 Section 0 of Humor of the North. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Barry Eads. Humor of the North. Arranged by Lawrence J. Burby. Section 0. Introductory Note. Some day, an enterprising editor may find time to glean from the whole field of Canadian literature a representative collection of wit and humor. It would include the productions of such acknowledged humorists as Thomas Chandler Halliburton and George Thomas Lannigan, as well as specimens of characteristic humor from writers who are better remembered for their more serious work. It would also include a great deal of genuine wit and humor, largely anonymous in such Canadian periodicals as Grip, Punch in Canada, The Grumbler, The Freelance, and Diogenes, and characteristic passages from the speeches of such brilliant and witty debaters as Thomas Darcy McGee, Joseph Howe, and Nicholas Flood-David. The present little collection obviously makes no such ambitious claim. It embraces, however, what are believed to be representative examples of the work of some of our better known writers, many of which will no doubt be quite familiar to Canadian readers, but perhaps nonetheless welcome on that account. For permission to reproduce these selections, the editor is indebted to the authors or their representatives, and in the case of the late Dr. Drummond, he is also indebted to the publishers G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York. The selection from Joseph Howe's work is taken from his poems and essays. Halliburton's sketches are taken from The Old Judge, those of Dr. Drummond from The Habitat, Johnny Corteau, and The Voyager. That of Mrs. Coates from Her Social Departure, Carol's Poem from Madeline, Lannigan's Fables from The Little Volume published under that title, and DeMille's selection from The Dodge Club. Lannigan's humorous verse was never brought together in book form. Ottawa, August 1910. End of Section 0. Section 1 of Humor of the North. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Humor of the North. Arranged by Lawrence J. Burpee. Section 1. Poems by Joseph Howe. The Blue Nose. Let the student of nature in rapture descant on the heavens' cerulean hue. Let the lover indulge in poetical rant when the eyes of his mistress are blue. But fill high your glasses, fill fill to the brim. I have a different toast to propose. While such eyes and such skies still are beaming for him, here's a health to the jolly blue nose. Let the Frenchman delight in his vine-covered veils let the Greek toast his old classic ground. Here's the land where the bracing northwester prevails and where jolly blue noses abound. Long, long may it flourish to all of us dear, loved and honoured by hearts that are true. But should ever a foe chance his nose to show here, he shall find all our noses true blue. To Mary. O blame me not, Mary, for gazing at you, nor suppose that my thoughts from the preacher were straying, though I stole a few glances, believe me, to his true, they were sweet illustrations of what he was saying. For when he observed that perfection was not to be found upon earth, for a moment I bent a look upon you, and could swear on the spot that perfection in beauty was not what he meant. And when, with emotion the worthy divine on the doctrine of loving our neighbours insisted, I felt, if their forms were as faultless as thine, I could love every soul of them while I existed. And, Mary, I am sure, it was the fault of those eyes, it was the luster of them to the error gave birth that, while he spoke of angels that dwelt in the skies, I was gazing with rapture at one upon earth. A toast. Here's a health to thee, Tom, a bright bumper we drain to the friends that our bosoms hold dear. As the bottle goes round, and again and again we whisper, we wish he were here. Here's a health to thee, Tom, may the mists of this earth never shadow the light of that soul, which so often has lent the mild flashes of mirth, to illumine the depths of the bowl. With a world full of beauty and fun for a theme and a glass of good wine to inspire, even without thee we sometimes are blessed with a gleam that resembles thy spirit's own fire. Yet still, in our gayest and merriest mood, our pleasures are tasteless and dim, for the thoughts of the past and of Tom that intrude make us feel we're but happy with him. Like the triumph of old, where the absent one through a cloud or the glorious scene, are our feasts, my dear Tom, when we meet without you, and think of the nights that have been. When thy genius, assuming all hues of delight, fled away with the rapturous hours, and when wisdom and wit, to enliven the night, scattered freely their fruits and their flowers. When thy eloquence played round each topic in turn, shedding luster and life where it fell, as the sunlight in which the tall mountain tops burn paints each bud in the lowliest dell. When that eye, before which the pale senate once quailed with humour and deviltry shone, the face which the heart of the patriot hailed had mirth in its every tone. Then a health to thee, Tom, every bumper we drain, but renders thy image more dear. As the bottle goes round, and again, and again, we wish from our hearts you were here. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Sean Michael Hogan. Humour of the North, arranged by Lawrence J. Burpee. Section 2. Stories by Thomas Chandler Halliburton. Sheepskins and Politics You know Uncle Tim. He was small, very small, not in stature, for he was a six-footer, but small in mind and small in heart. His soul was no bigger than a fleas. Zeb, my boy, says he to me one day, Always be neuter in elections. You can't get nothing by them, but it will. Dear, dear, I wish I had never voted. I never did, but once this— Dear, dear, I wish I had let that alone. There was an army doctor, once this said, lived right opposite to me to Digby. Dear, dear, he was a good friend to me. He was very fond of weather mutton, and when he killed a sheep he used to say to me, Friend Tim, I will give you the skin if you will accept it. Dear, dear, what a lot of them he gave me, first and last. Well, once this the doctor's son, lawyer Williams, offered for the town, and so did my brother-in-law, Finn Tucker. And, dear, dear, I was in a proper fix. Well, the doctor asked me to vote for his son, and I had just up and told him I would, only my relation was candidating also. But get in my hand and promise I would be neuter. Well, I told brother-in-law the same, that I'd vote for him with pleasure, only my old friend, the doctor's son, was offering too, and therefore gave him my word also, I'd be neuter. And, oh, dear, dear, neuter I would have remained too, if it hadn't have been for them two electioneering generals, devils, I might say, Laurie Scott and Terry Todd. Dear, dear, somehow or another, they got hold of the story of the sheepskins, and they gave me no peace day or night. What says they? Are you going to sell your country for a sheepskin? The day of the election they seized on me, one by one arm and the other by the other, and lugged me off to the pole, whether I would or no. Who do you vote for? said the sheriff. Would you sell your country for a sheepskin? shouted Terry in one ear. Would you sell your country for a sheepskin? bellowed Laurie in the other ear. I was so frightened I hardly knew what I did, but they tell me I voted for brother Finn. Dear, dear, the doctor never gave me a sheepskin while he lived after that. Dear, dear, that was an ugly vote for me. The doctor. Old Dr. Green, you knowed him, and, of course, everybody knowed him, lived on Digby Neck. He was reckoned a skillful man, and was known to be a regular rotated doctor, but he drank like a fish. And it's actually astonishing how many country doctors have taken to drink. And, of course, he weren't always a very safe man in cases where a cool head and a steady hand was needed, though folks did say he knowed a plaguey sight more even when he was drunk than one half of them do in their sober. Well, one day old Jim Reid, who was a pot companion of his, sent him a note to come into town immediately without the loss of one moment of time and bring his amputating instruments with him, for there was a most shocking accident that had happened to his house. So in come the doctor as hard as he could drive, looking as sorry all the time as if he didn't live by misfortunes and accidents, the old hypocrite. My dear friend, said he solemnly to Reid and a taking of him by the hand and giving it a doleful shake. My dear friend, what is the matter? Who is hurt, and what the devil is to pay now? How thankful we all ought to be that the accident hasn't occurred to one whom we all respect so much as you. And then he unpacked his instruments, off with his coat and up with his sleeves, and with one hand pulls a hair out of his head and with the other takes his knife and cuts it in two to prove the edge was all right. Then he began to whistle while he examined his saw, for nothing puts these chaps in such good humour as cutting and slashing away at legs and arms, operating as they call it, and when all was ready says he, Reid, says he, a tapping him on the shoulder, where is the patient? Well, Reid opened the door of another room and there was a black boy holding of a duck on the table that had broken his leg. There is a case for amputation, doctor, said he, but first of all take a glass of brandy and water to steady your nerves. He knows you, says he, hear him how he calls out quack quack after you as if he was afraid to let you perform on him. Well, the doctor entered into the joke as good-natured as possible, laughed like anything, whipped down the grog, whipped off the leg, and whipped up the knives and saws in no time. You must stay to dine, doctor, said Reid, for the joke was only intended to get him into town to drink along with him, and he stayed to dine and stayed to sup, and being awful drunk stayed to bed too. Well, every time Reid saw him after that in town, he asked him to come in and see his patient, which meant to come in and drink, and so he did as long as the cask of rail, particular Jamaiki, lasted. Some time after that the old fellow sent in a bill for operating, making a wooden leg, medical attendance, and advice, per order, for twenty-five pounds. And what's more, when Reid wouldn't pay it, he sued for him to court and gained his cause. Fact, I assure you. Mother Hunt's Chickens Five years ago, come next summer, the old lady made a trip to Halifax, in one of our Digby coasters, to see Sister Susanna, that is married in that city to Ted Fowler, the upholsterer, and took a whole lot of little notions with her to market to bear expenses. For she is a saving kind of body, as mother, and likes to make two ends meet at the close of the year. Among the rest was the world and all of eggs, for she was a grand-hand in a poultry-yard. Some she stowed away in boxes, and some in baskets, and some in tubs, so that no one accident could lose them all for her. Well, under the berths in the cabin were large drawers for bedding, and she rotated that out and packed them full of eggs and wool, as snug as you please, and off they started on their voyage. Well, they had nothing but calms and light airs or headwinds, and were ever so long in getting to town, and when they anchored she got her duds together and began to collect her eggs all ready for landing. The first drawer she opened out hopped ever so many chickens on the cabin floor, skipping and hopping about a chirping chik-chik-chik like anything. Well, if that don't beat all, said mother, and she looked the very picture of doleful dumps. I hope there is no more of them coming into the world that way without being sent for. And she opened a second, and out came a second flock with a chik-chik-chik and another and another until she pulled them all out. The cabin floor was chock-full of them, for the heat and confined Bill Jare had hatched all the eggs that were in the close and hot drawers. Oh, the captain and passengers and sailors they roared with laughter. Mother was awful mad, for nothing makes one so angry as accidents that set folks off a-tee-hee-ing that way. If anybody had been to blame but herself, wouldn't they have caught it, that's all, for scolding is a great relief to a woman. But as there weren't there was nothing left but to cry, and scolding and crying are two safety valves that have saved many a heart from busting. Well, the loss was not great though she liked to take care of her coppers too. It was the vexation that worried her, but the worst was to come yet. When she returned home, the boys to Digby got hold of the story, and wherever she went they called out after her chik-chik-chik. I skinned about half a dozen of the little imps of mischief for it, but it only made them worse. For they hid in porches and behind doors and gates and fences and seen her coming and roared out chik-chik-chik and nearly bothered her to death. So she gave up going out any more and never leaves home now. It's my opinion her rheumatism is nothing but the effective want of exercise and all comes from that cursed chik-chik-chik the deacons' bargain. Old deacon Bruce of Ailsford last Monday week bought a sleigh of his fellow deacons squire-burns for five pounds. On his way home with it who should he meet but Zeke Morse a trudging along through the snow afoot? Friend Zeke, says the old Christian, won't you get in and ride? Here's room for you and welcome. Don't care if I do, said Zeke, seeing that sitting is as cheap as walking if you don't pay for it. So he hops in and away they go. Well Zeke was mightily taken with the sleigh. Deacon, says he, how shall you and me trade for it? It's just the article I want, for I am going down to Bridgetown next week to be married and it will suit me to a notch to fetch Mrs. Morse my wife home in. What will you take for it? Nine pounds, said old conscience. And as it's the right season for using it and I can't get another maid till next winter I must have nine pounds for it and it ain't dear at that price neither. Done, says Zeke, for he is an offhand kind of chap and never stands bantering and chaffering a long time but says at once what he means as I do. Done, says he, his mine, and the deacon drives up to his house, gets his pay and leaves the sleigh there. Next morning when Zeke went to examine his purchase he found there was a bolt left out by mistake so off he goes to the maker. Deacon burns to get it put in when he ups and tells him all about the bargain. Did the old gentleman tell you my price was seven pounds ten? said he. Oh yes, said Zeke. In course he did. There was no mistake about it. I'll take my oath to it. Well, so it was, said Burns, he told you true. He used to give me seven pounds ten but as there was nobody by but him and me when we traded and as it ain't paid for yet he might perhaps forget it for he is getting to be an old man now. Certainly, says Zeke, I'll swear to it any day you please and any court in the world for them was his very words to me. What does Deacon Burns do but go right off and sue Deacon Bruce for seven pounds ten instead of five pounds the real price, called Zeke as a witness to his admission and gained his case, fact upon my soul. End of Section 2 Recording by Sean Michael Hogan St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada Section 3 of Humour of the North This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Sean Michael Hogan Humour of the North Arranged by Lawrence J. Burpee Section 3 Poems by William Henry Drummond The Quarteroy Road De Quarteroy Road go Bomp-a-dee-bomp De Quarteroy Road go Jamp-a-dee-jamp Upsetties load The horse that'll trot on De Quarteroy Road Of course it's pretty rough but it's handy thing enough and they mack it with the log all giant together when they strike the swampy ground where the water hang around or pass them by some tuffle beaver meadow but it's not macadamise so if you're only wise you will tack your tam and never mind the worry for De Quarteroy is bad and will make you plenty mad by the way the buggy jamp in case you hurry don't expect little Victorine Lavec she was no unmask at all about them places cause she's never dead before till young Zephyr Amador he was taken her away for cedar races oh I wish you see her then that's before she marry when she's the finest on the land but no use talking I can bet you what you lack if you meet her you look back just to watch the fancy way that girl is walking yes the little Victorine was the nicest girl between sheesh and masquerange but she's stuck up and she's proud and you'll never count the crowd of the boys she give it what they call the conger add a mother's spoiler sure for even to Joe D'Amour when he's ready nearly everything to give her if she make the marier only say please go away and he's richest habitat along the river Zephyr Amador he try it too and he's working something new for he's making the old woman many present she's on the train umbrella for the rain but she's grumpy all the time and never pleasant well when he acts my damn tact a girl away that time see them races on Sorrel with all the Trotter the mother say alright if you bring her home tonight before the cows milk I let her go my daughter so Victorine she go with Zephyr in her bow on the Yankee buggy Macanon San Bruno and when they pass hotel on the middle of Sorrel they're putting on the biggest towel that you know well they got some good horse there but Zephyr don't care he's back it up he's on paroisse by golly and he's mac a three dollar when mas cananger star on the two mile heat was beating Sorrel Molly Victorine don't mind at all till the free for all they call that's the last race day was run before the snow fly then she say I think the cow must be getting home soon now and you know it's only clock old woman go by and if we're coming late when the cow pass on the gate you'll be sorry if you hear the way she talked there so when I see the race on Sorrel or any place after this you may be sure I got to walk there then he left that Zephyr and he say your poor mama I know the pile she think about her daughter so we'll tack the short road back on the quarter or a track don't matter if we got to swim the water no wonder he is mild to do here in half a mile for that morning he was told his little brother let the cattle out the gate so he know it's pretty late by the time them cow was finding out each other so along the corduroy the young girl and the boy they was keeping up a jog and nice and steady it isn't heavy load and the home he know the road for many time he's been that way already but the girl she's fine is slow so she asked the boy to go something better than a mile on 15 and he's touching up the home so that horse he lay for home and the next thing Victorine she know she's in it oh pull him in she yell for even on Sorrell I'm sure I never see the quicker racer but he's a little bit too late for the horses get his gate and the worst of all by gosh Guillaume's a pacer see his tail upon the air no wonder she was scared but she hung on like the winter on tree river crying out please hold me tighter I'm coming dead tonight and my poor old mother dear I got to leave her with her arm around his waist she was doing it in case she busts her head and kill herself is not so easy saying they was coming under Jean to that damn old beaver swamp and meet the crowd he's looking for them cows go astraying then she's crying Victorine for she's knowing what it mean the parish they was talking first chances they be getting but no sooner that young man stopped the horse he tack her hand and whisper never my my share won't do no good I threaten no she isn't crying long for he told her it was wrong sure he saved her life too or she was much mistaken and the old madame leveque also kiss him on the neck and quickly after that who rod the man and wife they're making Dominique you don't know my little boy Dominique never seen him running around about the place because I want to get advice how to keep him looking nice so he won't be always dirty on the face now that little boy of mine Dominique if you wash him and you send him off to school but instead of going there he was playing fox and hare can you tell me how to stop the little fool I tacked that little fella Dominique and I put him on the cellar every day and for working out a cure bread and water is very sure you can bet he's make the promise not to play that's very well to say but my little Dominique when the jacket we put on him's only new and he's going travel around on the matter up and down with the strawberry on his pocket running through and when he climbed the fence he'd a hole up on his pant don't wonder he's poor mother's feeling mad so if you catch him then what do you want to do my friend tell me quickly and before he get too bad I leak your little boy Dominique I leak him till he's crying pretty hard and for fear he's getting spile I'd give him castor oil and I wouldn't let him play outside the yard if you see my little boy Dominique hanging on the poor old Billy tail when that horse is feeling gay like I seen him yesterday I suppose you think he's safer on the jail when I'm lighting up the pipe on the evening after work and the powder that young rascals put in it it was making such a poof nearly blew me through the roof what's the way you got of showing towards the scene well I put him on the jail right away you may bet the one he's got the biggest wall a hundred foot or so where they never let him go no I wouldn't keep a boy like that at all that's good advice for sure very good on the cellar bread and water it'll do to nice week castor oil give him every little while and the jail to finish up with when he's true I'm a friend you never see Dominique when he's lying there asleep upon the bed if you do you say to me what an angel he must be and there can't be nothing bad upon his head many thanks for your advice and it may be good for some but the reason you was give it isn't very hard to seek yes it's easy to see and now when the talk is over how you don't know my little boy Dominique how Baptiste came home when I was young boy on the farm that's twenty year ago I have one friend he's live near me called Jean-Baptiste Trudeau and often when we are alone we lack for speak about the time when we was called big man with mustache on our mouth Baptiste is get it on his head he's too much educate from Mac the Habitant he better go on state and so on summer evening we're driving home the cow he's told me all the whole business just like you hear me now what you smack foolish on the farm there's no good chances left and all the time you be poor man you know that's true you Seth we never get no fun at all don't never go on spree unless we pass on another place and make it some money I go on Les Etats Unis maybe on ten twelve year I'd be rich man some day and when I make the large fortune I come back I suppose with Yankee fam from off the state and money on my clothes I told you something else also Manche Napoleon I get a grand majorité for go on parliament then build fine house on bord de l'eau near where the churches stand more finer than the presbyterre when I am come rich man I say for what you speak like that easy there's plenty fellow on the state more smarter than you be besides she's not so healthy place and if you mack l'argent you spend it just like Yankee man and not like habitant for me Baptiste I told you this I'm very satisfied the best man don't leave too long time some day by gosh he die and suppose you got good trotter horse and nice fam canadian with plenty on the house for eat what more you want my friend but Baptiste have it all mack up I can't stop him at all he's buy etc second class ticket for go on central fall and with 2 3 some more the boy what think the same he do pass on the train the very next week was left Riviera de l'eau well maybe 15 year or more since Baptiste go away I found myself Riviera de l'eau one cold cold winter day the quick express she come horror but stop the soon she can fall or jump off car that's boss by nigger man he's dress him on the premier class and got new suit of clothes with long mustache to stick it out the nother side he's nose find go watch chain nice poor manteau and long long overcoat with beaver hat that's Yankee style and red tie on his throat I say hello Baptiste hello come on serve à mon vieux he say excuse to me my friend I think I don't know you he's very curious thing you are but he's true though will raise on just same place with me that's 15 year ago he say oh yes that's sure enough I know you now first rate but I forget most all my friends since I go on the state there's not a thing keep on your head my friend they must be told my name's Baptiste to do no more but John be water hole hold on the waters funny name for man was called to do my friends they always speak like that and I am told him so I say to do and water hole she's just about the same and if you for leave on state you must have Yankee name then we invite him come with us hotel du Canada where he was treat most every time but can't take whiskey Blanc he says has little strong from a just come off central fault and taba can I am but damn he won't smoke that at all but fancy drink like Collins John the way he put it down was long time since I don't see that I think he's going down and find cigar cost 5 cent each and make on travel year no fun he smoke big pile of them for money he don't care I suppose me self is 3 o'clock when we are true that night Baptiste his father come for him and take him home all right the old man say Baptiste speak French when he is place on bed and say bad word but when he wake forget it on his head well all the winter when we have so I raise that grand affair he's true though the water hole the be the boss man there you bet he have be time but when the spring is come on car he's buy premier class ticket for go on state some more you remember when the hard time come on Lazy Tazouni and plenty can I am go back for stay their own country well just about that time again I go over via Doulou for so many two tree load of a Mac little visit too she's never carry passenger that's what they always say I see poor man on char kaboose he's got him small valleys but gosh I nearly take the fit it is it is Baptiste he know me very well this time and say bonjour mon vieux I hope you know Baptiste Trudeau was educate with you I'm just come off the state to see my family on call I bus myself on central fall I don't go there no more I mean not at all I broke it up for sure that's lucky thing Napoleon the breakman Joe Le Tour he's cousin of one friend of me called Camille Valiquette conductor too is good canadian don't ask me no ticket I take Baptiste with me once more hotel du Canada and he was glad forget the chance drink some good whiskey blanc that's warm him up and then he eat most everything he see I watch the whole business charrette what's keep the place get very much excite for see the many pork and bean Baptiste put out of sight du pain doré potato pie another thing be there but when Baptiste is get him through they go I don't know where it don't take long for told the news Baptiste come off the state I'm pretty soon we have big crowd like village she's unfet bonhomme Maxime Trudeau he's self he's coming with the priest and pass him on the room for eat where he is see Baptiste then everybody feel a glad for watch the ombre say and by my by the old man speak Baptiste you here for stay Baptiste he's cry like big baby by sure stay easy and if I never see the state I'm sure I don't care me correct Maximus say right off I place you on the farm for help your poor old father won't do you too much harm please come with me on magazine I fix you up but we and then you're ready for go home and see the family well when the old man Baptiste come off the magazine Baptiste is lost he's Yankee clothes he's dressed like canyons with both salvage sent you fleshey and coat with capuchon and speak francaise or natural the same as abeton I see Baptiste the other day his work his father's place I think myself he satisfy I see that on his face he say I got no use for statement share Napoleon Quebec she's good enough for me hurrah for Canada end of section 3 recording by Sean Michael Hogan St. John's Newfoundland Canada section 4 of humor of the north this is a LibreBox recording all LibreBox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibreBox.org humor of the north arranged by Lawrence J. Burpee section 4 the Japanese reporter by Mrs. Everard Coates we do not know to this day to what circumstance we owed the honor of appearing in print in Japan whether we were mistaken for individuals of distinction or whether we were considered remarkable on our own merits on account of being by ourselves but we went downstairs fully believing it to be a custom of the country rather flattering custom to which we were much pleased to conform and this is a true chronicle of what happened it was a slender round faced youth who made his deprecating bow to us in the drawing room his shoulders sloped his gray blue kimono lay in narrow folds across his chest like what the old fashioned people at home used to call a saun tag American boots were visible under the skirt of the garment hat reposed on the sofa beside him his thick short black hair stood crisply on end and out of his dark eyes slanted a look of modest inquiry he was the most unaggressive reporter I have ever seen his boots and his hat were the only things about him that I could connect with journalism as I had previously been acquainted with it how do you do I said seeing that the silence must be broken and the preliminary's gone through with by somebody yes he responded with an amiability that induced orthodoxia to get up hurriedly and look out of the window did the radies arrive to the Duke of Westminster looking from one to the other of us we believe they did gas orthodoxia and immediately looked out of the window again I edged my chair toward the other window then the cloven foot appeared in the shape of a notebook he produced it with gentle ostentation as one would a trump card the simile is complete when I add that he took it from his sleeve how old is Rady calmly deliberately I I forget falsified this historian 45 I believe the reporter put it down other Rady your friend not so old older more old I am 22 years of age said orthodoxia gravely with a reproachful glance at me and I weigh ten stone height 5 feet 8 inches in shoes I am in the habit of wearing fives in gloves 6 and a half the reporter scribbled convulsively radies will study Japanese Porytics please say I beg pardon yes fills another page orthodoxia swavly are they produced here to any extent we have here many Porytics ribberer conservative monarchist all more recourse to the window orthodoxia I said severely you may not be aware of it but your conduct is throwing discredit upon a person hitherto fairly entitled to the world's good opinion which is me to be absorbingly interested in that brick wall and allow me to talk to the gentleman we have come I said distinctly orthodoxia bears testimony to the fact that I said it distinctly to see Japan as far as Japan will permit her politics system of education customs and arts will be of a hum interest to us we cannot truthfully say that we expect to penetrate more deeply into the national life than other travelers have done in repressing this expectation we claim to be original we confess that our impressions will naturally be superficial but we hope to represent the crust so charmingly that nobody will ask for any of the interior of the well of the pie that's equivocal said orthodoxia and ridiculous notwithstanding the well-known reticence of the Japanese I continued we hope to meet some of them who will show us something more of their domesticity than we can see through the windows you will acquire language of Japan not all of it I think it seems a little difficult but musical much more musical than our ugly English interposed orthodoxia yes will you the story of your journey please say certainly we came from Montreal to Vancouver by the CPR that is the best western railroad on the continent because it is built with English capital bombastically some people say that you never would have heard of Canada in Japan but for the CPR but I am told that they are mostly jealous Republican Americans the reporter bowed we traveled 3,900 miles by this route across the northwest and through the Rocky Mountains here orthodoxia dwelt upon the remarkable snow sheds for protection against avalanches she went on with vague confidence to speak of the opening up of trade between Canada and Japan by the new railway and steamship line and I added a few remarks about the interest in Japanese art that existed in Montreal and the advisability of the Japanese establishing firms of their own there while the reporter flattered our eloquence by taking down notes enough to fill a quarto volume we had never been interviewed before we might never be again and we were determined to make the occasion an illustrious one we were quite pleased with ourselves as the nice little creature bowed himself out promising to send us the fortunate Shimbon which would publish the interview with a translation of the same a day or two later I suppose it was orthodoxia's effect upon him the effect I had begun to find usual but he didn't send the Shimbon he brought it next morning with much apology and many bows I have before me a penciled document in the handwriting of three persons the document contains the interview as it was set down in the language of the translator who sat with an expression of unruffled repose and spake aloud from the Shimbon which he held in his hand sometimes orthodoxia took it down sometimes he took it down himself sometimes I took it down while orthodoxia left the room the reason for this will perhaps be self-evident orthodoxia and I possess the document in turns to ward off low spirits I have only to look at it to bring on an attack of the wildest hilarity the reporter came entirely in Japanese costume the second time and left his wooden sandals outside on the stairs most of his English there too apparently but he bowed all the way from the door to the middle of the apartment in a manner that stood for a great deal of polite conversation then he sat down and we sat down and orthodoxia prepared to transcribe the interview which had introduced us to the Japanese nation from his lips it was a proud happy moment the reporter took the journal with which he was connected out of one of the long graceful flowing leaves which make life worth living for the masculine Japan he told us that it was the hochi-hochi shimbun and he carefully pointed out the title date beginning and end of the article which we marked intending to buy several copies of the paper and send them home we were anxious that the people there should be kept fully enlightened as to our movements and there seemed to be a great deal of detail in the article its appearance was a little sensational orthodoxia thought but she silently concluded with her usual charity not to blame the reporter for that since he couldn't possibly be considered responsible for the exaggerations of the Chinese alphabet yesterday translated the reporter solemnly I must copy the document which does not give his indescribable pronunciation by Canada steamer Radies arrived the correspondent who is me went to grand hotel which the Radies is Radies is of Canada and in the time before of England they have a beautiful countenance here the reporter bowed and orthodoxia left the room for the first time I think she said she must go and get her pencil sharpened she left it with me however and I took up the thread of the interview object of Radies' locomotion to make beautiful their minds Miss Elder Radie answered our object is to observe habits, makings and beings of the Japanese nation and to examine how civilization of England and America prevails among the nation and other objects is to examine the art and drawing and education from the exterior of the confectionary in order to observe customs of Japan we intend to run a private house we were getting on swimmingly when orthodoxia reappeared having recovered in the interval and told the reporter that he must think foreigners very abrupt and rude and that he really spoke English extremely well to both of which remarks he responded with a polite suavity that induced me to turn my back upon her in an agony of suppressed feeling yes Miss Younger Radie measuring ten stone and wearing six shoes and a half continue the railroad between the Montreal and Canada is passing I beg pardon said the unhappy orthodoxia with an awful galvanism about the corners of her mouth I didn't quite catch what you said I mean what I said the reporter translated it over again perhaps I said nervously it's a misprint no the reporter replied gravely Miss Younger Radie Gracious said orthodoxia and if by the railroad we employ the steamer the commerce of Montreal and Japan will prevail correspondent asked to Miss Younger Radie may I heard the story of your caravansary orthodoxia again retired it was a little trying for me but when he continued she answered from Montreal to Canada the distance is three thousand mires I was glad she had gone I am afraid I choked a little for just here he decided to wrestle with the pencil himself when he handed the paper back again I read while we are passing the distance between Mount Rocky I had a great danger for the snow over the mountain is falling down and the railroad shall be cut off therefore by the snowshade which is made by the tree it's falling was defend speaking finish the ladies is to took their caravansary attending a few days ladies has the liability of many news that last item said orthodoxia who had come in with the excuse of some tea is frightfully correct having dispatched the business of the hour and a half the reporter began to enjoy himself while orthodoxia and I tried to see it ourselves where we couldn't see each other's faces in the mirror over the mantelpiece he drank his tea with his head on a level at the table and if suction can express approval it was expressed he said that there were 14 editorial writers on his shinbon and that its circulation was one million which shows that for the soul of a newspaper man shintoism has no obvious advantages he dwelt upon the weather for quarters of an hour at a time the Japanese are such a leisurely people he took more tea by this time stone cold he said he would bring a Japanese gentleman and raidi to see us and in response to our inquiry as to whether the lady was the wife or the sister of the gentleman he said with gravity I do not know the raidi's wife he asked us for our photographs and when orthodoxia retired at this for the fifth time he thought she had gone to get them and stayed until I was compelled to go and pray her to return it was the ringing of the two o'clock lunch bell that suggested to him that the day was waning and that perhaps he had better wane too The Grey Lynette by James McCarroll when he roams though he stains not his path through the air with the splendor of tropical wings all the luster denied to his russet plumes there flashes forth through his lay when he sings for the little grey fryer is so wondrous wise though in such a plain garb he appears that on finding he can't reach your soul through your eyes he steals in through the gates of your ears but the cheat is warbling about other passions less holy be tied for behold there's a little grey nun peeping out from a bunch of green leaves at his side End of section 5 The Acooned of Swat What? What what? What's the news from Swat? Sad news Bad news Comes by the cable lead Through the Indian Ocean's bed Through the Persian Gulf The Red Sea And the Med Iteranian He's dead The Acooned is dead For the Acooned I'm dead I'm dead For the Acooned I'm mourn Who wouldn't? He strove to disregard the message stern But he Acooned Dead Dead Dead Sorrow Swat Swat Swahe we Acooned bled Swat whom he had often led Onward to a gory bed Or to victory As the case might be Sorrow Swat Tears shed Shed tears like water Your great Acooned is dead That Swat's the matter Morn city of Swat Your great Acooned is not But lane midworms to rot His mortal part alone His soul was caught Because he was a good Acooned Up to the bosom of Mahooned Though earthly walls His frame surround Forever hallowed Be the ground And skeptics mock the lowly Mound and say He's now of no Acooned His soul is in the skies The azure skies That bend above his loved Metropolis of Swat He sees with larger Other eyes A thwart all earthly mysteries He knows what's Swat Let Swat bury the great Acooned With a noise of morning And of lamentation Let Swat bury the great Acooned With the noise of the morning Of the swatish nation Fallen is it length It's tower of strength It's sun had dimmed Air it had nooned Dead lies the great Acooned The great Acooned of Swat Is not Amateur or Lando It was an amateur drama ass Kind reader although your Knowledge of French is not first class Don't call that amateur It was an amateur drama ass The witch did warfare Wage on the dramatic Works of this and every other age It had a Walking gentleman A leading juvenile First lady in book muslin dress With a galvanic smile Two were singing chambermaid Benign and heavy par And oh, heavier still was heavy Villain with his face Ha ha! There wasn't an author from Shakespeare Down or up to Bokeco These amateurs weren't competent They swed to car and throw And when the winter time Came round Seasons a stagey a phrase The amdra mass assaulted One of the bard of Avon's plays It was as you like it that they chose For the leading lady's heart Was set on playing Rosalind or some other pages part And the president Of the amdra mass A stalwart dry goods clerk Was cast for Orlando In which role he felt He'd made his mark I mind me, said the president All thoughtful was his face When Orlando was taken by Thingamy, the two Charles was played by Mace Charles hath not many lines To speak, nay, not a single length When if we can find a Muscle man That is, a man of strength And bring him on the stage As Charles But alas, it can't be did It can, replied the treasurer Let's get the honky kid This honky kid Of whom they spoke Belong to the PR He always had his air-cut short And always had guitar His voice was gruff His language rough His forehead villainous low And, neath the broken nose A vast expanse of jaw did show He was forty-eight about the chest And his forearm at the mid Did measure twenty-one-and-a-half Such was the honky kid The amdra mass They have engaged And he's got it all Alas, they have engaged This pet of the PR As Charles, the wrestlers Ease to be a bright Particular star And when they put the program out Announce him thus they did Orlando, Mr. Romeo Jones Charles, Mr. Th Kid The night has come The house is packed From pit to gallery As those who threw the curtain-peap Can would lead to see A squeak's heard in the orchestra As the leader draws across The intestines of the agile cat The tail of the noble hoss All's at sea behind the scenes Why do they fear and funk? Alas, alas, the honky kid Is lamentably drunk He's in that most Unlovely stage Of half intoxication When men resent their tight As a personal imputation Ring up, ring up Orlando cried Oh, we must cut the scene For Charles the wrestler Is imbued with poisonous benzine And every moment gets more drunk Than he before has been The wrestling scene has come And Charles is much disguised In drink The stage to him's an incline Plane, the footlights make him blink Still strives he to act well His part Where all the honour lies Though Shakespeare would not In his lines his language recognize Instead of Come, where is this young This man of born and brawn He squares himself and bellows Time, fetch your Orlando's on No Hercules, be thy speed, young man Fair Rosaline said she As the two wrestlers in the ring Grapple right furiously But Charles the wrestler Had no sense of dramatic propriety He seized on Mr. Romeo Jones In Greco-Roman style He got what they call a great Vine-lock on that leading juvenile He flung him into the orchestra And the man with the orficilide On whom he fell He just said, well No matter what and died When once the tigers Tasted blood and found That it is sweet He has a habit of killing more Than he can possibly eat And thus it was with the hunky kid In this homicidal blindness He lifted his hand against Rosaline Not in the way of kindness He chased poor Celia off at L At R-U-E-La-Beau And he put such a head Upon Duke Fred in 15 seconds or so That never one of the courtly Train might his haughty master know And that's precisely what came to him in the morning When he came back And that's precisely what came to pass Because the luckless Carls Belonging to the Andram ass Cast the hunky kid For Charles The Plumber's Revenge A legend of Madison Avenue Canto I The Deathbed Oath It was some 30 years ago An evening calm and red When a gold-haired stripling Stood beside his father's dying Bed Attend my son, the sick man said Unto my dying tones And swear Eternal vengeance To the accursed race of Jones For why? Just 19 years ago A girl sat by my side With cheek of rose And breast of snow My peerless promised bride A viper by the name Of Jones came in between With honeyed words He stole away my loved Belinda Jane For he was rich And I was poor And poets are all stupid Who feign the God of love Is not cupidity but cupid Perchanced his well For had I wed that maid Of dark brown curls You had not been or been Instead of boy a pair of girls Now listen to me, Walter Smith High to yon plumber bold And thou wouldst ease My dying pang His prentice be enrolled For Jones has houses Many on the fashionable Squares And thou perchance Mayst be called in to see To the repairs Think on thy father's ravished love Recall thy father's ills Remember this The deathbed oath Then make out Jones's bills Canto II The Young Avenger Young Walters to the plumber gone A boy with smut on nose Furnace and carpet sack in hand With the journeyman he goes Now grown to a journeyman himself In grimy hand he gripes A candle-end and neath the sink Explores the frozen pipes His furnace portable He lights with smoking wads Papers and smiles to see within The pot the solder fuse He gives his feet There froze down about sixteen feet If you want water Air July, you must take up the street Practical plumber Now is he As witnesses his sign And ready now to undertake Repairs in any line One day a housemaid As he sat at the receipt of biz Came crying Sir Smith, Sir Smith Sir Jones' pipes is frizz He girt his apron round his loins And his tools took from the shelf And to the journeyman he said I'll see to this myself Wood said he As he drew the bill My father were alive Ten pounds of solder At ten cents One dollar seventy-five Canto III The traitor's doom The Jones had houses many On the avenues and squares And hired the young Avenger Smith To see to the repairs And Smith put faucets in And cocks and meters, eek and taps Connections, t-joints, sewer pipes Basins and water taps He tore the walls And ripped the floors To reach the pipes beyond And excavations in the street And beneath the sidewalk yawned And daily as he entered up The items in his book The plumber's face wore a serene And retrospective look And Jones would wring his hands And cry, woe woe And utter woe Army that taxes should be so high And rents should be so low Then he would give The Smith the house As installment on account Of its repairs and notes of hand For the rest of the amount Canto III Avenged at last Now Smith had been for a dozen years In the practical plumbing line And the bills of Smith Did not grind slow And they ground extremely fine Terrace by terrace House by house The lands of Jones he took And heavier still the balance was Written that fatal book At last no property nor cash Had he, so he did fail In the end So he did fail And the avenging plumber Locked him up in Ludlow jail His heartless creditor He besought for mercy In his need Nay, nay, no mercy Lie and rot, quote he In jail, like tweed For I have sworn avenge To be on thee Thy kin and kith Rememberous thou, Belinda Jane I am the son of Smith I am the son of Smith End of Section 6 Recording by Paul Newman of Sheffield, England sunshinepaul.blogspot.com Section 7 Fables by George Thomas Lannigan The Merchant of Venice A Venetian merchant who was lolling in the lap of luxury was accosted upon the Riotto by a friend who had not seen him for many months. How is this? cried the latter. When I last saw you, your cabardine was out at elbows and now you sail in your own gondola. True, replied the merchant, but since then I have met with serious losses and then obliged to compound with my creditors for ten cents on the dollar. Moral composition is the life of trade, the unfortunate elephant. An elephant had been endeavouring to rive the bowl of a knotted oak with its trunk, but the tree closed upon that member, detaining it and causing the hapless alpha's africanus, intense pain. He shook the forest with his trumpeting and all the bees gathered around him. Aha! my friend said a pert chimpanzee You have got your trunk checked, I say. My children, said a temperate camel to her young, let this awful example teach you to shun the bowl. Does it hurt much? said a compassionate new. Ah! it does. It does. It must. I knew it. I have been a mother, myself. And while they were sympathising with him, the unfortunate elephant expired in great agony. Moral The moral of the above is so plain as to need explanation. Talk is cheap. The coroner and the banana peel. As a coroner was entering a saloon to see a man he beheld a careless boy who was eating a banana, cast the rind of the fruit upon the slippery stone sidewalk. But instead of chiding the urchin, smiled and passed on. As he was coming out of the saloon, having satisfied his thirst, he slipped on the peel of the banana and falling broke his neck, so that a rival coroner made the fees from the inquest. Moral It is rare sport to see the coroner hoist with his own petard. The rhinoceros and the dromedary A thirsty rhinoceros having to his great joy encountered a dromedary in the desert of Sahara besought the latter animal of his mercy to give him a drink, but the dromedary refused, stating that he was holding the fluid for an advance. Why, said he to the rhinoceros, did he not imitate my forethought and prudence and take some heed to the moral? The rhinoceros acknowledged the justice of the rebuke. Some time afterward he met in an oasis, the dromedary who had realized at the turn of the market and was now trying to cover his shorts. For heaven's sake, he gasped to the rhinoceros, who was wallowing in the midst of a refreshing pool. Trust me for a nip. When I was thirsty, replied the rhinoceros, you declined to stand the drinks, but I will give you a horn. So saying, he let the grateful sunlight into the dromedary's innards. Moral Virtue is its own reward. The hen and the tailor A hen who had saved a tailor from drowning in a marine disaster that had caused several of his less fortunate companions their lives asked him his opinion of the theory of evolution. The grateful tailor replied that he was himself an instance of the survival of the fittest. And the philosophical foul, remarking that it was vulgar to pun, walked off with much dignity to resume her interrupted occupation of hatching out a china nest egg. Moral Some people cannot take a joke. The glowworm and the famished nightingale A famished nightingale who had been singing to very thin houses chanced to encounter a glowworm at eventide and prepared to make upon him a light re-past. The unfortunate lampirist, Plendidula, besought the songster a backward name of art, not to quench its vital spark and appealed to his magnanimity. The nightingale who needlessly sets claw upon a glowworm, he said, is a being whom it were gross flattery to term a Lusinia Filomela. The bird, however, turned a deaf beak to these appeals and was about to douse the glim, but the glowworm cried out, Beware lest I give you the heartburn Remember how Herod and Luthor died of a diet of glowworms and while the nightingale who was by no means a bad bird at stomach, was considering these propositions escaped, hanging out file-slides to baffle his enemies' pursuit. Moral Let the dead past bury its dead act, act in the living present. The centipede and the barbaric yuck While a centipede was painfully toiling over the Libyan desert, it was encountered by a barbaric yuck who scornfully asked him how were his poor feet. The humble creature made no reply at the time, but some days later found the barbaric yuck taken in the nets of the hunter and almost devoured by insects which fled at the approach of the centipede. Help, help my good friend! exclaimed the unfortunate beast. I cannot move a muzzle in these cruel toils and the ravenous insects have devoured my delicate flesh. Say you so, responded the centipede. Can you really not defend yourself? Alas, how can I? replied the yuck. See you not how straightly I am bound. And is your flesh then so delicate? It is, though I say it, who should not? Then, said the centipede, I guess I'll take a bite myself. Moral. The other man's extremity is often our opportunity. The Honest News Boy A news boy was passing along the street when he charged to discover a purse of greenbacks. He was at first inclined to conceal it, but repelling the unworthy suggestion he asked a venerable man if it was hidden. The venerable man looked at it hurriedly, said it was, patted him on the head, gave him a quarter and said he would yet be president. The venerable man then hazened away, but was arrested for having counterfeit bills in his possession. While the Honest News Boy played Penny Ante with his humble quarter and ran it up to two dollars and sixty-two cents. Moral. Honesty is sometimes the best policy. The Villager and the Snake A villager, one frosty day, found under a hedge a snake almost dead with gold. Moved with compassion and having heard that snake oil was good for the rheumatists, he took it home and placed it on the hearth, where it shortly began to wake and crawl. Meanwhile, the villager, having gone out to keep an engagement with the man round the corner, the villager's son who had not drawn a sober breath for a week, entered and, beholding the serpent unfolding its plain, unvarnished tail with the cry, I've got him again. Flecked to the office of the nearest justice of the peace, swore off and became an apostle of temperance at seven hundred dollars a week. The beneficent snake next bit the villager's mother-in-law so severely that death soon ended her sufferings and his. Then silently stole away, leaving the villager deeply and doubly in its debt. Moral. A virtuous action is not always its only reward. The snake in the grass is worth two in the boot. The ostrich and the hen. An ostrich and a hen chanced to occupy adjacent apartments and the former complained loudly that her rest was disturbed by the cackling of her humble neighbour. Why is it, she finally asked the hen, that you make such an intolerable noise? The hen replied, because I have laid an egg. Oh, no! said the ostrich with a superior smile. It is because you are a hen and don't know any better. Moral. The moral of the foregoing is not very clear but it contains some reference to the agitation of females of rich. End of Section 7 Section 8 of Humour of the North This is a LibriVax recording. All LibriVax recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVax Star Work recording by Diana Meilinger. Humour of the North arranged by Lawrence J. Burpee Section 8 The Senators Laundry by James DeMille Signora Miranda Lina Rocka was the landlady of the house where the club were lodging was a widow of about 40 years of age still fresh and blooming with a merry dark eye sitting usually in the small room which they passed on the way to their apartments they had to stop to get their keys or to leave them when they went out and both hands and take frequently stop to have a little conversation. The rest, not being able to speak Italian, contented themselves with smiles. The Senator particularly who gave the most beaming of smiles both ongoing and on returning. Sometimes he even tried to talk to her in his usual adaptation of broken English, spoken in loud tones to the benighted but fascinating foreigner. Her attention to dig during his sickness increased the Senators' admiration and he thought her one of the best, one of the most kind-hearted and sympathetic of beings. One day toward the close of their stay in Rome the Senator was in a fix. He had not had any washing done since he came to the city. He had run through all his clean linen and came to a dead stand. Before leaving for another place it was absolutely necessary to attend to this. But how? Buttons was off with the Spaniards. They could gun out on a drive. No one could help him, so he tried it himself. In fact he had never lost confidence in his powers of making himself understood. It was still a fixed conviction of his that in cases of necessity any intelligent man could make his wants known to intelligent foreigners. But not there is stupidity somewhere. Had he not done so in Paris and in other places? So he rang and managed to make the servant understand that he wished to see the landlady. The landlady has always shown a great admiration for the manly, not to say gigantic charms of the Senator. Upon him she bestowed her brightest smile and a quick flush on her face and heaving breath told that the Senator had made wild work with her too susceptible heart. So now when she learned that the Senator wished to see her, she at once imagined the cause to be anything and everything except the real one. Why take that particular time when all the rest were out? she thought. Evidently for some tender purpose. Why send for her? Why not come down to see her? Evidently because he did not like the publicity of her room at the Concierge. She arrayed herself therefore in her brightest and her best charms gave an additional flourish to her hair that hung wavingly and luxuriously and still without a trace of gray over her forehead. Looked at herself with her dark eyes in the glass to see if she appeared to the best advantage and finally in some agitation but with great eagerness she went to obey the summons. Meantime the Senator had been deliberating how to begin. He felt that he could not show his bundle of clothes to so fair to find a creature as this whose manners were so soft and whose smile so pleasant. He would do anything first. He would try a roundabout way of making known his wishes trusting to his own powers and the intelligence of the lady for a full and complete understanding. Just that he had come to his conclusion there was a timid knock at the door. Come in, said the Senator who began to feel a little awkward already. A permesso, said a soft sweet voice, se può entrare and Signora Mirandolina Rocca advanced in the room giving one look at the Senator and then casting down her eyes. Umillissima serva di lei, Signore, mi comandi but the Senator was in a quandary. What could he do? How begin? What gesture would be the most fitting for a beginning? The post began to be embarrassing. The lady, however, as yet was calm calmer, in fact, that one she entered. So she spoke once more di chea alla bisogna illustrissimo. The Senator was dreadfully embarrassed. The lady was so fair in his eyes. Was this a woman who could contemplate the fact of soiled linen? Never. Ahem! Said he. Then he paused. Serva de Vota, Signora Mirandolina. Che c'è, Signore? Then, looking up, she saw the face of the Senator, all rosy red, turned toward her with a strange confusion and embarrassment in his eye. Yet it was a kind eye, a soft, kind eye. Elle forse innamorata di me. murmured the lady, gathering new courage as she saw the timidity of the other. Che grandezza! Un galantuomo, certamente. E questo è molto piacevole. She glanced at the mainly figure of the Senator with a tender admiration in her eye, which she could not repress and it was so intelligible to the Senator that she blushed more violently than ever and looked helplessly around him. È innamorato di me, senza dubbio. S'è the Signora. Vergogna non vuol più parlare di me. S'è the Signora. Vergogna non vuol che si sapesse. The Senator at length found voice. Advancing toward the lady, he looked at her very earnestly and as she thought very pituously held out both his hands, then smiled, then spread his hands apart, then nodded and smiled again and said, Me, me want, you know, me gentleman, me confound luck, he added, in profound vexation. Signore, said Mirandolina, La dilege lentetta me confonde. The Senator turned his eyes all around, everywhere, in a desperate, half-conscious search for escape from an embarrassing situation. Signore, noi ci siamo sole, nessuno ci senti. remarked the Signora encouragingly. Me want to tell you this, birth for the Senator. Birth for the Senator. Clothes, you know, washi, washi. Whereupon he elevated his eyebrows, smiled and brought the tips of his fingers together. Io non so che cosa vuol dirmi, illustrissimo, said the Signora in bewilderment. You, you, you know, washi, hey, no, no, shaking his head, not washi, but cat washi. The landlady smiled. The Senator, encouraged by this, came a step nearer. Che cosa? Il cuormi palpita, io tremo, murmured la rocca. She retreated a step. Whereupon the Senator at once fell back again in great confusion. Washi, washi, he repeated mechanically, and his mind was utterly vague and distraite. Washi, washi? Repeated the other interrogatively. Mi, tu, said she, with tender emphasis. Vi, Montseur, said he, with utter desperation. The Signora shook her head. Non capisco, ma quelle, balorda e geni ed intormentimente, che sono, se non segni manifesti d'amore. I don't understand, Marm, a single word of that. The Signora smiled. The Senator took courage again. The fact is this, Mom, said he, firmly. I want to get my clothes washed somewhere. Of course you don't do it, but you can tell me, you know. Hm? Non capisco. Madam, said he, feeling confident that she would understand that word at least, and thinking, too, that it might be a key to explain any other words, which he might append to it. My clothes, I want to get them washed. Laundrous, washi, soap and water, clean them all up, iron them, hang them out to dry. Huh? While saying this, he indulged in an expressive pantomime. When alluding to his clothes he placed his hand against his chest. When mentioning the drying of them he waved them in the air. The landlady comprehended this. How not? When a gentleman places his hand on his heart, what is his meaning? O sottie getze d'amore, murmured she. Che cosa cerca? She continued looking up timidly, but invitingly. The Senator fell doubtful at this, and in fact a little frightened. Again he placed his hand on his chest to indicate his clothes. He struck that manly chest several times, looking at her all the time. Then he wrung his hand. Ah, signora! said la rocca with a melting glance. Non è duopo di desperazione. Washi, washi! Eppure se alla vuoi sposarmi non c'è difficoltà. Return the other with true Italian frankness. Soap and water. Non ho il coraggio di dir di no. The Senator had his arms outstretched to indicate the hanging-out process. Still, however, feeling doubtful if he were all together understood, he thought he would try another form of pantomime. Suddenly he fell down on his knees, and began to imitate the action of a washer-woman over her tub, washing, wringing, pounding, rubbing. O gran cielo! cried the senora, her pitting heart filled with tenderness at the sight of this noble being on his knees before her, and as she thought, bringing his hands in despair. O gran cielo! Egli un amurrato di me, non può parlare italiano e così non può il dirmelo. Her warm heart prompted her, and she obeyed its impulse. What else could she do? She flunk herself into his outstretched arms as he raised himself to hang out imaginary clothes on an invisible line. The senator was tender-strucked, confounded, bewildered, shattered, overcome, crushed, stupefied, blasted, overwhelmed, horror-stricken, wonder-smidden, annihilated, amazed, horrified, shocked, frightened, terrified, non-plus, wilted, all-struck, shivered, astounded, unfounded. He did not even struggle. He was paralyzed. Ah, carissimo! said a soft and tender voice in his ear, a low, sweet voice. Severamente me ami, sarola tua carissima sposa. At that moment the door opened and buttons walked in. In an instant he darted out. The senora hurried away. Adio, bellissima, carissima gioia! She sighed. The senator was still paralyzed. After a time he went with a pale and anxious face to see buttons, that young man promised secrecy, and when the senator was telling his story tried hard to look serious and sympathetic. In vain. The thought of that scene and the cause of it and the blunder that had been made overwhelmed him. Laughter convulsed him. At last the senator got up indignantly and left the room. But what was he to do now? The thing could not be explained. How could he get out of the house? He would have to pass her as she sat at the door. He would have to leave the house again and implore his assistance. The difficulty was so repugnant and the matter was so delicate that buttons declared he could not take the responsibility of settling it. It would have to be brought before the club. The club had a meeting about it and many plans were proposed. The strict and senator had one plan and that prevailed. It was to leave Rome on the following day. For his part he had made up his mind to leave the house at once. He would slip out as though he intended to return and the others could settle his bill and bring with them the clothes that had caused all this trouble. He would meet them in the morning outside the gates of the city. This resolution was adopted by all and the senator leaving money to settle for himself went away. He passed hurriedly out of the door. He dared not to look. He heard a soft voice pronounce the word Gioia. He fled. Now that one who owned the soft voice afterward changed her feelings so much toward her Gioia that opposite his name in her house-book she wrote the following epithets. Birbone, villanno, solicaccio, buberone, gaioffo, meschino, briconaccio, anemalaccio. Arranged by Lawrence J. Burpee.