Josh Billings on Ice, and Other ThingsBillings, Josh
General
Josh Billings on Ice, and Other Things
Billings, Josh
American wit and humor
They are about az hard to kill az a flaxseed iz, and if you don't mash
them up az fine az ground pepper they will start bizzness agin, on a
smaller kapital, jist az pestiverous az ever.
Thare iz lots ov people who have never seen a flea, and it takes a
pretty smart man tew see one ennyhow; they don't stay long in a place.
If you ever ketch a flea, kill him before you do ennything else; for if
you put it oph 2 minnits, it may be too late.
Menny a flea haz past away forever in less than 2 minnits.
III.
LIVE YANKEES.
Live Yankees are chuck full of karakter and sissing hot with enterprize
and curiosty.
In bild we find them az lean az a hunter's dorg, with a parched
countenance, reddy for a grin, or for a sorrow; ov elaastick step:
thortful, but not abstrakted; pashunt, bekauze cunnin; ever watchful;
slo to anger; avoiding a fight; but rezolute at bay.
In dress alwuz slik, but not stuck up; their harness alwuz betrays them
wherever they go.
The oil ov their langwidge iz their dezire tew pleze, and their greezy
words foreshadder a proffit.
They are natral mechanicks; the histry ov man's necessitys iz the
histry ov their invenshuns.
The Live Yankee haz no hum; hiz luv ov invenshun breeds a luv ov
change, and wharever a human trail shows itself we find him pantin on
the trak.
He never gits sick at the stummuk in a furrin land, or grows
sentermental; the buty ov a river tew him iz its capacity for a
steambote; its sloping banks checker into bildin lots, and its poetry
waters might do the drudgery ov a cottin mill.
He looks at a marble pyramid, guesses at its height, calkulates the
stone by the perch, and sells the magnifisent relick in Boston at a
proffit.
He climbs the Alpin hights, crossed by conkerin heroes, and iz struk
with the proprierty ov tunneling it.
He sits, cross-legged, beneath the sheltring vine and listens to the
oneazy sea, sees the warm promise ov the grape, and forgettin the holy
memrys ov the land ov song, grinds the smilin vintage into wine and
maiks a happy bargin.
You can meet him in Constanternopel, makin up in grimace what he lacks
in langwidge, spreadin a plaster with hiz tounge, for the man ov
Mahomet.
Go where you will, from the numb palsied North tew the swetting
limberness ov the South, from the top ov earth's mornin tew half past
eleven at night, and the everlastin Yankee you will find, either
vehement in an argue, or purswazive in a swop.
Hiz religion iz praktikal; he mourns over the heathen, and iz reddy tew
save them by the job.
He luvs liberty with a red pepper enthuziasm, and fully beleafs Nu
England kan whip the universe.
If the phlegmatick Englishman brags about roast beef and hiz ansesters,
Jonathan haz a pumkin pie and a grandpop tew match them.
If the Frenchman grows crazy over a frigazee ov frog's hind legs,
Jonathan pulls out a donut and a Rhode Island greening.
If the dusky Italian talks about the mad vomits ov Vgesuvius, Jonathan
turns in the water power ov Niagara.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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