“Mercury.”—“Owe for a lodge in sum vast wilderness,” waz the private opinion of Mr. Cowper, one ov the very few men, who hav lived yet, who waz pure enuff, tew monopolize a woods, without enny company but his soul, and the God who made it. Most people holler for solitude without thinking that it iz a thickly settled place, full ov memorys. Solitude is the last place for a good man to go to, and the only place that a wicked man kant liv in. Even wild beasts dont like solitude, and luv tew see the smoke ov a chimbly. Solitude, in small doses, iz all well enuff, but 25 miles square ov it, would make most men, either a counterfiter, or a hoss thief.
JOSH BILLINGS CORRESPONDS WITH A “HAIR OIL AND VEGETABLE BITTERS MAN.”
Dear Doktor Hirsute:—I reseaved a tin cup ov yure “Hair purswader,” also a bottle ov yure “Salvashun Bitters,” bi express, for which, I express my thanks.
The greenbak, which yu enklozed waz the kind ov purswader that we ov the press fully understand.
Yur hair grease, shall hav a reglar gimnastik puff, jist az soon az i kan find a spare time.
I tried a little ov it on an old counter brush in my offiss, this morning, and in 15 minnitts, the brussells grew long az a hosses tale, and i notis this afternoon, the hair begins tew cum up thru, on bak ov the brush, ’tis really wonderful! ’tis almoste Eureka! I rubbed a drop or two on the head ov mi cane, which haz bin bald for more than 5 years, and beggar me! if I don’t hav to shave the cane handle, evry day, before I can walk out with it.
I hav a verry favrite cat, she iz one ov the Hambletonian breed ov cats, and altho she iz yung, and haint bin trained yet, she shows grate signs ov speed.
I thought I would just rub the corck ov the bottle on the floor, in the corner ov the room whare the cat generally repozes.
The consequents waz, sum ov the “purswader” got onto the hair ov the cat’s tale.
When the cat aroze from her slumbers she caught sight ov her tale, which had growed tew an exalted size; taking one 498 more look at the tale, she started, and bi the good olde Moses! sich running; across the yard! over the fence! up wun side ov an apple tree! and down the other! out into the fields, away! away! The laste i saw ov the cat, she waz pretty mutch awl tale.