough in this generation to go round, ‘ould you mind getting up? You're a sitting on that ham-sandwich of mine. Of course, of course. The weather's good enough ; for you, young man, and 2 ec your contemporaries, But I confess ot yearnings after a rather extra article. There's a rawness about this season at its best—an uncongeniality, so to peat towards the evening. Do I wear flannel? Well, sir, it's so long since f looked that I hardly remember. But it ain’t that. It ain’t from chest-protectorial considerations that I contemplateskipping. Forskip I wili—migrate—exode. I will take to myself wings, like riches, begad, and F will fly away. Where? No, sir, I do not mean to go to Hoboken, I mean to go to Florida. Florida is my racket, What does Florida mean, young man? Hog and hominy, I hear you say. O, you lat- ter-day scoffers! Bile the whole lot of you down, and there wouldn't be enough of the divine afflatus to set up one poet in trade—no, there wouldn’t—no, not even one of your cheap modern poetry-sharps, and it’s powerful light capital they trade on, too. Now; I frankly admit, I ain’t ashamed to have some poetry in me, The earth is some- thing more to me than a barren globe, trojing along through space. - My heart is not a withered old blood-bellus, it’s a blooming, effervescent sponge, absorbing the sweet impressions of nature, and giving them forth again when squeezed by the fingers of the Muse. Look at those children playing there. To you they are but the obnoxious progeny of indifferent strangers. In your casual passage through this park, you shrink from them, lest their infant paws, adhesive with the material taffy of infancy, should soil your lavender trousers. As you may have observed, I do not wear lavender trousers. The little children are free to come gamboling about my knees, I have the pants of a poet, if I mayso express myself. I accumu- lated them by voluntary donation, in 1869. There have been alterations and revisions since; and I have been once or twice on the point of publishing a new edition; but old associations go a long way with me; and I keep these pants for the children to cluster round. i They do not cluster, it4s true, as much as they might; but it is not their fault. Their nurses appear to have aristocratic prejudices; and they have taught the darlings to stand afar off from me and call me opprobrious names, including ‘‘ Old Bummer!” But I do not take it unkindly. In fact, they never come near enough to give me a chance. And I remember that 1, too, was once a child. I remember. They washed me then. Yes, I'm off to Florida, There the air is always soft: the rich warmth of the tropics is softened by the pure, fresh currents from the north. There the sleeping lakes of the wilderness mirror glimpses of a heaven tinct with the ineffable azure that lights the Italian sky. There vegetation runs riot in unstinted opulence, and the trailing vines and clumps of moss pen- dent from the forest’s hoary boughs wave in a wind whose breath has the spicy languor of the West Indies and the saline pungency of the Atlantic billow. No, I’m not speaking of my breath. That’s Limburger and the saline pungency of the pretzel. Ah! scoff no more; for the heartless rumble of the city ways has grown heavy in my ears; and I would fain set my face southward to fairer lands where the exiled Summer dreams of her northern throne, usurped by frost and snow, and smiles as she sleeps, Would a quarter be convenient ? FITZNOODLE IN AMERICA. No, CXI1, ENGAGEMENT RE- STRICTIONS, Ya-as aw, I have now been engaged faw a considerwa- ble perwiod, and I wathah enjoy the comp arwitively new sensation which is inseparwa- ble fwom this widi culous situation; although it is accompanied, aftah all, with something in the nature of we- stwictions, Pwimarwily, I considah it my duty to call everwy day on Miss Marguerwite. I d-d-don’t know if she expects it, but if a fellaw weally has any since-ah wegard faw one of the fai-ah eweachas, and his intentions are stwictly ma- twimonial, ['don’t see any gweat objection to the pwactice. Of course we don't spoon, or b-b-bill and ¢-c-coo, or talk all the time about the weathah, That would be vulgah, and consequently ex- twemely opposed to Miss Marguerwite’s ide-ahs, which are generwally wight. Aw I begin now to think that Miss Marguer- wite must weally have been born in aw Gweat Bwitain. We discuss literwature and othah intelligent topics. I do not pwofess to be verwy stwong in these bwanches of knowledge, because I warwely wead; but Miss Marguerwite’s conver- sation wevives any twivial interwest I may have had in such things when I was a youngstah, Aw and although the Amerwican young woman, as a wule, has nothing verwy orwiginal to offah in the way of opinions on anything, still she generwally succeeds in not making herself ab- solutely widiculous, At any wate, I find Miss Marguerwite’s conversation deucedly impwoving. Jack agwees with me, and furthah wemarks that the young woman is clevah, without in the least degwee appwoaching a b-b-blue-stocking. Perwhaps there are not so verwy many we- stwictions faw a fellaw who has pwomised to marwy a aw young woman faw whom he has wespect and admirwation—as I pwesume I have faw Miss Marguerwite—and if there, they are not terwible ones. I do not find it a gweat depwivation to visit the aw clubs less fwequently, faw I weally don’t care to go to them at all. The fact is, ye know, the Amerwican fellaw is not natur- wally a clubbable man—the countwy is too young to understand the pwopah organization of these arwangements, Everwybody has to be in some b-b-beastly twade or pwofession, and consequently aw stwoll in a club with the appearwance of ease or of having his mind fwee fwom twouble of all descwiption. The contwarwy is the case in Gweat Bwitain, ‘There, pwopah fellaws have comparwitively no- thing to do, aw men of leisure—and can de- vote a considerwable portion of their bwains and time to club affai-ahs—and can take an amount of pwide in the particulah one of which they are membahs. It cannot be so he-ah, therefore these insti- tutions are naturwally maw pwetentious and inferwiah to ours. . Then with wegard to wenderwing myself too agweeable to othah young women. '’Pon nfy soul, I nevah twied, so 1 do not aw suffah much in this wespect. And altogethah on ponderwing ovah the whole situation, my pwivileges, although not incweased, I don’t think aw they are verwy much weduced by my being engaged to be marwied aw. comicbooks.com