Hiz ears are like the lilac leaf, played upon bi the young zephurs at eventide, his silkaness is the woof ov buty, and his figger is the outline ov lovlaness.
His food is white nectar, drawn from the full fountain ov affecshun.
He waxes fatter, and more slik, evra da, and hangs from the buzzum ov his m.u.t.h.e.r like an image ov alabastur.
He laffeth at forms, and curleth his tale still clusser, as his feast goeth on, then he riseth with gladness, and wandereth with his kindred, beside the still waters.
His brothers and sisters are az like him as flakes ov snow, and all the day long, amung the red klover, and beneath the white thorn, he maketh his joy, and leadeth a life arkadian.
His words are low musik, and his language the untutored freshness ov natur.
His pastime is the history ov innersence, and his lessure is elaganse.
He walketh whare grase leadeth, and gambles tew the dallianse ov dewy fragranse.
He gathereth straws in his mouth, and hasteneth awa on errants ov gladness.
He listeneth tu the reproof of hiz parent; his ackshuns are the laws ov perliteness, and his logick is the power ov instinkt.
His datime is pease and his evening is gentle forgitfullness.
As he taketh on years, he loveth kool plases, and delveth in liquids, and stirreth the arth tew a fatness, and painteth hisself in dark cullors, a reffuge from flize, and the torments ov life.
He forgetteth his parent, and bek.u.meth his own master, and larneth the mistery ov food, and groweth hugely.
Men gaze at his porkyness, and kount his vallu bi pounds, and la in wate for him, and sacrifise him, and give his flesh salt for its safety.
This is Pig life.
JOSH BILLINGS ADDRESSES THE "FEMAIL PORDUNK SOWING SOSIETY."
Feller sisters:--When I caste mi eye on a sirkle of luvely wimmin bizzy with their needles, mi harte seems tew stretch clean akross mi buzzum.
And when i reflek for a minnit, that tha are tew work for nothing, and find themselfs, and that a yung heathin stans reddy yelping around the corner, for the very shirt tha are wurking on, it duz seem tu me, that i cud shout hozzanner for 3 weeks on a strech.
Feller Sisters, yu kan kount on Josh Billings az a frend; he luves charitee, az a pup hankers for nu milk; his verry natur looks out onto the horizen ov the poor folks, jist as the lite ov a tin lantern shines akross a bog meddow.
And he sees the little bare bak yung ones shivering for a krust ov bread, and hungry for a shirt; then he looks at the Sisters, a talking and sowing, and sowing and talking, and he kounts a hole parcil ov little shirts on the tabil, and then he thinks ov the widders cruise, and the bred hove onto the waters, menshioned in the good Book, and he feels jist az tho he wud like tew own awl the femail sowing sosieties in the wurld hisself, and put hiz hole fortin in the little reddy made cottin shirt bizziness.
Oh Charitee! Oh Charitee! When Josh Billings communes with you, he feals az tho he had jist been tried out, and sot awa tew cool.
Feller Sisters, don"t be skeered, let the ritch and the hawty stik up their nozes, and let the eddicated larf.
Josh wud like no better fun than jiss to bet his 9 dollars, that enny Sister, in full communion with this ere sowing sosiety, who puts in full time, and cuts the cotting tew advantage, wil git her final reward.
Tew konklude, Feller Sisters, pitch in; remember Mr. Lots wife, she that was salted for looken bak.
c.u.m together arly, and oftin, buy yure cottin by the pease; be keerful how yu deal out youre shirts, for thare iz evry now and then, a bogus heathin.
[Ill.u.s.tration: JOSH ADDRESSES THE FEMAIL "PORDUNK SOWING SOSIETY."]
Stan bi yure konst.i.tushion, and bi laws, dew awl this, and the "Femail Pordunk Sowing Sosiety" will go down tew futer prosterita, like a wide-awake torchlite possession.
I bid yu tenderla ajew.
THE FUST BABY.
The fust baby has bek.u.m one ov the fixed stars ov life; and ever since the fust one was born, on the rong side of the gardin ov Eden, down tew the little stranger ov yesterday, they hav never failed tew be a budget ov mutch joy--an event ov mutch gladness.
Tew wake up some cheerful morning, and cee a pair ov soft eyes looking into yours--to wonder how so mutch buty could have been entrusted to you--to sarch out the father, or the mother, in the sweet little fase, and then loze the survey, in an instant of buty, as a laffing Angel lays before you--tew pla with the golden hare, and sow fond kisses upon this little bird in yure nest--tiz this that makes the fust baby, the joy ov awl joys--a feast ov the harte.
Tew find the pale Mother again bi yure side, more luvly than when she was wooed--tew see a new tenderness in her eye, and tew hear the chastened sweetness ov her laff, as she tells something new about "Willie"--tew luv her far more than ever, and tew find oftimes a prayer on yure lips--tiz this that makes the fust baby a fountain ov sparkling plezzure.
Tew watch the bud on yure rosebush, tew ketch the fust notes ov yure song-bird, tew hear the warm praze ov kind frends, and tew giv up yure hours tew the trezzure--tiz this that makes the fust baby a gift that Angels hav brought yu.
Tew look upon the trak that life takes--tew see the sunshine and shower--tew plead for the best, and shrink from the wust--tew shudder when sikness steals on, and tew be chastened when death comes--tiz this--oh! tiz this that makes the fust baby a hope upon arth, and a gem up in heaven.
JOSH BILLINGS UNDER OATH.
Josh Billings being duly sworn, testifys az follers: Eight wont go into 6 and hav mutch ov enny thing left over. Menny a yung fellow haz found out this sum in arithmeticks bi trieing tew git a number 8 foot into a number 6 boot.
Virteu, in one respekt, iz like munny. That which we hav tew work the hardesst for sticks tew us the best.
Men ov phew but aktive branes hav the best exekutive abilitys. Their branes are like a bullit--compakt, and go strate for the bull"s eye.
Affektashun never improved enny boddy yet. It iz better tew be a devil than a hypokritt.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
I hav often herd thare waz men who knew more than they could tell, but i never met one. I hav often met thoze who could tell a grate deal more than they did kno, and waz willing tew sware to it besides.
To be proof agin flattery, a man must hav no vanity, and such a man never existed; if he did, he iz now one ov the lost arts.
Hope haz made a grate menny blunders, but thare iz one thing about her that i alwus did like--she means well.
Sum people are good simply bekauze they are too lazy tew be wicked, and others, bekauze they hant got a good chance.