“It iz a sad thing tew be a skoolmaster, no one ever seems tew kno whare they go when yu miss them. They just seem to depart that’s all. I never knu one tew die, and be buried.”
Ah, it iz pleasant!—it is sad, to go bak tew the village of Pordunk, thare is more people now thare, than there waz when i waz a boy, but how different are they,—or how different am I.
The old trees are the same, man kant alter them, goose krik runs jist whare it did, with willows in all ov its elbows, the mountains each side haven’t grown enny smaller, the birds sing the same songs, but i don’t kno enny one that i meet, and what is more lonesome, no one that i meet knows me.
When i go tew Pordunk, and want tew see enny boddy that I remember, i go down the main street to the fust korner, just whare Joel Parker once lived, then i turn tew the left, and keep on for a ways, till i cum tew the little one story church.
Just bak ov that they are all living now. They don’t remember me when i go thare, but I remember them. It won’t be very long now before I shall jine them.
{ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.}
4 LETTERS.
Mister Brown.—In haste, dear sur, I repli tew yure letter thusly:
Jews harps are a one stringed instrument, held between the teeth, blowed on gently, and tickled with the fore-finger. The musik which they yield is balmy, but looses much of its melloness unless played upon bi a bull frog. I hav listened for hours at a bull frog playing on a Jews harp, and wept like a child. This iz the kind a musik that enters mi soul like a sister ov charity out ov a job. I hav a yung female bull frog now in mi employ, who plays the Jews harp quite bully for one ov her sex. Sum people must hav opera musik or they aint helthy, but giv me the liquid Jews harp, tickled bi the yung and impashioned bull frog.
If i waz ritch i would buy me two akers ov swamp ground, issue proposals for a millyun ov Jews harps, and set every bull frog on mi farm to instrumental musik.