The Humour of America: Selected, with an Introduction and Index of American Humorists
General
The Humour of America: Selected, with an Introduction and Index of American Humorists
American wit and humor
You know the Connecticut _Blue Laws_ made it death for a priest, meaning
a clergyman of the Church of England, to be found within that State.
Thank heaven, those days are past. “God, liberty, and toleration,”
whether a man prefers a prayer-book to the missal, or the Koran to a
prayer-book, or a single rap at a door to the noise of a dozen.
Adieu.
N.B.—You must keep this letter a profound secret, as we have certain
gentlemen on our side of the Atlantic who would, in imitation of the
noblemen here, disturb their neighbours.
_William Austin._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_A CAPTIVE MAIDEN._
[Illustration: “WHILE PITMAN SEIZED THE SUFFERER BY ONE ARM, I GRASPED
THE OTHER.”]
IT is extremely probable that we shall lose our servant-girl. She was
the victim of a very singular catastrophe a night or two since, in
consequence of which she has acquired a prejudice against the house of
Adeler. We were troubled with dampness in our cellar, and in order to
remove the difficulty we got a couple of men to come and dig the earth
out to the depth of twelve or fifteen inches, and fill it in with a
cement and mortar floor. The material was, of course, very soft, and the
workmen laid boards upon the surface, so that access to the furnace and
the coal-bin was possible. That night, just after retiring, we heard a
woman screaming for help; but after listening at the open window, we
concluded that Cooley and his wife were engaged in an altercation, and
so we paid no more attention to the noise. Half-an-hour afterwards there
was a violent ring at the front door bell, and upon going to the window
again I found Pitman standing upon the door-step below. When I spoke to
him he said—
“Max,”—the judge is inclined sometimes, especially during periods of
excitement, to be unnecessarily familiar,—“there’s somethin’ wrong in
your cellar. There’s a woman down there screechin’ and carryin’ on like
mad. Sounds ’s if somebody’s a-murderin’ her.”
I dressed and descended; and securing the assistance of Pitman, so that
I would be better prepared in the event of burglars being discovered, I
lighted a lamp and we went into the cellar.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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