SUCH NONSENSE! CAROLYN WELLS THE PRINCESS PERILLA Love has wings, so people say; And thus love-letters fly away. By Florence Lundborg SUCH NONSENSE! An Anthology BY CAROLYN WELLS AUTHOR OF "FAULKNER'S FOLLY," "THE BRIDE OF A MOMENT.' "THE ROOM WITH THE TASSELS," "THE NONSENSE ANTHOLOGY.' "THE WHIMSET ANTHOLOGY," ETC. NEW XSJTYORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA DEDICATION THIS MASTERPIECE OF LITERATURE AND ART TO HARRIET SPRAGUE MY FRIEND OF THE COMRADE HEART. AND MAY THE JINGLE OF THE CAP AND BELLS REMIND HER NOW AND THEN OP CAROLYN WELLS FOREWORD This book, I have no sort of doubt, Will be commended by the critics ; 'Twill be much praised and talked about By connoisseurs of analytics. Though here and there some grouch may guy it, 'Most every one will rush to buy it. 'Tis not as easy as it seems ; Not every bard may write Such Nonsense; The able wits who chose these themes Placed for the time a ban upon sense ; Doffed cap and gown that they were wearing, And forth in cap and bells went faring. You'll find here verse by youngsters smart, And by great minds of rank and splendour ; From masterhands of lyric art Down to the cheapest ballad-vendor. Some hinting shocks, some boldly reckless, But every one hand-picked and speckless. It's hard to make a book like this A really meritorious volume. You can't collect stuff, hit or miss, As colyumists make up their colyum ; So much depends on the compiler, And on her skill and technique stylar. vii viii FOREWORD It is a tricky thing to do, One must have clearest mental vision And perfect taste and judgment true, To choose with wisdom and precision ; I know, with fine evaluation You'll sense my rare discrimination. There's much debate in many a school On what is balderdash and what art; I have one simple little rule, Whatever makes me sick is not art. I'm monarch in my own dominion, This book is art, in my opinion. Don't blame me if you don't agree Invariably with my selection ; I may have put in two or three To which you would accord rejection. Waste not your time in vain complaining, Skip those, and read the gems remaining. I trust that you will buy this book ; 'Twill pleasure me and Mr. Doran ; Think how well on your shelves 'twill look Standing beside The Cid or Koran. You'll find it so intensely funny, That you'll be glad you blew the money. Though you'll enjoy the verbal stunts, You know the penalty of laughter ; Don't read the whole book through at once, Or maybe you'll be sorry after. For, and this is no laughing matter, You'll laugh so much you may grow fatter. I've heard it said the wisest men A bit of nonsense oft will relish ; With my praise it is needless then This volume further to embellish. As Shakespeare truly says, 'tis silly To gild gold or handpaint the lily. CONTENTS PAGE THE Two OLD BACHELORS. Edward Lear 17 WONDERS OF NATURE. The Anti-Jacobin 18 THIS Is THE MUSE OF NONSENSE. Gelett Burgess .... 19 BUNCHES OF GRAPES. Walter Ramal 20 To MY NEW PET. Anonymous 20 THERE ARE MEN IN THE VILLAGE OF ERITH. Cosmo Monkkouse 21 A TRAGIC STORY. William Makepeace Thackeray .... 22 THE FASTIDIOUS SERPENT. Henry Johnstone .... 22 ADAM. Captain Harry Graham . . 24 BREAD AND MILK. Anonymous 24 GOOD AND BAD. George Barr Barker 25 A POEM OF UPLIFT. Anonymous 25 MAVRONE. Arthur Guiterman 26 PERCHANCE. Walter Parke 28 THE THINGUMBOB. Anonymous 28 THE ENDLESS SONG. Ruth McEnery Stuart 28 ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP. L. J. Bridgman .... 28 THE DYSPEPTIC CANNIBAL. Alfred E. Dickey .... 29 MODERN NATURE LORE. Anonymous 30 THE OLD MAN. Anonymous 30 WING TEE WEE. J. P. Denison 30 MATERNAL COUNSEL. J. G. Francis 31 ERRING IN COMPANY. Franklin P. Adams . . . . .31 KINDLY ADVICE. O. P. Q. Smiff 32 SAINTE MARGERIE. Anonymous 33 JABBERWOCKY. Rendered into Latin Elegiacs. Hassard Dodgson 34 DER JAMMERWOCH. Thomas Chatterton 35 SoMEWHERE-iN-EuROPE-WocKY. F. G. Hartsunck .... 36 THE JABBERWOCKY PUBLISHERS. Anonymous .... 36 MONA LISA. John Kendrick Bangs 37 FOOTBALLWOCKY. Anonymous 37 CONTENTS PAGE THE ASP. Carolyn Wells 38 THE NAPOLEON OF NOTTING HILL. Gilbert Chesterton ... 38 ALL AT SEA. Frederick Moxon 41 THE RIME OP THE BETSY JANE. Bert Lesion Taylor ... 42 THE POST CAPTAIN. Charles E. Carryl 43 THE YARN OP THE "NANCY BELL." W.S.Gilbert. ... 44 THE BALLAD OF THE BILLYCOCK. Anthony C. Deane ... 46 CLASSICAL CRITICISM. George L. Richardson 47 NEMESIS. .7. W. Foley 48 REUBEN. Phebe Gary 48 THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. Grace G. Wiederseim .... 49 DIVIDED DESTINIES. Rudyard Kipling 50 THE NEW VESTMENTS. Edward Lear 51 FROM THE UFFIZI A. B. C. Arthur Maquarie 52 THE LLAMA. Hilaire Belloc .53 ODE TO A BOBTAILED CAT. Anonymov,s 54 A LULLABY. Anonymous 54 THE TURTLE AND THE FLAMINGO. James Thomas Fields ... 55 WIDOW BEDOT TO ELDER SNIFFLES. Frances Miriam Whitcher . 58 SONG OF THE SPRINGTIDE. Anonymous 58 THE JIM-JAM KING OF THE Jou-Jous. Alaric Bertrand Stuart . 59 LEPIDOPTERA. Gerald Mygatt 59 FAITHLESS SALLY BROWN. Thomas Hood 60 REVAMPED BY VAMPIRES. Anonymous ...... 61 FROM THE SANSCRIT OF MATABILIWAIJO. Sir Owen Seaman . . 62 To A PET REPTILE. Anonymous 62 BETWEEN THE SUNSET AND THE SEA. R. W. Answell ... 63 LORD GUY. George F. Warren 63 BUY A BAROM: BUY A BAROM. Frank O'Malley .... 64 A STRIKE AMONG THE POETS. From Punch 64 THE CANNY CROCODILE. Anonymous 65 THE PRODIGAL EGG. Anonymous 65 A GRAIN OF SALT. Wallace Irwin 65 MOTHERHOOD. Charles Stuart Calverley 66 SONNET FOR A PICTURE. A. C. Swinburne 66 OUR DUMB FRIENDS. Carolyn Wells 67 HE LOVES A POSTER GIRL. Anonymous 67 His MOTHER-IN-LAW. Anonymous 68 CONTENTS xi PAGE BYGONES. Bert Leston Taylor 68 WE WERE ON THE STARBOARD TACK. Gelett Burgess ... 68 THE HEN-KOOST MAN. Ruth McEnery Stuart .... 69 THE VIPER. Hilaire Belloc 70 MANUAL OP MANNERS FOR YOUNG ANIMALS. Anonymous . . 70 THE LEARNED FISH. Hilaire Belloc 70 I WISH THAT MY ROOM HAD A FLOOR. Gelett Burgess ... 71 APPLICATION FOR INSURANCE. Charles Wayland Towne . . 72 CAUTIONARY VERSES. Theodore Hook 74 GOOD JAMES AND NAUGHTY REGINALD. Eugene Field ... 74 ARE WOMEN FAIR? Francis Davison 76 THE PICKERLICK. Anonymous . . . . . .76 A LION EMERGED FROM His LAIR. J. G. Francis .... 77 OLD GRIMES. Albert Gorton Greene 78 ON A NANKIN PLATE. Austin Dobscm 78 THE LEARNED NEGRO. Anonymous , . . 79 GOING WITH THE STREAM. Arthur H. Clough 79 To THE PLIOCENE SKULL. Bret Harie 80 ROBINSON CRUSOE'S STORY. Charles E. Carryl . . .81 , LINES ON MONTEZUMA. D. F. A 82 AN UTTER PASSION UTTERED UTTERLY. John Todhunter . . 8 ] HUMPTY DUMPTY'S RECITATION. Lewis Carroll .... 83 THE BALLAD OF THE OYSTERMAN. Oliver Wendell Holmes . . 84 A HISTORY. Tom Hood, Jr 84 THE CONVERTED CANNIBALS. G. E. Farrow 85 THE YOUNG GAZELLE. Walter Parke ' . 86 IMAGISTE LOVE LINES. Anonymous 87 I NEVER SAW A PURPLE Cow. Gelett Burgess .... 88 DIVERSIONS OF THE RE-ECHO CLUB PURPLE Cow Sequence. Carolyn Wells . . . 88 AH, YES ; I WROTE THE PURPLE Cow. Gelett Burgess . . . 91 CLEAN CLARA. W. B. Rands 94 A NEW PAPER FOR BIPEDS. Anonymous 95 IN STATU Quo. Gelett Burgess 96 OUR TRAVELER. H. Cholmondeley-Pennell 99 How A GIRL WAS Too RECKLESS OF GRAMMAR BY FAR. Guy Wetmore Carryl 100 WILD FLOWERS. Peter Newell . . . 100 xii CONTENTS PAGE THE RETIRED PORK-BUTCHER AND THE SPOOK. G. E. Farrow . . 101 LILIES. Don Marquis 103 FRAUD. Anonymous 103 CHRISTMAS CHIMES. Anonymous 103 YE TOWNE GOSSIP. Kenneth C. Beaton 104 L 'ENVOI OP THE CUBISTS. Anonymous 105 BALLADE CRYING ART TO STOP HER NONSENSE. Eugene E. White 106 POST-IMPRESSIONISM. Bert Leston Taylor 106 A SYMPOSIUM OP POETS. Carolyn Wells ...... 107 STYX RIVER ANTHOLOGY. Carolyn Wells 107 THE NEO-NEOISM. Franklin P. Adams 109 THE MESSED DAMOZEL. Charles Hanson, Towne .... 109 ELLEN McJoNES ABERDEEN. William 8. Gilbert .... 110 SOME LITTLE BUG. Roy Atwell 112 THE FABLE OF THE Two MANDOLIN PLAYERS AND THE WILLING PERFORMER. George Ade 114 A TALE OF THE TROPICS. Anonymous 116 THE LEGEND OF THE FIRST CAM-U-EL. Arthur Guiterman . . 117 OLD DOCTOR MACK. Alfred Percival Graves . . . 118 TAM O'SHANTER DOG. J. G. Francis 120 FOR I AM SAD. Don Marquis 121 A PASTORAL IN POSTERS. Anonymous 121 POETS AND LINNETS. Tom Hood, Jr 122 THE LOST CHORD. Anonymous 122 THE PLAYED-OUT HUMORIST. W. 8. Gilbert 123 THE QUEST OF THE PURPLE Cow. Hilda Johnson .... 124 IF THEY MEANT ALL THEY SAID. Alice Duer Miller . . . 124 A TALE OF FOREIGN LANDS. Anonymous 124 THE ARTIST. By Guy Wetmore Carryl 125 A FABLE. Anonymous 128 How VERY SAD IT Is TO THINK. Rhymes of the Boogin Club . 129 THE COMICAL GIRL. M. Pelham ....... 130 HINTS ON TABLE ETIQUETTE. Carolyn Wells 131 COUNSEL TO THOSE THAT EAT. Anonymous 138 THE EDITOR'S WOOING. Robert H. Newell ("Orpheus C. Kerr") 138 WORDSWORTHIAN REMINISCENCE. Anonymous . . 139 THE ULTIMATE JOY. Anonymous 139 ETIQUETTE FOR ANY AFRICAN JUNGLE HUNTER. Anonymous . . 140 CONTENTS xiii PAGE NIRVANA. Anonymous 140 SCHOOL. J. K. Stephen 140 THE FOOLKILLER'S SONG. Anonymous 141 As EXPANDED. Chicago Tribune 141 THEODORE KOOSEVELT. Captain Harry Graham .... 142 AMAZING FACTS ABOUT FOOD. H. W 143 HOME. Nixon Waterman 143 IVY DE MILLEFLEURS. H. Cholmondeley-Pennell .... 144 THE LAND OF LOO-LA-LEE. Anonymous 145 THE RONDEAU. Anonymous . . 145 THE MICROBE. Hilaire Belloc 145 MISTER WILLIAM. W. 8. Gilbert 146 THE BOBOLINK. Anonymous . . 148 HARD PIPING. Anonymous 148 THE TALE OF A DOG. James H. Lambert, Jr 149 FROM AN ALPHABET OF SAINTS. Father Robert Hugh Benson . 149 To MINERVA. Thomas Hood 149 THE WAR: A-Z. John R. Edwards 150 THE LEGEND OF HEINZ VON STEIN. Charles Godfrey Leland . . 150 LOFTY LINES. Anonymous 151 OPTIMISM. H. M . . 151 BALLAD OF THE PRIMITIVE JEST. Andrew Lang .... 152 LAY OF ANCIENT ROME. Thomas Tbarra 152 A SKETCH. Robert J. Burdette 153 THE FIDDLER OF DOONEY. William Butler Yeats .... 153 ADVICE TO GRANDSONS. Anonymous 153 SONG. J. R. PlanchS 155 PESSIMISM. M. N 155 WAIL OF A RETURNED TOURIST. Anonymous 156 CONSTANCY. Anonymous 157 HOMOEOPATHIC SOUP. Anonymous 157 SOME HALLUCINATIONS. Lewis Carroll 157 THE DONG WITH THE LUMINOUS NOSE. Edward Lear . . . 158 THE SABINE FARMER'S SERENADE. Father Prout .... 160 FIN DE SIECLE. Anonymous 161 GOOD COUNSEL. Anonymous 162 IN WAIN. Anonymous ...... 162 A HELEN OF TODAY. Anonymous 162 xiv CONTENTS PAGE THE PIG. Robert Southey 163 A BALLADE OP BAD WEATHER. Anonymous 165 THE SMOKER'S A. B. C. George B. Morewood .... 165 SELECT PASSAGES PROM A COMING POET. F. Anstey .... 165 THE KILKENNY CATS. Anonymous 166 THE WHITE QUEEN'S RIDDLE. Lewis Carroll 166 AMPLIFIED SPELLING. Anonymous 167 WHAT You CAN AND WHAT You CAN'T. Anonymous . . . 167 FANCY VERSES. Anonymous 168 THE THRIFTY MAN. Anonymous 168 LITERARY ADVICE TO LOVERS. Anonymous ..... 169 A DARWINIAN BALLAD. Anonymous 169 NORTH, EAST, SOUTH AND WEST. H. A. M 170 IN MEMORIAM TECHNICAM. Thomas Hood, Jr 170 DREAM POEM. Anonymous 171 ANCESTRAL LORE. Anonymous . . . . . . . 171 THE WEDDING. Thomas Hood, Jr 172 OUR HYMN. Oliver Wendell Holmes 172 INSPECT Us. Edith Daniell 172 THE BALLAD OF THE EMEU. Bret Harte 173 "KULTURIZED" POETRY. Kenneth F. H. Underwood . . . 174 THE HOMELY PATHETIC. Bret Harte 175 THE AWFUL BUGABOO. Eugene Field 175 THE SONG OF THE JELLYFISH. Jarvis Keiley 176 THE ROMANCE OF THE CARPET. Robert J. Burdette . . . 176 To BE OR NOT TO BE. Anonymous 178 ALL OR NOTHING. Bayard Taylor 178 A PORTRAIT. Oliver Wendell Holmes 178 (ALLITERATIVE ABSURDITIES. Anonymous 179 \WHY NOT? Anonymous . . 179 THE CROCODILE. Hilaire Belloc 179 THE MICROBE'S SERENADE. George Ade 180 A SETTIN' HEN. Holmes F. Day 180 STORY OF ESAU WOOD. W. E. Southwick 180 THE CUMMERBUND. Edward Lear 181 CUPID'S DARTS. Anonymous 182 SOME PSALM. Anonymous 182 STATELY VERSE. Anonymous 182 CONTENTS xv PAGE THUDS FROM THE PADDED CELL. Maurice Smiley .... 183 WORSE AND MORE OP IT. Anonymous 183 RURAL BLISS. Anthony C. Deane 184 A CROSS LADY. Florence Wilkinson 185 THE WHICHNESS OF WHAT. J. A. A 185 A LITTLE SWIRL OF VERS LIBRE. Thomas R. Ybarra . . . 186 Wus, EVER Wus. H. Cholmondeley-Pennell 186 THE HAPPY MAN. Gilles Menage 186 A SYLVAN SCENE. Bayard Taylor 188 AIN'T IT AWFUL, MABEL? John Edward Hazzard . . . . 189 A HOUSE PET. Anonymous * . , 189 MY ANGELINE. Harry B. Smith 190 GHAT. Anonymous . 190 A HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION. Thomas Hood the Younger . . 191 THE SICK KNIGHT. F. Anstey 193 A PLEA FOR TRIGAMY. Owen Seaman 193 THE RIVAL MILLENNIUM. A. C. Fitch 194 THE EDUCATED LOVE BIRD. Peter Newell 194 POST-IMPRESSIONIST POEM. Julian Street . . . . . . 194 THE ROMAUNT OF HUMPTY DUMPTY. Henry S. Leigh . . . 196 To MARY. Phele Cory . 196 A SYMPOSIUM OF POETS. Carolyn Wells - 197 THE CONJUROR. Anonymous . 202 THE SEAMSTRESS. Anonymous 203 THE PRACTICAL JOKER. W. S. Gilbert 204 YE TOWNE GOSSIP. Kenneth C. Beaton 205 THE TRANSLATED WAY. Franklin P. Adams 206 THE NAUGHTY DARKEY BOY. Anonymous 206 THE BOGUS DIAMOND. Charles Battell Loomis . . . . 207 THE LOBSTER AND THE MAID. F. E. Weatherly .... 207 SPRING. Alfred E. Dickey . 208 THE ANTISEPTIC PLEDGE. Anonymous 208 THE SCARE CROW. Ruth McEnery Stuart . . . . 208 THE GREAT BLACK CROW. Philip James Bailey .... 209 YOUNG LOCHINVAR. Anonymous . ' 209 NATURE STUDIES. Anonymous 211 WHY DOTH A PUSSYCAT? Burges Johnson . . . . . 211 IF WE DIDN'T HAVE TO EAT. Nixon Watermawn . . 212 xvi CONTENTS PAGE SCIENTIFIC PROOF? J. W. Foley 212 ODE TO WORK IN SPRINGTIME. Thomas R. Tbarra .... 213 HUMOR. Anonymous 213 THE HERRING. Sir Walter Scott 213 As TO THE WEATHER. Anonymous 213 NATURE FAKIRS' FANCIES. Anonymous 214 AFTER OLIVER. Anonymous 214 NAN'S ADVENTURES UP TO DATE. Anonymous .... 215 VERDANCY. Anonymous 216 A EULE. Anonymous . 216 THE MICROBES. Anonymous 216 THE PRIMROSE PATH. H. M . . , 216 PING WING. Anonymous . 216 INDIFFERENCE. Anonymous 216 MANILA. Eugene T. Ware . 216 SAID OPIE READ TO E. P. ROE. Julian Street and James Mont- gomery Flagg THE BELLS. Anonymous A QUATRAIN. F. P. A. . . WHY? E. P. Stephens A SOLILOQUY. F. C. Burnand CYNJCUS TO W. SHAKESPEARE. J. K. Stephen A TRIOLET. John Twig SENEX TO MATT. PRIOR. J. K. Stephen ON THE LATIN GERUNDS. Theodore Hook A PRACTICAL ANSWER. Shirley Brooks ON A SENSE OF HUMOR. Frederick Locker ON A JURY. John Godfrey Saxe MORE WALKS. Anonymous . SOME LADIES. Frederick Locker THE CAREFUL PENMAN. Anonymous LOGICAL ENGLISH. Anonymous LOGIC. Anonymous To QELETT BURESS. P.P. A MADAME SANS Souci. Anonymous THE HUB. Anonymous ANOTHER CITY. Anonymous ADVENTURES OF LITTLE KATY. Anonymous .... CONTENTS xvii PAGE THE MODERN MAID. Anonymous 219 BALLADS OP BAD BABIES. Harry P. Taber 220 TRUTHLESS RHYMES FOR HEARTHLESS HOMES. Anonymous . . 220 UNPERTURBED MAMMA. Anonymous 221 LIMERICKS 225 MISHAPS OF GENTLE JANE. Carolyn Wetts 233 ILLUSTRATIONS THE PRINCESS PERILLA Frontispiece PAGE WE WERE ON THE STARBOARD TACK 44 A MERE MAN 64 ANGLING FOR MERMAIDS 80 iHE JuARK ........... JO WILD FLOWERS 106 THE LITTLE RABBIT'S MISTAKE 142 WICKED WASTE 178 THE EDUCATED LOVE BIRD 194 So HER INTO PRISON HE THREW 198 THE SCARE CROW 208 THERE WAS AN OLD MAN WHO SAID "GEE!". 216 xix SUCH NONSENSE! SUCH NONSENSE! THE TWO OLD BACHELORS Two old Bachelors were living in one house; One caught a Muffin, the other caught a Mouse. Said he who caught the Muffin to him who caught the Mouse, "This happens just in time, for we've nothing in the house, Save a tiny slice of lemon and a teaspoonful of honey, / And what to do for dinner, since we haven't any money? And what can we expect if we haven't any dinner But to lose our teeth and eyelashes and keep on growing thinner?" Said he who caught the Mouse to him who caught the Muffin, "We might cook this little Mouse if we only had some Stuffin' ! If we had but Sage and Onions we could do extremely well, But how to get that Stuffin' it is difficult to tell I" And then those two old Bachelors ran quickly to the town And asked for Sage and Onions as they wandered up and down; They borrowed two large Onions, but no Sage was to be found In the Shops or in the Market or in all the Gardens round. But some one said, "A hill there is, a little to the north, And to its purpledicular top a narrow way leads forth; And there among the rugged rocks abides an ancient Sage, An earnest Man, who reads all day a most perplexing page. Climb up and seize him by the toes, all studious as he sits, And pull him down, and chop him into endless little bits! Then mix him with your Onion (cut up likewise into scraps), And your Stuffin' will be ready, and very good perhaps." And then those two old Bachelors, without loss of time, The nearly purpledicular crags at once began to climb; And at the top among the rocks, all seated in a nook, They saw that Sage a-reading of a most enormous book. "You earnest Sage !" aloud they cried, "your book you've read enough in ! We wish to chop you into bits and mix you into Stuffin' !" 17 18 SUCH NONSENSE! But that old Sage looked calmly up, and with his awful book At those two Bachelors' bald heads a certain aim he took; And over crag and precipice they rolled promiscuous down, At once they rolled, and never stopped in lane or field or town; And when they reached their house, they found (besides their want of Stuffin') The Mouse had fled and previously had eaten up the Muffin. They left their home in silence by the once convivial door; And from that hour those Bachelors were never heard of more. EDWARD LEAR. Nobody can beat Mr. Lear at his own game. WONDERS OF NATURE Ah! who has seen the mailed lobster rise, Clap her broad wings, and, soaring, claim the skies? When did the owl, descending from her bower, Crop, 'midst the fleecy flocks, the tender flower; Or the young heifer plunge, with pliant limb, In the salt wave, and, fish-like, try to swim? The same with plants, potatoes 'tatoes breed, The costly cabbage springs from cabbage-seed; Lettuce to lettuce, leeks to leeks succeed; Nor e'er did cooling cucumbers presume To flower like myrtle, or like violets bloom. THE ANTI-JACOBIN. Neither can the leopard change his spots. Portrait of and by W. M. Thackeray SUCH NONSENSE! 19 This is THE MUSE OF NONSENSE; See! Preposterously Strained is She; Her Figures have nor Rule nor Joint And so it's Hard to See the Point! GELETT BUBGESS. 20 SUCH NONSENSE! BUNCHES OF GEAPES "Bunches of grapes," says Timothy, "Pomegranates pink," says Elaine ; "A junket of cream and a cranberry tart "For me," says Jane. "Love-in-a-mist," says Timothy, "Primroses pale," says Elaine; "A nosegay of pinks and mignonette For me," says Jane. "Chariots of gold," says Timothy, "Silvery wings," says Elaine; "A bumpety ride in a waggon of hay For me," says Jane. WALTER RAMAL. Isn't Jane a duck? TO MY NEW PET I love my ichneumon, Its tongue is so queer, Its ways are so human, It has such a leer. 'Tis fond of the emmet For dinner and tea But ere you condemn it, Pray listen to me. And know that though ants it Delights in so much ; Its fiercest foe grants it An uncle won't touch. Tasty little joke, that, about ant and uncle. Signature of a Well-known Artist SUCH NONSENSE! "-x There are men in the village of Erith Whom nobody seeth or heareth; And there looms on the marge Of the river a barge Which nobody roweth or steereth. COSMO MONKHOUSK. Enough to make anybody believe in spooks. SUCH NONSENSE! A TRAGIC STORY There lived a sage in days of yore, And he a handsome pigtail wore; But wondered much and sorrowed more, Because it hung behind him. He mused upon this curious case, And swore he'd change the pigtail's place, And have it hanging at his face, Not dangling there behind him. Says he, "The mystery I've found, I'll turn me round," he turned him round; But still it hung behind him. Then round and round, and out and in, All day the puzzled sage did spin; In vain it mattered not a pin, The pigtail hung behind him. And right and left, and round about, And up and down, and in and out, He turned ; but still the pigtail stout Hung steadily behind him. And though his efforts never slack, And though he twist and twirl and tack, Alas ! still faithful to his back, The pigtail hangs behind him. WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. Seems 'sif 'most anybody could write such good nonsense as that, but alas, how few of us could sign such a good name. THE FASTIDIOUS SERPENT There was a snake that dwelt in Skye, Over the misty sea, oh; He lived upon nothing but gooseberry pie For breakfast, dinner and tea, oh. Now gooseberry pie as is very well known, Over the misty sea, oh, Is not to be found under every stone, Nor yet upon every tree, oh. And being so ill to please with bis meat, Over the misty sea, oh; The snake had sometimes nothing eat, And an angry snake was he, oh. Then he'd flick his tongue and his head he'd shake, Over the misty sea, oh, Crying, "Gooseberry pie! For good- ness' sake, Some gooseberry pie for me, oh." And if gooseberry pie was not to be had, Over the misty sea, oh, He'd twine and twist like an eel gone mad, Or a worm just stung by a bee, oh. But though he might shout and wriggle about, Over the misty sea, oh, The snake had often to go without His breakfast, dinner and tea, oh. HENRY JOHNSTONE. Lot of human nature in snakes. SUCH NONSENSE! 23 Reproduction of a Letter by Sir Walter Burne-Jones SUCH NONSENSE! ADAM "When Eve appeared upon the scene." In History he holds a place Unique, unparalleled, sublime; "The First of all the Human Kace!" Yes, that was Adam, all the time. It didn't matter if he burst, He simply had to get there first. A simple Child of Nature he, Whose life was primitive and rude; His wants were few, his manners free, All kinds of clothing he eschewed, He might be seen in any weather, In what is called "the Altogether!" The luxuries that we enjoy He never had, so never missed; Appliances that we employ For saving work did not exist; He would have found them useless too, Not having any work to do. He never wrote a business note; He had no creditors to pay; He was not pestered for his vote, Not having one to give away; And, living utterly alone, He did not need a telephone. The joys of indolence he knew, In his remote and peaceful clime, He did just what he wanted to, Nor ever said he "hadn't time I" (And this was natural becos He had whatever time there was.) His pulse was strong, his health was good, He had no fads of meat or drink, Of tonic waters, Breakfast Food, Or Pills for Persons who are Pink; No cloud of indigestion lay Across the sunshine of his day. And, when he went to bed each night, He made his couch upon the soil; The glow-worms gave him all his light, (He hadn't heard of Standard Oil);- At dawn he woke, then slept again, lie never had to catch a train ! A happy, solitary life ! But soon he found it dull, I ween, So thought that he would like a wife, When Eve appeared upon the scene. * * * And we will draw a kindly veil Over the sequel to this tale. MORAL Ye Bachelors, contented be With what the future holds for you ; Pity the married man, for he Has nothing to look forward to, To hunger for with bated breath ! * * * (Nothing, that is to say, but Death!) CAPTAIN HARRY GRAHAM. As pictured above, it doubtless was the greatest dramatic situation of all time! BREAD AND MILK Bread and milk are good to eat, Potatoes are not bad, But bread and milk's the food for me, The food for any lad. The old red cow, she gives the milk, And mother gives the bread; I put the bread into the milk, Then put both in my head. This gem of thought is copied ver- batim from an old "First Reader." How small the world is, after all. SUCH NONSENSE! A POEM OP UPLIFT I soar above all earthly scenes, I soar! I soar! My soul bathes in a sea of dreams, I soar! I soar! Above the toiling, moiling world, To zenith spaces, star-empearled, My radiant soul is swept and swirled, I soar! I soar! ANON. Precious! A Letter Heading by Rudyard Kipling GOOD AND BAD If I was as bad as they say I am, And you were as good as you look, I wonder which one would feel the worse If each for the other was took? GEORGE BARB BAKER. This remark was made by a bad, bold convict to his vain, virtuous, visiting chaplain, four personal answer to the question is an indication of your char- acter. SUCH NONSENSE! MAVRONE One of Those Sad Irish Poems, With Notes From Arranmore -the weary miles I've comej An' all the way I've heard A Shrawn x that's kep' me silent, speechless, dumb, Not sayin' any word. An' was it then the Shrawn of Eire, 2 you'll say, For him that died the death on Carrisboolf It was not that ; nor was it, by the way, The Sons of Garnim 3 blitherin' their drool; Nor was it any Crowdie of the Shee,* Or Itt, or Himm, nor wail of Barryhoo 6 For Barry which that stilled the tongue of me. 'Twas but my own heart cryin' out for you Magraw ! 6 Bulleen, shinnanigan, Boru, Aroon, Machree, Aboo! T My favourite of the whole bunch. *A Shrawn is a pure Gaelic noise, something like a groan, more like a shriek, and most like a sigh of longing. * Eire was daughter of Carne, King of Connaught. Her lover, Murdh of the Open Hand, was captured by Greatcoat Mackintosh, King of Ulster, on the plain of Carrisbool, and made into soup. Eire's grief on this sad occasion has become proverbial. Garnim was second cousin to Manan- nan MacLir. His sons were always sad about something. There were twenty-two of them, and they were all unfortunate in love at the same time, just like a chorus at the opera. "Blitherin' their drool" is about the same as "dreeing their weird." The Shee (or "Sidhe," as I should properly spell it if you were not so igno- rant) were, as everybody knows, the regular, stand-pat, organisation fairies of Erin. The Crowdie was their annual con- vention, at which they made melancholy ARTHUR GUITERMAN. sounds. The Itt and Himm were the irregular, or insurgent, fairies. They never got any offices or patronage. See MacAlester, Polity of the Sidhe of West Meath, page 985. 5 The Barryhoo is an ancient Celtic bird about the size of a Mavis, with lavender eyes and a black-crape tail. It continu- ally mourns its mate (Barry which, fem- inine form), which has an hereditary predisposition to an early and tragic de- mise and invariably dies first. * Magraw, a Gaelic term of endearment, often heard on the baseball fields of Donnybrook. 7 These last six words are all that tra- dition has preserved of the original in- cantation by means of which Irish rats were rhymed to death. Thereby hangs a good Celtic tale, which I should be glad to tell you in this note ; but the publishers say that being prosed to death is as bad as being rhymed to death, and that the readers won't stand for any more. SUCH NONSENSE! Portrait of and by Alfred De Musset 8 SUCH NONSENSE! PERCHANCE Perchance it was her eyes of blue, Her cheek that might the rose have shamed ; Her figure, in proportion true To all the rules by artists framed; Perhaps it was her mental worth That made her lover love her so, Perhaps her name or wealth or birth I cannot tell I do not know. He may have had a rival, who Did fiercely gage him to a duel, And, being the luckier of the two, Defeated him with triumph cruel. Then she may have proved false, and turned To welcome to her arms his foe; Left him despairing, conquered, spurned, I cannot tell I do not know. WALTER PARKE. He doesn't seem to know much of anything! THE THINGUMBOB A Pastel The Thingumbob sat at eventide, On the shore of a shoreless sea, Expecting an unexpected attack From something it could not foresee. A still calm rests on the angry waves, The low wind whistles a mournful tune, And the Thingumbob sighs to himself, "Alas, I've had no supper now since noon." Author, please speak up. vertently lost his name. I inad- THE ENDLESS SONG Oh, I used to sing a song, An' dey said it was too long, So I cut it off de en* To accommodate a frien' Nex' do', nex' do' To accommodate a frien' nex' do'. But it made de matter wuss Dan it had been at de fus, 'Ca'ze de en' was gone, an' den Co'se it didn't have no en' Any mo', any mo' Oh, it didn't have no en' any mo'! So, to save my frien' from sinnin', I cut off de song's beginnin'j Still he cusses right along Whilst I sings about my song Jes so, jes so Whilst I sings about my song jes so. How to please 'im is my riddle, So I'll fall back on my fiddle; For I'd stan' myself on en* To accommodate a frien' Nex' do', nex' do' To accommodate a frien' nex' do'. RUTH MCENERY STUART. Alas, friends 'are all alike. ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP The woodchuck told it all about. "I'm going to build a dwelling Six stories high, up to the sky!" He never tired of telling. He dug the cellar smooth and well But made no more advances; That lovely hole so pleased his soul And satisfied his fancies. L. J. BRIDGMAN. Oh, oft much better off we'd be If like the woodchuck more were we. SUCH NONSENSE! The Interrupted Artist EDWABD LEAK. THE DYSPEPTIC CANNIBAL A cannibal was seated on a green Pacific isle, With the temperature at ninety-nine degrees; His dress was rather scanty, in the latest savage style, Just a pair of Boston garters round his knees. But he didn't seem quite happy, for now and then a groan Escaped which tore his savage breast in two; And he chanted in a melancholy, meditative tone The ditty that I now repeat to you: "I've eaten hostile tribesmen without a single question; I've feasted on the yellow, black and brown; But I never have encountered such a fit of indigestion As accompanied the minister from town. "I have tried the Uambago, boiled and roasted, baked and fried ; I have chewed the woolly Oolah, stuffed with yam; But for all the after symptoms from the dishes we have tried I wouldn't give a Bamballoadam !" ALFRED E. DICKEY. All the world loves a cannibal. 30 SUCH NONSENSE! MODERN NATURE LORE To write of the wonders of Nature Is now the acceptable dodge: To trace the Nennook's nomenclature, And learn where the Lorises lodge. To set forth the habits of rabbits, To sum up the porcupine's spines, To mention the uses of mooses and gooses, And tell how the ocelot dine^. To teach us to know the gorilla, And how to tell llamas from lambs; About what to chin the chinchilla, And how best to entertain clams. To post us on pigeons and widgeons, And tell how to make beavers beave, Or how to inveigle an eagle or beagle His highest and best to achieve. To state all the traits of the wombat; To show why the koulan and vole Are always engaged in a combat These stories I swallow down whole. But still with two questions I wrangle, And help will not come at my call: Why an angleworm hasn't an angle And a mongoose is no goose at all! When Adam named the beasts some woman must have sidled up to him and offered to help. THE OLD MAN It was a cold and wintry night, A man stood in the street; His aged eyes were full of tears, His boots were full of feet. This verse gets there with both feet, -poetic and human. WING TEE WEE Oh, Wing Tee Wee Was a sweet Chinee, And she lived in the town of Tac. Her eyes were blue, And her curling queue Hung dangling down her back ; And she fell in love with gay Win Sil When he wrote his name on a laundry bill. And, oh, Tim Told Was a pirate bold, And he sailed in a Chinese junk; And he loved, ah me! Sweet Wing Tee Wee, But his valiant heart had sunk; So he drowned his blues in fickle fizz, And vowed the maid would yet be his. So bold Tim Told Showed all his gold To the maid in the town of Tac ; And sweet Wing Wee Eloped to sea, And nevermore came back; For in far Chinee the maids are fair, And the maids are false, as every- where. J. P. DENISON. And yet one can't help feeling that Wing Tee Wee was a dear and a sweet. Portrait of and by a Well-known Publisher SUCH NONSENSE! 31 Co-icl ex NK^op lo ke,** cKilcL, /"Ay d.-a.T QxjtcK tore.C.i)ollcxle. hcx^bc. i^ XJtnC.ou.lK. *\A/He-n. you. como clow/ri a. lo.&> A Nautical Fancy by M61anie E. Norton ALL AT SEA The Voyage of a Certain Uncertain Sailorman. I saw a certain sailorman who sat beside the sea, And in the manner of his tribe he yawned this yarn to me: " 'Twere back in eighteen-fifty-three, or mebbe fifty-four, I skipped the farm, no, 't were the shop, an' went to Baltimore. I shipped aboard the Lizzie or she might ha' bin the Jane; Them wimmin names are mixey, so I don't remember plain; But anyhow, she were a craft that carried schooner rig, (Although Sam Swab, the bo'sun, allus swore she were a brig) ; We sailed away from Salem Town, no, lemme think; 't were Lynn, An' steered a course for Africa (or Greece, it might ha' bin) ; But anyway, we tacked an' backed an' weathered many a storm Oh, no, as I recall it now, that week was fine an' warm! Who did I say the cap'n was? I didn't say at all? Wa-a-11 now, his name were 'Lijah Bell or was it Eli Ball? I kinder guess 't were Eli. He'd a big, red, bushy beard No-o-o, come to think, he allus kept his whiskers nicely sheared. But anyhow, that voyage was the first I'd ever took, An' all I had to do was cut up cabbage for the cook; But come to talk o' cabbage just reminds me, that there trip Would prob'ly be my third one, on a Hong Kong clipper-ship. The crew they were a jolly lot, an' used to sing 'Avast,' I think it were, or else 'Ahoy,' while bailing out the mast. And as I recollect it now, " But here I cut him short, And said: "It's time to tack again, and bring your wits to port; I came to get a story both adventurous and true, And here is how I started out to write the interview: 'I saw a certain sailorman,' but you turn out to be The most ttn-certain sailorman that ever sailed the sea!" He puffed his pipe, and answered, "Wa-a-11, I thought 'twere mine, but still, Z must ha' told the one belongs to my twin brother Bill!" FREDERICK: MOXON. Lovable old sailor man. 7 do detest those smug people who are always "sure of their facts." m SUCH NONSENSE! THE RIME OF THE BETSY JANE A manuscript found in a bottle It was the good ship Betsy Jane, That sailed in a spanking breeze, With a bunch of militant Suffs on board, Condemned to an island unexplored, In far off southern seas. The Suffs they went on a hunger strike, And nothing eat would they, So the skipper, a conscientious man, Was forced to the forcible feeding plan, In the genteel British way. A squall came up and the ship went down, And we of the Betsy Jane Were left on the raft in a dreadful plight, With never a friendly sail in sight, On the well-known raging main. Our skipper, a conscientious man, Divided the grub with care. Says he: "It's share and share alike; You dames can eat or stay on strike, But damme ! there's your share." The waves ran high, the grub ran low, And never a sail we saw, The Suffs they scorned the pork and bread, And "Votes for Wimmen!" was all they said, And never a chaw they'd chaw. The starving crew of the Betsy Jane They watched their end draw near; Till, "Blast my eyes!" said Bosun Bill, "If they won't eat their chuck, I will!" And the rest of us give a cheer. But the skipper, a conscientious man, A pistol huge drew he. "Who touches a hunk of yonder bread Dies like a dog! Back up!" he said, And Right here the tale in the bottle stopped, And left me on tiptoe; For how they straightened the matter out, Or whether their fate is still in doubt, I'd jolly well like to know. BERT LESTON TAYLOR. Once more the Nautical Ballad. Portrait of and by Hatching SUCH NONSENSE! 43 THE POST CAPTAIN When they heard the Captain humming and beheld the dancing crew, On the "Royal Biddy" frigate was Sir Peter Bombazoo; His mind was full of music and his head was full of tunes, And he cheerfully exhibited on pleasant afternoons. He could whistle, on his fingers, an invigorating reel, And could imitate a piper on the handles of the wheel; He could play in double octaves, too, all up and down the rail, Or rattle off a rondo on the bottom of a pail. Then porters with their packages and bakers with their buns, And countesses in carriages and grenadiers with guns, And admirals and commodores arrived from near and far, To listen to the music of this entertaining tar. When they heard the captain humming and beheld the dancing crew, The commodores severely said, "Why, this will never do !" And the admirals all hurried home, remarking, "This is most Extraordinary conduct for a captain at his post." Then they sent some sailing-orders to Sir Peter, in a boat, And he did a little fifing on the edges of the note ; But he read the sailing orders, as of course he had to do, And removed the "Royal Biddy" to the Bay of Boohgabooh. Now, Sir Peter took it kindly, but it's proper to explain He was sent to catch a pirate out upon the Spanish Main. And he played, with variations, an imaginary tune On the buttons of his waistcoat, like a jocular bassoon. Then a topman saw the pirate come a-sailing in the bay, And reported to the captain in the ordinary way. "I'll receive him," said Sir Peter, "with a musical salute," And he gave some imitations of a double- jointed flute. Then the Pirate cried derisively, "I've heard it done before!" And he hoisted up a banner emblematical of gore. But Sir Peter said serenely, "You may double-shot the guns While I sing my little ballad of 'The Butter on the Buns.'" Then the Pirate banged Sir Peter and Sir Peter banged him back, And they banged away together as they took another tack. Then Sir Peter said, politely, "You may board him, if you like," And he played a little dirge upon the handle of a pike. SUCH NONSENSE! Then the "Biddies" poured like hornets down upon the Pirate's deck And Sir Peter caught the Pirate and he took him by the neck, And remarked, "You must excuse me, but you acted like a brute When I gave my imitation of that double- jointed flute." So they took that wicked Pirate and they took his wicked crew, And tied them up with double knots in packages of two. And left them lying on their backs in rows upon the beach With a little bread and water within comfortable reach. Now the Pirate had a treasure (mostly silverware and gold), And Sir Peter took and stowed it in the bottom of his hold; And said, "I will retire on this cargo of doubloons, And each of you, my gallant crew, may have some silver spoons." Now commodores in coach-and-fours and corporals in cabs, And men with carts of pies and tarts and fishermen with crabs, And barristers with wigs, in gigs, still gather on the strand, But there isn't any music save a little German band. CHARLES E. CABRYL. A. Tip-topper. THE YAEN OF THE NANCY BELL 'Twas on the shores that round our coast From Deal to Ramsgate span, That I found alone on a piece of stone An elderly naval man. His hair was weedy, his beard was long, And weedy and long was he, And I heard this wight on the shore recite In a singular minor key: "Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig!" And he shook his fists and he tore his hair, Till I really felt afraid, For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking, And so I simply said: "Oh, elderly man, it's little I know Of the duties of men of the sea, And I'll eat my hand if I understand How you can possibly be "At once a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig." Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which Is a trick all seamen larn, And having got rid of a thumpin' quid, He spun this painful yarn: " 'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell That we sailed to the Indian Sea, And there on a reef we come to grief, Which has often occurred to me. V/E WER.E ON THE STARBOARD TACK. THE MATE BEING ON THE WATCH, AND THE CAPTAm PAUNC THE DECK, WHEN THE BOATSWAIN PIPED AU HANDS ON DECK" You see, the bo'sun piped the mast, (That's why it doesn't rhyme) ; For though they called the Captain fast, The mate was ripht on time! SUCH NONSENSE! "And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul), And only ten of the Nancy's men Said 'Here!' to the muster roll. "There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And the bo'sun tight, and a midship- mite, And the crew of the captain's gig. "For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, Till a-hungry we did feel, So we drawed a lot, and accordin' shot The captain for our meal. "The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, And a delicate dish he made; Then our appetite with the midshipmite We seven survivors stayed. "And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, And he much resembled pig; Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, On the crew of the captain's gig. "Then only the cook and me was left, And the delicate question, 'Which Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose, And we argued it out as sich. "For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, And the cook he worshipped me; But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed In the other chap's hold, you see. " 'I'll be eat if you dines of me,' says Tom; 'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be.' 'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I ; And 'Exactly so,' quoth he. "Says he, 'Dear James, to murder me Were a foolish thing to do, For don't you see that you can't cook me While I can and will cook you?' "So he boils the water, and takes the salt And the pepper in portions true (Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot And some sage and parsley too. " 'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride, Which his smiling features tell, "Twill soothing be if I let you see How extremely nice you'll smell.' "And he stirred it round and round and round, And he sniffed at the foaming broth When I ups with his heels, and smoth- ers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth. "And I eat that cook in a week or less, And as I eating be The last of his chops, why, I almost drops, For a wessel in sight I see. "And I never grieve, and I never smile, And I never larf nor play; But I sit and croak, and a single joke I have which is to say: "Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig!" W. S. GILBERT. The best of the elderly naval ballads. 46 SUCH NONSENSE! THE BALLAD OF THE BILLYCOCK It was the good ship Billycock, with thirteen men aboard, Athirst to grapple with their country's foes, A crew, 'twill be admitted, not numerically fitted To navigate a battleship in prose. It was the good ship Billycock put out from Plymouth Sound, While lustily the gallant heroes cheered, And all the air was ringing with the merry bo'sun's singing, Till in the gloom of night she disappeared. But when the morning broke on her, behold, a dozen ships, A dozen ships of Prance, around her lay, (Or if that isn't plenty, I will gladly make it twenty,) And hemmed her close in Salamander Bay. Then to the Lord High Admiral there spake a cabin boy; "Methinks," he said, "the odds are somewhat great, And, in the present crisis, a cabin boy's advice is, That you and France had better arbitrate." "Pooh !" said the Lord High Admiral, and slapped his lordly chest, "Pooh! that would be both cowardly and wrong; Shall I, a gallant fighter, give the needy ballad writer No suitable material for song?" "Nay, is the shorthand writer here? I tell you, one and all, I mean to do my duty as I ought; With eager satisfaction let us clear the decks for action And fight the craven Frenchmen !" So they fought. And (after several stanzas which as yet are incomplete, Describing all the fight in epic style) When the Billycock was going, she'd a dozen prizes towing (Or twenty, as above) in single file. Ah, long in glowing English hearts the story will remain, The memory of that historic day, And, while we rule the ocean, we will picture with emotion The Billycock in Salamander Bay! P. S. I've lately noticed that the critics, who, I think, In praising my productions are remiss Quite easily are captured, and profess themselves enraptured, By patriotic ditties such as this. SUCH NONSENSE! 47 For making which you merely take some dauntless Englishmen, Guns, heroism, slaughter and a fleet Ingredients you mingle in a meter with a jingle, And there you have your masterpiece complete. Why, then, with labour infinite, produce a book of verse, To languish on the "All at Twopence" shelf? The ballad bold and breezy comes particularly easy I mean to take to writing it myself! ANTHONY C. DEANE. When in doubt write a nautical ballad. CLASSICAL CRITICISM 21 B. c. Old Horace, on a summer afternoon, Well primed with sweet Falernian, let us say, Lulled by the far-off brooklet's drowsy croon To a half -doze; in a hap-hazard way Scratched off a half a dozen careless rhymes, As was his habit. When next day he came Awake to work, he read them several times In vain attempt to catch their sense and aim. "What was I thinking about? Blest if I know! Jupiter! What's the difference? Let them go." 1888 A.D. "Lines twelve to twenty are in great dispute," (Most learnedly the lecturer doth speak) "I think I shall be able to refute Orelli's claim they're taken from the Greek. I think, with Bentley, Horace's purpose here Is irony, and yet I do not know But Dillenburger's reading is more clear For which he gives eight arguments, although Wilkins gives twelve objections to the same." (So on ad infinitum.) Such is fame. GEORQB L. RICHARDSON. Oh, you College Professors! 48 SUCH NONSENSE! NEMESIS The man who invented the women's waists that button down behind, And the man who invented the cans with keys and the strips that will never wind, Were put to sea in a leaky boat and with never a bite to eat But a couple of dozen of patent cans in which was their only meat. And they sailed and sailed o'er the ocean wide and never they had a taste Of aught to eat, for the cans stayed shut, and a peek-a-boo shirtwaist Was all they had to bale the brine that came in the leaky boat; And their tongues were thick and their throats were dry, and they barely kept afloat. They came at last to an island fair, and a man stood on the shore, So they flew a signal of distress and their h<5pes rose high once more, And they called to him to fetch a boat, for their craft was sinking fast, And a couple of hours at best they knew was all their boat would last. So he called to them a cheery call and he said he would make haste, But first he must go back to his wife and button up her waist, Which would only take him an hour or so and then he would fetch a boat. And the man who invented the back- stairs waist, he groaned in his swollen throat. The hours passed by on leaden wings and they saw another man In the window of a bungalow, and he held a tin meat can In his bleeding hands, and they called to him, not once but twice and thrice, And he said: "Just wait till I open this and I'll be there in a trice!" And the man who invented the patent cans he knew what the promise meant, So he leaped in air with a horrid cry and into the sea he went, And the bubbles rose where he sank and sank and a groan choked in the throat Of the man who invented the backstairs waist and he sank with the leaky boat! J. W. FOLEY. Favouring the theory o/ Individual Infernos. REUBEN That very time I saw, (but thou couldst not), Walking between the garden and the barn, Reuben, all armed; a certain aim he took At a young chicken, standing by a post, And loosed his bullet smartly from his gun, As he would kill a hundred thousand hens. But I might see young Reuben's fiery shot Lodged in the chaste board of the garden fence, And the domesticated fowl passed on, In henly meditation, bullet free. PHEBE GARY. Miss Phebe Gary was one of the salt of the Earth. And if her lines aren't as well known as Shakespeare's, it's because he beat her to it. The Universal Prayer. 50 SUCH NONSENSE! DIVIDED DESTINIES It was an artless Bandar, and he danced upon a pine, And much I wondered how he lived, and where the beast might dine, And many, many other things, till, o'er my morning smoke, I slept the sleep of idleness and dreamed that Bandar spoke. He said: "Oh, man of many clothes! sad crawler on the Hills! Observe, I know not Ranken's shop, nor Ranken's monthly bills! I take no heed to trousers or the coats that you call dress; Nor am I plagued with little cards for little drinks at Mess. "I steal the bunnia's grain at morn, at noon and eventide (For he is fat and I am spare), I roam the mountainside, I follow no man's carriage, and no, never in my life Have I flirted at Peliti's with another Bandar's wife. "Oh, man of futile fopperies unnecessary wraps; I own no ponies in the Hills, I drive no tall-wheeled traps; I buy me not twelve-button gloves, 'short-sixes' eke, or rings, Nor do I waste at Hamilton's my wealth on pretty things. "I quarrel with my wife at home, we never fight abroad; But Mrs. B. has grasped the fact I am her only lord. I never heard of fever dumps nor debts depress my soul; And I pity and despise you !" Here he pouched my breakfast-roll. His hide was very mangy and his face was very red, And undisguisedly he scratched with energy his head. His manners were not always nice, but how my spirit cried To be an artless Bandar loose upon the mountainside ! So I answered: "Gentle Bandar, an inscrutable Decree Makes thee a gleesome, fleasome Thou, and me a wretched Me. Go! Depart in peace, my brother, to thy home amid the pine; Yet forget not once a mortal wished to change his lot with thine." RUDYARD KIPLING. You can't help liking the Bandar. SUCH NONSENSE! 51 THE NEW VESTMENTS There lived an old man in the kingdom of Tess, Who invented a purely original dress; And when it was perfectly made and complete, He opened the door and walked into the street. By way of a hat he'd a loaf of Brown Bread, In the middle of which he inserted his head; His Shirt was made up of no end of dead Mice, The warmth of whose skins was quite fluffy and nice;' His Drawers were of Rabbit-skins, so were his Shoes, His Stockings were skins, but it is not known whose; His Waistcoat and Trowsers were made of Pork Chops j His Buttons were Jujubes and Chocolate Drops. His Coat was all Pancakes with Jam for a border, And a girdle of Biscuits to keep it in order. And he wore over all, as a screen from bad weather, A Cloak of green Cabbage leaves, stitched all together. He had walked a short way, when he heard a great noise Of all sorts of Beasticles, Birdlings and Boys; And from every long street and dark lane in the town Beasts, Birdies and Boys in a tumult rushed down. Two Cows and a Calf ate his Cabbage leaf Cloak; Four Apes seized his girdle which vanished like smoke; Three Kids ate up half of his Pancaky Coat, And the tails were devoured by an ancient He Goat. An army of Dogs in a twinkling tore up his Pork Waistcoat and Trowsers to give to their Puppies; And while they were growling and mumbling the Chops Ten Boys prigged the Jujubes and Chocolate Drops. He tried to run back to his house, but in vain, For scores of fat Pigs came again and again; They rushed out of stables and hovels and doors, They tore off his Stockings, his Shoes and his Drawers. And now from the housetops with screechings descend Striped, spotted, white, black and grey Cats without end; They jumped on his shoulders and knocked off his hat, When Crows, Ducks and Hens made a mincemeat of that. They speedily flew at his sleeves in a trice And utterly tore up his Shirt of dead Mice; They swallwed the last of his Shirt with a squall, Whereon he ran home with no clothes on at all. 52 SUCH NONSENSE! And he said to himself as he bolted the door, "I will not wear a similar dress any more, Any more, any more, any more, nevermore!" EDWARD LEAR. Darling old man! FROM THE UFFIZI ABC B is Botticelli, a crazy sort of man, Who like many at the moment when the pagan craze began, Confused Saint Paul and Socrates, and muddled gods and saints Till he drew a Virgin Mary with his box of Venus paints. There is something very lovely in his easy, flowing grace, And his airiness of fancy and his gentleness of face, The softness of his colours, and his evident delight In catching pretty contours, and in getting most things right. Friend Berenson has shown us and we bow and hearken dumb He prefers an ample earlobe and a squarish type of thumb; And any girl will tell you he was artful in his ways When he made his rapt Madonnas wear their hair like Edna May's. ARTHUR MAQUARIB. FROM THE UFFIZI ABC N is Bicci Neri. If you didn't know before, You can see his panel paintings hanging in the corridor. There, if my memory serves me, you will find a lady saint With a nice magenta petticoat, well handled in the paint. (She was probably his model, whom the artist used to pose For the Virgin, or St. Mary, or St. Any-one-he-chose. And I fear such model friendships do not have a model close. Alack ! how many painted saints each generation knows ! How oft we find magenta is not true couleur de rose. Nay, the desert of each of us, S. Johnson says, is blows.) I grant you Neri doesn't rank among the greatest men, But he does me this politeness, to begin his name with N. ARTHUR MAQUARIE. The other twenty-four are great! SUCH NONSENSE! 53 THE LLAMA The Llama is a woolly sort of fleecy, hairy goat, With an indolent expression and an undulating throat, Like an unsuccessful literary man. And I know the place he lives in (or at least I think I do) It is Ecuador, Brazil or Chile possibly Peru; You must find it in the Atlas if you can. The Llama of the Pampases you never should confound (In spite of a deceptive similarity of sound,) With the Lhama who is Lord of Turkestan. For the former is a beautiful and valuable beast, But the latter is not loveable nor useful in the least ; And the Ruminant is preferable surely to the Priest Who battens on the woful superstitions of the East, The Mongol of the Monastery of Shan. HILAIRE BELLOC. SUCH NONSENSE! ODE TO A BOBTAILED CAT Felis Infelix! Cat unfortunate, With nary narrative! Canst thou no tail relate Of how (Miaow !) Thy tail end came to terminate so bluntly Didst wear it off by Sedentary habits As do the rabbits? Didst go a Fishing with it, Wishing with it To "bob" for catfish, And get bobbed thyself? Curses on that fish! Didst lose it in kittenhood, Hungrily chawing it? Or, gaily pursuing it, Did it make tangent From thy swift circuit? Did some brother Greyback Yowling And howling In nocturnal strife, Spitting and staring Cursing and swearing, Ripping and tearing, Calling thee "Sausagetail," Abbreviate thy suffix? Or did thy jealous wife Detect yer In some sly flirtation, And, after caudal lecture, Bite off thy termination? And sarve yer right! Did some mischievous boy, Some barbarous boy, Eliminate thy finis? (Probably!) The wretch ! The villain! Cruelly spillin' Thy innocent blood ! Furiously scratch him Where'er yer may catch him! Well, Bob, this course now is left, Since thus of your tail you're bereft : Tell your friend that by letter From Paris You have learned the style there is To wear the tail short, And the briefer the better ; Such is the passion, That every Grimalkin will Follow your fashion. ANON. Perhaps it was a Manx cat, to begin with. A LULLABY A little old man came riding by. Says I, says I. Says I: "Old man, your horse will die." Says I, says I. "And, if he dies, I'll tan his skin." Says he, says he, "And, if he lives, I'll ride him agin." Says he, says he. The lure of a lullaby lies in its lilting refrain. SUCH NONSENSE! 55 THE TURTLE AND FLAMINGO A lively young turtle lived down by the banks Of a dark rolling stream called the Jingo ; And one summer day, as he went out to play, Fell in love with a charming flamingo An enormously genteel flamingo! An expansively crimson flamingo ! A beautiful, bouncing flamingo! Spake the turtle, in tones like a delicate wheeze: "To the water I've oft seen you in go, And your form has impressed itself deep on my shell, You perfectly modelled flamingo! You tremendously A-l flamingo ! You in-ex-press-i-ble flamingo ! "To be sure, I'm a turtle, and you are a belle, And my language is not your fine lingo; But smile on me, tall one, and be my bright flame, You miraculous, wondrous flamingo! You blazingly beauteous flamingo! You turtle-absorbing flamingo! You inflammably gorgeous flamingo !" Then the proud bird blushed redder than ever before, And that was quite un-nec-es-sa-ry, And she stood on one leg and looked out of one eye, The position of things for to vary, This aquatieal, musing flamingo! This dreamy, uncertain flamingo! This embarrassing, harassing flamingo! Then she cried to the quadruped, greatly amazed: "Why your passion toward me do you hurtle? I'm an ornithological wonder of grace, And you're an illogical turtle, A waddling, impossible turtle ! A low-minded, grass-eating turtle ! A highly improbable turtle!" Then the turtle sneaked off with his nose to the ground And never more looked at the lasses; And falling asleep, while indulging his grief, Was gobbled up whole by Agassiz, The peripatetic Agassiz! The turtle-dissecting Agassiz! The illustrious, industrious Agassiz! 56 SUCH NONSENSE! Go with me to Cambridge some cool, pleasant day, And the skeleton lover I'll show you; He's in a hard case, but he'll look in your face, Pretending (the rogue!) he don't know you! Oh, the deeply deceptive young turtle ! The double-faced, glassy-cased turtle! The green but a very mock turtle! JAMES THOMAS FIELDS. LEWIS CABBOLL. SUCH NONSENSE! 57 Studies W. S. GILBERT. 58 SUCH NONSENSE! WIDOW BEDOTT TO ELDER SNIFFLES reverend sir, I do declare It drives me most to frenzy, To think of you a-lying there Down sick with influenzy. A body'd thought it was enough To mourn your wife's departer, Without sich trouble as this ere To come a-follerin' arter. But sickness and affliction Are sent by a wise creation, And always ought to be underwent By patience and resignation. 0, I could to your bedside fly, And wipe your weeping eyes, And do my best to cure you up, If 'twouldn't create surprise. It's a world of trouble we tarry in, But, Elder, don't despair; That you may soon be movin' again Is constantly my prayer. Both sick and well, you may depend You'll never be forgot By your faithful and affectionate friend, PRISCILLA POOL BEDOTT. Frances Miriam Whitcher. The stuff that made our grandsires chuckle. SONG OF THE SPRINGTIDE Season supposed of all free flowers, Made lovely by light of the sun, Of garden, of field, and of tree-flowers, Thy singers are surely in fun! Or what is it wholly unsettles Thy sequence of shower and shine, And maketh thy pushings and petals To shrivel and pine? Why is it that o'er the wild waters That beastly North-Easter still blows, Dust-dimming the eyes of our daugh- ters, Blue-nipping each nice little nose? Why is it these sea-skirted islands Are plagued with perpetual chills, Driving men to Italian or Nile-lands From Albion's ills? Happy he, Springtide, who hath found thee, All sunlit, in luckier lands, With thy garment of greenery round thee, And belted with blossomy bands. From us by the blast thou art drifted, All brag of thy beauties is bosh; When the songs of thy singers are sifted, They simply won't wash. What lunatic lune, what vain vision, Thy laureate, Springtide, may move To sing thee, oh, bitter derision ! A season of laughter and love? You make a man mad beyond measure, Spring, and thy lauders like thee: Thy flowers, thy pastimes and pleas- ures, Are fiddlededee! And, except for the above, so are the Spring poems. SUCH NONSENSE! 59 THE JIM-JAM KING OF THE JOU-JOUS An Arabian Legend Far off in the waste of desert sand, The Jim-jam rules in the Jou-jou land : He sits on a throne of red-hot rocks, And moccasin snakes are his curling locks ; And the Jou-jous have the conniption fits In the far-off land where the Jim- jam sits If things are nowadays as things were then. Allah il Allah! Oo-aye! Amen! The country's so dry in Jou-jou land You could wet it down with Sahara sand, And over its boundaries the air Is hotter than 'tis no matter where : A camel drops down completely tanned When he crosses the line into Jou-jou land If things are nowadays as things were then. Allah il Allah! Oo-aye! Amen! A traveller once got stuck in the sand On the fiery edge of Jou-jou land; The Jou-jous they confiscated him, And the Jim- jam tore him limb from limb; But, dying, he said: "If eaten I am, I'll disagree with this Dam-jim-jam! He'll think his stomach's a Hoodoo's den!" Allah il Allah! Oo-aye! Amen! Then the Jim-jam felt so bad inside, It just about humbled his royal pride. He decided to physic himself with sand, And throw up his job in the Jou-jou land. He descended his throne of red-hot rocks, And hired a barber to cut his locks 5 The barber died of the got-'em-again. Allah il Allah! Oo-aye! Amen! And now let every good Mussulman Get all the good from this tale he can. If you wander off on a jamboree, Across the stretch of the desert sea, Look out that right at the height of your booze You don't get caught by the Jou-jou- jous ! You may, for the Jim- jam's at it again. Allah il Allah! Oo-aye! Amenf ALARIC BERTRAND STUART. Queer, what a fascination these tropic countries have for us all. "LEPIDOPTERA" "Polite, polygamous poltroon, 'twas but his retrograde; Barbel he was, yet barracoon, this lim- ner of Schlazade. He spoke a scumbled scuppernong, a scutiform corymb Too late, his pride to seep along, too late, indeed, for him. "To outward view conterminous, to in- ward view adept, His obfuscation verminous myopic as he wept Too late, a gudgeon though it were, in sesquiserried void Might elevate his soul to her, his chrysoberyloid !" GERALD MTGATT. He said he wrote it just to prove how easy it is to write. 60 SUCH NONSENSE! FAITHLESS SALLY BEOWN Young Ben he was a nice young man, A carpenter by trade ; And he fell in love with Sally Brown, That was a lady's maid. But as they fetched a walk one day, They met a press-gang crew; And Sally she did faint away, Whilst Ben he was brought to. The boatswain swore with wicked words, Enough to shock a saint, That though she did seem in a fit, 'Twas nothing but a feint. "Come, girl," said he, "hold up your head, He'll be as good as me; For when your swain is in our boat, A boatswain he will be." So when they'd made their game of her. And taken off her elf, She roused, and found she only was A-coming to herself. "And is he gone, and is he gone?" She cried, and wept outright: "Then I will to the water's side, And see him out of sight." A waterman came up to her, "Now, young woman," said he, "If you weep on so, you will make Eye- water in the sea." "Alas! they've taken my beau Ben To sail with old Benbow;" And her woe began to run afresh, As if she'd said Gee woe ! Says he, "They've only taken him To the Tender ship, you see." "The Tender ship," cried Sally Brown, "What a hardship that must be! "Oh! would I were a mermaid now, For then I'd follow him; But oh! I'm not a fish- woman, And so I cannot swim. "Alas ! I was not born beneath The Virgin and the Scales, So I must curse my cruel stars, And walk about in Wales." Now Ben had sailed to many a place, That's underneath the world; But in two years the ship came home, And all her sails were furled. But when he called on Sally Brown, To see how she went on, He found she'd got another Ben, Whose Christian name was John. "0 Sally Brown, Sally Brown, How could you serve me so? I've met with many a breeze before, But never such a blow." Then reading on his 'bacco box, He heaved a bitter sigh, And then began to eye his pipe, And then to pipe his eye. And then he tried to sing "All's Well," But could not though he tried; His head was turned, and so he chewed His pigtail till he died. His death, which happened in his berth, At forty-odd befell: They went and told the sexton, and The sexton toll'd the bell. THOMAS HOOD. Dear old Tom Hood. He couldn't "help it, he was born a pundit. SUCH NONSENSE! 61 VAMPIRES Large Moiouiio Bough, A Kc/g oF Beer, a Wacf of- Qatn cf me s/ngmcr in Tends now with anxious care, Guy, Lord of Lanturlaire And Lanturlu. GEORGE F. WARREN. Oh, Man! SUCH NONSENSE! BUYABAROM! BUYABAROM! And If You Want Any Weather Make It at Home "What's that which blows across the sky?" said the Bureau-on-Parade. "It is a cloud, it is a cloud," the Chief Forecaster said. "And shall we signal 'watch for storms"?" said the Bureau- on-Parade. "Hell, no; just hang out 'weather fair,' " the Chief Forecaster said. For they're guessing at the weather, cold or sultry, cool or hot, just jab your pencil anywhere and you'll strike it, like as not. Just swing the old barometer, you'll get a reading what? They're guessing at the weather in the morning. "And what's the tube a-reading now?" said the Bureau-on-Parade. "It's not for publication sure?" the Chief Forecaster said. "No, honest Injun, cross my heart," said the Bureau-on-Parade. "It's thirty, twenty-nine, point, six," the Chief Forecaster said. For they're guessing at the weather and they're guessing deep and hard. Twice seven minions stand the old barometer to guard, for its deep and fateful reading is a secret on the card while they're guessing at the weather in the morning. "Who's that who glowers by the door?" said the Bureau-on-Parade. "He represents the public press," the Chief Forecaster said. "And shall we give the readings out?" said the Bu- reau-on-Parade. "Say, do you want to spoil the snap?" the Chief Forecaster said. For they're guessing at the weather, you can hear the brain wells go, and there's the old barometer a- reading "High" and "Low," but if the public saw it then the public sure would know how they're guessing at the weather in the morning. FRANK O'MALLEY. The man who put the meter in ba- rometer. A STRIKE AMONG THE POETS [Conspicuous among the few British industries that have not "come out" re- cently are the ballad makers. But there are signs of trouble even there.] In his chamber, weak and dying, While the Norman Baron lay, Loud, without, his men were crying, "Shorter hours and better pay." Know you why the ploughman, fret- ting, Homeward plods his weary way Ere his time? He's after getting Shorter hours and better pay. See ! the Hesperus is swinging Idle in the wintry bay, And the skipper's daughter's singing, "Shorter hours and better pay." Where's the minstrel boy? I've found him Joining in the labour fray With his placards slung around him, "Shorter hours and better pay." Oh, young Lochinvar is coming; Though his hair is getting grey, Yet I'm glad to hear him humming, "Shorter hours and better pay." E'en the boy upon the burning Deck has got a word to say, Something rather cross concerning Shorter hours and better pay. Lives of great men all remind us We can make as much as they, Work no more, until they find us Shorter hours and better pay. Hail to thee, blithe spirit! (Shelley) Wilt thou be a blackleg? Nay. Soaring, sing above the melee, "Shorter hours and better pay." From PUNCH. These things are not so easy as they look. By Gilbert White A MERE MAN Though now he has gone to France to fight, An all-round genius is Gilbert White; Equaled by none, surpassed by few, This portrait is of him and by him too. SUCH NONSENSE! 65 THE CANNY CROCODILE There once was a crocodile, old and stout, And a trifle clumsy at getting about; He was chiefly found in the River Nile This lumbersome, cumbersome croco- dile. Sometimes all day on the sand he'd lie, And deeply and thoughtfully wonder why. Then he'd smile a slow, inscrutable smile This emotional, notional crocodile. If a friend came by for a cosy chat, He would noisily argue on this or that. His opponent's opinions he would re- vile This babbling, scrabbling crocodile. Sometimes he would stand up on the shore, And declaim in a voice like the ocean's roar. His sonorous speech could be heard a mile This wonderful, thunderf ul crocodile. You see, by his crafty and subtle art, He made people believe he was clever and smart. They praised his wisdom, his speech, his style This notable, quotable crocodile ! The only page suggestive of tears in this whole book. THE PRODIGAL EGG An egg of humble sphere By vain ambition stung, Once left his mother dear When he was very young. 'Tis needless to dilate Upon a tale so sad; The egg, I grieve to state, Grew very, very bad. At last when old and blue, He wandered home, and then They gently broke it to The loving mother hen. She only said, in fun, "I fear you're spoiled, my son !" That Mother-love! A GRAIN OF SALT Of all the wimming doubly blest The sailor's wife's the happiest, For all she does is stay to home And knit and darn and let 'im roam. Of all the husbands on the earth The sailor has the finest berth, For in 'is cabin he can sit And sail and sail and let 'er knit. WALLACE IRWIN. And yet, sometimes we see a simple civilian usurping the sailor's preroga- tive. 66 SUCH NONSENSE! MOTHERHOOD She laid it where the sunbeams fall Unscann'd upon the broken wall. Without a tear, without a groan, She laid it near a mighty stone, Which some rude swain had haply cast Thither in sport, long ages past, And Time with mosses had o'erlaid, And fenced with many a tall grass- blade, And all about bid roses bloom And violets shed their soft perfume. There, in its cool and quiet bed, She set her burden down and fled: Nor flung, all eager to escape, One glance upon the perfect shape, That lay, still warm and fresh and fair, But motionless and soundless there. No human eye had mark'd her pass Across the linden-shadow'd grass Ere yet the minster clock chimed seven : Only the innocent birds of heaven The magpie, and the rook whose nest Swings as the elm-tree waves his crest And the lithe cricket, and the hoar And huge-limb'd hound that guards the door, Look'd on when, as a summer wind That, passing, leaves no trace behind, All unapparell'd, barefoot all, She ran to that old ruin'd wall, To leave upon the chill dank earth (For ah! she never knew its worth) 'Mid hemlock rank, and fern, and ling, And dews of night, that precious thing ! And there it might have lain forlorn From morn till eve, from eve to morn : But that, by some wild impulse led, The mother, ere she turn'd and fled, One moment stood erect and high; Then pour'd into the silent sky A cry so jubilant, so strange, That Alice as she strove to range Her rebel ringlets at her glass Sprang up, and gazed across the grass ; Shook back those curls so fair to see, Clapp'd her soft hands in childish glee, And shriek'd her sweet face all aglow, Her very limbs with rapture shak- ing "My hen has laid an egg, I know; And only hear the noise she's mak- ing!" CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY. A little hen-minded? SONNET FOR A PICTURE That nose is out of drawing. With a gasp, She pants upon the passionate lips that ache With the red drain of her own mouth, and make A monochord of colour. Like an asp, One lithe lock wriggles in his rutilant grasp, Her bosom is an oven of myrrh, to bake Love's warm white shewbread to a browner cake. The lock his fingers clench has burst its hasp. The legs are absolutely abominable. Ah ! what keen overgust of wild-eyed woes Flags in that bosom, flushes in that nose? Nay! Death sets riddles for desire to spell, Responsive. What red hem earth's passion sews, But may be ravenously unripped in hell? A. C. SWINBURNE. Compared to this conception, the Futurist paintings look like weak tea with milk in it. SUCH NONSENSE! 67 OUR DUMB FRIENDS Reformers, wake! A crying wrong Has been permitted overlong! And wanton cruelty hides behind A so-called "service to mankind." Ah, save dumb vegetables' life From the too eager kitchen-knife. Their fate contributes not a bit To "scientific benefit." What torture must a cabbage feel As nearer comes the glittering steel! And pierces, with a fiendish art, Straight to the tender, quivering heart ! Potatoes suffer without doubt When ruthless hands their eyes cut out! Say, does it aid our humankind When these dumb creatures are made blind? Again they wreak their horrid will, Furthering (they say) the aurist's skill. Its dumb appeal they treat with scorn, And cut the ears from living corn ! These awful truths should make us pause And reconstruct our country's laws; With righteous wrath our blood should boil At martyred victims of the soil. Oh, Anti-Vivisectionist, This portion of your work you've missed ! And your success is but defeat If man may flay a living beet ! 8. P. C. V. attention! HE LOVES A POSTER GIRL She was a Poster, so new and so sweet, And I a pedestrian; She sat on the grass, with six toes on her feet, Alas! for my sorrow began. For she ogled at me with a crimson leer, And her nose was so blue, ah, yes. Her dress was transparent, her joints very queer, But, ah, did I love her the less? Refrain: (con espressione) Ah, never, no, never no more Shall I know of sweet peace, alas. For my love is a girl of the primary tints, And she sits on the purple grass. The sky at her back was magenta and slate, And the sun a delicate grey; She was washing herself, I am able to state, With Somebody's Soap all the day. Her arms were too long, and her nose too short, Her perspective is wrong, I confess; There was mud in her eye from a small boy's sport, But, ah, did I love her the less? Refrain: (more than ever] Ah, never, no, never no more Will she set my heart in a whirl, For they've covered her up with a Bovril bill, My beautiful Poster Girl! Were Posters the forerunners of Cubist Pictures? 68 SUCH NONSENSE! HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW He stood on his head by the wild sea- shore, And danced on his hands a jig; In all his emotions, as never before, A wildly hilarious grig. And why? In that ship just crossing the bay His mother-in-law had sailed For a tropical country far away, Where tigers and fever prevailed. Oh, now he might hope for a peaceful life And even be happy yet, Though owning no end of neuralgic wife, And up to his collar in debt. He had borne the old lady through thick and thin, And she lectured him out of breath; And now as he looked at the ship she was in He howled for her violent death. He watched as the good ship cut the sea, And bumpishly up-and-downed, And thought if already she qualmish might be, He'd consider his happiness crowned. He watched till beneath the horizon's edge The ship was passing from view; And he sprang to the top of a rocky ledge And pranced like a kangaroo. He watched till the vessel became a speck That was lost in the wandering sea; And then, at the risk of breaking his neck, Turned somersaults home to tea. Of course, the reference to the mother-in-law is a joke. BYGONES Or ever a lick of Art was done, Or ever a one to care, I was a Purple Polygon, And you were a Sky-Blue Square. You yearned for me across a void, For I lay in a different plane, I'd set my heart on a Red Rhom&owZ, And your sighing was in vain. You pined for me as well I knew, And you faded day by day, Until the Square that was heavenly Blue, Had paled to an ashen grey. A myriad years or less or more, Have softly fluttered by, Matters are much as they were before. Except 'tis I that sigh. I yearn for you, but I have no chance, You lie in a different plane, I break my heart for a single glance, And I break said heart in vain. And ever I grow more pale and wan, And taste your old despair, When I was a Purple Polygon, And you were a Sky-Blue Square. BERT LESTON TAYLOR. And yet some people don't believe in transmigration of souls. SUCH NONSENSE! 69 THE HEN-ROOST MAN De Hen-roost l^lan he'll preach about Paul, An' James an' John, an' Herod, an' all. But nuver a word about Peter, oh, no! He's afeard he'll hear dat rooster crow. An' he ain't by 'isself in dat, in 'dat An' he ain't by 'isself in dat. RUTH McENEEY STUABT. 70 SUCH NONSENSE! THE VIPER Yet another great truth I record in my verse, That some Vipers are venomous, some the reverse; A fact you may prove if you try, By procuring two Vipers and letting them bite; With the first you are only the worse for a fright, But after the second you die. HILAIBE BELLOC. The old game of Perhaps. MANUAL OF MANNERS FOR YOUNG ANIMALS Dear Little Tiger, it is rude To growl and grumble at your food; So learn this lesson, I implore you, Always to eat what's placed before you. Dear Little Whale, let me entreat That you will keep quite clean and neat; Pray do not storm and rage with wrath When you are told to take a bath. Dear Little Owl, try to be good And mind your mother as you should ; With cheerful smile forsake your play When sent to take a nap each day. Dear Little Bear, affectionate be Toward all the people that you see; Heed not their cold and haughty shrugs But greet them with endearing hugs. My Dear Hyena, your sweet smile Proves that you have no thought of guile; But when you meet a timid man Pray laugh as little as you can. Dear Little Leopard, have you tried To clean those spots from off your hide? If soap and sand will not succeed, Then gasoline is what you need. Near to Nature's heart. \\x \ \ \ \ THE LEARNED FISH This learned Fish has not sufficient brains To go into the water when it rains. HILAIRE BELLOC. SUCH NONSENSE! 71 I wish that my Room had a Floor! I don't so Much Care for a Door, But this Crawling Around Without Touching the Ground Is Getting to be Quite a Bore! GELETT BUUUESS. 72 SUCH NONSENSE! COPY OF APPLICATION FOR INSURANCE IN THE Execrable Life Insurance Company of New York Note to Applicant: Answer the following questions without hesitation or embarrassment. All disclosures will be treated by the Company as strictly con- fidential. 1. A. Give your right name, and your latest measurements by the Bertillon system. B. What do you do for a living? C. Where do you do it? D. Are you in business for your health, or only to escape your wife's "At homes"? E. Have you ever failed? If so, how much did it net you? 2. A. Where were you born? If so, why? 3. A. Are you married, single or a widower? B. Was it an accident? C. And are you happy? 4. State, as far as your intelligence permits, the following facts about your ancestors : A. Age and state of health, if living, or cause, how long sick, and age at death of your Father's step-servant? B. Of your Mother's Half -toned Stranger-in-law ? C. Outline, in substance, your Father's father's habits in infancy, youth and middle age, with names of his friends, physicians and cred- itors divring that time. D. Give, in full, your Mother's grand-aunt's occupation, accomplish- ments, physical condition and mental tendencies, with complete list of ailments from time of birth to death. 5. A. How many full brothers have you had? B. Were you responsible for their condition? C. How many volunteer sisters did you have, before you finally got a wife? 6. A. Are you enjoying good health? B. If not, what do you enjoy? C. Have you been successfully vaccinated, cauterised, sterilised, sprayed, SUCH NONSENSE! 73 ventilated, disinfected, washed, dried, combed, swept, dusted, fu- migated, shampooed and deodorised? D. Did it hurt? 7. A. Have you called in your family physician within a year? B. If not, how much do you owe him on the old account? C. Have you ever been advised by a physician or the police to try a change of climate to benefit your health? D. Has any competent examiner other than a bar-tender ever given an unfavourable opinion of your physical condition? 8. A. Have you Pickled Feet, Housemaid's Knee or Falling of the Face at this writing? B. If so, are you wearing ear-tabs and union underwear? C. Do you agree to wear them while insured in this company? 9. A. Do you use intoxicating liquors? B. If so, state your favourite, with directions for mixing same, for the use of our President when he gets your first premium. 10. A. Have you ever used, as narcotics, Opium, Morphia, Chloral, Sapolio, Grape-Nuts, Tabasco or Listerine, unless prescribed by a magazine or other competent practitioner? 11. How's your liver? It is hereby agreed: That all the foregoing statements and answers, made to the Company's Medical Examiner, are the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me Sarah ! Witnessed by the Examiner, (Signature of the person to be insured) GIDEON WURDZ. No, this is not our Home Towne. (Charles Wayland Towne.) 74 SUCH NONSENSE! CAUTIONARY VERSES My little dears, who learn to read, pray early, learn to shun That very silly thing indeed which people call a pun; Read Entiek's rules, and 'twill be found how simple an offence It is to make the selfsame sound afford a double sense. For instance, ale may make you ail, your aunt an ant may kill, You in a vale may buy a veil and Bill may pay the bill. Or if to France your bark you steer, at Dover it may be A peer appears upon the pier, who blind, still goes to sea. Thus, one might say, when, to a treat, good friends accept our greeting, 'Tis meet that men who meet to eat should eat their meat when meeting; Brawn on the board's no bore indeed, although from boar prepared; Nor can the fowl on which we feed, foul feeding be declared. Thus one ripe fruit may be a pear, and yet be pared again, And still be one, which seemeth rare until we do explain. It therefore should be all your aim to speak with ample care, For who, however fond of game, would choose to swallow hair? A fat man's gait may make us smile, who have no gate to close j The farmer sitting on his stile no stylish person knows. Perfumers men of scents must be ; some Scilly men are bright ; A brown man oft deep read we see, a black a wicked wight. Most wealthy men good manors have, however vulgar they; And actors still the harder slave the oftener they play; So poets can't the baize obtain, unless their tailors choose; While grooms and coachmen, not in vain, each evening seek the Mews. The dyer, who by dyeing lives, a dire life maintains; The glazier, it is known, receives his profits for his panes/ By gardeners thyme is tied, 'tis true, when spring is in its prime, But time or tide won't wait for you if you are tied for time. Then now you see, my little dears, the way to make a pun; A trick which you, through coming years, should sedulously shun; The fault admits of no defence; for wheresoe'er 'tis found, You sacrifice for sound the sense; the sense is never sound. So let your words and actions too, one single meaning prove, And, just in all you say or do, you'll gain esteem and love; In mirth and play no harm you'll know when duty's task is done, But parents ne'er should let you go unpunished for a pun ! THEODORE HOOK, For parlor recitation. SUCH NONSENSE! 75 GOOD JAMES AND NAUGHTY REGINALD Once upon a Time there was a Bad boy whose Name was Reginald and there was a Good boy whose Name was James. Reginald would go Fishing when his Mamma told him Not to, and he Cut off the Cat's Tail with the Bread Knife one Day, and then told Mamma the Baby had Driven it in with the Rolling Pin, which was a Lie. James was always Obedient, and when his Mamma told him not to Help an old Blind Man across the street or Go into a Dark Room where the Boogies were, he always Did What She said. That is why they Called him Good James. Well, by and by, along Came Christmas. Mamma said, You have been Reginald, you will ents from Santa but you, my Son Oodles of Presents, Been Good. Will Children, that Bad he didn't C a r e a Kicked three Feet the Piano just for James was so sorry he cried for Half Went to Bed that lay wide Awake un- was Asleep and these people think they are Mistaken. so Bad, my son not Get any Pres- Claus this Year; James, will get because you have you Believe it, boy Reginald said Darn and he of Veneering off Meanness. Poor for Reginald that an Hour after he Night. Reginald til he s a w James then he Said if they can Fool me, Just then Santa Clans came down the Chimney. He had lots of Pretty Toys in a Sack on his Back. Reginald shut his Eyes and Pretended to be Asleep. Then Santa Claus Said, Reginald is Bad and 1 will not Put any nice Things in his Stocking. But as for you, James, I will Fill your Stocking Plumb full of Toys, because You are Good. So Santa Claus went to Work and Put, Oh ! heaps and Heaps of Goodies in James' stocking but not a Sign of a Thing in Reginald's stocking. And then he Laughed to himself and Said, I guess Reginald will be sorry to-morrow because he Was so Bad. As he said this he Crawled up the chimney and rode off in his Sleigh. Now you can Bet your Boots Reginald was no Spring Chicken. He just Got right Straight out of Bed and changed all those Toys and Truck from James' stocking into his own. Santa Claus will Have to Sit up all Night, said He, when he Expects to get away with my Baggage. The next morning James got out of Bed and when He had Said his Prayers he Limped over to his Stocking, lick- ing his chops and Carrying his Head as High as a Bull going through a Brush Fence. But when he found there was Nothing in his stocking and that Reginald's Stocking was as Full as Papa Is when he -somes home Late from the Office, he Sat down on the Floor and began to Wonder why on Earth he had Been such a Good boy. Reginald spent a Happy Christmas and James was very Miserable. After all, Children, it Pays to be Bad, so Long as you Combine Intellect with Crime. EUGENE FIELD. SUCH NONSENSE! AEE WOMEN FAIR? "Are women fair?" Ay, wondrous fair to see, too. "Are women sweet ?" Yea, passing sweet they be, too. Most fair and sweet to them that only love them; Chaste and discreet to all save them that prove them. "Are women wise?" Not wise, but they be witty; "Are women witty?" Yea, the more the pity; They are so witty, and in wit so wily, Though ye be ne'er so wise, they will beguile ye. "Are women fools?" Not fools, but fondlings many; "Can women fond be faithful unto any?" When snow-white swans do turn to colour sable, Then women fond will be both firm and stable. "Are women saints?" No saints, nor yet no devils; "Are women good?" Not good, but needful evils. So Angel-like, that devils I do not doubt them, So needful evils that few can live without them. "Are women proud?" Ay! passing proud, an praise them. "Are women kind?" Ay! wondrous kind, an please them. Or so imperious, no man can endure them, Or so kind-hearted, any may procure them. FRANCIS DAVISON. Are women people? THE PICKERLICK '''Tell me, oh, Pickerlick, that 'round my pathway roars, Do ye not know some way to pickle cellar-doors? Or tell me, if you please, what method is the best To make a Stilton cheese put on a speckled vest." The Pickerlick gnawed at a piece of soap, And sneezed sedately as it answered, "Nope." "Tell me, oh, Pickerlick, prick up thine hard-boiled ears, Why did you hang salt fish on the chandeliers? Why did you let the cat wear yellow bombazine? And offer to the Duke a single fried sardine?" The Pickerlick extremely winked his eye, And in a minor key he warbled "Pie !" SUCH NONSENSE! 77 "Yet, tell me, Pickerlick, and tell me quick, Why do you write your letters with a brick? Why is your bonnet made of Indian meal? And all your other clothes of orange peel?" The Pickerlick with eelgrass tied his shoe, And wept profusely as he answered "Boo!" Nonsense, poor and simple. emerged from his. lair Jor a short summer cut to his hair. J3ut the3arber he wept ; 'While his customers slept ,As they waited their turn in the chair. 78 SUCH NONSENSE! OLD GRIMES Old Grimes is dead, that good old man, We ne'er shall see him more; He used to wear a long black coat All buttoned down before. His heart was open as the day, His feelings all were true. His hair was some inclined to grey, He wore it in a queue. Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, His breast with pity burned; The large round head upon his cane From ivory was turned. Kind words he ever had for all, He knew no base design; His eyes were dark and rather small, His nose was aquiline. He lived at peace with all mankind, In friendship he was true; His coat had pocket-holes behind, His pantaloons were blue. Unharm'd, the sin which earth pollutes He pass'd securely o'er; And never wore a pair of boots For thirty years or more. But good old Grimes is now at rest, Nor fears misfortune's frown; He wore a double-breasted vest, The stripes ran up and down. He modest merit sought to find, And pay it its desert; He had no malice in his mind, No ruffles on his shirt. His neighbours he did not abuse, Was sociable and gay; He wore large buckles on his shoes And changed them every day. His knowledge, hid from public gaze, He did not bring to view; Nor made a noise, town-meeting days, As many people do. His worldly goods he never threw In trust to fortune's chances; But lived (as all his brothers do) In easy circumstances. Thus, undisturbed by anxious care His peaceful moments ran; And everybody said he was A fine old gentleman. ALBERT GORTON GREENE. Old, but good both the man and the verses. ON A NANKIN PLATE "Ah, me, but it might have been! Was there ever so dismal a fate?" Quoth the little blue mandarin. "Such a maid was never seen ! She pass'd, tho' I cried to her, 'Wait,' Ah me, but it might have been! "I cried, '0 my Flower, My Queen, Be mine !' 'Twas precipitate," Quoth the little blue mandarin, "But then . . . she was just sixteen, Long-eyed, as a lily straight, Ah me, but it might have been ! "As it was, from her palankeen, She laughed 'You're a week too late!'" (Quoth the little blue mandarin.) "That is why in a mist of spleen, I mourn on this Nankin Plate. Ah me, but it might have been I" Quoth the little blue mandarin. AUSTIN DOBSON. I wish he had told more about her. SUCH NONSENSE! 79 THE LEARNED NEGRO There was a negro preacher, I have heard, In Southern parts before rebellion stirred, Who did not spend his strength in empty sound; His was a mind deep-reaching and profound. Others might beat the air, and make a noise, And help to amuse the silly girls and boys; But as for him he was a man of thought, Deep in theology, although untaught. He could not read or write, but he was wise, And knew right smart how to extem- porise. One Sunday morn, when hymns and prayers were said, The preacher rose, and rubbing up his head, "Bredren and sisterin, and companions dear, Our preachment to-day, as you shall hear, Will be ob de creation, ob de plan On which God fashioned Adam, de fust man. When God made Adam, in de ancient day, He made his body out ob earth and clay, He shape him all out right, den by and by, He set him up agin de fence to dry." "Stop," said a voice; and straightway there uprose, An ancient negro in his master's clothes. "Tell me," said he, "before you farder One little thing which I should like to know. It does not quite get through dis nig- gar's har, How came dat fence so nice and handy dar?" Like one who in the mud is tightly stuck, Or one nonplussed, astonished, thun- derstruck, The preacher looked severely on the pews, And rubbed his hair to know what words to use: "Bredren," said he, "dis word I hab to say; De preacher can't be bothered in dis way; For, if he is, it's jest as like as not, Our whole theology will be upsot." Cun'n' li'l yarn. i GOING WITH THE STREAM Upon the water in a boat I sit and sketch, as there we float, The scene is fair, the sfream is strong, I sketch it as we float along. The stream is strong, and as I sit And view the picture that we quit, It flows, and flows, and bears the boat, And I sit sketching as we float. Still as we go, the things I see, E'en as I see them, cease to be, The angles shift, and with the boat The whole perspective seems to float. Yet still I look and still I sit Adjusting, shaping, altering it; And still the current bears the boat, And me, still sketching as I float. ARTHUR H. CLOUGH. The very apotheosis of dolce far niente, if you know what I mean. 80 SUCH NONSENSE! TO THE PLIOCENE SKULL "Speak, man less recent! Fragmentary fossil! Primal pioneer of pliocene formation, Hid in lowest drifts below the earliest stratum Of volcanic tufa! "Older than the beasts, the oldest Pa- Ia3otherium ; Older than the trees, the oldest Crypto- gam!; Older than the hills, those infantile eruptions Of earth's epidermis! "Eo Mio Plio Whatsoe'er the 'cene' was That those vacant sockets filled with awe and wonder Whether shores Devonian or Silurian benches Tell us thy strange story! "Or has the professor slightly ante- dated By some thousand years thy advent on this planet, Giving thee an air that's somewhat bet- ter fitted For cold-blooded creatures? "Wert thou true spectator of that mighty forest When above thy head the stately Sigil- laria Reared its columned trunks in that remote and distant Carboniferous epoch? "Tell us of that scene the dim and watery woodland Songless, silent, hushed, with never bird or insect; Veiled with spreading fronds and screened with tall club-mosses, Lycopodiacea, "When beside thee walked the solemn Plesiosaurus, And around thee crept the festive Ich- thyosaurus, While from time to time above thee flew and circled Cheerful Pterodactyls. "Tell us of thy food those half-marine refections, Crinoids on the shell and brachipods au naturel Cuttle-fish to which the pieuvre of Vic- tor Hugo Seems a periwinkle. "Speak, thou awful vestige of the earth's creation, Solitary fragment of remains organic ! Tell the wondrous secret of thy past existence Speak! thou oldest primate!" Even as I gazed, a thrill of the maxilla, And a lateral movement of the condy- loid process, With post-pliocene sounds of healthy mastication, Ground the teeth together. And, from that imperfect dental exhi- bition, Stained with expressed juices of the weed Nicotian, Came these hollow accents, blent with softer murmurs Of expectoration : "Which my name is Bowers, and my crust was busted Falling down a shaft in Calaveras county, But I'd take it kindly if you'd send the pieces Home to old Missouri!" BRET HABTB. Rather up-to-date for so long ago. ANGLING FOR MERMAIDS Angling for mermaids, always choose With greatest care the bait you use; Try beads and mirrors, combs and shoes. But, as is known to fishermen, // you catch some too small, why then You have to throw them back again. SUCH NONSENSE! 81 ROBINSON CRUSOE'S STORY The night was thick and hazy When the Piccadilly Daisy Carried down the crew and captain in the sea; And I think the water drowned 'em, For they never, never found 'em, And I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh ! 'twas very sad and lonely When I found myself the only Population on this cultivated shore; But I've made a little tavern In a rocky little cavern, And I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking For a girl to do my cooking, As I'm quite a clever hand at making stews ; But I had that fellow Friday Just to keep the tavern tidy, And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden That I'm cultivating lard in, As the things I eat are rather tough and dry; For I live on toasted lizards, Prickly pears and parrot gizzards, And I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, And it made me fret and worry When I found the moths were eating off the hair; And I had to scrape and sand 'em, And I boiled 'em and I tanned 'em, Tjll I got the fine morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion In a family excursion, With the few domestic animals you see; And we take along a carrot As refreshment for the parrot, And a little can of jungleberry tea. Then we gather as we travel Bits of moss and dirty gravel, And we chip off little specimens of stone ; And we carry home as prizes Funny bugs of handy sizes, Just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy We remain at home and study, For the Goat is very clever at a sum, And the Dog, instead of fighting Studies ornamental writing, While the Cat is taking lessons on tlie drum. We retire at eleven, And we rise again at seven; And I wish to call attention, as I close, To the fact that all the scholars Are correct about their collars, And particular in turning out their toes. CHARLES E. CARBTL. SUCH NONSENSE! LINES ON MONTEZUMA Montezuma Met a puma Coming through the rye; Montezuma Made the puma Into apple-pie. Invitation To the nation Every one to come. Montezuma And the puma Give a kettle-drum. Acceptation Of the nation, One and all invited. Montezuma And the puma Equally delighted. Preparation, Ostentation, Dresses rich prepared: Feathers jewels Work in crewels No expense is spared. Congregation Of the nation Round the palace wall. Awful rumour That the puma Won't be served to all. Deputation From the nation, Audience they gain. "What's this rumour? Montezuma, If you please, explain." Montezuma (Playful humour Very well sustained) Answers "Pie-dish, As it's my dish, Is for me retained." Exclamation ! Indignation ! Feeling running high. Montezuma Joins the puma In the apple-pie. D. F. A. Easy reading. AN UTTER PASSION UTTERED UTTERLY Meseem's that love, with swifter feet than fire, Brought me my Lady, crown'd with amorous burs, And drapen in tear-colour'd minivers, Sloped satire wise, in token of desire. My heart she soaked in tears, and on a pyre Laid, for Love's sake, in folds of fragrant perse, The while her face, more fair than sunflowers, She gave mine eyes for pasture most entire. Sicklike, she seemed, as with wan-carven smiles Some deal she moved anear, and thereunto Thrice paler wox, and weaker than blown sand Upon the passioning ocean's bleached miles And as her motion's music nearer drew My starved lips played the vampyre with her hand. JOHN TODHUNTER. Conscientious, painstaking work. SUCH NONSENSE! 83 HUMPTY DUMPTY'S RECITA- TION "In winter, when the fields are white, I sing this song for your delight "In spring, when woods are getting green, I'll try and tell you what I mean : " "In summer, when the days are long, Perhaps you'll understand the song: In autumn, when the leaves are brown, Take pen and ink, and write it down." "I sent a message to the fish : I told them 'This is what I wish.' The little fishes of the sea, They sent an answer back to me. The little fishes' answer was, 'We cannot do it, Sir, because ' " "I sent to them again to say 'It will be better to obey/ The fishes answered, with a grin, 'Why, what a temper you are in !' I told them once, I told them twice: They would not listen to advice. I took a kettle large and new, Fit for the deed I had to do. My heart went hop, my heart went thump : I filled the kettle at the pump. Then some one came to me and said, 'The little fishes are in bed.' I said to him, I said it plain, 'Then you must wake them up again.' I said it very loud and clear: I went and shouted in his ear. But he was very stiff and proud : He said, 'You needn't shout so loud!' And he was very proud and stiff: He said, 'I'd go and wake them, if I took a corkscrew from the shelf: I went to wake them up myself. And when I found the door was locked, I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked. And when I found the door was shut, I tried to turn the handle, but " SUCH NONSENSE! THE BALLAD OF THE OYSTERMAN It was a tall young oysterman lived by the river-side; , His shop was just upon the bank, his boat was on the tide. The daughter of a fisherman, that was so straight and slim, Lived over on the other bank, right opposite to him. It was the pensive oysterman tLat saw a lovely maid, Upon a moonlight evening, a-sitting in the shade; He saw her wave her handkerchief, as much as if to say, "I'm wide awake, young oysterman, and all the folks away." Then up arose the oysterman, and to himself said he, "I guess I'll leave the skiff at home, for fear that folks should see ; I read it in the story-book, that, for to kiss his dear, Leander swam the Hellespont and I will swim this here." And he has leaped into the waves, and crossed the shining stream, And he has clambered up the bank, all in the moonlight gleam; there were kisses sweet as dew, and words as soft as rain But they have heard her father's step, and in he leaps again ! Out spoke the ancient fisherman "0 what was that, my daughter?" "'Twas nothing but a pebble, sir, I threw into the water." "And what is that, pray tell me, love, that paddles off so fast?" "It's nothing but a porpoise, sir, that's been a-swimming past." Out spoke the ancient fisherman "Now bring me my harpoon ! I'll get into my fishing-boat, and fix the fellow soon." Down fell that pretty innocent, as falls a snow-white lamb ; Her hair drooped round her pallid cheeks, like sea-weed on a clam. Alas for those two loving ones! she waked not from her swound, And he was taken with the cramp, and in the waves was drowned; But Fate has metamorphosed them, in pity of their wo, And now they keep an oyster-shop for mermaids down below. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. Small and early fun. A HISTORY There was a man, so legends say, And he, how strange to tell! Was born upon the very day Whereon his birthday fell! He was a baby first. And then He was his parents' joy; But was a man soon after, when, He ceased to be a boy. And when he got to middle life, To marry was his whim; The self -same day he took a wife, Some woman married him ! None saw him to the other side Of Styx, by Charon ferried; But 'tis conjecture that he died, Because he has been buried. TOM HOOD, JR. One morel SUCH NONSENSE! 85 THE CONVERTED CANNIBALS Upon an island, all alone, They lived, in the Pacific; Somewhere within the Torrid Zone, Where heat is quite terrific. 'Twould shock you were I to declare The many things they did not wear, Altho' no doubt One's best without Such things in heat terrific. Though cannibals by birth were they, Yet, since they'd first existed, Their simple menu day by day Of such-like things consisted: Omelets of turtle's eggs, and yams, And stews from freshly-gathered clams, Such things as these Were, if you please, Of what their fare consisted. But after dinner they'd converse, Nor did their topic vary; Wild tales of gore they would rehearse, And talk of missionary. They'd gaze upon each other's joints, And indicate the tender points. Said one : "For us 'Tis dangerous To think of missionary." Well, on a day, upon the shore, As flotsam, or as jetsam, Some wooden cases, ten, or more, Were cast up. "Let us get some, And see, my friend, what they contain ; The chance may not occur again," Said good Who-zoo. Said Turn-turn, "Do; We'll both wade out and get some." The cases held, what do you think? "PRIME MISSIONARY TINNED." Nay ! gentle reader, do not shrink- The man who made it sinned: He thus had labelled bloater-paste To captivate the native taste. He hoped, of course, This fraud to force On them. In this he sinned. Our simple friends knew naught of sin; They thought that this confection Was missionary in a tin According to direction. For very joy they shed salt tears. " 'Tis what we've waited for, for years," Said they. "Hooray! We'll feast to-day According to direction." " 'Tis very tough," said one, for he The tin and all had eaten. "Too salt," the other said, "for me; The flavour might be beaten." It was enough. Soon each one swore He'd missionary eat no more: Their tastes were cured, They felt assured This flavour might be beaten. SUCH NONSENSE! And, should a missionary call To-day, he'd nd them gentle, With no perverted tastes at all, And manners ornamental ; He'd be received, I'm bound to say, In courteous and proper way; Nor need he fear To taste their cheer However ornamental. G. E. FARROW. It's human nature to like inhuman stories. THE YOUNG GAZELLE A Moore - ish Tale In early youth, as you may guess, I revelled in poetic lore, And while my schoolmates studied less, I resolutely studied Moore. Those touching lines from "Lalla Rookh," "Ah, ever thus " you know them well, Such root within my bosom took, I wished I had a young Gazelle. Oh, yes ! a sweet, a sweet Gazelle, "To charm me with its soft black eye," So soft, so liquid, that a spell Seems in that gem-like orb to lie. Years, childhood passed, youth fled away, My vain desire I'd learned to quell, Till came that most auspicious day When some one gave me a Gazelle. With care, and trouble, and expense, 'Twas brought from Afric's northern cape; It seemed of great intelligence, And oh ! so beautiful a shape. Its lustrous, liquid eye was bent With special lovingness on me; No gift that mortal could present More welcome to my heart could be. I brought him food with fond caress, Built him a hut, snug, neat, and warm; I called him "Selim," to express The marked s(e)limness of his form. The little creature grew so tame, He "learned to know (the neigh- bours) well;" And then the ladies, when they came, Oh! how they "nursed that dear Gazelle." But, wo is me ! on earthly ground Some ill with every blessing dwells; And soon to my dismay I found That this applies to young Gazelles. When free allowed to roam indoors, The mischief that he did was great; The walls, the furniture, the floors, He made in a terrific state. He nibbled at the table-cloth, And trod the carpet into holes, And in his gambols, nothing loth, Kicked over scuttles full of coals. SUCH NONSENSE! 87 To view his image in the glass, He reared upon his hinder legs; And thus one morn I found, alas ! Two porcelain vases smashed like eggs. Whatever did his fancy catch By way of food, he would not wait To be invited, but would snatch It from one's table, hand, or plate. He riled the dog, annoyed the cat, And scared the goldfish into fits; He butted through my newest hat, And tore my manuscript to bits. 'Twas strange, so light his hooflets weighed, His limbs as slender as a hare's, The noise my little Selim made In trotting up and down the stairs. To tie him up I thought was wise, But loss of freedom gave him pain; I could not stand those pleading eyes, And so I let him go again. How sweet to see him skip and prance Upon the gravel or the lawn; More light in step than fairies' dance, More graceful than an English fawn. But then he spoilt the garden so, Trod down the beds, raked up the seeds, And ate the plants nor did he show The least compunction for his deeds. He trespassed on the neighbours' ground, And broke two costly melon frames, With other damages a pound To pay, resulted from his games. In short, the mischief was immense That from his gamesome pranks be- fel, And, truly, in a double sense, He proved a very "dear Gazelle." At length I sighed "Ah, ever thus Doth disappointment mock each hope; But 'tis in vain to make a fuss; You'll have to go, my antelope." The chance I wished for did occur; A lady going to the East Was willing; so I gave to her That little antelopian beast. I said, "This antler'd desert child In Turkish palaces may roam, But he is much too free and wild To keep in any English home." Yes, tho' I gave him up with tears, Experience had broke the spell, And if I live a thousand years, I'll never have a young Gazelle. WALTER PARKE. In possession sweet desire will die. IMAGISTE LOVE LINES I love my lady with a deep purple love ; She fascinates me like a fly Struggling in a pot of glue. Her eyes are grey, like twin ash-cans, Just emptied, about which still hovers A dainty mist. Her disposition is as bright as a ten- cent shine, Yet her kisses are tender and goulashy. I love my lady with a deep purple love. Than which, nothing could be more so. 88 SUCH NONSENSE! DIVERSIONS OF THE RE-ECHO CLUB SAW A PURPLE COW.I NEVER HOPE TO SEEONE It is with pleasure that we announce our ability to offer to the public the papers of the Re-Echo Club. This club, somewhat after the order of the Echo Club, late of Boston, takes pleas- ure in trying to better what is done. On the occasion of the meeting of which the following gems of poesy are the result, the several members of the club engaged to write up the well- known tradition of the Purple Cow in more elaborate form than the quatrain made famous by Mr. Gelett Burgess: "I never saw a Purple Cow, I never hope to see one; But I can tell you, anyhow, I'd rather see than be one." SUCH NONSENSE! 89 The first attempt here cited is the production of Mr. John Milton: Hence, vain, deluding cows. The herd of folly, without colour bright, How little you delight, Or fill the Poet's mind, or songs arouse ! But, hail! thou goddess gay of fea- ture! Hail, divinest purple creature! Oh, Cow, thy visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight. And though I'd like, just once, to see thee, I never, never, neyer'd be thee ! MB. P. BYSSHE SHELLEY: Hail to thee, blithe spirit! Cow thou never wert ; But in life to cheer it Playest thy full part In purple lines of unpremeditated art. The pale purple colour Melts around thy sight Like a star, but duller, In the broad daylight. I'd see thee, but I would not be thee if I might. We look before and after At cattle as they browse; Our most hearty laughter Something sad must rouse. Our sweetest songs are those that fell of Purple Cows. MB. w. WOBDSWOBTH: She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dee ; A Cow whom there were few to praise And very few to see. A violet by a mossy stone Greeting the smiling East Is not so purple, I must own, As that erratic beast. She lived unknown, that Cow, and so I never chanced to see; But if I had to be one, oh, The difference to me! MB. T. GBAY: The curfew tolls the knell of parting day. The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea; I watched them slowly wend their weary way, But, ah, a Purple Cow I did not see. Full many a cow of purplest ray serene Is haply grazing where I may not see; Full many a donkey writes of her, I ween, But neither of these creatures would I be. MB. j. w. BILEY: There, little Cow, don't cry! You are brindle and brown, I know. And with wild, glad hues Of reds and blues, You never will gleam and glow. But though not pleasing to the eye, There, little Cow, don't cry, don't" cry. LOBD A. TENNYSON: Ask me no more. A cow I fain would see Of purple tint, like to a sun-soaked grape Of purple tint, like royal velvet cape But such a creature I would never be Ask me no more. 90 SUCH NONSENSE! CAN TELL YOU ANYHOW IDRATHERSEETWAN BE ONE Ah, yes, I wrote the "Purple Cow" I'm sorry now I wrote it. But I can tell you anyhow, I'll kill you if you quote it. Ernest Peixotto THE LARK This lark, you may or may not know, Sang about twenty years ago; And even though you may forget The Goops, the Gum Man and Vivette, I can't help thinking anyhow You recollect The Purple Cow. SUCH NONSENSE! 91 MB. R. BROWNING: All that I know Of a certain Cow Is it can throw, Somewhere, somehow, Now a dart of red, Now a dart of blue (That makes purple, 'tis said). I would fain see, too. This Cow that darkles the red and the blue! MR. J. KEATS: A cow of purple is a joy forever. Its loveliness increases. I have never Seen this phenomenon. Yet ever keep A brave lookout ; lest I should be asleep When she comes by. For, though I would not be one, I've oft imagined 'twould be joy to see one. MR. D. G. ROSSETTi: The Purple Cow strayed in the glade; ( Oh, my soul ! but the milk is blue ! ) She strayed and strayed and strayed and strayed (And I wail and I cry Wa-hoo!). I've never seen her nay, not I; (Oh, my soul! but the milk is blue!) Yet were I that Cow I should want to die. (And I wail and I cry Wa-hoo!) But in vain my tears I strew. MR. T. ALDRICH: Somewhere in some faked nature place, In Wonderland, in Nonsense Land, Two darkling shapes met face to face, And bade each other stand. "And who are you?" said each to each; "Tell me your title, anyhow." One said, "I am the Papal Bull," "And I the Purple Cow." MR. E. ALLAN POE : Open then I flung a shutter, And, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a Purple Cow which gayly tripped around my floor. Not the least obeisance made she, Not a moment stopped or stayed she, But with mien of chorus lady perched herself above my door. On a dusty bust of Dante perched and sat above my door. And that Purple Cow unflitting Still is sitting still is sitting On that dusty bust of Dante just above my chamber door, And her horns have all the seeming Of a demon's that is screaming, And the arc-light o'er her streaming Casts her shadow on the floor. And my soul from out that pool of Purple shadow on the floor, Shall be lifted Nevermore! MR. H. LONGFELLOW: The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wing of night As ballast is wafted downward From an air-ship in its flight. I dream of a purple creature Which is not as kine are now; And resembles cattle only As Cowper resembles a cow. Such cows have power to quiet Our restless thoughts and rude; They come like the Benedictine That follows after food. SUCH NONSENSE! MR. A. SWINBURNE: Oh, Cow of rare rapturous vision, Oh, purple, impalpable Cow, Do you browse in a Dream Field Elysian, Are you purpling pleasantly now? By the side of wan waves do you languish ? Or in the lithe lush of the grove? While vainly I search in my anguish, Bovine of mauve! Despair in my bosom is sighing, Hope's star has sunk sadly to rest; Though cows of rare sorts I am buy- ing, Not one breathes a balm to my breast. Oh, rapturous rose-crowned occasion, When I such a glory might see! But a cow of a purple persuasion 1 never would be. MR. A. DOBSON: I'd love to see A Purple Cow, Oh, Goodness me ! I'd love to see But not to be One. Anyhow, I'd love to see A Purple Cow. MR. o. HERFORD: Children, observe the Purple Cow, You cannot see her, anyhow; And, little ones, you need not hope Your eyes will e'er attain such scope. But if you ever have a choice To be, or see, lift up your voice And choose to see. For surely you Don't want to browse around and moo. MR. H. c. BUNNER: Oh, what's the way to Arcady, Where all the cows are purple? Ah, woe is me ! I never hope On such a sight my eyes to ope; But as I sing in merry glee Along the road to Arcady, Perchance full soon I may espy A Purple Cow come dancing by. Heigho! I then shall see one. Her horns bedecked with ribbons gay, And garlanded with rosy may, A tricksy sight. Still I must say I'd rather see than be one. MR. A. SWINBURNE: (Who was so enthused that he made a second attempt) Only in dim, drowsy depths of a dream do I dare to delight in deliciously dreaming Cows there may be of a passionate purple, cows of a violent violet- hue; Ne'er have I seen such a sight, I am certain it is but a demi-delirious dreaming Ne'er may I happily harbour a hesi~ taut hope in my heart that my dream may come true. Sad is my soul, and my senses are sobbing so strong is my strenuous spirit to see one. Dolefully, drearily doomed to despair as warily wearily watching I wait; Thoughts thickly thronging are thrill- ing and throbbing; to see is a glori- ous gain but to be one ! That were a darker and direfuller destiny, that were a fearfuller, frightfuller fate! SUCH NONSENSE! MB. R. KIPLING: In the old ten-acre pasture, Lookin' eastward toward a tree, There's a Purple Cow a-settin' And I know she thinks of me. For the wind is in the gum-tree, And the hay is in the mow, And the cow-bells are a-calling "Come and see a Purple Cow!" But I am not going now, Not at present, anyhow, For I am not fond of purple, and I can't abide a cow; No, I shall not go to-day, Where the Purple Cattle play. But I think I'd rather see one Than to be one, anyhow. CAROLYN WELLS. 94 SUCH NONSENSE! CLEAN CLARA What! not know our Clean Clara? Why, the hot folks in Sahara, And the cold Esquimaux, Our little Clara knows! Clean Clara, the Poet sings, Cleaned a hundred thousand things! She cleaned the keys of the harpsichord, She cleaned the hilt of the family sword, She cleaned my lady, she cleaned my lord, All the pictures in their frames, Knights with daggers and stomachered dames Cecils, Godfreys, Montforts, Graemes, Winifreds all those nice old names! She cleaned the works of the eight-day clock, She cleaned the spring of a secret lock, She cleaned the mirror, she cleaned the cupboard, All the books she India-rubbered! She cleaned the Dutch tiles in the place, She cleaned some very old-fashioned lace; The Countess of Miniver came to her, "Pray, my dear, will you clean my fur?" All her cleanings are admirable, To count your teeth you will be able, If you look in the walnut table. She cleaned the tent-stitch and the sampler, She cleaned the tapestry, which was ampler; Joseph going down into the pit, And the Shunammite woman with the boy in a fit. You saw the reapers, not in the distance, And Elisha, cominsr to the child's assistance, With the house on the wall that was built for the prophet, The chair, the bed and the bolster of it. The eyebrows all had a twirl reflective, Just like an eel : to spare invective There was plenty of color but no perspective. However, Clara cleaned it all, With a curious lamp, that hangs in the hall ; She cleaned the drops of the chandeliers, Madam, in mittens, was moved to tears. SUCH NONSENSE! 95 She cleaned the cage of the cockatoo, The oldest bird that ever grew; I should say a thousand years old would do. I'm sure he looked it, but nobody knew; She cleaned the china, she cleaned the delf, She cleaned the baby, she cleaned herself! Tomorrow morning, she means to try To clean the cobwebs from the sky; Some people say the girl will rue it, But my belief is she will do it. So I've made up my mind to be there to see There's a beautiful place in the walnut tree; The bough is as firm as a solid rock; She brings out her broom at six o'clock. In spite of all, I'm for Clara. A NEW PAPER FOB BIPEDS DEAR SIR, So much interest is taken nowadays in the four-footed do- mestic creation, their joys and sorrows, that it only seems fair that our feath- ered friends, the fowls, should have a turn. With this end in view I am bringing out a paper called The Daily Wattle, devoted to the needs and inter- ests of the poultry world, and send you herewith a few cuttings from the first number, hoping thereby to arouse pub- lic interest in a much-needed jour- nal: Social and General. Madame Anne de Lusian gave a de- lightful little afternoon party on Sat- urday, at which Crewso sang. Among others present we noticed Mrs. Legge Home, who looked charming in white, Mr. and Mrs. Bantam, and Mr. Orp- ington, of the Buffs, who escorted two of his charming sisters. Mr. and Mrs. Dawking have gone to Leaden Hall for the season. W. B. RANDS. Her many friends will be grieved to hear of the sad death of Miss Pullet, which occurred suddenly last Wednes- day at Yew Tree Farm. She appeared to be in the best of health and spirits on the Tuesday, though her friends had noticed a decided tendency to embonpoint during the last few weeks, which, it is feared, may have contrib- uted to her sudden seizure and early demise. Lord Barn d'Or is recovering from the somewhat severe injuries he sus- tained in his motor accident on the Brighton road last week. Two eggs, old enough to know bet- ter, were caught poaching yesterday, and were served accordingly. The latest report is that feathers are going out of fashion and very few will be worn this autumn. Births : At "Ye Neste," Henley, Mrs. Wyan Dotte of eight sons and five daughters (three addled). American papers, please copy. 96 SUCH NONSENSE! To-day's Arrangements. Moulting season commences. Hamburg Morning Concerts, 3.45 A.M. Egg-laying contest, 7 to 11.30 A.M. Mr. Cochin Cockerel's Lecture at the Cackleston Hall. Subject: "Are we Hen-pecked?" 2.30 P.M. Daily trips round the Calf and the Chicken Light. Small Wants Column. Cast-off Feathers. Mrs. Farmer at- tends at own roosts. Best prices given. To Let A Select Midden. Estab- lished two years. Best straw and all improvements. Splendid crowing po- sition, under good bedroom windows. Apply Chanticleer, c/o Cox & Co., Featherstone Buildings, E.G. For Sale Good Crate, nearly new, or would exchange for Indian maize, or anything useful. Address, Brahma, No. 702, Poultry, E.C. Forecast. Full crops are expected generally. Knacky, what? IN STATU QUO Lo, the poor Indian ! Relic of the time When in Manhattan Art was in her prime; When north and south on every avenue A line of noble statues met the view, Gorgeously gilded, painted, heel to head, In blue and green, in yellow and in red, Bravely attired and dignified in pose, With homely legend writ in homely prose I Gone is that Gothic Art; the Renais- sance Chases the Wooden Indian from his haunts. Now lean and furtive, faded, sullen, glowery, He's relegated to the distant Bowery, Where now in gloomy trance he views the schism That alienates our Art from Sym- bolism. Gone is his simple mediaeval verity In this new reign of plastic insincerity ! See where the brute Thorwaldsen, dark, Locates his office in the Park Beneath the Elevated's shade, And plies his horrid, hated trade! In open sight of all beneath, - A master dentist filling teeth! Mark how the maid, his victim she, Writhes in eternal agony ! His mallet held (how well we know!) SUCH NONSENSE! 97 Delays the dreaded, cruel blow. The nursemaid hurries by with fear, The copper drops a silent tear. Who set this fearful horror here? What frantic storm of meteoric Art Rained these outrageous samples of Delsarte ? What wicked, wretched whirlwind bade them fall Upon the Park, the Boulevard, the Mall, Haphazard on the drive and on the green, The worst conspicuous, the best un- seen? While nearer, shrinking underneath a tree, The naked bust of Humboldt who was he? The decent house-maids pass the scan- dal by With but a timid gesture of the eye. Far in the distance, out of mortal sight, Remote as Jove upon Olympian height, High on the hill's obscure horizon-crest Stands Hamilton, in mossy marble dressed. No man has seen his face or read the lines Here Commerce, unregarded, in the road Takes up her poor inconsequent abode, And there, remote, upon a long-lost slope The bust of Moore (or Hood?) aban- dons hope, Sown like some seed for future ceme- tery. His drooping head proclaims him lonely, very! "Where am I at?" he asks, but all in vain, Of disregarding lovers in the lane. Graved on that pedestal beneath the pines. No man may dare set foot upon the drive, So here the penny telescopes may thrive, For here the mounted Park policeman rides, And with his staff the curious stranger chides. The Russian Emperor in vain might long For guards so swift, so tireless, and so strong SUCH NONSENSE! To save him from the vulgar-minded throng ! Not so within the shaded classic row Where Sculpture emulates Madame Tussaud, And, borrowing our celebrated cousins, Sets up the foreign genius by the dozens. See here Beethoven bowing low to greet The sugar-coated fairy at his feet. See chilly Scott, who sits amid the trees, Drawing a rug across his numerous knees. Over against him seated Bobbie Burns ; His wildly frenzied eye to Heaven turns ; Swathed in a bandage is his anguished throat ; Below, a poem that he never wrote. While all about, to patronise our land, Each on his pedestal the Dagoes stand Shakspere, Columbus, and the un- known others Astonished at their wealth of new- made brothers ! Quest not the Park for heroes of our day, For in remoter corners they must stay, Save where the nameless Indian Hunter flees, Or Puritan Father robs the knoll of trees. Go search the crowded streets beneath the "L," For there amid the cable-cars they dwell. Framed in the arches of the girders foul Our discontented City Fathers scowl; See Horace Greeley, with averted eye, Shrink from a modern Babel in the skyj And muse upon forgotten Dodge's grace, Apotheosis of the commonplace! Far to the east the shrinking poet views In Tompkins Square an unfamiliar Muse. "M. S.," the legend on the nondescript, Proclaims the statue that of Manu- script, Who, having drunk from this Pierian fount, Has dared the weird pagoda's roof to mount, From which, within a larnplit constella- tion, She bids the scribbler Hope for Publi- cation ! And so from north to south, about the town, Some few in boa (like Burns) and some in gown, In frock and toga, posed with scroll and pen, SUCH NONSENSE! 99 The city bristles with the hard-boiled men; Upon the just and unjust they descend, A monstrous Martian holiday to spend, With doughty gesture and with brittle airs. What hands have wrought them? No one knows or cares ! Alone, forgot, in Astor Place Behold a form of easy grace ! Appealing with uplifted finger, Heartless and hatless must he linger. The motorman, with careless eye Passes the famous statesman by; No hansom cabby heeds his call They disregard him, one and all. The last car passes out of sight; Poor Sunset Cox must spend the night. He's lucky not to be alive ! No car will stop, howe'er he strive, Except Lunch Wagon No. 5. What do we care for Burns or Scott? For there are others, are there not? Give us the men we care for truly, Like Chimmie Fadden and Mr. Dooley. What do we care for Bolivar? Give us Chuck Connors at the bar! Or one Rough Rider in the Park To rout the modern Noah's Ark Of made-in-Germany celebrities From Patagonia and the Hebrides. Arise ! nor weakly stand aghast, O amateur iconoclast ! Think of the Heine bust, and view The wreck of Fulton Avenue ! Go where the Harlem River breeze Laments the executed trees. Let loose the banners of sedition Against a purblind Art Commission! Come, Wooden Indian, rise and walk, And lift destructive tomahawk; Strike home, and steel your oaken heart, Strike in the name of Gothic Art ! Then shall the Muses rouse and smile To see you stalk in Indian file Triumphant up Third Avenue, Your altruistic worst to do! Wait not, nor peer 'neath lifted hand Into the Future! Call your band; Go forth with terrifying frown, Pull bronze and marble image down. Brave, squaw, and sachem raid the town ! GELETT BURGESS. OUR TRAVELLER If thou would'st stand on Etna's burning brow, With smoke above and roaring flame below; And gaze adown that molten gulf revealed, Till thy soul shuddered and thy senses reel'd: If thou would'st beard Niag'ra in his pride, Or stem the billows of Propontic tide; Scale all alone some dizzy Alpine haut, And shriek "Excelsior!" among the snow; Would'st tempt all death, all dangers that may be Perils by land and perils on the sea; This vast round world I say, if thou would'st view it Then, why the dickens don't you go and do it? H. CHOLMONDELEY-PENNELL. Inexpensive. 100 SUCH NONSENSE! HOW A GIRL WAS TOO RECKLESS OF GRAMMAR BY FAR Matilda Maud Mackenzie frankly hadn't any chin, Her hands were rough, her feet she turned invariably inj Her general form was German, By which I mean that you Her waist could not determine Within a foot or two. And not only did she stammer, But she used the kind of grammar That is called, for sake of euphony, askew. From what I say about her, don't imagine I desire A prejudice against this worthy creature to inspire. She was willing, she was active, She was sober, she was kind, But she never looked attractive And she hadn't any mind. I knew her more than slightly, And I treated her politely When I met her, but of course I wasn't blind! Matilda Maud Mackenzie had a habit that was droll, She spent her morning seated on a rock or on a knoll, And threw with much composure A smallish rubber ball At an inoffensive osier By a little waterfall; But Matilda's way of throwing Was like other people's mowing, And she never hit the willow-tree at all! One day as Miss Mackenzie with uncommon ardour tried To hit the mark, the missile flew exceptionally wide. And, before her eyes astounded, On a fallen maple's trunk Ricochetted and rebounded In the rivulet, and sunk! Matilda, greatly frightened, In her grammar unenlightened, Remarked, "Well now I ast yer, who'd 'er thunk?" But what a marvel followed ! From the pool at once there rose A frog, the sphere of rubber balanced deftly on his nose. He beheld her fright and frenzy And, her panic to dispel, On his knee by Miss Mackenzie SUCH NONSENSE! 101 He obsequiously fell. With quite as much decorum As a speaker in a forum He started in his history to tell. "Fair maid," he said, "I beg you do not hesitate or wince, If you'll promise that you'll wed me, I'll at once become a prince ; For a fairy, old and vicious, An enchantment round me spun!" Then he looked up, unsuspicious, And he saw what he had won, And in terms of sad reproach, he Made some comments, sotto voce, (Which the publishers have bidden me to shun!) Matilda Maud Mackenzie said, as if she meant to scold; "I never! Why, you forward thing ! Now, ain't you awful bold !" Just a glance he paused to give her, And his head was seen to clutch, Then he darted to the river, And he dived to beat the Dutch! While the wrathful maiden panted "I don't think he was enchanted!" (And he really didn't look it overmuch!) The Moral : In one's language one conservative should be ; Speech is silver and it never should be free! GUY WETJVIORE CAEEYL. THE RETIRED PORK-BUTCHER AND THE SPOOK I may as well Proceed to tell About a Mister Higgs, Who grew quite rich In trade the which Was selling pork and pigs. From trade retired, He much desired To rank with gentlefolk, So bought a place He called "The Chase," And furnished it old oak. Ancestors got (Twelve pounds the lot, In Tottenham Court Road) ; A pedigree For nine pounds three, The Heralds' Court bestowed. Within the hall, And on the wall, Hung armour bright and strong. "To Ethelbred" The label read "De Higgs, this did belong." 'Twas quite complete, This country seat, Yet neighbours stayed away. Nobody called, Higgs was blackballed, Which caused him great dismay. 102 SUCH NONSENSE! "Why can it be?" One night said he When thinking of it o'er. There came a knock ('Twas twelve o'clock) Upon his chamber door. Higgs cried, "Come in !" A vapour thin The keyhole wandered through. Higgs rubbed his eyes In mild surprise: A ghost appeared in view. "I beg," said he, "You'll pardon me, In calling rather late. A family ghost, I seek a post, With wage commensurate. "I'll serve you well; My 'fiendish yell' Is certain sure to please. 'Sepulchral tones/ And 'rattling bones,' I'm very good at these. "Five bob I charge To roam at large, With 'clanking chains' ad lib.; I do such things As 'gibberings' At one-and-three per gib. "Or, by the week, I merely seek Two pounds which is not dear; Because I need, Of course, no feed, No washing, and no beer." Higgs thought it o'er A bit, before He hired the family ghost, But, finally, He did agree To give to him the post. It got about You know, no doubt, How quickly such news flies Throughout the place, From "Higgses Chase" Proceeded ghostly cries. The rumour spread, Folks shook their head, But dropped in one by one. A bishop came (Forget his name), And then the thing was done. For afterwards All left their cards, "Because," said they, "you see, One who can boast A family ghost Respectable must be." SUCH NONSENSE! 103 When it was due, The "ghostes's" screw Higgs raised as was but right They often play, In friendly way, A game of cards at night. G. E. FARROW. Skilled labour can always command a good position and salary. LILIES Lilies, lilies, white lilies and yellow Lilies, lilies, purple lilies and golden Calla lilies, tiger lilies, lilies of the valley Lilies, lilies, lilies Bulb, bud and blossom What made them lilies? If they were not lilies they would have to be something else, would they not 1 What was it that made them lilies in- stead of making them violets or roses or geraniums or petunias? What was it that made you yourself and me myself? What? Alas ! I do not know ! DON MARQUIS. The Poetical Interrogative. FRAUD "I will never again," Said a mortified hen, "Be deceived in this impudent way. Do remind me, I beg, That the crockery egg Is a fol-de-rol, lol-de-rol lay, Anyway ; It is only a fol-de-rol lay." Not a Macaulay lay. CHRISTMAS CHIMES Little Penelope Socrates, A Boston maid of four, Wide opened her eyes on Christmas morn, And looked the landscape o'er. "What is it inflates my bos de bleu?" She asked with dignity; "'Tis Ibsen in the original! Oh, joy beyond degree!" Miss Mary Cadwallader Rittenhouse Of Philadelphia town, Awoke as much as they ever do there And watched the snow come down. "I'm glad that it is Christmas," You might have heard her say, "For my family is one year older now Than it was last Christmas day." 'Twas Christmas in giddy Gotham, And Miss Irene de Jones Awoke at noon and yawned and yawned, And stretched her languid bones. "I'm sorry it is Christmas, Papa at home will stay, For 'Change is closed and he won't make A single cent to-day." Windily dawned the Christmas On the city by the lake, And Miss Arabel Wabash Breezy Was instantly awake. "What's that thing in my stocking? Well, in two jiffs I'll know!" And she drew a grand piano forth From 'way down in the toe. The scathing satirical. 104 SUCH NONSENSE! YE TOWNE GOSSIP I'VE GOT a friend. * * * OVER IN Brooklyn. * * * AND WHEN he read in the paper. * * THAT I was sick. * * HE TELEPHONED. * * FOR A nickel. * * AND WAS sorry. AND COULD he come over. * * * AND HE could. * * * AND DID. * * AND BROUGHT a lot of flowers. * * * AND A basket of fruit. * * AND SAT down. * * * AND ATE the fruit. * AND WAS sorry. * * * I WAS sick. * * AND I'D always have trouble. * WITH MY tonsils. * AND IT was the second time. * IN A month. * * * THAT HE made a call. ON A sick friend. * * * AND THE last time. * * IT WAS so sad. * * * AND THE sick man. * HAD SUCH a nice wife. * * * AND THEY were so happy. * AND IT was all so sudden. * * * AND AFTERWARD. * * IT WAS discovered. * * HE'D LEFT no will. * * * AND THE poor wife. * * * HE FELT so sorry for her. * * IT WAS an awful mess. * * * AND IT was a shame. * * FOR ANY man. * TO BE careless. * * YOU NEVER can tell. * * AND DID I like flowers. * AND I did. * * * AND HE was so glad. * * HE ALWAYS bought his. * * * AT THE little stand. * * * AT THE Hoyt street subway. * * * HE WAS such a nice man. * * SUCH NONSENSE! 105 AND SO reasonable. * * * AND ONLY a month ago. * * * HE'D BOUGHT a big wreath. * * * OF WHITE carnations. * * * WITH "REST in Peace." * * * IN VIOLETS. * * ACROSS THE front. AND ALL the man charged. * * * WAS SEVEN dollars. * * * AND IT was such a nice wreath. * * * AND I said: "Yes. * * * "IF YOU'LL excuse me. * * "I HAVE to gargle." * * * AND WENT into the bathroom. * * AND GARGLED. * * AND WHEN I came back. * * * MY WIFE was crying. * * * HE'D BEEN telling her something. * * * ABOUT A man. * WHO HAD tonsilitis. * * AND GOT poisoned or something. * * AND DIED. * * AND I went right back. * * INTO THE bathroom. * * * AND GARGLED. * * TILL HE left. I THANK you. KENNETH C. BEATON. The End of a Perfect Call L'ENVOI OF THE CUBISTS When the last Impression is posted and the tubes are twisted and pinched, When the youngest Cubist is throttled and the oldest Futurist lynched, We shall rest, and, gee ! we shall need it come off for a minute or two, Till the masters of all this rubbish shall set us agog anew. Then those that were Cubists shall worry; they shall sit on a picket fence And paint with a vacuum cleaner on the sides of canvas tents. They shall have real models to draw from a nude in a crazy quilt, Or a maudlin, rhomboid Scotchman, descending the stairs in his kilt. And only Picasso shall praise them, and only Matisse shall blame; And no one shall care for censure, and no one shall care for shame. But each in his own straitjacket and each in his separate cell Shall slather the paint as he sees it, for the glory of Art that won't jell. Now this was written today 106 SUCH NONSENSE! BALLADE CRYING ART TO STOP HER NONSENSE Since Literature laughs and gets fat Where adjectives grow upon trees Since in Art the same bellow and blat Is accounted Maestro's decrees; Modernity falls on her knees And salaams in worshipful pose To pardon the phrase, if you please The One Who Squirts Paint with a Hose. You may slobber and smear, and cry, scat! To the canons of decency's pleas, Your brain may be cauldron or vat, rermenting microbical lees, Ah! cretinous Gentlemen, these, Who babble in Art! but it goes, As long as behind it Art sees, The One Who Squirts Paint with a Hose. The Good Folk are wondering that We tire not of Art in Disease; Let Bedlam recover her brat, Begotten of Sewers and Seas. This chording of clangorous keys Is music to some, I suppose, For all that, let Acheron seize The One Who Squirts Paint with a Hose. ENVOY Oh, Art! thou Camille with a wheeze, We pray you the Villain expose The one who betrayed you for He's The One Who Squirts Paint with a Hose. EUGENE R. WHITE. And this, twenty years ago. Verily, there is nothing new under the sun. POST-IMPRESSIONISM I cannot tell you how I love The canvases of Mr. Dove, Which Saturday I went to see In Mr. Thurber's gallery. At first you fancy they are built As patterns for a crazy quilt, But soon you see that they express An ambient simultaneousness. This thing which you would almost bet Portrays a Spanish omelette, Depicts instead, with wondrous skill, A horse and cart upon a hill. Now, Mr. Dove has too much art To show the horse or show the cart ; Instead, he paints the creak and strain, Get it? No pike is half as plain. This thing which would appear to show A fancy vest scenario, Is really quite another thing, A flock of pigeons on the wing. But Mr. Dove is much too keen To let a single bird be seen; To show the pigeons would not do And so he simply paints the coo. It's all as simple as can be; He paints the things you cannot see, Just as composers please the ear With "programme" things you cannot hear. Dove is the cleverest of chaps; And, gazing at his rhythmic maps, I wondered (and I'm wondering yet), Whether he did them on a bet. BERT LESTON TAYLOR. One must admire an artist who can paint the creak and strain and coo. WILD FLOWERS "Of what are you afraid, my child?" Inquired the kindly teacher. "Oh, sir! The flowers, they are wild,'' Replied the timid creature. Peter Newell. Though other artists oft may do well, There's no one just like Peter Newell; And in the art of gentle jest, He is, I think, about the best. SUCH NONSENSE! 107 STYX RIVER ANTHOLOGY ALICE BEN BOLT I couldn't help weeping with delight When the boys kissed me and called me sweet. It was foolish, I know, To weep when I was glad; But I was young and I wasn't very well. I was nervous, weak, anemic, A sort of human mimosa; and I hadn't much brains, And my mind wouldn't jell, anyhow. That's why I trembled with fear when they frowned. But they didn't frown often, For I was sweetly pretty and most pliable. But, oh, the grim joke of asking Ben Bolt if he remembered me ! Me! Why, it was Ben Bolt who Well, never mind. He paid for this granite slab, And it's as stylish as any in the church yard. But I wish I had a more becoming shroud. THE BLESSED DAMOZEL I was one of those long, lanky, loose- jointed girls Who fool people into believing They are willowy and psychic and mysterious. I was always hungry; I never ate enough to satisfy me, For fear I'd get fat. Oh, how little the world knows of the bitterness of life To a woman who tries to keep thinl Many thought I died of a broken heart, But it was an empty stomach. Then Mr. Rossetti wrote about me. He described me all dolled up in some ladies' wearing apparel That I wore at a fancy ball. I had fasted all day, and had had my hair marcelled And my face corrected. And I was a dream. But he seemed to think he really saw me, Seemed to think I appeared to him after my death. Oh, fudge! Those spiritualists are always seeing things ! ENOCH ARDEN Yes, it was the eternal triangle, Only they didn't call it that then. Of course everybody thought I was all broken up When I found Annie wed to Philip, But, as a matter of fact, I didn't care so much; For she was one of those self -starting weepers, And a man can't stand blubbering all the time. And, then, of course, When I was off on that long sea trip Oh, well, you know what sailors are. LITTLE EVA To be honest, I didn't mind dying, For I had One of these here now Dressy deaths. It was staged, you know, And, like Samson, My death brought down the house. I was a smarty kid, And they were less frequent then than later. 108 SUCH NONSENSE! Oh, I was the Mary Pickford of my time, And I rest content With my notoriety. LUCY Yes, I am in my grave, And you bet it makes a difference to him! For we were to be married, at least, I think we were, And he'd made me promise to deed him the house. But I had to go and get appendicitis, And they took me to the hospital. It was a nice hospital, clean, And Tables Reserved For Ladies. Well, my heart gave out. He came and stood over my grave, And registered deep concern. And now, he's going round with that Hen-minded Hetty What's-her-name ! Her with her Whistler's Mother and her Baby Stuart On her best-room wall ! And I hate her, and I'm glad she squints. Well, I suppose I lived my life, But it was Life in name only. And I'm mad at the whole world ! OPHELIA No, it wasn't suicide, But I had heard so much of those mud baths, I thought I'd try one. Ugh ! it was a mess ! Weeds, slime, and tangled vines! Oh, me! Had I been Annette Kellerman Or even a real mermaid, I had lived to tell the tale. But I slid down and under, And so Will Shaxpur told it for me. Just as well. But I think my death scene is unex- celled By any in cold print. It beats that scrawny, red-headed old thing of Tom Hood's All hollow! CASABLANCA I played to the Grand Stand! Sure I did, And I made good. Ain't I in McGuffey's Third Reader? Don't they speak pieces about me Fri- day afternoons? Don't everybody know the first two lines of my story, And no more? Say, I was there with the goods, Wasn't I? And it paid. But I wish Movin* Pitchers had been invented then! ANNABEL LEE They may say all they like About germs and micro-crocuses, Or whatever they are! But my set opinion is, If you want to get a good, old-fash* ioned chills and fever, Just poke around In a damp, messy place by the sea, Without rubbers on. A good cold wind, Blowing out of a cloud, by night, Will give you a harder shaking ague Than all the bacilli in the Basilica. It did me. ANGUS MCPHAIRSON Oh, of course, It's always some dratted petticoat ! Just because that little flibbertigibbet, SUCH NONSENSE! 109 Annie Laurie Had a white throat and a blue e'e, She played the very devil with my peace of mind. She'd dimple at me Till I was aboot crazy; And then laugh at me through her dimples ! She was my bespoke. And I'd beg her to have the banns called, But there was no pinning her down. Well, she was so bonny That like a fool, I said I'd lay me doon And dee for her. And, like a fool, I did. CAROLYN WELLS. The ones Mr. Masters forgot. THE NEO-NEOISM I have been paying attention To the various movements in Art, In Fiction and Poetry, particularly. Most of them I am unable to imitate, even if I cared to do so. Some of them are sincere; Most of them are phony. Frank discussions of human relations Is a fine thing; I am for it. But Art for Obstetrics' sake, that, Mawruss, Is something else again. As to the New Poetry, should you ask me, I should answer No. Briefly, and in a word, NO ! Henley could do it, but Witter Bynner and Amy Lowell can't. Neither can I. FRANKLIN P. ADAMS. Many a true jest spoken in words. THE MESSED DAMOZEL At the Cubist Exhibition The Messed Damozel leaned out From the gold cube of Heav'n; There were three cubes within her hands, And the cubes in her hair were seven ; I looked, and looked, and looked, and looked I could not see her, even. Her robe, a cube from clasp to hem, Was moderately clear; Methought I saw two cubic eyes, When I had looked a year; But when I turned to tell the world, Those eyes did disappear ! It was the rampart of some house That she was standing on; That much, at least, was plain to me As her I gazed upon; But even as I gazed, alas! The rampart, too, was gone! (I saw her smile!) Oh, no, I didn't, Though long mine eyes did stare ; The cubes closed down and shut her out; I wept in deep despair; But this I know, and know full well She simply wasn't there I CHARLES HANSON TOWNE. He saw he couldn't see her, which was surely seeing some. 110 SUCH NONSENSE! ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN Macphairson Clonglocketty Angus McClan Was the son of an elderly labouring man; You've guessed him a Scotchman, shrewd reader, at sight, And pVaps altogether, shrewd reader, you're right. From the bonnie blue Forth to the beastly Deeside, Round by Dingwall and Wrath to the mouth of the Clyde, There wasn't a child or a woman or man Who could pipe with Clonglocketty Angus McClan. No other could wake such detestable groans, With reed and with chaunter with bag and with drones: All day and all night he delighted the chiels With sniggering pibrochs and jiggety reels. He'd clamber a mountain and squat on the ground, And the neighbouring maidens would gather around To list to his pipes and to gaze in his een, Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen. All loved their McClan, save a Sassenach brute, Who came to the Highlands to fish and to shoot; He dressed himself up in a Highlander way; Tho' his name it was Pattison Corby Torbay. Torbay had incurred a good deal of expense To make him a Scotchman in every sense; But this is a matter, you'll readily own, That isn't a question of tailors alone. A Sassenach chief may be bonily built, He may purchase a sporran, a bonnet, and kilt; Stick a skean in his hose wear an acre of stripes But he cannot assume an affection for pipes. Clonglocketty's pipings all night and all day Quite frenzied poor Pattison Corby Torbay; The girls were amused at his singular spleen, Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen. "Macphairson Clonglocketty Angus, my lad, With pibrochs and reels you are driving me mad. If you really must play on that cursed affair, My goodness ! play something resembling an air." SUCH NONSENSE! Ill Boiled over the blood of Macphairson McClan The Clan of Clonglocketty rose as one man; For all were enraged at the insult, I ween Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen. "Let's show," said McClan, "to this Sassenach loon That the bagpipes can play him a regular tune. Let's see," said McClan, as he thoughtfully sat, " 'In my Cottage' is easy I'll practise at that." He blew at his "Cottage," and blew with a will, For a year, seven months, and a fortnight, until (You'll hardly believe it) McClan, I declare, Elicited something resembling an air. It was wild it was fitful as wild as the breeze It wandered about into several keys; It was jerky, spasmodic, and harsh, I'm aware; But still it distinctly suggested an air. The Sassenach screamed, and the Sassenach danced; He shrieked in his agony bellowed and pranced; And the maidens who gathered rejoiced at the scene, Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen. "Hech gather, hech gather, hech gather around; And fill a' ye lungs wi' the exquisite sound. An air fra' the bagpipes beat that if ye can: Hurrah for Clonglocketty Angus McClan!" The fame of his piping spread over the land: Respectable widows proposed for his hand, And maidens came flocking to sit on the green- Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen. One morning the fidgety Sassenach swore He'd stand it no longer he drew his claymore, And (this was, I think, extremely bad taste) Divided Clonglocketty close to the waist. Oh! loud were the wailings for Angus McClan, Oh ! deep was the grief for that excellent man The maids stood aghast at the horrible scene, Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen. It sorrowed poor Pattison Corby Torbay To find them "take on" in this serious way; 112 SUCH NONSENSE! He pitied the poor little fluttering birds, And solaced their souls with the following words: "Oh, maidens," said Pattison, touching his hat, "Don't blubber, my dears, for a fellow like that; Observe, I'm a very superior man, A much better fellow than Angus Median." They smiled when he winked and addressed them as "dears," And they all of them vowed, as they dried up their tears, A pleasanter gentleman never was seen Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen. WILLIAM S. GILBERT. There's a lot in the tale, and still more in the tellin' Of the canny, observant, ubiquitous Ellen. SOME LITTLE BUG In these days of indigestion It is oftentimes a question As to what to eat and what to leave alone ; For each microbe and bacillus Has a different way to kill us, And in time they always claim us for their own. There are germs of every kind In any food that you can find In the market or upon the bill of fare. Drinking water's just as risky As the so-called deadly whiskey, And it's often a mistake to breathe the air. Some little bug is going to find you some day, Some little bug will creep behind you some day, Then he'll send for his bug friends And all your earthly trouble ends; Some little bug is going to find you some day. The inviting green cucumber Gets most everybody's number, While the green corn has a system of its own; Though a radish seems nutritious Its behaviour is quite vicious, And a doctor will be coming to your home. Eating lobster cooked or plain Is only flirting with ptomaine, While an oyster sometimes has a lot to say, But the clams we eat in chowder Make the angels chant the louder, For they know that we'll be with them right away. Take a slice of nice fried onion And you're fit for Dr. Munyon, Apple dumplings kill you quicker than a train. Chew a cheesy midnight "rabbit" And a grave you'll soon inhabit Ah, to eat at all is such a foolish game. Eating huckleberry pie Is a pleasing way to die, While sauerkraut brings on soften- ing of the brain. When you e?! banana fritters Every undertaker titters, And the casket makers nearly go in- sane. SUCH NONSENSE! 113 Some little bug is going to find you some day, Some little bug will creep behind you same day, With a nervous little quiver He'll give cirrhosis of the liver; Some little bug is going to find you some day. When cold storage vaults I visit I can only say what is it Makes poor mortals fill their systems with such stuff? Now, for breakfast, prunes are dandy If a stomach pump is handy And your doctor can be found quite soon enough. Eat a plate of fine pigs' knuckles And the head stone cutter chuckles, While the grave digger makes a note upon his cuff. Eat that lovely red bologna And you'll wear a wooden kimona, As your relatives start scrapping 'bout your stuff. Some little bug is going to find you some day, Some little bug will creep behind you some day, Eating juicy sliced pineapple Makes the sexton dust the chapel; Some little bug is going to find you some day. All those crazy foods they mix Will float us 'cross the River Styx, Or they'll start us climbing up the milky way. And the meals we eat in courses Mean a hearse and two black horses So before a meal some people always pray. Luscious grapes breed 'pendicitis, And the juice leads to gastritis, So there's only death to greet us either way; And fried liver's nice, but, mind you, Friends will soon ride slow behind you And the papers then will have nice things to say. Some little bug is going to find you some day, Some little bug will creep behind you some day Eat some sauce, they call it chili, On your breast they'll place a lily; Some little bug is going to find you some day. ROT ATWELL. Man that's born of woman is of few days and full of sorrow. The Storm. 114 SUCH NONSENSE! THE FABLE OF THE TWO MAN- DOLIN PLAYERS AND THE WILLING PERFORMER A very attractive Debutante knew two Young Men who called on her every Thursday Evening, and brought their Mandolins along. They were Conventional Young Men, of the Kind that you see wear- ing Spring Overcoats in the Clothing Advertisements. One was named Fred, and the other was Eustace. The Mothers of the Neighbourhood often remarked, "What Perfect Man- ners Fred and Eustace have I" Mere- ly as an aside it may be added that Fred and Eustace were more Popular with the Mothers than they were with the Younger Set, although no one could say a Word against either of them. Only it was rumoured in Keen Society that they didn't Belong. The Fact that they went Calling in a Crowd, and took their Mandolins along, may give the Acute Reader some Idea of the Life that Fred and Eustace held out to the Young Women of their Acquaintance. The Debutante's name was Myrtle. Her Parents were very Watchful, and did not encourage her to receive Call- ers, except such as were known to be Exemplary Young Men. Fred and Eustace were a few of those who es- caped the Black List. Myrtle always appeared to be glad to see them, and they regarded her as a Darned Swell Girl. Fred's Cousin came from St. Paul on a Visit ; and one Day, in the Street, he saw Myrtle, and noticed that Fred tipped his Hat, and gave her a Stage Smile. "Oh, Queen of Sheba!" exclaimed the Cousin from St. Paul, whose name was Gus, as he stood stock still, and watched Myrtle's Reversible Plaid dis- appear around a Corner. "She's a Bird. Do you know her well?" "I know her Quite Well," replied Fred, coldly. "She is a Charming Girl." "She is all of that. You're a great Describer. And now what Night are you going to take me around to Call on her?" Fred very naturally Hemmed and Hawed. It must be remembered that Myrtle was a member of an Excellent Family, and had been schooled in the Proprieties, and it was not to be sup- posed that she would crave the Society of slangy old Gus, who had an abound- ing Nerve, and furthermore was as Fresh as the Mountain Air. He was the Kind of Fellow who would see a Girl twice, and then, upon meeting her the Third Time, he would go up and straighten her Cravat for her, and call her by her First Name. Put him into a Strange Company en route to a Picnic and by the time the Baskets were unpacked he would have a Blonde all to himself, and she would have traded her Fan for his College Pin. If a Fair-Looker on the Street hap- pened to glance at him Hard he would run up and seize her by the Hand, and convince her that they had Met. And he always Got Away with it, too. In a Department Store, while wait- ing for the Cash Boy to come back with the Change, he would find out the Girl's Name, her Favourite Flower, and where a Letter would reach her. Upon entering a Parlor Car at St. Paul he would select a Chair next to the Most Promising One in Sight, and ask her if she cared to have the Shade lowered. SUCH NONSENSE! 115 Before the Train cleared the Yards he would have the Porter bringing a Foot-Stool for the Lady. At Hastings he would be asking her if she wanted Something to Read. At Red Wing he would be telling her that she resembled Maxine Elliott, and showing her his Watch, left to him by his Grandfather, a Prominent Vir- ginian. At La Crosse he would be reading the Menu Card to her, and telling her how different it is when you have Some One to join you in a Bite. At Milwaukee he would go out and buy a Bouquet for her, and when they rode into Chicago they would be looking out of the same Window, and he would be arranging for her Bag- gage with the Transfer Man. After that they would be Old Friends. Now, Fred and Eustace had been at School with Gus, and they had seen his Work, and they were not disposed to Introduce him into One of the most Exclusive Homes in the City. They had known Myrtle for many Years; but they did not dare to Ad- dress her by her First Name, and they were Positive that if Gus attempted any of his usual Tactics with her she would be Offended; and, naturally enough, they would be Blamed for bringing him to the House. But Gus insisted. He said he had seen Myrtle, and she Suited him from the Ground up, and he proposed to have Friendly Doings with her. At last they told him they would take him if he promised to Behave. Fred warned him that Myrtle would frown down any Attempt to be Familiar on Short Acquaintance, and Eustace said that as long as he had known Myrtle he had never Presumed to be Free and Forward with her. He had simply played the Mandolin. That was as Far Along as he had ever got. Gus told them not to Worry about him. All he asked was a Start. He said he was a Willing Performer, but as yet he never had been Disqualified for Crowding. Fred and Eustace took this to mean that he would not Over- play his Attentions, so they escorted him to the House. As soon as he had been Presented, Gus showed her where to sit on the Sofa, then he placed himself about Six Inches away and began to Buzz, looking her straight in the Eye. He said that when he first saw her he Mistook her for Miss Prentice, who was said to be the Most Beautiful Girl in St. Paul, only, when he came closer, he saw that it couldn't be Miss Pren- tice, because Miss Prentice didn't have such Lovely Hair. Then he asked her the Month of her Birth and told her Fortune, thereby coming nearer to Holding her Hand within Eight Min- utes than Eustace had come in a Lifetime. "Play something, Boys," he Ordered, just as if he had paid them Money to come along and make Music for him. They unlimbered their Mandolins and began to play a Sousa March. He asked Myrtle if she had seen the New Moon. She replied that she had not, so they went Outside. When Fred and Eustace finished the first Piece, Gus appeared at the open Window, and asked them to play "The Georgia Camp-Meeting," which had always been one of his Favourites. So they played that, and when they had Concluded there came a Voice from the Outer Darkness, and it was the Voice of Myrtle. She said: "I'll tell you what to Play; play the Inter- mezzo." 116 SUCH NONSENSE! Fred and Eustace exchanged Glances. They began to Perceive that they had been backed into a Siding. With a few Potted Palms in front of them, and two Cards from the Union, they would have been just the same as a Hired Orchestra. But they played the Intermezzo and felt Peevish. Then they went to the Window and looked out. Gus and Myrtle were sitting in the Hammock, which had quite a Pitch toward the Centre. Gus had braced himself by Holding to the back of the Hammock. He did not have his Arm around Myrtle, but he had it Extended in a Line parallel with her Back. What he had done wouldn't Justify a Girl in saying, "Sir!" but it started a Real Scandal with Fred and Eustace. They saw that the only Way to Get Even with her was to go Home without say- ing "Good Night." So they slipped out the Side Door, shivering with in- dignation. After that, for several Weeks, Gus kept Myrtle so Busy that she had no Time to think of considering other Candidates. He sent Books to her Mother, and allowed the Old Gentle- man to take Chips away from him at Poker. They were Married in the Autumn, and Father-in-Law took Gus into the Firm, saying that he had needed a good Pusher for a Long Time. At the Wedding the two Mandolin Players were permitted to act as Ushers. MORAL : To get a fair Trial of Speed, use a Pace-Maker. GEORGE ADE. Can you beat it? A TALE OF THE TROPICS Oh, once there was a gentleman resid- ing in a tropic Who had delightful impulses, humane and philanthropic. One day, when he went out to walk, he said, conventions flouting, "I'll take this chance to give my pet orang-outang an outing!" And now, although I hate to drop this interesting topic, That's all I know of this old man, humane and philanthropic. SUCH NONSENSE! 117 THE LEGEND OF THE FIRST CAM-U-EL An Arabian Apologue Across the sands of Syria, Or, possibly, Algeria, Or some benighted neighbourhood of barrenness and drouth, There came the Prophet Sam-u-el Upon the Only Cam-u-el A bumpy, grumpy Quadruped of discontented mouth. The atmosphere was glutinous; The Cam-u-el was mutinous; He dumped the pack from off his back ; with horrid grunts and squeals He made the desert hideous; With strategy perfidious He tied his neck in curlicues, he kicked his paddy heels. Then quoth the gentle Sam-u-el, "You rogue, I ought to lam you well ! Though zealously I've shielded you from every grief ^nd woe, It seems, to voice a platitude, You haven't any gratitude. I'd like to hear what cause you have for doing thus and so!" To him replied the Cam-u-el, "I beg your pardon, Sam-u-el. I know that I'm a Reprobate, I know that I'm a Freak; But, oh! this utter loneliness! My too-distinguished Onliness! Were there but other Cam-u-els I wouldn't be Unique." The Prophet beamed beguilingly. "Aha," he answered, smilingly, "You feel the need of company? I clearly understand. We'll speedily create for you The corresponding mate for you Ho! presto, change-o, dinglebat!" he waved a potent hand, And, lo! from out Vacuity A second Incongruity, To wit, a Lady Cam-u-el was born through magic art. Her structure anatomical, Her form and face were comical; She was, in short, a Cam-u-el, the other's counterpart. 118 SUCH NONSENSE! As Spaniards gaze on Aragon, Upon that Female Paragon So gazed the Prophet's Cam-u-el, that primal Desert Ship. A connoisseur meticulous, He found her that ridiculous He grinned from ear to auricle until he split his lip! Because of his temerity That Cam-u-el's posterity Must wear divided upper lips through all their solemn lives! A prodigy astonishing Reproachfully admonishing Those wicked, heartless married men who ridicule their wives. ARTHUR GTJITERMAN. It's fortunate that Adam had more self-control. OULD DOCTOR MACK Ye may tramp the world over From Delhi to Dover, And sail the salt say from Archangel to Arragon, Circumvint back Through the whole Zodiack, But to ould Docther Mack ye can't furnish a paragon. Have ye the dropsy, The gout, the autopsy? Fresh livers and limbs instantaneous he'll shape yez, No ways infarior In skill, but suparior, And lineal postarior to Ould Aysculapius. Chorus He and his wig wid the curls so carroty, Aigle eye, and complexion clarety: Here's to his health, Honour and wealth, The king of his kind and the crame of all charity! How the rich and the poor, To consult for a cure, Crowd on to his doore in their carts and their carriages, Showin' their tongues SUCH NONSENSE! 119 Or unlacin' their lungs, For divle one symptom the docther disparages. Troth, an' he'll tumble, For high or for humble, From his warm feather-bed wid no cross contrariety j Makin' as light Of nursin' all night The beggar in rags as the belle of society. Chorus He and his wig, etc. And as if by a meracle, Ailments hysterical, Dad, wid one dose of bread-pills he can smother, And quench the love-sickness Wid wonderful quickness, By prescribin' the right boys and girls to aich other. And the sufferin' childer Your eyes 'twould bewilder To see the wee craythurs his coat-tails unravelling And aich of them fast On some treasure at last, Well knowin' ould Mack's just a toy-shop out travellin'. Chorus He and his wig, etc. Thin, his doctherin' done, In a rollickin' run Wid the rod or the gun, he's the foremost to figure. By Jupiter Ammon, What jack-snipe or salmon E'er rose to backgammon his tail-fly or trigger I And hark! the view-hollo! 'Tis Mack in full follow On black "Faugh-a-ballagh" the country-side sailin*. Och, but you'd think 'Twas old Nimrod in pink, Wid his spurs cryin' chink over park-wall and palitr*. Chorus He and his wig wid the curls so carroty, Aigle eye, and complexion clarety: Here's to his health, Honour and wealth! 120 SUCH NONSENSE! Hip, hip, hooray! wid all hilarity, Hip, hip, hooray! That's the way, All at once, widout disparity! One more cheer For our docther dear, The king of his kind and the crarae of all charity. Hip, hip, hooray! ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES. A foine ould Irish gintleman. Tarn o'Shanter Dog cL a plalntix/e piping Trocr, "With a Cat VHose one extravagance Nvas clothes, "Vvfent to see a/ Bounding Bug Eance a/ jig. upon a rug, ome s ou his nose. White a Beetle balance cb h SUCH NONSENSE! FOR I AM SAD No usual words can bear the woe I feel, No tralatitions trite give me relief! Webster! lend me words to voice my grief Bitter as quassia, quass or kumquat peel! For I am sad . . . bound on the cos- mic wheel, What mad chthonophagy bids slave and chief Through endless cycles bite the earth like beef, By turns each cannibal and each the meal? Turn we to nature Webster, and we see Your whidah bird refuse all strobile fruit, Your tragacanth in tears ooze from the tree . . . We hear your flammulated owlets hoot! Turn we to nature, Webster, and we find Few creatures have a quite contented mind. Your koulan there, with dyslogistic snort, Will leave his phacoid food on worts to browse, While glactophorous Himalayan cows The knurled kohl-rabi spurn in un- couth sport; No margay climbs margosa trees; the short Gray mullet drink no mulse, nor house In pibcorns when the youth of Wales carouse . . . No tournure doth the toucan's tail con- tort . . . So I am sad! . . . and yet, on Sum- mer eves, When xebecs search the whishing scree for whelk, And the sharp sorrel lifts obcordate leaves, And cryptogamous plants fulfil the elk, I see the octopus play with his feet, And find within this sadness some- thing sweet. The thing we like about that poem is its recognition of all the sorrow there is in the universe ... its unflinching recognition, we might say, if we were not afraid of praising our own work too highly . . . combined with its happy ending. One feels, upon reading it, that, al- though everything everywhere is very sad, and all wrong, one has only to have patience and after a while every- thing everywhere will be quite right and very sweet. No matter how interested one may be in these literary problems, one must cease discussing them at times or one will be late to one's meals. DON MARQUIS. This is the real thing in uplift, but does it make us look up the words? A PASTORAL IN POSTERS The mid-day moon lights up the rocky sky; The great hills flutter in the greenish breeze ; While far above the lowing turtles fly And light upon the pinky-purple trees. The gleaming trill of jagged, feathered rocks I hear with glee as swift I fly away, And over waves of subtle woolly flocks Crashes the breaking day. Ain't Nature wonderful I 122 SUCH NONSENSE! POETS AND LINNETS After Robert Browning Where'er there's a thistle to feed a lin- net And linnets are plenty, thistles rife Or an acorn-cup to catch dewdrops in it There's ample promise of further life. Now, mark how we begin it. For linnets will follow, if linnets are minded, As blows the white feather parachute; And ships will reel by the tempest blinded Aye, ships and shiploads of men to boot! How deep whole fleets you'll find hid. And we blow the thistle-down hither and thither Forgetful of linnets and men and God. The dew! For its want an oak will wither By the dull hoof into the dust is trod, And then who strikes the cither? But thistles were only for donkeys in- tended, And that donkeys are common enough is clear; And that drop ! what a vessel it might have befriended, Does it add any flavour to Glugadib's beer? Well, there's my musing ended. TOM HOOD, JR. Lots of people couldn't tell this from the real thing. THE LOST CORD Seated one day at the organ, Was my monkey, but ill at ease; For his fingers wandered idly, Searching for what you please. I know not what I was playing, Or what I was dreaming, quite, But I dropped his cord, and quickly, With a bound, he was out of sight! With a bound, he was out of sight! Then forth he came through a skylight, With some clothes on his out- stretched arm; And the way that he sought to wear them Had a touch of infinite charm. While riot and shrieks of sorrow Above, from a plundered wife, Recalled the harmonious echo Of my discordant life. The things perplexed the monkey, He spoiled them, piece by piece: Animate. I trembled away in my silence For fear of the dread police! Agitato. I have sought but I seek it vainly, That one last cord, and pine For him, for the soul of my organ, That vanished ape of mine! Grandioso. It may be my truant monkey Will come with that cord again! For it may be he only skedaddles When he hears the organ-men. (Repeat.) Not entirely like the Qiwlity of Mercy. SUCH NONSENSE! 123 THE PLAYED-OUT HUMOURIST Quixotic is his enterprise and hopeless his adventure is, Who seeks for jocularities that haven't yet been said; The world has joked incessantly for over fifty centuries, And every joke that's possible has long ago been made. I started as a humourist with lots of mental fizziness, But humour is a drug which it's the fashion to abuse; For my stock-in-trade, my fixtures and the good-will of the business No reasonable offer I am likely to refuse. And if anybody choose He may circulate the news That no reasonable offer I am likely to refuse. Oh, happy was that humourist the first that made a pun at all Who when a joke occurred to him, however poor and mean, Was absolutely certain that it never had been done at all How popular at dinners must that humourist have been! Oh, the days when some step-father for a query held a handle out, The door-mat from the scraper, is it distant very far? And when no one knew where Moses was when Aaron put the candle out, And no one had discovered that a door could be a-jar ! But your modern hearers are In their tastes particular, And they sneer if you inform them that a door can be a-jar ! In search of quip and quiddity I've sat all day alone, apart And all that I could hit on as a problem was to find Analogy between a scrag of mutton and a Bony-part, Which offers slight employment to the speculative mind. For you cannot call it very good, however great your charity It's not the sort of humour that is greeted with a shout And I've come to the conclusion that my mine of jocularity, In present Anno Domini is worked completely out! Though the notion you may scout, I can prove beyond a doubt That my mine of jocularity is worked completely out! W. S. GILBERT. A^very enjoyable lot, 'tis clear, Was the lot of the humorous pioneer. 124. SUCH NONSENSE! THE QUEST OF THE PUEPLE COW He girded on his shining sword, He clad him in his suit of mail, He gave his friends the parting word, With high resolve his face was pale. They said, "You've kissed the Papal Toe, To great Moguls you've made your bow, Why will you thus world-wandering go?" "I never saw a purple cow!" "I never saw a purple cow ! Oh, hinder not my wild emprise Let me depart ! For even now Perhaps, before some yokel's eyes The purpling creature dashes by, Bending its noble, horned brow. They see its glowing charms, but I I never saw a purple cow !" "But other cows there be," they said, "Both cows of high and low degree, Suffolk and Devon, brown, black, red, The Ayrshire and the Alderney. Content yourself with these." "No, no," He cried, "Not these! Not these! For how Can common kine bring comfort ? Oh ! I never saw a purple cow!" He flung him to his charger's back, He left his kindred limp and weak, They cried: "He goes, alack! alack! The unattainable to seek." But westward still he rode pardee! The West ! Where such freaks be ; I vow, I'd not be much surprised if he Should some day see A Purple Cow! HILDA JOHNSON. IF THEY MEANT ALT. THEY SAID Charm is a woman's strongest arm; My charwoman is full of charm; I chose her, not for strength of arm But for her strange, elusive charm. And how tears heighten woman's pow- ers! My typist weeps for hours and hours : I took her for her weeping powers They so delight my business Hours. A woman lives by intuition. Though my accountant shuns addition She has the rarest intuition. (And I myself can do addition.) Timidity in girls is nice. My cook is so afraid of mice. Now you'll admit it's very nice To feel your cook's afraid of mice. ALICE DUEB MILLER. Woman's place is on the nerves. A TALE OF FOREIGN LANDS The Camel is a noble brute, Across the sands he loves to scoot; He has to live in foreign lands, For here we don't have many sands. To foreign lands the Tourist goes; Though why he does it no one knows. For nothing he may see or learn Will interest us on his return. The Native is a curious chap; He lives in corners of the map. The countries that are coloured pink Are where the Native lives I think. Now in this picture you may see The Camel, Tourist, Native three; Why they run round the pyramid I do not know; and never did. SUCH NONSENSE! 125 THE ARTIST With Pictures by the Author The world is full of stupid folks, who seem to think it true That just because a man makes jokes, that's all that he can do! The time has come for me to tell that, ever since my birth, I've drawn an animal as well as any man on earth! The Horse has been my closest friend. I feel no small remorse To think so little time I spend within his stall, perforce. His every point I comprehend : he draws me round, of course : Yet there are people who contend I cannot draw a horse! The trusty Dog is wont to think my friendship firm and warm. He comes to me for food and drink and shelter from the storm. You'll never see him cringe or shrink, but on my lap he'll swarm : Yet there are those who slyly wink when I depict his form! The vigilant, voracious Goat regards my word as law, A fact which surely must denote he never found a flaw In anything I drew or wrote, but all with pleasure saw: Yet I have heard some critics vote that Goats I cannot draw { 126 SUCH NONSENSE! The Walrus in his chilly clime, upon the arctic floe, Was my companion many a time, and who so well could show How he pursues, with mien sublime, the codfish o'er the snow? Yet people say, "Perhaps in rhyme but drawing him? Oh, no!" The Camel, indolent and slim, I beckon with my hand. To meet and greet me he will skim, rejoicing, o'er the sand. He stretches every agile limb to answer my command : And yet they cry that sketching him I do not understand! SUCH NONSENSE! 127 The Kangaroo, the Kangaroo ! He's almost like my twin, So oft together at the Zoo in converse have we been. I love him well, he loves me true, I'm sure we two are kin : Yet some ejaculate, "Pooh, pooh ! He makes him far too thin !" The Polar Bear, of manners cold, has told me in despair That really he could not have told how, why, or when, or where He could have found a friend so bold, for whom he'd learn to care ; Yet there are certain men who hold I cannot draw a Bear ! The Tiger used to leave his feast whenever I drew near (Not incommoded in the least, but with a smile sincere). When I was sailing from the East he sent a case of beer: Yet in my pictures of the beast they say there's something queer 1 128 SUCH NONSENSE! The timid, tall Camelopard is like my better half. I cherish him in high regard, and have a hearty laugh In walking round his little yard, and listening to his chaff: Yet some desire to have me barred from sketching the Giraffe! Well, here is my reply to those who at my drawings rage : I beg that you will note the various creatures on this page! Of course, I've only made a few, and dashed them off, at that, But still, they show what I can do, and knock your theories flat ! GUY WETMORE CABBTL. A FABLE Virtue Has Its Own Reward A poor young man fell in love with the daughter of a rich lady, who kept a candy shop. The poor young man could not marry the rich candy lady's daughter because he had not enough money to buy any furni- ture. A wicked man offered to give, the young man twenty-five dollars if he would become a drunkard. The young man wanted the money very much, so he could marry the rich candy lady's daughter, but when he got to the saloon he turned to the wicked man and said : "I will not become a drunkard, even for great riches. Get thee behind me, Satan." On his way home he found a pocket- book containing a million dollars in gold; then the young lady consented to marry him. They had a beautiful wedding and the next day they had twins. Thus, you see that "virtue has its own reward." A perfectly good fable, by a good child. SUCH NONSENSE! 129 RHYMES OF THE BOOGIN CLUB How very sad it is to think Our poor benighted brother Should have his head upon one end His feet upon the other ! 130 SUCH NONSENSE! THE COMICAL GIEL There was a child, as I have been told, Who when she was young didn't look very old. Another thing, too, some people have said, At the top of her body there grew out a head; And what perhaps might make some people stare Her little bald pate was all covered with hair. Another strange thing which made gossipers talk, Was that she often attempted to walk. And then, do you know, she occasioned much fun By moving so fast as sometimes to run. Nay, indeed, I have heard that some people say She often would smile and often would play. And what is a fact, though it seems very odd, She had monstrous dislike to the feel of a rod. This strange little child sometimes hungry would be And then she delighted her victuals to see. Even drink she would swallow, and though strange it appears Whenever she listened it was with her ears. With her eyes she could see, and strange to relate Her peepers were placed in front of her pate. There, too, was her mouth and also her nose, And on her two feet were placed her ten toes. Her teeth, I've been told, were fixed in her gums, And beside having fingers she also had thumbs. A droll child she therefore most surely must be, For not being blind she was able to see. One circumstance more had slipped from my mind Which is when not cross she always was kind. And, strangest of any that yet I have said, She every night went to sleep on her bed. And, what may occasion you no small surprise, When napping, she always shut close up her eyes. M. PKLHAM. Another one! SUCH NONSENSE! 131 HINTS ON TABLE ETIQUETTE TO A BAKED FISH Preserve a respectful demeanour When you are brought into the room; Don't stare at the guests while they're eating, No matter how much they consume. 132 SUCH NONSENSE! TO LETTUCE The humblest are counted the wisest, The modest are lauded the most; Don't have a big head because some- times You sit on the right of the host. SUCH NONSENSE! 133 TO LAMB CHOPS If there are only ladies at luncheon, It being a feminine feast, You then may appear in curl-papers; No one will object in the least. 134 SUCH NONSENSE! TO THE MORNING PAPER By the family you're welcomed at breakfast, Your presence, indeed, they expect; But pray do not come in your wrap- per It isn't considered correct. SUCH NONSENSE! 135 TO A SALAD The lady whose costume is smartest May not be the most honoured guest; Don't think you are better than others Because you are very well dressed. 136 SUCH NONSENSE! TO CUCUMBERS Who rashly gives way to his temper Is often considered a fool; Although they may call you a green one, Just try to keep perfectly cool. SUCH NONSENSE! 137 TO THE BUTTER To exercise just before meal-time The doctors declare is quite wrong; So don't run when dinner is waiting, Especially if you're not strong. CAROLYN WELLS. 138 SUCH NONSENSE! COUNSEL TO THOSE THAT EAT With chocolate-cream that you buy in the cake Large mouthfuls and hurry are quite a mistake. Wise persons prolong it as long as they can By putting in practice this excellent plan. The cream from the chocolate lining they dig With a Runaway match or a clean little twig. Many hundreds, nay, thousands of scoopings they make Before they've exhausted a twopenny cake. With ices 'tis equally wrongful to haste; You ought to go slowly and dwell on each taste. Large mouthfuls are painful, as well as unwise, For they lead to an ache at the back of the eyes. And the delicate sip is e'en better, one finds, If the ice is a mixture of different kinds. A refinement of delicate restraint rarely seen nowadays. THE EDITOR'S WOOING We love thee, Ann Maria Smith, And in thy condescension We see a future full of joys Too numerous to mention. There's Cupid's arrow in thy glance, That by thy love's coercion Has reached our melting heart of hearts, And asked for one insertion. With joy we feel the blissful smart ; And ere our passion ranges, We freely place thy love upon The list of our exchanges. There's music in thy lowest tone, And silver in thy laughter: And truth but we will give the full Particulars hereafter. Oh, we could tell thee of our plans All obstacles to scatter; But we are full just now, and have A press of other matter. Then let us marry, Queen of Smiths, Without more hesitation : The very thought doth give our blood A larger circulation. ROBERT H. NEWELL. ("Orpheus C. Kerr.") Pioneer work, too. SUCH NONSENSE! 139 WORDSWORTHIAN REMINIS- CENCE I walked and came upon a picket fence, And every picket went straight up and down, And all at even intervals were placed, All painted green, all pointed at the top, And every one inextricably nailed Unto two several cross-beams, which did go, Not as the pickets, but quite other- wise, And they two crossed, but back of all were posts. beauteous picket fence, can I not draw Instruction from thee? Yea, for thou dost teach, That even as the pickets are made fast To that which seems all at cross pur- poses, So are our human lives, to the Divine, But, oh! not purposeless, for even as they Do keep stray cows from trespass, we, no doubt, Together guard some plan of Deity. Thus did I moralise. And from the beams And pickets drew a lesson to myself, But where the posts came in, I could not tell. I /* ****,. . *V .....? isC* V e Jf* ^ffew ^^ o o ** *t ds ttt o /tyj. v paaa.ods i HT^s attxt/fc prudes W30J ISI8HO It may be that you are not far enough along to appreciate my Cu- bistry. It may be that I shall have to struggle on for years and years be- fore I am appreciated. But if you feel disposed to scoff, let me remind you, even as they reminded me, when I scoffed, of Galileo, Columbus, Richard Wagner, Monet, and Cezanne. All of them were called demented in their time, just as we Cubists are to-day. JULIAN STREET. Considering the trend of his poem, can we call this author the Street called Straight? 196 SUCH NONSENSE! THE ROMAUNT OF HUMPTY DUMPTY 'Tis midnight, and the moonbeam sleeps Upon the garden sward; My lady in yon turret keeps Her tearful watch and ward. "Beshrew me!" mutters, turning pale, The stalwart seneschal; "What's he, that sitteth, clad in mail Upon our castle wall?" "Arouse thee, friar of orders grey; What ho! bring book and bell! Ban yonder ghastly thing, I say; And, look ye, ban it well! By cock and pye, the Humpty's face !" The form turned quickly round; Then totter'd from its resting-place ***** That night the corse was found. The king, with hosts of fighting men Rode forth at break of day ; Ah! never gleamed the sun till then On such a proud array. But all that army, horse and foot, Attempted, quite in vain, Upon the castle wall to put The Humpty up again. HENRY S. LEIGH. One of the finest. / TO MARY Well! thou art happy, and I say That I should thus be happy too; For still I hate to go away As badly as I used to do. Thy husband's blest, and 'twill impart Some pangs to view his happier lot; But let them pass, 0, how my heart Would hate him if he clothed thee not. When late I saw thy favourite child, I thought, like Dutchmen, "I'd go dead," But when I saw its breakfast piled, I thought how much 'twould take for bread. I saw it, and repressed my groans Its father in its face to see, Because I knew my scanty funds Were scarce enough for you and me. Mary, adieu ! I must away ; While thou art blest, to grieve were sin, But near thee I can never stay, Because I'd get in love again. I deemed that time, I deemed that pride, My boyish feeling had subdued, Nor knew, till seated by thy side, I'd try to get you, if I could. Yet I was calm: I recollect My hand had once sought yours again, But now your husband might object, And so I kept it on my cane. I saw thee gaze upon my face, Yet meet with neither woe nor scoff; One only feeling couldst thou trace, A disposition to be off. Away! away, my early dream, Remembrance never must awake; O, where is Mississippi's stream? My foolish heart, be still, or break! PHEBE CART. Marvellous self-control. SUCH NONSENSE! 197 A SYMPOSIUM OF POETS Once upon a time a few of the greatest Poets of all ages gathered together for the purpose of discussing the merits of the Classic Poem : Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater, Had a wife and couldn't keep her Put her in a Pumpkin shell, And there he kept her very well. In many ways this historic narrative called forth admiration. One must ad- mit Peter's great strength of character, his power of quick decision, and immedi- ate achievement. Some hold that his inability to retain the lady's affection in the first place, argues a defect in his nature; but remembering the lady's youth and beauty (implied by the spirit of the whole poem), we can only reiterate our appreciation of the way he conquered circumstances, and proved himself master of his fate, and captain of his soul! Truly, the Pumpkin-Eaters must have been a forceful race, able to defend their rights and rule their people. The Poets at their symposium unanimously felt that the style of the poem, though hardly to be called crude, was a little bare, and they took up with pleasure the somewhat arduous task of rewriting it. Mr. Ed. Poe opined that there was lack of atmosphere, and that the fads of the narrative called for a more impressive setting. He therefore offered: The skies, they were ashen and sober, The lady was shivering with fear; Her shoulders were shud'ring with fear. On a dark night in dismal October, Of his most Matrimonial Year. Jt was hard by the cornfield of Auber, In the musty Mud Meadows of Weir, Down by the dank frog-pond of Auber, In the ghoul-haunted cornfield of Weir. Now, his wife had a temper Satanic, And when Peter roamed here with his Soul, Through the corn with his conjugal Soul, He spied a huge pumpkin Titanic, And he popped her right in through a hole. Then solemnly sealed up the hole. 198 SUCH NONSENSE! And thus Peter Peter has kept her Immured in Mausoleum gloom, A moist, humid, damp sort of gloom. And though there's no doubt he bewept her, She is still in her yellow hued tomb, Her unhallowed, Hallowe'en tomb And ever since Peter side-stepped her, He calls her his lost Lulalume, His Pumpkin-entombed Lulalume. This was received with acclaim, but many objected to the mortuary theory. Mrs. Robert Browning was sure that Peter's love for his wife, though perhaps that of a primitive man, was of the true Portuguese stamp, and with this view composed the following pleasing Sonnet: How do I keep thee? Let me count the ways. I bar up every breadth and depth and height My hands can reach, while feeling out of sight For bolts that stick and hasps that will not raise. I keep thee from the public's idle gaze, I keep thee in, by sun or candle light. I keep thee, rude, as women strive for Right. I keep thee boldly, as they seek for praise, I keep thee with more effort than I'd use To keep a dry-goods shop or big hotel. I keep thee with a power I seemed to lose With that last cook. I'll keep thee down the well, Or up the chimney-place! Or if I choose, I shall but keep thee in a Pumpkin shell. This was of course meritorious, though somewhat suggestive of the cave-men, who, we have never been told, were Pumpkin Eaters. Austin Dobson's version was really more ladylike: BALLADE OF A PUMPKIN Golden-skinned, delicate, bright, Wondrous of texture and hue, Bathed in a soft, sunny light, Pearled with a silvery dew. Fair as a flower to the view, Ripened by summer's soft heat, Basking beneath Heaven's blue, This is the Pumpkin of Pete. SO HER INTO PRISON HE THREW THIS IS THE PUMPKIN OF PETE Smug Peter, gazing at the prison In which, he locked that urife of his'n. SUCH NONSENSE! 199 Peter consumed day and night, Pumpkin in pie or in stew; Hinted to Cook that she might Can it for winter use, too. Pumpkin croquettes, not a few, Peter would happily eat; Knowing content would ensue, This is the Pumpkin of Pete. Everything went along right, Just as all things ought to do; Till Peter, unfortunate wight, Married a girl that he knew, Each day he had to pursue His runaway Bride down the street, So her into prison he threw, This is the Pumpkin of Pete. L'ENVOI Lady, a sad lot, 'tis true, Staying your wandering feet j But 'tis the best place for you, This is the Pumpkin of Pete. Like the other women present Dinah Craik felt the pathos of the situation, and gave vent to her feelings in this tender burst of song : Could I come back to you Peter, Peter, From this old pumpkin that I hate; I would be so tender, so loving, Peter, Peter, Peter, gracious and great. You were not half worthy of me, Peter, Not half worthy the like of I; Now all men beside are not in it, Peter, Peter, Peter, I feel like a pie. Stretch out your hand to me, Peter, Peter, Let me out of this Pumpkin, do; Peter, my beautiful Pumpkin Eater, Peter, Peter, tender and true. Mr. Hogg took his own graceful view of the matter, thus : Lady of wandering, Blithesome, meandering, Sweet was thy flitting o'er moorland and lea; 200 SUCH NONSENSE! Emblem of restlessness, Blest be thy dwelling place, Oh, to abide in the Pumpkin with thee. Peter, though bland and good, Never thee understood, Or he had known how thy nature was free; Goddess of fickleness, Blest be thy dwelling place, Oh, to abide in the Pumpkin with thee. Mr. Kipling grasped at the occasion for a ballad in his best vein. The plot of the story aroused his old time enthusiasm, and he transplanted the pumpkin eater and his wife to the scenes of his earlier powers : In a great big Mammoth pumpkin Lookin' eastward to the sea, There's a wife of mine a-settin' And I know she's mad at me. For I hear her calling, "Peter !" With a wild hysteric shout; "Come you back, you Punkin Eater, Come you back and let me out!" For she's in a punkin shell, I have locked her in her cell; But it really is a comfy, well-constructed punkin shell; And there she'll have to dwell, For she didn't treat me well, So I put her in the punkin and I've kept her very well. Algernon Swinburne was also in one of his early moods, and as a result he Wove the story into this exquisite fabric of words : IN THE PUMPKIN Leave go my hands. Let me catch breath and see, What is this confine either side of me? Green pumpkin vines about me coil and crawl, Seen sidelong, like a 'possum in a tree, Ah me, ah me, that pumpkins are so small! Oh, my fair love, I charge thee, let me out; From this gold lush encircling me about; I turn and only meet a pumpkin wall. The crescent moon shines slim, but I am stout, Ah me, ah me, that pumpkins are so small ! SUCH NONSENSE! . 201 Pumpkin seeds like cold sea blooms bring me dreams; Ah, Pete, too sweet to me, my Pete, it seems Love like a Pumpkin holds me in its thrall; And overhead a writhen shadow gleams, Ah me, ah me, that pumpkins are so small ! This intense poesy thrilled the heavens, and it was with a sense of relief to their throbbing souls that they listened to Mr. Bret Harte's contribution: Which I wish to remark, That the lady was plain; And for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, She had predilections peculiar, And drove Peter nearly insane. Far off, anywhere, She wandered each day; And though Peter would swear, The lady would stray; And whenever he thought he had got her, She was sure to be rambling away. Said Peter, "My Wife, Hereafter you dwell For the rest of your life In a big Pumpkin Shell." He popped her in one that was handy, And since then he's kept her quite well. Which is why I remark, Though the lady was plain, For ways that are dark And tricks that are vain, A husband is very peculiar, And the same I am free to maintain. Oscar Wilde in a poetic fervour and a lily-like kimono, recited with tremu- lous intensity this masterpiece of his own: Oh, Peter ! Pumpkin-fed and proud, Ah me! ah me! (Sweet squashes, mother!) Thy woe knells like a stricken cloud; (Ah me; ah me! Hurroo, Hurree!) 202 SUCH NONSENSE! Lo! vanisht like an anguisht wraith; Ah me! ah me! (Sweet squashes, mother!) Wan hope a dolorous Musing saith; (Ah me ; ah me ! Dum diddle dee!) Hist ! dare we soar? The Pumpkin shell Ah me! ah me! (Sweet squashes, mother!) Fast and forever! Sooth, 'tis well. (Ah me; ah me! Faloodle dee!) There was little to be said after this, so the meeting closed with a solo by Lady Arthur Hill, sung with a truly touching touch : In the pumpkin, oh, my darling, Think not bitterly of me; Though I went away in silence, Though I couldn't set you free. For my heart was filled with longing, For another piece of pie; It was best to leave you there, dear, Best for you and best for I. CAROLYN WELLS. Given a worthy theme, see how the Poets blossom out! THE CONJUROR When I am a man and can do as I wish, With no one to ask if I may, Although I'll play cricket a little and fish, I'll conjure the most of each day. The conjuror's life is so easy and grand; He makes such superior jokes 0, it's splendid to stand with a wand in your hand, And puzzle relations and folks. If eggs should be wanted, you turn to a friend, And draw two or three from his hair; If a rabbit is wished, and his hat he will lend, You wave, and behold, one is there! To pound a gold watch into thousands of bits And restore it as good as before Is a life that beats even a Major's to fits, Apart from the absence of gore. ANONYMOUS. But, of course, one can't have every- thing. SUCH NONSENSE! 203 THE SEMPSTRESS The Sempstress sewed upon a seam And in her eye there was no Gleam Of Hope or Joy nor Nothin' Wuss, She was just plain Loogoobrious. 204 SUCH NONSENSE! THE PRACTICAL JOKER Oh, what a fond of joy jocund lies hid in harmless hoaxes! What keen enjoyment springs From cheap and simple things ! What deep delight from sources trite inventive humour coaxes, That pain and trouble brew For every one but you ! Gunpowder placed inside its waist im- proves a mild Havana, Its unexpected flash Burns eyebrows and moustache. When people dine no kind of wine beats ipecacuanha, But common sense suggests You keep it for your guests Then naught annoys the organ boys tike throwing red hot coppers. And much amusement bides In common butter slides; And stringy snares across the stairs unexpected croppers. Coal scuttles, recollect, Produce the same effect. A man possessed Of common sense Need not invest At great expense It does not call For pocket deep, These jokes are all Extremely cheap. If yon commence with eighteenpence it's all youTl have to pay; Yon may command a pleasant and a most instructive day. A good spring gun breeds endless fun, and makes men jump like rock- ets And turnip heads on posts Make very decent ghosts. Then hornets sting like anything, when placed in waistcoat pockets Burnt cork and walnut juice Are not without their use. No fun compares with easy chairs whose seats are stuffed with nee- dles- Live shrimps their patience tax When put down people's backs. Surprising, too, what one can do with a pint of fat black beetles And treacle on a chair Will make a Quaker swear! Then sharp tin tacks And pocket squirts And cobbler's wax For ladies' skirts And slimy slugs On bedroom floors And water jugs On open doors Prepared with these cheap properties, amusing tricks to play Upon a friend a man may spend a most delightful day. W. S. GILBERT. And to think Sullivan could set this or hymns to music equally well! SUCH NONSENSE! 205 YE TOWNE GOSSIP I'D JUST sat down. * * * TO WRITE something. * * FOR TUESDAY'S paper. * * * AND HAD lighted a cigarette. * THAT HAD been sent me. * * BECAUSE I'D mentioned Dobbs Ferry. IN MY COLUMN. AND I had an idea. * * TO WORK on. * * AND I was quite sure. * IT WAS going to be good. * * * AND THE telephone rang. * * AND I answered it. * * * AND A voice said : * * * "THIS IS Jim. * * * "AND IT'S a girl. * * "AND IT weighs six pounds. * * * "AND EVERYBODY'S fine. * * * "I'M DOWNSTAIRS. * * * "AND I'M coming up." * * * AND HE did. * AND HE'S here now. * * AND HE isn't shaved. * * AND HE'S sleepy. * AND HE looks to me. * * LIKE HE'D been up all night. * * * AND HE'S worried. * * * FOR FEAR they'll mix it up. * * AT THE hospital. * * * HE SAW a lot of them. * * IN A little room. * * AND HE'S waiting for me. * * * TO GET through. * * AND GO up to the hospital. * * * AND SEE it. * AND HE'S just asked me. * * * IF I have an indelible pencil. * * * I THINK he's going to mark it. * OR SOMETHING. * * AND, ANYWAY * * * WHATEVER IT was. * * I WAS going to write. * I'VE FORGOTTEN. * AND I'VE tried to tell him. * IF HE keeps on talking. 206 SUCH NONSENSE! I'LL NEVER get through. THE TRANSLATED WAY * * * AND HE'S quiet now. Being a lyric translation of Heine's "Du bist wie eine Blume," as it is usually , * done AND HE'S gone to sleep. * * * Thou art like unto a Flower, IN A big chair. So pure and clean thou art; * * * I view thee and much sadness AND I'VE thrown away. Steals to me in the heart. * * * MY CIGARETTE. To me it seems my Hands I * * Should now impose on your AND I'VE lighted my pipe. Head, praying God to keep you * * * So fine and clean and pure. AND WATCHED the smoke. FRANKLIN P. ADAMS. * * * AS IT curls its way. * * * This translator seems to have caught the very essence of the spirit of the THROUGH A window top. author's thought. * * AND WHEREVER it goes. * * * THE NAUGHTY DARKEY BOY IT'S TAKING a prayer. There was a cruel darkey boy, * * Who sat upon the shore, FOR HER. A catching little fishes by * * The dozen and the score. AND FOR JIM. * * * And as they squirmed and wriggled AND THE baby girl. there, * * * He shouted loud with glee, AND JIM. "You surely cannot want to live, * You're little-er dan me." IF HE dreams. * * Just then with a malicious leer, AS HE sleeps. And a capacious smile, * * * Before him from the water deep IN MY chair. There rose a crocodile. * * HAS A new dreamland. He eyed the little darkey boy, * * Then heaved a blubbering sigh, FOR HIS wanderings. And said, "You cannot want to live, * * * You're little-er than I." AND HE'S awake now. * * The fishes squirm and wriggle still, AND I'VE got to go. Beside that sandy shore, I THANK you. The cruel little darkey boy, KENNETH C. BEATON. Was never heard of more. The Eeverence of a Bachelor. Order is Heaven's first law. SUCH NONSENSE! 207 THE BOGUS DIAMOND Delilah Jones was passing fair, Her form divine, her voice a song, Like molten sunbeams was her hair, Her list of virtues very long. But gems have flaws, and I've been told Delilah was too fond of gold. A handsome clerk was Clement Leigh, His salary and he were slim. He loved Delilah Jones, and she Was really very fond of him. So when he urged that they be wed, A tender "yes" was what she said. As he was poor, he bought a ring Whose diamond was made of paste, A gorgeously prismatic thing; She warmly praised his rare good taste. "When I am rich," he thought, "I'll get A gem and have the ring reset." Next morn the sun shone on the stone, Like splintered rainbows it became. "To think it's all my very own! It's like a multi-coloured flame. It must have cost a heap of mun. I'll ask a jeweller for fun." She took it down to Maiden Lane, And asked a jeweller its worth. He answered her in merry vein (He seemed to think it cause for mirth) : "If seven dollars bought the ring, You're out six-fifty on the thing." Next evening when her lover called: "Take back the bauble, 'tis but paste !" He tried to plead but she was galled; He took the ring and left in haste. Delilah Jones a nun became, And never breathed the fellow's name. He pawned the ring for dollars threo, Then bought a bull-dog pistol, and A ticket in the lotterie; "She longed for money, not my hand. Now if I win the biggest prize, It shall be hers her lover dies." He won the 50,000 prize, And willed it to the heartless jade, Then shot himself death closed his eyes. Delilah was of course dismayed; Her vows all wealth to her denied, And of chagrin she quickly died. CHARLES BATTELL LOOMIS. This is real tragedy. THE LOBSTER AND THE MAID He was a gentle lobster, (The boats had just come in), He did not love the fishermen, He could not stand their din; And so he quietly stole off As if it were no sin. She was a little maiden; He met her on the sand, "And how d' you do ?" the lobster said ; "Why don't you give your hand?" For why she edged away from him He could not understand. "Excuse me, sir," the maiden said, "Excuse me, if you please;" And put her hands behind her back, And doubled up her knees: "I always thought that lobsters were A little apt to squeeze." 208 SUCH NONSENSE! "Your ignorance," the lobster said, "Is natural, I fear. Such scandal is a shame," he sobbed; "It is not true, my dear!" And with his pocket-handkerchief He wiped away a tear. So out she put her little hand, As though she feared him not; When some one grabbed him suddenly, And put him in a pot, With water which I think he found Uncomfortably hot. It may have been the water made The blood flow to his head, It may have been that dreadful fib Lay on his soul like lead: This much is true, he went in grey, And came out very red. F. E. WEATHERLT. Cheep! cheep I SPRING Again the joyful Spring has come, And again the student begins to bum; Again the junior sits and spoons, And again the Spring poet is full of prunes. ALFRED E. DICKEY. This took a prize in a contest at the De Pauw Law School. No, we are not going to print the others. THE ANTISEPTIC PLEDGE What? "Leave a kiss within the cup, And I'll not ask for wine"? No, thank you, lady; I've read up About that kiss of thine. I know it's full of leptothrix, Microbia and germs, Who'll waft me toward the river Styx In scientific terms. I know those micrococci wait For me to take some sips, And if I thus should dare my fate, They'll camp out on my lips. A myconostic cataclysm Will flood my tissues o'er, A polymorphous-organism Will picnic in my gore. The sphffiro-bacteria Will win their one best bet, And virulent diphtheria Will be the least I'll get. So, offer me a pledge to sup Of any vintage fine; But leave no kiss within the cup, Or I'll not touch the wine. An argument for Prohibition. THE SCARE-CROW Br'er Scare-crow's built to suit 'is job Wid flappin' legs an' arms dat bob; He ain't got brains for discontent So he works widout no argument. An' he ain't by 'isself in dat, in dat No, he ain't by 'isself in dat. RUTH MCENERY STUART. THE SCARECROW A scarecrow always seems to me A type of aristocracy; In tattered garb, erect and proud, His head is muddy but unbowed. SUCH NONSENSE! 209 THE GREAT BLACK CROW The crow the crow ! the great black crow ! He cares not to meet us wherever we go ; He cares not for man, beast, friend, nor foe, For nothing will eat him he well doth know. Know know! you great black crow! It's a comfort to feel like a great black crow! The crow the crow ! the great black crow ! He loves the fat meadow his taste is low; He loves the fat worms, and he dines in a row With fifty fine cousins all black as a sloe. Sloe sloe ! you great black crow ! But it's jolly to fare like a great black crow! The crow the crow! the great black crow! He never gets drunk on the rain or snow; He never gets drunk, but he never says no! If you press him to tipple ever so. So so! you great black crow! It's an honour to soak like a great black crow ! The crow the crow! the great black crow! He lives for a hundred year and mo'; He lives till he dies, and he dies as slow As the morning mists down the hill that go. Go go ! you great black crow ! But it's fine to live and die like a great black crow ! PHILIP JAMES BAILEY. It must be unlucky to read verse like that on a Friday. YOUNG LOCHINVAR The True Story in Blank Verse Oh ! young Lochinvar has come out of the West, Thro' all the wide border his horse has no equal, Having cost him forty-five dollars at the market, Where good nags, fresh from the country, With burrs still in their tails are selling For a song; and save his good broad sword He weapon had none, except a seven-shooter Or two, a pair of brass knuckles, and an Arkansaw Toothpick in his boot, so, comparatively speaking, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone, Because there was no one going his way. 210 SUCH NONSENSE! He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for Toll-gates; he swam the Eske River where ford There was none, and saved fifteen cents In ferriage, but lost his pocket-book, containing Seventeen dollars and a half, by the operation. Ere he alighted at the Netherby mansion He stopped to borrow a dry suit of clothes, And this delayed him considerably, so when He arrived the bride had consented the gallant Came late f or a laggard in love and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen, and the guests had assembled. So, boldly he entered the Netherby Hall Among bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and Brothers-in-law and forty or fifty cousins; Then spake the bride's father, his hand on his sword (For the poor craven bridegroom ne'er opened his head) : "Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in anger, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" "I long wooed your daughter, and she will tell you I have the inside track in the free-for-all For her affections ! my suit you denied ; but let That pass, while I tell you, old fellow, that love Swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide, And now I am come with this lost love of mine To lead but one measure, drink one glass of beer; There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far That would gladly be bride to yours very truly." The bride kissed the goblet, the knight took it up, He quaffed off the nectar and threw down the mug, Smashing it into a million pieces, while He remarked that he was the son of a gun From Seven-up and run the Number Nine. She looked down to blush, but she looked up again For she well understood the wink in his eye; He took her soft hand ere her mother could Interfere, "Now tread we a measure; first four Half right and left; swing," cried young Lochinvar. One touch to her hand and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door and the charger Stood near on three legs eating post hay; So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, Then leaped to the saddle before her. SUCH NONSENSE! 211 "She is won ! we are gone ! over bank, bush, and spar, They'll have swift steeds that follow" but in the Excitement of the moment he had forgotten To untie the horse, and the poor brute could Only gallop in a little circus around the Hitching-post ; so the old gent collared The youth and gave him the awfullest lambasting That was ever heard of on Canobie Lee; So dauntless in war and so daring in love, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? Remember that blank verse must not be confounded with vers libre. NATURE STUDIES WHY DOTH A PUSSY CAT? WHY WOMBATS? The woolly Wombats are as queer As any beast we see; The reason is not very clear Why Wombats have to be. I rather think it is because They have such perky little claws; And such a wipsey-wopsey way Of waddling 'round and eating hay. THE POPULAR PORCUPINE Pretty peculiar are the Porcupines. Just think what Nature for this beast has done! He is supplied with several thousand spines, While every other creature has but one! If I were you, a porcupine I'd get; He's gentle, docile, tractable and mild. He is a fascinating household pet, A lovely playmate for a little child. Ain't Nature wonderful! Why doth a pussy cat prefer, When dozing, drowsy, on the sill, To purr and purr and purr and purr Instead of merely keeping still? With nodding head and folded paws, She keeps it up without a cause. Why doth she flaunt her lofty tail In such a stiff right-angled pose? If lax and limp she let it trail 'Twould seem more restful, Goodness knows ! When strolling 'neath the chairs or bed, She lets it bump above her head. Why doth she suddenly refrain Prom anything she's busied in And start to wash, with might and main, Most any place upon her skin? Why doth she pick that special spot, Not seeing if it's soiled or not? Why doth she never seem to care To come directly when you call, But makes approach from here and there, Or sidles half around the wall? Though doors are opened at her mew, You often have to push her through. SUCH NONSENSE! Why doth she this? Why doth she that? I seek for cause I yearn for clews; The subject of the pussy cat Doth endlessly inspire the mews. Why doth a pussy cat? Ah, me, I haven't got the least idee. BURGES JOHNSON. The Eternal Feminine. IF WE DIDN'T HAVE TO EAT Life would be an easy matter If we didn't have to eat. If we never had to utter, "Won't you pass the bread and butter, Likewise push along that platter Full of meat?" Yes, if food were obsolete Life would be a jolly treat, If we didn't shine or shower, Old or young, 'bout every hour Have to eat, eat, eat, eat, eat 'Twould be jolly if we didn't Lave to eat. We could save a lot of money If we didn't have to eat. Could we cease our busy buying, Baking, broiling, brewing, frying, Life would then be oh, so sunny And complete; And we wouldn't fear to greet Every grocer in the street If we didn't man and woman, Every hungry, helpless human Have to eat, eat, eat, eat, eat We'd save money if we didn't have to eat. All our worry would be over If we didn't have to eat. Would the butcher, baker, grocer Get our hard-earned dollars? No, Sir! We would then be right in clover Cool and sweet. Want and hunger we could cheat, And we'd get there with both feet, If we didn't poor or wealthy, Halt or nimble, sick or healthy Have to eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, We could get there if we didn't have to eat. NIXON WATERMAN. The naked truth of this would be marred by any drapery of comment. SCIENTIFIC PROOF // we square a lump of pemmican And cube a pot of tea, Divide a musk ox by the span From noon to half-past three; If we calculate the Eskimo By solar parallax, Divide the sextant by a floe And multiply the cracks By nth-powered igloos, we may prove All correlated facts. If we prolongate the parallel Indefinitely forth, And cube a sledge till we can tell The real square root of North; Bisect a seal and bifurcate The tangent with a pack Of Polar ice, we get the rate Along the Polar track, And proof of corollary things Which otherwise we lack. If we multiply the Arctic night By X. times ox times moose, And build an igloo on the site Of its hypotenuse; If we circumscribe an arc about An Arctic dog and weigh A segment of it, every doubt Is made as clear as day. We also get the price of ice F. 0. B. Baffin's Bay. SUCH NONSENSE! 213 If we amplify the Arctic breeze By logarithmic signs, And run through the isosceles Imaginary lines, We find that twice the half of one Is equal to the whole. Which, when the calculus is done, Quite demonstrates the Pole. It also gives its length and breadth And what's the price of coal. J. W. FOLET. Now this is the real thing. ODE TO WORK IN SPRINGTIME Oh, would that working I might shun, From labour my connection sever, That I might do a bit or none Whatever ! That I might wander over hills, Establish friendship with a daisy, O'er pretty things like daffodils Go crazy! That I might at the heavens gaze, Concern myself with nothing weighty, Loaf, at a stretch, for seven days Or eighty. Why can't I cease a slave to be, And taste existence beatific On some fair island, hid in the Pacific? Instead of sitting at a desk 'Mid undone labours, grimly lurk- ing Oh, say, what is there picturesque In working? But no! to loaf were misery! I love to work ! Hang isles of coral ! (To end this otherwise would be Immoral!) THOMAS R. YBAREA. Sound wisdom, all the way through. HUMOUR Humour is the eudemonological pes- simism which includes within itself a teleological evolutionary optimism, which may cause a realistic, radical and universal reconciliation to appear as possible. What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed. THE HERRING "The Herring he loves the merry moon- light And the Mackerel loves the wind, But the Oyster loves the dredging song For he comes of a gentler kind." SIR WALTER SCOTT. When Sir Walter could do this sort of thing in such masterly fashion, were 't not a pity that he must needs grind out Waverley novels for a living. AS TO THE WEATHER I remember, I remember, Ere my childhood flitted by, It was cold then in December, And was warmer in July. In the winter there were freezings In the summer there were thaws; But the weather isn't now at all Like what it used to was ! 214 SUCH NONSENSE! NATURE FAKERS' FANCIES The cassowary is a bird That's hard to capture, very. Folks hunting for her plumes have made The cassowary wary. KANSAS CITY TIMES. But once a cassowary strolled Too near an alligator, And with one wriggle, snap and gulp The alligator ate her. CHICAGO TRIBUNE. The dromedary roamed about, Or toiled to fetch and carry; Until some Yankee fitted out A dromedary dairy. INDIANAPOLIS NEWS. But dromedaries oft are shy, And this one loathed a spider She ran away when one came by Because the spider eyed her. CLEVELAND LEADER. Behemoth and some dynamite Got in a serious fuss; The detonation left the hip- Popotamus a muss. MONMOUTH (ILL.) ATLAS. An anaconda told a hen That of her he was fonder Than all things else. But she soon found The anaconda'd conned her. MlDDLETOWN (CONN.) NEWS. Some people like these. AFTER OLIVER My sense of sight is very keen, My sense of hearing weak. One time I saw a mountain pass, But could not hear its peak. OLIVER HERFORD. Why, Ollie, that you failed in this Is not so very queer, To hear its peak you should, you know, Have had a mountaineer. BOSTON TRANSCRIPT. But if I saw a mountain pass, My eye I'd never drop ; I'd keep it turned upon the height, And see the mountain's top. PHILADELPHIA PUBLIC LEDGER. I didn't see the mountain pass, Nor hear its peak, by George ! But when it comes to storing stuff, I saw the mountain gorge ! EXCHANGE. The mountain, peaked at this, Frowned dark while Ollie guyed; A cloud o'erspread its lofty brow And then the mountain side. TRANSCRIPT. If Ollie could not hear its peak, Or song of any bird, Of lambs, or cows upon its slope, Be sure the mountain herd. L. M. Yes, 1 think they're funny. SUCH NONSENSE! 215 NAN'S ADVENTURES UP TO DATE There once was a man from Nantucket, Who kept all his cash in a bucket, But his daughter, named Nan, Ran away with a man, And as for the bucket, Nantucket. PRINCKTOK TIGER. But he followed the pair to Paw- tucket The man and the girl with the bucket; And he said to the man He was welcome to Nan, But as for the bucket, Pawtucket. CHICAGO TRIBUNE. Then the pair followed Pa to Man- hasset, Where he still held the cash as an asset ; But Nan and the man Stole the money and ran, And as for the bucket, Manh-isset. NEW YORK PRESS. So they beat their way up to Woon- socket, Where the judge found their names on the docket; When 'twas over, the man Remarked sadly to Nan: "Gee! Didn't the legal Woonsocket!" CHICAGO RECORD-HERALD. But they came to the river Shetucket, And they still had the cash in the bucket ; 'Twas a sad, sad affair; Nan left the man there, And as for the bucket, Shetucket. NEW HAVEN REGISTER. Pa followed Nan to Jamaica, Where a copper did soon overtake her. "Where's the bucket?" he cried. "Won't tell," Nan replied. Then Pa shouted, "Judge, won't Jamaica f ' Ex. With Nan's cash Pa lit out for Miami But in jail he remarked, "Now, where am If' Nan said with a jeer: "You're in jail, Pa, I fear." And Pa sadly replied, "Oh, Miami !" Ex. Nan's bucket was really a sack And she bundled it into a hack; Pa weeps good old man For a far-away Nan. Her address now is, Nan, Hackensack. NEW YORK SUN. "Anxious" inquires whether the lines "There was once an old man of Key West Who could never quite button his vest" are anacrustic amphibrachic trimeter catalectic or anapestic trimeter acata- lectic, and whether it makes any dif- ference which way they are scanned. The lines seem to be part of a muti- lated strophe which in its entirety was a limerick. The third, fourth and fifth lines of the pentastich are missing. Without the third and fourth lines it is impossible to say whether the poet de- sired to have his work regarded as am- phibrachic or as anapestic. In limericks similar in metre to the lines quoted above some poets plainly show their preference for the anapestic by making the distich consist of simple anapestic dipodies. Other poets adopt for these important lines metrical schemes that would make it impossible to scan the strophe as anapestic with- out regarding one or both of these lines as anacrustic, acephalous or catalectic, or perhaps brachycatalectic or even 216 SUCH NONSENSE! hypercatalectic. In such cases the em- ployment of the convenient amphibrach as the foot measure would probably be in accordance with the poet's intention. VERDANCY A green little boy in a green little way A little green apple devoured one day ; And the little green grasses now ten- derly wave O'er the little green apple boy's green little grave. * A RULE I never split infinitives, It is a filthy deed; I'll never let them soil my mouth, Except in case of need. THE MICROBES Two microbes sat on a pantry shelf And watched, with expressions pained, The milkmaid's stunts ; And both said at once, "Our relations are going to be strained." THE PRIMROSE PATH 0, Little Sister of the Poor, Thou estimable She, To heal and cure, and still endure A life like toast and tea! The ostentatious shrine be thine, Since, cosily to be A Little Brother of the Rich Is good enough for me. N. M. PING WING Ping Wing, the pieman's son, Was the very worst boy in all Canton ; He stole his mother's pickled mice, And threw the cat in the boiling rice. INDIFFERENCE The cat is in the parlour, The dog is in the lake; The cow is in the hammock, What difference does it make ? MANILA Oh, dewy was the morning, upon the first of May, And Dewey was the admiral, down in Manila Bay; And dewy were the Regent's eyes, them royal orbs of blue, And do we feel discouraged? We do not think we do ! EUGENE F. WARE. Said Opie Read to E. P. Roe, "How do you like Gaboriau?" "I like him very much indeed!" Said E. P. Roe to Opie Read. JULIAN STREET AND JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG. THE BELLS The Bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling For you, but not for me. For me the angels sing-a-ling-a-ling They've got the goods for me. Death where is thy sting-a-ling-a- Grave, thy victoree? The Bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling For you, but not for me ! A QUATRAIN A quatrain fills a little space, Although it's pretty small; And oftentimes, as in this case, It has no point at all. F. P. A. THERE WAS AN OLD MAN WHO SAID, "GEE! i CAN'T MULTIPLY SEVEN BY THREE! THOUGH FOURTEEN SEEMS PLENTY, IT MIGHT COME TO TWENTY i HAVEN'T THE SLIGHTEST IDEE!" And yet one would think, as one looks at him there, To do sums he would surely be able; For he sits in a most professorial chair At a multiplication table. SUCH NONSENSE! 217 WHY Do you know why the rabbits are caught in the snare Or the tabby cat's shot on the tiles? Why the tigers and lions creep out of their lair? Why an ostrich will travel for miles? Do you know why a sane man will whimper and cry And weep o'er a ribbon or glove? Why a cook will put sugar for salt in a pie? Do you know? Well, I'll tell you it's Love. H. P. STEVENS. A SOLILOQUY To sniggle or to dibble, that's the question! Whether to bait a hook with worm or bumble, Or to take up arms of any sea, some trouble To fish, and then home send 'em. To fly to whip To moor and tie my boat up by the end To any wooden post or natural rock We may be near to, on a Preservation Devoutly to be fished. To fly to whip To whip! Perchance to bream; and there's the chub! F. C. BURMAND. CYNICUS TO W. SHAKESPEARE You wrote a line too much, my sage, Of seers the first, and first of sayers ; For only half the world's a stage, And only all the women players. J. K. STEPHEN. A TRIOLET I wished to sing my love; I cannot do so now. As I remarked above I wished to sing my love, But Kate crossed with her cow, And gave my love a shove. I wished to sing my love, I cannot do so now. JOHN TWIG. SENEX TO MATT. PRIOR Ah! Matt, old age has brought to me Thy wisdom, less thy certainty; The world's a jest, and joy's a trinket ; I knew that once, but now I think it. J. K. STEPHEN. ON THE LATIN GERUNDS When Dido's spouse to Dido would not come, She mourned in silence, and was Di Do Dum. THEODORE HOOK. A PRACTICAL ANSWER Says Hyam to Moses, "Let's cut off our noses." Says Moses to Hyam, "Ma tear, who would buy 'em ?" SHIRLEY BROOKS. 218 SUCH NONSENSE! ON A SENSE OF HUMOUR He cannot be complete in aught Who is not humorously prone; A man without a merry thought Can hardly have a funny-bone. FREDERICK LOCKER. MORE WALKS Whene'er I take my walks abroad, How many rich I see; There's A. and B. and C. and D. All better off than me ! RICHARD H. BARHAM. ON A JURY Next morning twelve citizens came ('Twas the coroner bade them at- tend,) To the end that it might be determined How the man had determined his end! JOHN GODFREY SAXE. SOME LADIES Some ladies now make pretty songs, And some make pretty nurses; Some men are great at righting wrongs And some at writing verses. FREDERICK LOCKER, THE CAREFUL PENMAN A Persian penman named Aziz, Remarked, "I think I know my biz. For when I write my name as is, It is Aziz as is Aziz." LOGICAL ENGLISH I said, "This horse, sir, will you shoe ?" And soon the horse was shod. I said, "This deed, sir, will you do?" And soon the deed was dod! I said, "This stick, sir, will you break?" At once the stick he broke. I said, "This coat, sir, will you make?" And soon the coat he moke! LOGIC I have a copper penny and anotner copper penny, Well, then, of course, I have two copper pence; I have a cousin Jenny and another cousin Jenny, Well, pray, then, do I have two cousin Jence? A Linear Descendant SUCH NONSENSE! 219 TO GELETT BURGESS I never saw a Sulphite. No, I never hope to see one; I am acquiring brain fag, though, Endeavouring to be one. F. P. A. MADAME SANS SOUCI "Bon jour, Madame Sans Souci; Combien coutent ces soucis ci?" "Six sous." "Six sous ces soucis ci! C'est trop cher, Madame Sans Souci!" THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE KATY Little Katy wandered where She espied a Grizzly Bear; Noticing his savage wrath, Katy kicked him from her path. Little Katy, darling child, Met a Leopard, fierce and wild; Ere the ugly creature sped off, Little Katy bit his head off. Katy, in her best blue cape, Met a furious angry Ape; But his rage received a check, Little Katy wrung his neck. Little Katy met a Lion, From starvation he was dyin'; Though misfortune hadn't crushed him, Katy stepped on him and squshed him. Little Katy, near the Niger, Met a big, bloodthirsty Tiger, Tied a brick around his throat, Went and drowned him in the moat. Little Katy had a fuss With a Hippopotamus; Though the beast was somewhat weighty, He was soon knocked out by Katy. Little Katy flushed with ire As a hungry Wolf came nigh her, So impertinent was he, Katy chased him up a tree. Little Katy, once, by chance, Met a drove of Elephants. Katy, fearing they might crowd her, Scattered 'round some Persian powder. ON THE ARISTOCRACY OF HARVARD I come from good old Boston, The home of the bean and the cod; Where the Cabots speak only to Low- ells, And the Lowells speak only to God ! DR. SAMUEL G. BUSHNELL. ON THE DEMOCRACY OF YALE Here's to the town of New Haven, The home of the truth and the light ; Where God speaks to Jones in the very same tones, That he uses with Hadley and Dwight! DEAN JONES. THE MODERN MAID "Where are you going to, my pretty maid?" "I'm going to lecture, sir," she said. "And what is the subject, my pretty maid?" "Total extinction of man," she said. "Then nobody'll marry you, my pretty maid." "Advanced women don't marry, sir," she said. ANON. 220 SUCH NONSENSE! BALLADS OF BAD BABIES Little Izzy Izzenheimer Thought he'd be a steeple climber. Climbed 'way up St. Peter's steeple, Then fell off and killed some people. Broke the -e-r off his name; Wasn't that the nicest game? Papa got there just in time To pick up Izzy Izzenheim. Little Katie Katzen jammer Saw an axe and saw a hammer; Saw her lovely Auntie Sadie Sitting underneath a shady Tree upon a little hummock; Went and sawed her in the stummock. When her auntie saw the hammer, She licked Katie Katzenjammer. Howard Arthur Spitzenmiller Tried to be a lady killer; Saw a lady in a house, Crept up still as any mouse; Took a gun and shot her dead. "That will do for one," he said. Wasn't Howard Spitzenmiller Just the swiftest lady killer? Wilhelmina Mergenthaler Had a lovely ermine collar Made of just the nicest fur, That her mamma bought for her. Once, when mamma was away, Out a-shopping for the day, Wilhelmina Mergenthaler Ate her lovely ermine collar. HARRY P. TABER. TRUTHLESS RHYMES FOR HEARTHLESS HOMES Included by special request Willie, with a thirst for gore, Nailed the baby to the door; Mother said, with humour quaint, "Willie, dear, don't mar the paint." Willie fell down the elevator, Wasn't found till six days later. Then the neighbours said, "Gee whiz! What a spoiled child Willie is." Willie poisoned Auntie's tea, Auntie died in agony. Uncle came and looked quite vexed, "Really, Will," said he, "what next?" Willie saw some dynamite, Couldn't understand it quite; Curiosity never pays; It rained Willie seven days. Willie in the cauldron fell, See the grief on mother's brow; Mother loved her darling well, Willie's quite hard-boiled by now. Willie dropped a worm that wriggled In his mother's cup of tea. When she saw the joke she giggled: "Ain't he smart as he can be!" Willie on the railroad track The engine gave a squeal. The engine-driver took a spade And scraped him off the wheel. Willie pushed his Aunt Elizer Off a rock into a geyser; Now he's feeling quite dejected,- Didn't get the rise expected. SUCH NONSENSE! 221 Loud the baby screamed, and louder; Willie fed her insect powder. Scolded, answered with a shrug, "Little sister acted bug." With green apples little Willie His interior precincts piled For the first time since he toddled Willie's now an angel child. Willie, while the ice was thin, Tried to skate and he fell in. Willie tasted rather nice, When they cut the pond for ice. Baby's in the ice-cream freezer, Willie turns the crank to squeeze her; Ma says: "Dear, the way that's fixed You'll have that child completely mixed." Willie stopped a cable car While standing on the track. It gave his system quite a jar His sisters now wear black. *Into the family drinking well Willie pushed his sister Nell. She's there yet, because it kilt her Now we have to buy a filter. Algernon Jones ate Paris Green, And died all over the carpet clean, The loss of the rug piqued Algie's father, Who remarked, "He always was a bother." Ermintrude Hopkins broke her spine, And passed away at half -past nine. Her mother was sorry, and said, "What a pity! I'm already late for my train to the city." Baby sat on the window-seat; Mary pushed Baby into the street; Baby's brains were dashed out in the "arey," And mother held up her forefinger at Mary. Pity now poor Mary Ames, Blinded by her brother James; Red-hot nails in her eyes he poked I never saw Mary more provoked. UNPERTURBED MAMMA JEANNETTE'S PRANKS One night Jeannette, a roguish little lass, Sneaked in the guest-room and turned on the gas; When morning dawned the guest was dead in bed, But "children will be children," mam- ma said. JOHNNY'S FUN Johnny climbed up on the bed, And hammered nails in mamma's head. Though the child was much elated, Mamma felt quite irritated. BABY'S LOOKS Bobby with the nursery shears Cut off both the baby's ears; At the baby, so unsightly, Mamma raised her eyebrows slightly. MERRY MOSES Merry funny little Moses Burnt off both his brothers' noses; And it made them look so queer Mamma said : "Why, Moses, dear !" 222 SUCH NONSENSE! HEEDLESS WILL Wilfiam looking down the gun Pulls the trigger "just for fun." Mother says in accents pained "William is so scatter-brained." CUNNING FREDDIE Winsome, merry little Fred Powdered glass to his sister fed. Mamma smiled at Freddy's fun Though she should have chid her son. BENNY'S FUN Benny stuffed an old tin goat Down his little sister's throat. Mamma heard the baby choking, And she said, "Why, how provoking!" CHEERFUL SYLVIA Little Sylvia, pretty elf, Shot her brothers, then herself; Papa, when he saw them dead, Felt a bit disquieted. LIMERICKS Inspiration, by Fanny Y. Cory "LIMERICKS" The origin of the term Limerick, as applied to a certain form of five-line stanza, seems to be as yet undiscovered. A statement was recently made that this stanza is so-called because it was invented by Edward Lear, and that he was born in Limerick, Ireland. But Mr. Lear was born in London, and furthermore, he emphatically dis- claims the credit of having created the type, and says that it was suggested to him by a friend as a form of verse lending itself to a limitless variety of humorous rhymes. Another suggestion offered is that the first stanza of the kind referred to the town of Limerick. This can scarcely be true, for the type dates back many centuries, although the title is of comparatively recent application. Another explanation, and possibly the true one, is that a witty Irishman of Limerick made this particular form of stanza popular in political squibs. The earliest known examples of the stanza are found in Halliwell's collec- tion of English Nursery Rhymes, among a large mass of jingling folk- lore, to which it is impossible to ascribe definite dates, but which was current about the fifteenth or sixteenth century. The first line of these stanzas is usually a string of meaningless words which also forms a refrain at the last. A well-known one is: Diddledy, diddledy, dumpty! The cat ran up the plum-tree; Half a crown To fetch her down, Diddledy, diddledy, dumpty. Another very ancient specimen is : Upon my word and honour, As I was going to Bonner, I met a pig Without a wig, Upon my word and honour. But these lack the distinguishing trait of the modern Limerick, which is a first line stating the existence of a certain person in a definite place. So far as may be verified, the oldest of these are also found among the "Mother Goose" rhymes, collected by Halliwell. There was an old man of Tobago, Who lived upon rice, gruel and sago; Till, much to his bliss, His physician said this: "To a leg, sir, of mutton, you may 'go." There was an old soldier of Bister, Went walking one day with his sister; When a cow, at one poke, Tossed her into an oak, Before the old gentleman missed her. After these, the earliest Limerick of positive and authenticated date, is one current in an English public school in 1834: There was a young man of St. Kitts Who was very much troubled with fits ; The eclipse of the moon Threw him into a swoon, When he tumbled and broke into bits. In 1846 Edward Lear published his first collection of "Nonsense Rhymes," 225 226 SUCH NONSENSE! which, though not called Limericks, are all written in that form. There was an Old Man with a beard, Who said, "It is just as I feared! Two Owls and a Hen, Four Larks and a Wren, Have all built their nests in my beard." There was an Old Man of Apulia, Whose conduct was very peculiar; He fed twenty sons upon nothing but buns, That whimsical Man of Apulia. There was an Old Man of Aosta, Who possessed a large cow, but he lost her; But they said, "Don't you see, She has run up a tree, You invidious Old Man of Aosta?" There was an Old Person of Button, Whose head was as small as a button, So to make it look big He purchased a wig And rapidly rushed about Button. There once was an Old Man of Lyme Who married three wives at a time. When asked, "Why the third?" He replied, "One's absurd, And bigamy, sir, is a crime." SUCH NONSENSE! 227 There once was a baby of yore, But no one knew what it was for; And being afraid It might be mislaid, They put it away in a drawer. There was an Old Person of Benin, Whose clothes weren't fit to be seen in ; When told that he shouldn't, He replied, "Gumscrumrudent !" A word of inscrutable meaning. There was a young lady of Poole, Who thought she would set up a school ; But all she could teach Were the nine parts of speech, And how to make gooseberry fool. There was a young lady of Skye, Who declared she was going to die, But was instantly cured When politely assured, If she did there was no one would cry. There was a young lady of Oakham, Who would steal your cigars and then soak 'em In treacle and rum, And then smear them with gum, So it wasn't a pleasure to smoke 'em. SHIRLEY BROOKS, 1863. LIMERICK RECITED BY A CHINESE INFANT If-itty-teshi-mow Jays Haddee ny up-plo-now-shi-buh nays; ha! ha! He lote im aw dow, Witty motti-fy flow; A-flew-ty ho-lot-itty flays! Hee! TRANSLATION Infinitesimal James Had nine unpronounceable names; He wrote them all down, With a mortified frown, And threw the whole lot in the flames. For beauty I am not a star, There are others more handsome by far; But my face I don't mind it, For I am behind it, It's the people in front that I jar. Whenever you see a rhinoceros So fierce he would trample across Eros ; If a tree be in sight, Climb quick, for his might Is a match for the gods he would toss Eros! There is a young artist called Whistler, Who in every respect is a bristler; A tube of white lead, Or a punch on the head, Come equally handy to Whistler. DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. 228 SUCH NONSENSE! A Tutor who tooted the flute Tried to teach two young tooters to toot; Said two to the Tutor, "Is it harder to toot, or To tutor two tooters to toot?" There once was a Happy Hyena Who played on an old concertina; He dressed very well, And in his lapel He carelessly stuck a verbena. There once was a corpulent carp Who wanted to play on a harp; But to his chagrin So short was his fin, He couldn't reach up to C sharp. A very grandiloquent goat Sat down at a gay table d'hote, He ate up the corks, The knives and the forks, Remarking, "On these things I dote." Then before his repast he began, While pausing the menu to scan, He said : "Corn, if you please, And tomatoes and pease, I'd like to have served in the can." CAROLYN WELLS. SUCH NONSENSE! 229 There was a young German called Huffer, A hypochondriacal buffer; To shout Schopenhauer From the top of a tower Was the highest enjoyment of Huffer. This one was written on the fly-leaf of a volume of "Lear's Nonsense Verses," presented to Oliver Maddox Brown : There was a young rascal called Nolly, Whose habits, though dirty, were jolly, And when this book comes To be marked with his thumbs You may know that its owner is Nolly. There is a creator named God, Whose doings are sometimes quite odd ; He made a painter named Val, And I say and I shall, Tlu.t he does no great credit to God. J. M. WHISTLER. There was a young lady of station, "I love man!" was her sole exclama- tion; But when men cried, "You flatter !" She replied, "Oh, no matter ! Isle of Man, is the true explanation." LEWIS CARROLL. There was a young lady of Twicken- ham, Whose shoes were too tight to walk quick in 'em; She came back from her walk, Looking white as a chalk, And took 'em both off and was sick in 'em. OLIVER HERFORD. There was a young lady whose dream Was to feed a black cat on whipped cream : But the first cat she found Spilled the cream on the ground, So she fed a whipped cat on black cream. DAVID STARR JORDAN. A prudish young lady named Chaucer Said "Oh, fie!" and "For shame!" and "Oh, law, sir!" "Dividers have limbs Like indelicate hims, So circles I draw with a saucer." ARLO BATES. II existe une espinstere a Tours Un peu vite, et qui portait toujours Un ulster peau-de-phoque, Un chapeau bilicoque Et des nicrebocquers en velours. I am gai, I am poet, I dwell Rupert Street, at the fifth. I am svell. And I sing tralala And I love my mamma, And the English, I speaks him quite well! GEORGE DU MAURIER, There's Nothing in Afternoon Tea To appeal to a Person like Me; There is little to Eat; What there is is too Sweet; And I feel like a Cow in a tree ! GELETT BURGESS. There was a young lady so thin That she closely resembled a pin; Don't think that I'd creep To the window and peep, I was told by a friend who looked in. GELETT BURGESS. There once was a girl of Lahore, The same shape behind as before; And as no one knew where To offer a chair, She had to sit down on the floor. 230 SUCH NONSENSE! There once was an old monk of Basing, Whose salads were something amazing ; But he told his confessor That Nebuchadnezzar Had given him hints upon grazing. There once was a girl of Clovelly Who continued to eat currant jelly From breakfast till noon, Then she laid down her spoon, And said what I'm not going to tell 'ee! COSMO MONKHOUSE. There was an old waiter at Wapping, Drew corks for a week without stop- ping; Cried he, "It's too bad! The practice I've had ! Yet cannot prevent them from pop- ping!" There was a young prince in Bombay, Who always would have his own way; He pampered his horses On five or six courses, Himself eating nothing but hay. WALTER PARKE. There was an old man who said, "Gee ! 7 can't multiply seven by three ! Though fourteen seems plenty, It might come to twenty, I haven't the slightest idee!" A clever Scotsman, long ago, With notions sage and conny, Who owned a donkey, lean and slow, Named it "Maxwelton," don't you know, Because its "brays" were bonny. NIXON WATERMAN. This infant, the fat one who squints, Is really a Japanese Quince. The other, I guess, Is a Chinese Quincess Grafted on from a Louis Seize chintz. GELETT BURGESS. Said Rev. Rectangular Square, "To say that I'm lost is not fair; For, though you have found That I never am round, You knew all the time I was there." CLINTON BROOKS BURGESS. SUCH NONSENSE! 231 Said Mrs. Isosceles Tri, "That I'm sharp I've no wish to deny; But I do not dare To be perfectly square I'm sure if I did I should die!" CLINTON BROOKS BURGESS. "It's a very warm day," observed Billy. "I hope that you won't think it silly If I say that this heat Makes me think 'twould be sweet If one were a coolie in Chile!" TUDOR JENKS. "THOSE DELIGHTFUL ENGLISH NAMES" "I went," said a party named Knollys, "To a pub. for a chop and some rolls, And there, sitting dumbly, Was young Algy Cholmondeley, Something worse for the tossing of bowls. "And that boisterous chappy, Jack St. John; Was yelling like any wild Injin As if frightening bad dreams Away from Dick Wemyss, Whose tipple quite plainly had been gin. "He was snoring, but only a wee more Than his friend, the callow Reg. St. Maur, Whose feet were both driven In the lap of Tom Ruthven Could position absurd ever be more? I remarked to Pole- And the barmaid, that little fool Mary, (All eyes and all hands For silly Bob Sandys), Said, "E's mad 'cause 'e 'asn't 'is share, eh?' "So I cried," said this party named Knollys, " 'For me put no chop on your coals !' And I dined down at Greenwich On bacon and spinach, A half pint of bitter, and jowls." ED MOTT. The elephant out at the Zoo Has really got nothing to do With Cuban Expansion Or Strawberry Mansion But neither, dear reader, have you. There was an old man of Cadiz Who affirmed that life is what it is. For he early had learnt, If it were what it weren't, It could not be that which it is. L is for lovable Lena, Who met a ferocious hyena; Whatever occurred I never have heard; But anyhow, L is for Lena. There was a young fellow named Weir, Who hadn't an atom of fear; He indulged a desire To touch a live wire, ('Most any old line will do here!) 232 SUCH NONSENSE! II y avait une demoiselle de Nigre, Qui souriait en se promenant a tigre; De la course en rentrant Voila la dame en dedans, Et le sourire a la gueule du tigre. Erat Romanorum dictator Qui hated his uxoris mater; Cum leo her edit, A holler he dedit, Et dixit, "Vale, ma, until later." There was a young man from Cornell, Who said, "I'm aware of a smell, But whether it's drains Or human remains, I'm really unable to tell." There was a young lady from Joppa, Whose friends all decided to 'drop her; She went with a friend On a trip to Ostend, And the rest of the story's improper. There once was a sculptor named Phidias, Whose statues by some were thought hideous ; He made Aphrodite Without any nighty, Which shocked all the ultra-fastidious. John woke on Jan. first and felt queer; Said, "Crackers I'll swear off this year ! For the lobster and wine And the rabbit were fine, And it certainly wasn't the beer." There was a young lady of Venice Who used hard-boiled eggs to play tennis ; When they said, "You are wrong," She replied, "Go along! You don't know how prolific my hen is!" There was an old man in a pie, Who said, "I must fly ! I must fly !" When they said, "You can't do it !" He replied that he knew it, But he had to get out of that pie! THE HOTTENTOT TOT If a Hottentot taught a Hottentot tot To tot ere the tot could totter, Ought the Hottentot tot To be taught to say "aught" Or "naught"? or what ought to be taught her? Or If to hoot and toot a Hottentot tot Be taught by a Hottentot tooter, Should the tooter get hot if the Hot- tentot tot Hoot and toot at the Hottentot tutor? CHARLES S. PUTNAM. HOTTENTOTALITY A young man named Hotten had spots, From a fever, which worried him lots, When he found that he ailed, He to Africa sailed, Where hot Hotten taught Hottentot tots. SUCH NONSENSE! 233 THE MISHAPS OF GENTLE JANE THE CARNIVOROUS BEAR Gentle Jane went walking, where She espied a Grizzly Bear; Flustered by the quadruped Gentle Jane just lost her head. THE RUDE TRAIN Last week Tuesday, gentle Jane Met a passing railroad train; "Ah, good afternoon," she said; But the train just cut her dead. THE COMICAL CONFLAGRATION Gentle Jane, when burned to death, Murmured with her latest breath : "Well, this is the greatest joke! All my plans must end in smoke." A MISTAKEN DESTINATION Jane, picked up for dead one day : In the morgue was laid away. Gentle Jane said: "I won't scold; But this makes my blood run cold." THE READY-MIXED PAINT Jane fell in an awful faint In a tub of cobalt paint. When at last she did come to, Gentle Jane looked rather blue. THE SWIFT BULLETS Gentle Jane once chanced to sit Where some rifle-bullets hit. Though she had no bumps or sprains, Gentle Jane felt shooting pains. THE CARELESS NIECE Once her brother's child, for fun, Pointed at her aunt a gun. At this conduct of her niece's Gentle Jane went all to pieces. THE GAMBOLLING GOAT Up in Harlem wilds remote Gentle Jane observed a goat. Shortly afterward they met Gentle Jane was all upset. A SKYSCRAPER SCRAPE From the Flatiron Building's top Gentle Jane once chanced to drop. When she fell into the town She appeared to be cast down. THE CARELESS COAL-HOLE Gentle Jane walked up a road Where an empty coal-hole showed. All unheeding in a minute Gentle Jane was strictly in it. THE ILL WIND When a cyclone struck the place Gentle Jane was whirled through space. "It's all right," said Jane, "I know; But it was an awful blow!" THE DEFECTIVE LOOP When she looped the loop one day Its machinery gave way. As the ground was frozen hard, Gentle Jane was somewhat jarred. THE RUDE CANNIBALS Cannibals, exceeding rude, Once cooked Gentle Jane for food. Though a nature mild she had, Gentle Jane got boiling mad. 234. SUCH NONSENSE! THE TOUGH BOILER On or after August first, Jane was where a boiler burst. And (though she at slang would scoff) Let the boiler blow her off. THE CURIOUS CROWD Gentle Jane, with no one nigh her, Touched a live electric wire. As the crowd around her flocked. Gentle Jane seemed rather shocked. THE LACONIC LIGHTNING Gentle Jane at midnight's hour Dreamed she heard a thunder-shower; Waking from her pleasant sleep, Jane was struck all of a heap. THE SHIPWRECK Gentle Jane once chanced to be In a fearful storm at sea; As she viewed the raging main, Jane's heart sank, and so did Ja THE BATTERING-RAM "Ah !" said gentle Jane, "I am Proud to meet a battering-ram." Then, with shyness overcome, Gentle Jane was just struck dumb. THE MISCHIEVOUS FAN An electric fan, "Piff, poff!" Cut Jane's face entirely off At this rude and silly prank Gentle Jane looked rather blank. THE BAFFLED FREIGHT-CAR Once a freight-car, full of eggs, Cut off Gentle Jane's two legs. Showing neither fright nor fear, Jane walked off upon her ear. JANE AND HER CAR Gentle Jane at a bazaar Won a lovely motor car; And before she fairly sensed it, Gentle Jane was up against it. Gentle Jane was skilled, no doubt, But a back kick threw her out ; And in spite of her elation, Jane succumbed to sheer prostration. Gentle Jane whizzed through the town, Running many people down; Still she gave her car but praise, Said: "It has such killing ways!" SUCH NONSENSE! 235 Gentle Jane her balance missed, Cut both hands off at the wrist; Jane just smiled and said, "Good-day," In her pretty, offhand way. Jane was 'neath the car at work, When the old thing gave a jerk; As it rolled across her breast, Gentle Jane felt quite depressed. Gentle Jane was wrecked one day, Crushed to bits she moaning lay; Though she didn't scold at all, Gentle Jane felt rather small. With a rod right through her neck, Jane was pinned beneath the wreck; "Ah," she said, "I must depart: Such things cut me to the heart !" Jane, when on a lonely road, Heard the gasolene explode; When this sorrow filled her cup, Gentle Jane was all broke up. JANE AND HER AEROPLANE Wednesday morning, Gentle Jane Started in an aeroplane; "Ha!" said Gentle Jane, in glee, "It is now all up with me!" But the airship wouldn't work, And it fell, with such a jerk In some river, flowing south; Leaving Jane down in the mouth. When an alligator spied Jane, his jaws he opened wide, Saying in a tone polite, "Do drop in and get a bite." Soon they tinkered up the craft; Jane got in and gaily laughed. Joy and gladness filled her cup; "Ha !" said Jane, "the jig is up !" As the wind grew stiff and stiffer, Jane's opinions seemed to differ. Then a near-by cyclone showed; "Well," said Jane, "I will be blowed!" But the airship, soaring by, Cut a furrow in the sky. Passed 'twixt Mercury and Mars; Gentle Jane said, "Oh, my stars!" Onward went the aeroplane; Onward, too, went Gentle Jane. Ever darker grew the night Gentle Jane was out of sight. CAROLYN WELLS. A Tail-Piece INDEX OF TITLES ADAM, Captain Harry Graham . ADVENTURES OF LITTLE KATY, Anonymous ADVICE TO GRANDSONS, Anony- mous AFTER OLIVER, Anonymous . . . AH, YES! I WROTE THE PURPLE Cow, Gelett Burgess .... AIN'T IT AWFUL, MABEL? John Edward Hazzard ALL AT SEA, Frederick Moxon ALLITERATIVE ABSURDITIES, Anony- mous ALL OR NOTHING, Bayard Taylor ALPHABET OF SAINTS, FROM AN, Father Robert Hugh Benson . APPLICATION FOR INSURANCE, Charles Wayland Towne . . . AMAZING FACTS ABOUT FOOD, H. W AMPLIFIED SPELLING, Anonymous ANCESTRAL LORE, Anonymous . . ANOTHER CITY, Anonymous . . ANTISEPTIC PLEDGE, THE, Anony- mous ARE WOMEN FAIR? Francis Dam- son ARTIST, THE, Guy Wetmore Carryl As EXPANDED, Chicago Tribune . ASP, THE, Carolyn Wells . . . As TO THE WEATHER, Anonymous AWFUL BUGABOO, THE, Eugene Field BALLAD OF THE BILLYCOCK, THE, Anthony C. Deane BALLAD OF THE EMEU, THE, Bret Harte 24 219 153 214 91 189 41 179 178 149 72 143 167 171 219 208 76 125 141 38 213 175 46 173 BALLAD OF THE OYSTERMAN, THE, Oliver Wendell Holmes ... 84 BALLAD OF THE PRIMITIVE JEST, Andrew Lang 152 BALLADE CRYING ART TO STOP HER NONSENSE, Eugene R. White . 106 BALLADE OF BAD WEATHER, A, Anonymous 165 BALLADS OF BAD BABIES, Harry P. Taber 220 BELLS, THE, Anonymous . . . 216 BETWEEN THE SUNSET AND THE SEA, R. W. Answell .... 63 BOBOLINK, THE, Anonymous . . 148 BOGUS DIAMOND, THE, Charles Battell Loomis 207 BREAD AND MILK, Anonymous . . 24 BUNCHES OF GRAPES, Walter Eamal 20 BUY A BAROM! BUY A BAROM! Frank O'Malley 64 BYGONES, Bert Leston Taylor . . 68 CANNY CROCODILE, THE, Anony- mous 65 CAREFUL PENMAN, THE, Anony- mous 218 CAUTIONARY VERSES, Theodore Hook 74 CHRISTMAS CHIMES, Anonymous . 103 CLASSICAL CRITICISM, George L. Richardson . 47 CLEAN CLARA, W. B. Rands ... 94 COMICAL GIRL, THE, M. Pelham 130 CONJUROR, THE, Anonymous . . 202 CONSTANCY, Anonymous .... 157 CONVERTED CANNIBALS, THE, G. E. Farrow 85 237 238 INDEX OF TITLES COUNSEL TO THOSE THAT EAT, Anonymous 138 CROCODILE, THE, Hilaire Belloc . 179 CROSS LADY, A, Florence Wil- kinson 185 CUMMERBUND, THE, Edward Lear 181 CUPID'S DARTS, Anonymous . . 182 CYNICUS TO W. SHAKESPEARE, /. K. Stephen 217 DARWINIAN BALLAD, A, Anony- mous 169 DER JAMMERWOCH, Thomas Chat- terton 35 DIVERSIONS OF THE RE-ECHO CLUB, PURPLE Cow, Carolyn Wells 88 DIVIDED DESTINIES, Budyard Kip- ling 50 DONG WITH THE LUMINOUS NOSE, THE, Edward Lear 158 DREAM POEM, Anonymous . . . 171 DYSPEPTIC CANNIBAL, THE, Al- fred E. Dickey 29 EDITOR'S WOOING, THE, Robert H. Newell ("Orpheus C. Kerr") 138 EDUCATED LOVE BIRD, THE, Peter Newell 194 ELLEN McJoNES ABERDEEN, Wil- liam S. Gilbert 110 ENDLESS SONG, THE, Ruth Mc- Enery Stuart 28 ERRING IN COMPANY, Franklin P. Adams 31 ETIQUETTE FOR ANY AFRICAN JUN- GLE HUNTER, Anonymous . . 140 FABLE, A, Anonymous .... 128 FABLE OF THE Two MANDOLIN PLAYERS, THE, AND THE WILL- ING PERFORMER, George Ade . 114 FAITHLESS SALLY BROWN, Thomas Hood 60 FANCY VERSES, Anonymous . . 168 FASTIDIOUS SERPENT, THE, Henry Johnstone 22 FIDDLER OF DOONEY, THE, Wil- liam Butler Teats 153 FIN DE SIECLE, Anonymous . . . 161 FOOLKILLER'S SONG, THE, Anony- mous 141 FOOTBALLWOCKY, Anonymous . . 37 FOR I AM SAD, Don Marquis . . 121 FRAUD, Anonymous 103 FROM THE SANSCRIT OF MATABILI- WAIJO, Sir Owen Seaman ... 62 GHAT, Anonymous 190 GOING WITH THE STREAM, Arthur H. Clough 79 GOOD AND BAD, George Barr Bar- ker 25 GOOD COUNSEL, Anonymous . . . 162 GOOD JAMES AND NAUGHTY REGI- NALD, Eugene Field 74 GRAIN OF SALT, A, Wallace Irwin . 65 GREAT BLACK CROW, THE, Philip James Bailey 209 HAPPY MAN, THE, Gilles Menage .186 HARD PIPING, Anonymous . . . 148 HELEN OF TODAY, A, Anonymous . 162 HE LOVES A POSTER GIRL, Anony- mous 67 HEN-ROOST MAN, THE, Ruth Mc- Enery Stuart 69 HERRING, THE, Sir Walter Scott 213 HINTS ON TABLE ETIQUETTE, Caro- lyn Wells 131 His MOTHER-IN-LAW, Anonymous 68 HISTORY, A, Tom Hood, Jr. . . 84 HISTORY OF CIVILISATION, A, Thomas Hood, Jr 191 HOME, Nixon Waterman .... 143 HOMELY PATHETIC, THE, Bret Harte 175 HOMOEOPATHIC SOUP, Anonymous . 157 HOUSE PET, A, Anonymous . . 189 How A GIRL WAS Too RECKLESS OF GRAMMAR BY FAR, Guy Wet- more Carryl 100 INDEX OF TITLES 239 How VERY SAD IT Is TO THINK: RHYMES OF THE BOOGIN CLUB 129 HUB, THE, Anonymous .... 219 HUMOUR, Anonymous .... 213 HUMPTY DUMPTY'S RECITATION, Lewis Carroll 83 IP THEY MEANT ALL THEY SAID, Alice Duer Miller 124 IP WE DIDN'T HAVE TO EAT, Nixon Waterman 212 IMAGISTE LOVE LINES, Anonymous 87 INDIFFERENCE, Anonymous . . . 216 IN MEMORIAM TECHNLCAM, Thomas Hood, Jr 170 I NEVER SAW A PURPLE Cow, Gelett Burgess 88 INSPECT Us, Edith Daniell . . . 172 IN STATU Quo, Gelett Burgess . 96 IN WAIN, Anonymous 162 IVY DE MILLEFLEURS, H. Cholmon- deley-Penell 144 I WISH THAT MY ROOM HAD A FLOOR, Gelett Burgess .... 71 JABBERWOCKY (Rendered into Latin Elegiacs), Hassard Dodg- son 34 JABBERWOCKY OF THE PUBLISHERS, THE, Anonymous 36 JIM-JAM KING OF THE Jou-Jous, THE, Alaric Bertrand Stuart . 59 KILKENNY CATS, THE, Anonymous 166 KINDLY ADVICE, C. P. Q. Smiff . 32 "KULTURISED" POETRY, Kenneth F. H. Underwood 174 LAND OF LOO-LA-LEE, THE, Anony- mous 145 LAY OF ANCIENT ROME, A, Thomas Tbarra 152 LEARNED FISH, THE, Hilaire Bel- loc 70 LEARNED NEGRO, THE, Anonymous 79 LEGEND OF HEINZ VON STEIN, THE, Charles Godfrey Leland . . . 150 LEGEND OF THE FIRST CAM-U-EL, THE, Arthur Guiterman . . . 117 L'ENVOI OF THE CUBISTS, Anony- mous 105 LEPIDOPTERA, Gerald Mygatt . . 59 LILIES, Don Marquis 103 LITTLE SWIRL OF VERS LIBRE, A, Thomas B. Tbarra 186 LIMERICKS, Anonymous .... 225 LINES OF MONTEZUMA, D. F. A. . 82 LION EMERGED FROM His LAIR, A, J. G. Francis 77 LITERARY ADVICE TO LOVERS, Anonymous 169 LLAMA, THE, Hilaire Belloc ... 53 LOBSTER AND THE MAID, THE, F. E. Weatherly 207 LOFTY LINES, Anonymous . . . 151 LOGIC, Anonymous 218 LOGICAL ENGLISH, Anonymous . . 218 LORD GUY, George F. Warren . 63 LOST CORD, THE, Anonymous . 122 LULLABY, A, Anonymous ... 54 MADAME SANS Souci, Anonymous . 219 MANILA, Eugene T. Ware . . . 216 MANUAL OF MANNERS FOR YOUNG ANIMALS, Anonymous .... 70 MATERNAL COUNSEL, J. G. Francis 31 MAVRONE, Arthur Guiterman . . 26 MESSED DAMOZEL, THE, Charles Hanson Towne 109 MICROBE, THE, Hilaire Belloc . . 145 MICROBES, THE, Anonymous . . 216 MICROBE'S SERENADE, THE, George Ade 180 MISHAPS OF GENTLE JANE, THE, Carolyn Wells 233 MISTER WILLIAM, W. S. Gilbert . 146 MODERN MAID, THE, Anonymous . 219 MODERN NATURE LORE, Anony- mous 30 MONA LISA, John Kendrick Bangs 37 MORE WALKS, Anonymous . . . 218 240 INDEX OF TITLES MOTHERHOOD, Charles Stuart Cal- verley 66 MY ANGELINE, Harry B. Smith . 190 NAN'S ADVENTURES UP TO DATE, Anonymous 215 NAPOLEON OF NOTTING HILL, THE, Gilbert Chesterton 38 NATURE FAKIRS' FANCIES, Anony- mous 214 NATURE STUDIES, Anonymous . . 211 NAUGHTY DARKEY BOY, THE, Anonymous 206 NEMESIS, J. W. Foley .... 48 NEO-NEOISM, THE, Franklin P. Adams 109 NEW PAPER FOR BIPEDS, A ... 95 NEW VESTMENTS, THE, Edward Lear 51 NIRVANA, Anonymous 140 NORTH, EAST, SOUTH AND WEST, H. A. M 170 ODE TO WORK IN SPRINGTIME, Thomas R. Ybarra 213 ODE TO A BOBTAILED CAT, Anony- mous 54 OLD GRIMES, Albert Gorton Greene 78 OLD MAN, THE, Anonymous . . 30 ON A JURY, John Godfrey Saxe 218 ON A NANKIN PLATE, Austin Dob- son 78 ON A SENSE OF HUMOUR, Fred- erick Locker 218 ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP, L. J. Bridgman 28 ON THE LATIN GERUNDS, Theodore Hook 217 OPTIMISM, N. M 151 OULD DOCTOR MACK, Alfred Per- ceval Graves 118 OUR DUMB FRIENDS, Carolyn Wells 67 OUR HYMN, Oliver Wendell Holmes 172 OUR TRAVELLER, H. Cholmonde- ley-Pennell 99 PASTORAL IN POSTERS, A, Anony- mous 121 PERCHANCE, Walter Parke ... 28 PESSIMISM, M. N 155 PICKERLICK, THE, Anonymous . . 76 PIG, THE, Robert Southey . . .163 PING WING, Anonymous .... 216 PLAYED-OUT HUMOURIST, THE, W. S. Gilbert 123 PLEA FOR TRIGAMY, A, Owen Sea- man 193 POEM OF UPLIFT, A, Anonymous 25 POETS AND LINNETS, Tom Hood, Jr 122 POPE, THE, Charles Lever . . . 187 PORTRAIT, A, Oliver Wendell Holmes 178 POST-CAPTAIN, THE, Charles E. Carryl 43 POST-IMPRESSIONISM, Bert Lesion Taylor 106 POST-IMPRESSIONIST POEM, Julian Street 194 PRACTICAL ANSWER, A, Shirley Brooks 217 PRACTICAL JOKER, THE, W, S. Gilbert 204 PRIMROSE PATH, THE, N. M. . . 216 PRODIGAL EGG, THE, Anonymous . 65 QUATRAIN, A, F. P. A 216 QUEST OF THE PURPLE Cow, THE, Hilda Johnson 124 RETIRED PORK-BUTCHER AND THE SPOOK, G. E. Farrow . . . .101 REUBEN, Phebe Gary 48 REVAMPED BY VAMPIRES, Anony- mous 91 RIME OF THE BETSY JANE, THE, Bert Lesion Taylor 42 RIVAL MILLENNIUM, THE, A. C. Fitch 194 ROBINSON CRUSOE'S STORY, Charles E. Carryl 81 ROMANCE OF THE CARPET, THE, Robert J. Burdette 176 INDEX OF TITLES ROM AUNT OP HUMPTT DUMPTY, Henry S. Leigh 196 RONDEAU, THE, Anonymous . . . 145 RULE, A, Anonymous 216 RURAL BLISS, Anthony C. Deane . 184 SABINE FARMER'S SERENADE, THE, Father Prout 160 SAID OPIE READ TO E. P. ROE, Julian Street and James Mont- gomery Flagg 216 SAINTE MARGERIE, Anonymous . 33 SCARE-CROW, THE, Ruth McEnery Stuart . .. 208 SCHOOL, J. K. Stephen .... 140 SCIENTIFIC PROOF, J. E. Foley . 212 SELECT PASSAGES FROM A COMING POET, F. Anstey 165 SEMPSTRESS, THE, Anonymous . 203 SENEX TO MATT. PRIOR, J. K. Stephen 217 SETTIN' HEN, A, Holmes F. Day . 180 SICK KNIGHT, THE, F, Anstey . 193 SKETCH, A, Robert J. Burdette . 153 SMOKER'S A. B. C., THE, George B. Morewood 165 SOLILOQUY, A, F. C. Burnand . . 217 SOME HALLUCINATIONS, Lewis Carroll 157 SOME LADIES, Frederick Locker . 218 SOME LITTLE BUG, Roy Atwell . . 112 SOME PSALM, Anonymous . . . 182 SOMEWHERE - IN - EUROPE- WOCKY, F. G. Hartswick 36 SONG, J. R. Planche 155 SONG OF THE JELLYFISH, THE, Jarvis Keiley 176 SONG OF THE SPRINGTIDE, Anony- mous 58 SONNET FOR A PICTURE, A. C. Swinburne 66 SPRING, Alfred E. Dickey . . .208 STATELY VERSE, Anonymous . . 182 STORY OF ESAW WOOD, THE, W. E. Southwick . ... 180 STRIKE AMONG THE POETS, A, Punch 64 STYX RIVER ANTHOLOGY, Carolyn Wells 107 SYLVAN SCENE, A, Bayard Tay- lor 188 SYMPOSIUM OF POETS, A, Carolyn Wells 197 TALE OF A DOG, THE, James H. Lambert, Jr 149 TALE OF FOREIGN LANDS, A, Anonymous 124 TALE OF THE TROPICS, A, Anony- mous 116 TAM O'SHANTER DOG, A, /. F. Francis 120 THINGUMBOB, THE, Anonymous . 28 THIS Is THE MUSE OF NONSENSE, Gelett Burgess 19 THEODORE ROOSEVELT, Captain Harry Graham 142 THERE ARE MEN IN THE VILLAGE OF ERITH, Cosmo Monkhouse . 21 THRIFTY MAN, THE, Anonymous . 168 THUDS FROM THE PADDED CELL, Maurice Smiley 183 To A PET REPTILE, Anonymous . 62 To BE OR NOT TO BE, Anonymous . 178 To GELETT BURGESS, F. P. A. . . 219 To MARY, Phebe Gary . . . .196 To MINERVA, Thomas Hood . . . 149 To MY NEW PET, Anonymous . . 20 To THE PLIOCENE SKULL, Bret Harte 80 TRAGIC STORY, A, William Make- peace Thackeray 22 TRANSLATED WAY, THE, Franklin P. Adams 206 TRIOLET, A, John Twig ..... 217 TRUTHLESS RHYMES FOR HEARTH- LESS HOMES, Anonymous . . 220 TURTLE AND THE FLAMINGO, THE, James Thomas Fields .... 55 Two OLD BACHELORS, THE, Ed- ward Lear 17 242 INDEX OF TITLES UPFIZI A. B. C., FROM THE, Ar- thur Maquarie 52 ULTIMATE JOY, THE, Anonymous 139 UNIVERSAL PRAYER, THE, Grace G. Wiederseim 49 UNPERTURBED MAMMA, Anony- mous 221 UTTER PASSION UTTERED UTTERLY, AN, John Todhunter .... 82 VIPER, THE, Hilaire Belloc . . 70 VERDANCY, Anonymous .... 216 WAIL OP A RETURNED TOURIST, Anonymous 156 WAR, THE : A-Z, John B. Edwards 150 WEDDING, THE, Thomas Hood, Jr. 172 WE WERE ON THE STARBOARD TACK, Gelett Burgess .... 68 WHAT You CAN AND WHAT You CAN'T, Anonymous 167 WHICHNESS OF WHAT, THE, J. A. A 185 WHITE QUEEN'S RIDDLE, Lewis Carroll . . 166 WHY? H. P. Stephens .... 217 WHY DOTH A PUSSYCAT? Surges Johnson 211 WHY NOT? Anonymous .... 179 WIDOW BEDOTT TO ELDER SNIF- FLES, Frances Miriam Whitcher 58 WILD FLOWERS, Peter Newell . . 100 WING TEE WEE, /. P. Denison . . 30 WONDERS OF NATURE, The Anti- Jacobin 18 WORDSWORTHIAN REMINISCENCE, Anonymous 139 WORSE AND MORE OF IT, Anony- mous 183 Wus, EVER Wus, If. Cholmonde- ley-Pennell 186 YARN OF THE "NANCY BELL," THE, W. S. Gilbert 44 YE TOWNE GOSSIP, Kenneth C. Beaton 104 YE TOWNE GOSSIP, Kenneth C. Beaton 205 YOUNG GAZELLE, THE, Walter Parke 86 YOUNG LOCHINVAR, Anonymous . 209 INDEX OF AUTHORS ADAMS, FRANKLIN P. Erring in Company 31 Neo-Neoism, The . . . . . 109 Translated Way, The . . . .206 ADE, GEORGE Fable of the Two Mandolin Players and The Willing Performer, The 114 Microbe's Serenade, The . . . 180 ANONYMOUS Ancestral Lore 171 Adventures of Little Katy . . 219 Advice to Grandsons .... 153 After Oliver 214 Alliterative Absurdities . . . 179 Amplified Spelling 167 Another City 219 Antiseptic Pledge, The ... 208 As to the Weather 213 Ballade of Bad Weather, A . .165 Bells, The 216 Bobolink, The ,.148 Bread and Milk 24 Canny Crocodile, The* . . 65 Careful Penman, The . . . , 218 Christmas Chimes 103 Conjuror, The 202 Constancy 157 Counsel to Those That Eat . . 138 Cupid's Darts 182 Darwinian Ballad, A ... 169 Dream Poem 171 Etiquette for Any African Jun- gle Hunter 140 Fable, A 128 Fancy Verses 168 Fin de Siecle 161 Fool-Killer's Song, The ... 141 ITootballwocky 37 Fraud 103 Ghat 190 Good Counsel 162 Hard Piping 148 He Loves a Poster Girl s . . 67 Helen of Today, A 162 His Mother-in-Law 88 Homoeopathic Soup 157 House Pet, A 189 How Very Sad It Is to Think: Rhymes of the Boogin Club 129 Hub, The 219 Humour 213 Imagiste Love Lines .... 87 In Wain 162 Indifference 216 Jabberwocky Publishers, The . 36 Kilkenny Cats, The 166 Land of Loo-la-Lee, The . . . 145 Learned Negro, The 79 L'Envoi of The Cubists . . .105 Limericks 225 Literary Advice to Lovers . . 169 Lofty Lines 151 Logic 218 Logical English 218 Lost Cord, The 122 Lullaby, A *. 54 Madame Sans Souci 219 Manual of Manners for Young Animals 70 Microbes, The 216 Modern Nature Lore .... 30 Modern Maid, The 219 More Walks 218 Nan's Adventures Up to Date . 215 Nature Fakirs' Fancies . . . 214 Nature Studies . 211 243 244 INDEX OF AUTHORS Naughty Darkey Boy, The . . 206 New Paper for Bipeds, A . . 95 Nirvana 140 Ode to a Bobtailed Cat ... 54 Old Man, The 30 Pastoral in Posters, A .... 121 Pickerlick, The 76 Ping Wing 216 Poem of Uplift, A 25 Prodigal Egg, The 65 Revamped by Vampires ... 61 Rondeau, The 145 Rule, A 216 Sainte Margerie 33 Sempstress, The 203 Some Psalm 182 Song of the Springtide . . . 58 Stately Verse 182 Tale of Foreign Lands, A . .124 Tale of the Tropics, A ... 116 Thingumbob, The 28 Thrifty Man, The 168 To a Pet Reptile 62 To Be or Not to Be . . . . 178 To My New Pet 20 Truthless Rhymes for Hearth- less Homes 220 Ultimate Joy, The 139 Unperturbed Mamma .... 221 Verdancy 216 Wail of a Returned Tourist . . 156 What You Can and What You Can't 167 Why Not? 179 Wordsworthian Reminiscence . 139 Worse and More of It . . . . 183 Young Lochinvar 209 ANSWELL, R. W. Between the Sunset and the Sea 63 ANTI-JACOBIN, THE Wonders of Nature 18 ANSTEY, F. Select Passages from a Coming Poet 165 Sick Knight, The 193 ATWELL, ROY Some Little Bug 112 BAILEY, PHILIP JAMES The Great Black Crow . . 209 BANGS, JOHN KENDRICK Mona Lisa . 37 BAKER, GEO. BARR Good and Bad 25 BEATON, KENNETH C. Ye Towne Gossip ..... 104 Ye Towne Gossip 205 BELLOC, HILAIRE Crocodile, The 179 Llama, The 53 Learned Fish, The 70 Microbe, The 145 Viper, The 70 BENSON, FATHER ROBT. HUGH From an Alphabet of Saints . 149 BRIDGMAN, L. J. On Knowing When to Stop . . 28 BROOKS, SHIRLEY Practical Answer, A . 217 BURDETTE, ROBERT J. Romance of the Carpet, The . . 176 Sketch, A 153 BURGESS, GELETT Ah, Yes, I Wrote the Purple Cow 91 I Never Saw a Purple Cow . . 88 I Wish That My Room Had a Floor 71 In Statu Quo 96 This Is the Muse of Nonsense . 19 We Were on the Starboard Tack . . 68 BURNAND, F. C. Soliloquy, A 217 INDEX OF AUTHORS 245 CALVERLEY, CHARLES STUART Motherhood 67 CARY, PHEBE Reuben 48 To Mary 196 CARROLL, LEWIS Humpty Dumpty's Recitation . 83 Some Hallucinations .... 157 White Queen's Riddle, The . . 168 CARRYL, GUY WETMORE Artist, The 125 How a Girl Was Too Reckless of Grammar by Far .... 100 CARRYL, CHARLES E. Post Captain, The 43 Robinson Crusoe's Story ... 81 CHATTERTON, THOMAS Der Jammerwoch 35 CHESTERTON, GILBERT Napoleon of Netting Hill, The 38 CHICAGO TRIBUNE As Expanded 141 CHOLMONDELEY-PENNELL, H. Ivy de Millefleurs 144 Our Traveller 99 Wus, Ever Wus 186 CLOUGH, ARTHUR H. Going With the Stream 79 DICKEY, ALFRED E. Dyspeptic Cannibal, The ... 29 Spring 208 DANIELL, EDITH Inspect Us 172 DAVISON, FRANCIS Are Women Fair? 76 DAY, HOLMAN F. Settin' Hen, A 180 DEANE, ANTHONY C. Ballad of the Billycock, The . 46 Rural Bliss 184 DENISON, J. P. Wing Tee Wee 30 D. F. A. Lines of Montezuma .... 82 DOBSON, AUSTIN On a Nankin Plate 78 DODGSON, HASSARD Jabberwocky, Rendered into Latin Elegiacs 34 EDWARDS, JOHN R. The War: A-Z 150 FARROW, G. E. Converted Cannibals, The . . 85 Retired Pork-Butcher and the Spook, The 101 FIELD, EUGENE Awful Bugaboo, The . . . .175 Good James and Naughty Regi- nald 74 FIELDS, JAMES THOMAS Turtle and the Flamingo, The 55 FITCH, A. A. Rival Millennium, The . . . .194 FLAGG & STREET, JAS. MONTGOM- ERY & JULIAN Said Opie Read to E. P. Roe . 216 FOLEY, J. W. Nemesis 48 Scientific Proof 212 F. P. A. Quatrain, A 216 To Gelett Burgess 219 FRANCIS, J. G. Lion Emerged from His Lair, A 77 Maternal Counsel 31 Tarn O'Shanter Dog, A ... 120 246 INDEX OF AUTHORS GILBERT, WM. S. Ellen McJones Aberdeen . . . 110 Mister William 146 Played-Out Humorist, The . . 123 Practical Joker, The .... 204 Yarn of the "Nancy Bell," The 44 GRAHAM, CAPT. HARRY Adam 24 Theodore Roosevelt . . . . 142 GRAVES, ALFRED PERCEVAL Ould Doctor Mack . 118 GREENE, ALBERT GORTON Old Grimes 78 GUITERMAN, ARTHUR Mavrone 26 Legend of the First Cam-u-El, The 117 H. A. M. North, East, South and West . 170 HARTE, BRET Ballad of the Emeu 173 Homely Pathetic, The . . . .175 To the Pliocene Skull .... 80 HARTSWICK, F. G. Somewhere-in- Europe- Wocky . 36 HAZZARD, JOHN EDWARD Ain't It Awful, Mabel? . . .189 HOOK, THEODORE Cautionary Verses 74 On the Latin Gerunds .... 217 HOOD, THOMAS Faithless Sally Brown .... 60 To Minerva . . 149 HOOD, TOM, JR. History, A 84 History of Civilisation, A . . 191 In Memoriam Technicam . . . 170 Poets and Linnets 122 Wedding, The 172 HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL Ballad of the Oysterman, The . 84 Our Hymn 172 Portrait, A k ....... 178 H. W. Amazing Facts about Food . . 143 IRWIN, WALLACE Grain of Salt, A 65 J. A. A. Whichness of What, The . . . 185 JOHNSON, BURGES Why Doth a Pussycat? . . 211 JOHNSON, HILDA Quest of the Purple Cow, The . 124 JOHNSTONS, HENRY Fastidious Serpent, The ... 22 KEILEY, JARVIS Song of the Jellyfish, The . . 176 KIPLING, RUDYARD Divided Destinies LAMBERT, JAS. H., JR. Tale of a Dog, The % . 50 . 149 LANG, ANDREW Ballade of the Primitive Jest . 152 LEAR, EDWARD v Cummerbund, The 181 Dong with the Luminous Nose, The 158 New Vestments, The ... .51 Two Old Bachelors, The ... 17 LEIGH, HENRY S. Romaunt of Humpty Dumpty, The 196 LELAND, CHAS. GODFREY Legend of Heinz von Stein . . 150 LEVER, CHARLES Pope, The 187 INDEX OF AUTHORS 247 LOCKER, FREDERICK On a Sense of Humour . . 218 Some Ladies 218 LOOMIS, CHAS. BATTELL Bogus Diamond, The . . . .207 MAQUARIE, ARTHUR From The Uffizi, A. B. C. . . . 52 MARQUIS, DON For I Am Sad 121 Lilies 103 MENAGE, GILLES Happy Man, The 186 MILLER, ALICE DUEB If They Meant All They Said . 124 MONKHOUSE, COSMO There Are Men in the Village of Erith 21 MOREWOOD, GEO. B. Smoker's A. B. C., The ... 165 MOXON, FREDERICK All at Sea 41 MYGATT, GERALD Lepidoptera 59 NEWELL, PETER Educated Love Bird, The . . . 194 Wild Flowers 100 NEWELL, ROBERT H. (Orpheus C. Kerr) Editor's Wooing, The .... 138 N. M. Optimism 151 Pessimism 155 Primrose Path, The 216 O'MALLEY, FRANK Buy a Barom ! Buy a Barom ! . 64 PARKE, WALTER Perchance 28 Young Gazelle, The 86 PELHAM, M. Comical Girl, The 130 PLANCHE, J. R. Song . 155 PROUT, FATHER Sabine Farmer's Serenade, The 160 PUNCH Strike among the Poets, A. . . 64 RAMAL, WALTER Bunches of Grapes 20 RANDS, W. B. Clean Clara 94 RICHARDSON, GEO. L. Classical Criticism . 47 SAXE, JOHN GODFREY On a Jury 218 SCOTT, SIR WALTER The Herring 213 SEAMAN, SIR OWEN From the Sanscrit of Matabili- waijo 62 Plea for Trigamy, A .... 193 SMIFF, 0. P. Q. Kindly Advice 32 SMILEY, MAURICE Thuds from the Padded Cell . 183 SMITH, HARRY B. My Angeline 190 SOUTHEY, ROBERT The Pig 163 SOUTHWICK, W. E. Story of Esaw Wood, The . . 180 STEPHEN, J. K. Cynicus to W. Shakespeare . . 217 248 INDEX OF AUTHORS School 140 Senex to Matt. Prior . . . .217 Why? 217 STUART, ALARIC BERTRAND Jim-Jam King of the Jou-Jous, The 59 STUART, RUTH MCENERY The Endless Song 28 Hen-Roost Man, The .... 69 Scare-Crow, The 308 STREET, JULIAN Post-Impressionist Poem . . . 194 STREET, JULIAN, AND JAS. MONT- GOMERY FLAGG Said Opie Read to E. P. Roe . 216 SWINBURNE, A. C. Sonnet for a Picture . TABER, HARRY P. Ballads of Bad Babies . 66 . 220 TAYLOR, BAYARD All or Nothing 178 Sylvan Scene, A 188 TAYLOR, BERT LESTON Bygones 68 Post-Impressionism 106 Rime of the Betsy Jane, The . 42 THACKERAY, WM. MAKEPEACE Tragic Story, A 22 TODHUNTER, JOHN An Utter Passion Uttered Ut- terly 82 TOWNE, CHARLES HANSON Messed Damozel, The .... 109 TOWNE, CHARLES WAYLAND Application for Insurance . . 72 TWIG, JOHN Triolet, A 217 UNDERWOOD, KENNETH F. H. "Kulturised" Poetry 174 WARE, EUGENE T. Manila . . 216 WARREN, GEO. F. Lord Guy . . 63 WATERMAN, NIXON Home 143 If We Didn't Have to Eat . . 212 WEATHERLY, F. E. Lobster and the Maid, The . . 207 WELLS, CAROLYN Asp, The 38 Diversions of the Re-echo Club : Purple Cow Sequence ... 88 Hints on Table Etiquette . . 131 Mishaps of Gentle Jane . . . 233 Our Dumb Friends .... 67 Styx River Anthology .... 107 Symposium of Poets, A ... 197 WHITCHER, FRANCES MIRIAM Widow Bedott to Elder Sniffles 58 WHITE, EUGENE R. Ballade Crying Art to Stop Her Nonsense . 106 WIEDERSEIM, GRACE G. Universal Prayer, The . WILKINSON, FLORENCE A Cross Lady . . . 49 185 YBARRA, THOMAS Lay of Ancient Rome .... 152 Little Swirl of Vers Libre, A . 186 Ode to Work in Springtime . 213 YEATS, WILLIAM BUTLER Fiddler of Dooney, The . . 153 ACKNOWLEDGMENT We are indebted to Grosset & Dunlap for permission to reprint "Good James and Naughty Reginald" and "The Awful Bugaboo" from Eugene Field's "Nonsense for Young and Old." We are also the debtors of John Lane Com- pany who have permitted us to take from "New Rhymes for Old," by Anthony C. Deane, the two poems, "The Ballad of the Billycock" and "Rural Bliss." We acknowledge the kindness of Duffield & Company who permit us the reprinting of "Adam" and "Theodore Roosevelt" by Captain Harry Graham. For the use of the two verses of Lewis Carroll's, "The White Queen's Riddle" and "Humpty Dumpty's Recitation" and the accompanying cut, taken from "Through the Looking Glass," we are grateful to The Macmillan Company. To Harper & Brothers we owe acknowledgment for Peter Newell's "Wild Flowers" and "The Educated Love Bird" which appeared in Harper's Magazine. Here also appeared in the department called "The Editor's Drawer" Guy Wetmore Carryl's "The Artist," for the use of which we are further indebted to Harper & Brothers, as well as for Arthur Guiterman's "Legend of the First Cam-u-el" and "Mav- rone." John W. Luce & Company have kindly allowed us to reprint "Applica- tion for Insurance" by Gideon Wurdz (Charles Wayland Towne). The Metro- politan Magazine generously permits the use of the two anonymous poems "An- cestral Lore" and "A Tale of the Tropics." For "The Converted Cannibals" and "The Retired Pork Butcher and the Spook," taken from "Absurd Ditties" by G. E. Farrow, we are indebted to E. P. Dutton & Company. Burges Johnson's "Why Doth a Pussycat 1 ?" from his "Animal Rhymes," comes to us through the generosity of T. Y. Crowell & Company. Edward Lear's "The Two Old Bache- lors," selected from his "Jingles and Limericks," is here possible by the kindness of Little, Brown & Company. To Houghton Mifflin Company we are grateful for "The Post Captain" and "Robinson Crusoe's Story," selected from "The Ad- miral's Caravan" by Charles E. Carryl; also for "The Legend of Heinz von Stein," selected from Charles Godfrey Leland's poems, and for "The Ballad of the Emeu" by Bret Harte, and Bayard Taylor's "All or Nothing," and his poem "A Sylvan Scene," as well as for Oliver Wendell Holmes's two verses "A Portrait" and "Our Hymn." To The Century Company we are indebted for the republishing of "The Henroost Man" and "The Endless Song" by Ruth McEnery Stuart, chosen from her "Daddy Do-Funny Jingles," and for "Maternal Counsel," "A Lion Emerged from His Lair" and "A Tarn o' Shanter Dog," taken from "Cheerful Cats" by J. G. Francis. 249 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A 000 702 885 5 THE IE HOUSEll IS^N FRANCISCO |f