The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley — Volume 10Riley, James Whitcomb
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The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley — Volume 10
Riley, James Whitcomb
American essays; American poetry; Short stories, American
"Then your apples all is getherd, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage,
too! . . .
I don't know how to tell it--but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on ME--
I'd want to 'commodate 'em-all the whole-indurin' flock--
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!"
That was enough! "Surely," thought I, "here is a
diamond in the rough, and a 'gem,' too, 'of purest
ray serene'!" I caught the old man's hand and
wrung it with positive rapture; and it is needless to
go further in explanation of how the readers of our
daily came to an acquaintance through its columns
with the crude, unpolished, yet most gentle genius of
Benj. F. Johnson, of Boone.
THE OLD SOLDIER'S STORY
AS TOLD BEFORE THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY IN NEW
YORK CITY
Since we have had no stories to-night I will
venture, Mr. President, to tell a story that I
have heretofore heard at nearly all the banquets I
have ever attended. It is a story simply, and you
must bear with it kindly. It is a story as told by
a friend of us all, who is found in all parts of all
countries, who is immoderately fond of a funny
story, and who, unfortunately, attempts to tell a
funny story himself--one that he has been particularly
delighted with. Well, he is not a story-teller,
and especially he is not a funny story-teller. His
funny stories, indeed, are oftentimes touchingly
pathetic. But to such a story as he tells, being a
good-natured man and kindly disposed, we have to
listen, because we do not want to wound his feelings
by telling him that we have heard that story a
great number of times, and that we have heard it
ably told by a great number of people from the time
we were children. But, as I say, we can not hurt his
feelings. We can not stop him. We can not kill him;
and so the story generally proceeds. He selects a very old story
always, and generally tells it in about
this fashion:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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