Hello, boys:—Flourish trumpets! merrily beat your drums—I'm a saved sucker! A day of hope and promise has shed its light upon my infantile head, and bright visions of a pair of small breeches to be worn by me, float airily round my head—they appear plain and palpable in the vista of the future—buttons, pockets, suspenders and all—vive la pantalons! The other morning my Pa drew forth the copies of the Reveille from his book case, and commenced reading them for Ma's amusement. Suddenly he cast his eye on my letters, and straight he commenced them—he laughed, and then Ma laughed, and then I crowed. By and by, as he proceeded, Ma began to look angry; she cast a glance at me, and then her conscience smote her—I was wasted to a shadow—on went Pa with the letters; Ma wept, I crowed, and nigger Molly gave me a pinch—a yell followed and the clouds burst!
“Give me that child, you hateful jade, you; how dare you hurt it?” cried Ma.
“Please God, I didn't do nuffin ob de sort, missus; I'd do any thin else, missus, dan hurt de baby,” answered Moll.
“Get out of my sight, you hussy!” cried my enraged mamma; “you have nearly killed de bessed ittle pet—mamma's dear, bess its heart—get out of my sight; if ever you touch it again, I'll punish you severely.”
Molly fled, Pa chuckled to himself, and I crowed again—I tried to hurrah! How shall I describe the change which stole over me, body and spirit, as, nestling in my mother's sweet bosom and receiving her fond caress, I was permitted abundantly to drink at “Nature's pure fount, which, at my cry, sent forth a pearly stream to cherish my enamelled veins.” A sweet sleep visited my pillow again, and the fond endearments which waited on my waking moments were life and joy to me. My Ma, now, is rapidly improving in health—I, of course, will grow fat; and just wait until I'm able to wear them breeches and beat a small drum, if I don't visit the Reveille office and give you the serenade of “Oh, be joyful,” until your petrified stump will execute a double shuffle, then say my name aint Bub.
NO. IV.—BUB FLOURISHING.
Hello, Drummers:—Whoop! hey! cock-a-doodle-doo-o-o! If I aint some by this time I wouldn't say so! You remember what a sickly state I was in when I commenced telling you my grievances?—how my complaints wrought improvement and rescued me from nigger Molly? Well, ever since then, it's a surprise to learn the way my body has spread—I'm a small Lambert, and have got six teeth. Aint I some? Talk of your Missouriums!—only look at me! Well, between you and me, I didn't cut them teeth for nothing; I find a fellow don't get knowledge without paying for it; I suffered in teething, but I learned some. Women who pay no attention to their babies, envy me my fat—I'm a kind of living rebuke to them, and, for a year old, I'm rather a heavy rebuke. They every now and then say: “Why, bless me, Mrs. T————, you'll kill yourself nursing that big fat child.” The answer they get, generally, is, “Well, it will get killed if I don't!” That's the way to tell it!—bravo, Ma! “Well, but, Mrs. T————, why don't you let Molly relieve you of such a load?” Ma answers, “It's because Molly nearly relieved me of him altogether—he would have died from her nursing.” That's a fact!—hit 'em again, Ma. “My children,” says Mrs. Nevernurse, “get along very well without me.”
“Yes,” answered Ma, again, “you have only two living out of six.” That was a wiper!—how she twisted her face at it! I think I'm safe enough, but my peace is sadly troubled with fear when I hear some of these old women giving Ma advice. It would do you good to see old Molly look at me, now and then, saying, with her big eyes, “Well, bress de Lord, I'm clar ob dat brat, but I should jis like to hab him for a a week, I'd take de sassy look out ob his face.” I'd like to try my six new teeth on her black hide.
You shall have that serenade, Drummers, and no mistake. Bub.