"Thank you, sir," said the astonished man. "I have been worrying for fear I had made a mistake about your message."
"You did. You made the greatest mistake of your life. Thank you!"
NATURAL PHILOSOPHY
BY WILLIAM HENRY DRUMMOND
Very offen I be t'inkin' of de queer folks goin' roun',
And way dey kip a-talkin' of de hard tam get along—
May have plaintee money, too, an' de healt' be good an' soun'—
But you'll fin' dere's alway somet'ing goin' wrong—
'Course dere may be many reason w'y some feller ought to fret—
But me, I'm alway singin' de only song I know—
'Tisn't long enough for music, an' so short you can't forget,
But it drive away de lonesome, an' dis is how she go,
"Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."
Funny feller's w'at dey call me—"so diff'ren' from de res',"
But ev'rybody got hees fault, as far as I can see—
An' all de t'ing I'm doin', I do it for de bes',
Dough w'en I'm bettin' on a race, dat's offen loss for me—
"Oho!" I say, "Alphonse, ma frien', to-day is not your day,
For more you got your money up, de less your trotter go—
But never min' an' don't lie down," dat's w'at I alway say,
An' sing de sam' ole song some more, mebbe a leetle slow—
"Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."
S'pose ma uncle die an' lef me honder dollar, mebbe two—
An' I don't tak' hees advice—me—for put heem on de bank—
'Stead o' dat, some lot'rie ticket, to see w'at I can do,
An' purty soon I'm findin' put dey're w'at you call de blank—
Wall! de bank she might bus' up dere—somet'ing might go wrong—
Dem feller, w'en dey get it, mebbe skip before de night—
Can't tell—den w'ere's your money? So I sing ma leetle song
An' don't boder wit' de w'isky, an' again I feel all right.
"Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."
If you're goin' to mak' de marry, kip a look out on de eye,
But no matter how you're careful, it was risky anyhow—
An' if you're too unlucky, jus' remember how you try
For gettin' dat poor woman, dough she may have got you now—
All de sam', it sometam happen dat your wife will pass away—
No use cryin', you can't help it—dere's your duty to you'se'f—
You don't need to ax de neighbor, dey will tell you ev'ry day
Start again lak hones' feller, for dere's plaintee woman lef'—
"Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."
Poor man lak me, I'm not'ing: only w'en election's dere,
An' ev'rybody's waitin' to ketch you by de t'roat—
De money I be makin' den, wall! dot was mon affaire—
An' affer all w'at diff'rence how de poor man mak' de vote?
So I do ma very bes'—me—wit' de wife an' familee—
On de church door Sunday morning, you can see us all parade—
Len' a frien' a half a dollar, an' never go on spree—
So w'en I'm comin' die—me—no use to be afraid—
"Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."
HOW I SPOKE THE WORD
FRANK L. STANTON
The snow come down in sheets of white
An' made the pine trees shiver;
'Peared like the world had said good night
An' crawled beneath the kiver.
The river's shiny trail wuz gone—
The winds sung out a warnin';
The mountains put their nightcaps on
An' said: "Good-by till mornin'!"
'Twuz jest the night in fiel' an' wood
When cabin homes look cozy,
An' fine oak fires feel mighty good,
An' women's cheeks look rosy.
An' that remin's me. We wuz four,
A-settin' by the fire;
But still it 'peared ten mile or more
Betwixt me an' Maria!
"No, sir!" (I caught that eye of his,
An' then I fit and floundered!)
"The thing I want to tell you is—"
Says he: "The old mare's foundered?"
"No, sir! it ain't about no hoss!"
(My throat begin to rattle!)
"I see," he said, "another loss
In them fine Jersey cattle!"
An' then I lost my patience! Then
I hollered high and higher
(You could 'a' heard me down the glen):
"No, sir! I want Maria!"
"An' now," says I, "the shaft'll strike:
He'll let that statement stay so!"
He looked at me astonished-like,
Then yelled: "Why didn't you say so?"