The Wit and Humor of America, Volume II | Page 4

me to scold ye-- 'T is
halt! that I say-- Will ye heed what I told ye? Wan--two Wan--two! Be
jabers, I'm dhryer than Brian Boru! Wan--two! Time! Mark! What's
wur-ruk for chickens is sport for the lark!"
Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: "I'll not stay a gadd'n Wid

dagoes like you! I'll travel no farther, I'm dyin' for--wather; Come on, if
ye like-- Can ye loan me a quarther? Ya-as, you, What--two? And ye'll
pay the potheen? Ye're a daisy! Whurroo! You'll do! Whist! Mark! The
Rigiment's flatthered to own ye, me spark!"

THE BEECHER BEACHED
BY JOHN B. TABB
Were Harriet Beecher well aware Of what was done in Delaware, Of
that unwholesome smell aware,
She'd make all heaven and hell aware, And ask John Brown to tell her
where Henceforth she best might sell her ware.

OUR BEST SOCIETY
BY GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS
If gilt were only gold, or sugar-candy common sense, what a fine thing
our society would be! If to lavish money upon objets de vertu, to wear
the most costly dresses, and always to have them cut in the height of
the fashion; to build houses thirty feet broad, as if they were palaces; to
furnish them with all the luxurious devices of Parisian genius; to give
superb banquets, at which your guests laugh, and which make you
miserable; to drive a fine carriage and ape European liveries, and crests,
and coats-of-arms; to resent the friendly advances of your baker's wife,
and the lady of your butcher (you being yourself a cobbler's daughter);
to talk much of the "old families" and of your aristocratic foreign
friends; to despise labor; to prate of "good society"; to travesty and
parody, in every conceivable way, a society which we know only in
books and by the superficial observation of foreign travel, which arises
out of a social organization entirely unknown to us, and which is
opposed to our fundamental and essential principles; if all this were
fine, what a prodigiously fine society would ours be!

This occurred to us upon lately receiving a card of invitation to a
brilliant ball. We were quietly ruminating over our evening fire, with
Disraeli's Wellington speech, "all tears," in our hands, with the account
of a great man's burial, and a little man's triumph across the channel. So
many great men gone, we mused, and such great crises impending!
This democratic movement in Europe; Kossuth and Mazzini waiting
for the moment to give the word; the Russian bear watchfully sucking
his paws; the Napoleonic empire redivivus; Cuba, and annexation, and
Slavery; California and Australia, and the consequent considerations of
political economy; dear me! exclaimed we, putting on a fresh hodful of
coal, we must look a little into the state of parties.
As we put down the coal-scuttle, there was a knock at the door. We
said, "come in," and in came a neat Alhambra-watered envelope,
containing the announcement that the queen of fashion was "at home"
that evening week. Later in the evening, came a friend to smoke a cigar.
The card was lying upon the table, and he read it with eagerness.
"You'll go, of course," said he, "for you will meet all the 'best society.'"
Shall we, truly? Shall we really see the "best society of the city," the
picked flower of its genius, character and beauty? What makes the
"best society" of men and women? The noblest specimens of each, of
course. The men who mould the time, who refresh our faith in heroism
and virtue, who make Plato, and Zeno, and Shakespeare, and all
Shakespeare's gentlemen, possible again. The women, whose beauty,
and sweetness, and dignity, and high accomplishment, and grace, make
us understand the Greek mythology, and weaken our desire to have
some glimpse of the most famous women of history. The "best society"
is that in which the virtues are most shining, which is the most
charitable, forgiving, long-suffering, modest, and innocent. The "best
society" is, by its very name, that in which there is the least hypocrisy
and insincerity of all kinds, which recoils from, and blasts, artificiality,
which is anxious to be all that it is possible to be, and which sternly
reprobates all shallow pretense, all coxcombry and foppery, and insists
upon simplicity as the infallible characteristic of true worth. That is the
"best society," which comprises the best men and women.

Had we recently arrived from the moon, we might, upon hearing that
we were to meet the "best society," have fancied that we were about to
enjoy an opportunity not to be overvalued. But unfortunately we were
not so freshly arrived. We had received other cards, and had perfected
our toilette many times, to meet this same society, so magnificently
described, and had found it the least "best" of