Every-Day Happenings in Blankest Verse

From The Chicago Record — 1898.

CHICAGO CASTANETS

Through all the moving thoroughfares
And in the contending marts of trade;
Within the babbling magazines and
Even as I rode the surcharged vehicles
Which rolled at dizzy onwardness
Without the impulse of the harnessed steed;
During the waking hours, bewhiles
I battled with the reckless wind
And closed my eyes against the tossing clouds
Of vitrified disturbance, soot, dust,
Tattered papyrus and all the medleyed rubbish
Of the city's ways:
All this time, as I again declare,
And likewise in the night, when I,
In company with highty-ti revelers,
Did run with bunches of anticipation
Toward the gleaming letters far above
The portals of Thespis' temple;
And later yet, when all we creatures of the night
Did seek our warm retreats
To feast on rabbits, explosive salads
And the clammy crabmeat of commerce:
All during this long while, as I do now
Most solemnly and fearfully asseverate,
There came to my ear, with never pause,
A soft and hollow rattle.
At times, methought, twas like the
Spilling of many dead men's bones
In the adjoining vault. Again,
It seemed more like the tapping
Of distant castanets — a dream
Of dark-eyed Spanish women, soiled and superb,
Who moved in jerky measures while
The yellow dust rose to obscure
The fierce colors. But, truth to tell,
'Twas neither. Clickety-click, clickety-click,
I heard it yet again, and I asked:
" Is this some dread distemper of the brain,
Some fungus growth in my imaginings?
Do I alone of mortal men distinguish
This smothered clatter, hidden, elusive? "
When I did full relate my fears
To the good Æsculapius, he said:
" Fear not; 'twas actual sound you heard,
And you are not, as you might well suppose,
Entirely separated from your trolley. "
Continuing, then, with kindly air, he told:
" The tiny rattling sounds which do attend
You and all others in this wintry clime,
Are the concussions of the quinine pellet
Tossing within its pasteboard cage:
For know you well that all men,
Likewise the women and the tender young,
The aged and infirm no more than those
Who claim youth's lusty strength,
The plain and eke the fair,
The rich and humble, frugal and
Improvident, all, all, carry concealed
The potent ammunition of the season;
And as they move upon their daily
Occupations, you hear from underneath
Their woolen garments, toward the Jaeger depths,
Muffled and yet distinct, and always rhythmical,
" Clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click,"
The tattoo of the quinine pellet.
Join all the others — take my solemn tip,
Prepare to meet thine enemy, the grip. "

THE STEWED SAMARITAN

Within a house of public entertainment
There sat an ebon slave close at the foot
Of a heavy chair topping a broad dais.
The man sat motionless, gazing pensive
At nothinness, yet all the while
He thought of numbers. Thus to sit
And think was, so his master averred,
One of the best things he did.
While he was so benumbed and lost
In fruitless meditation, there came,
Stepping heavily and breathing most loud,
A traveler in gay attire, who chanced to be
At this, the period of our simple tale,
The custodian, guard, manager, executor,
Captain, director and immediate chief
Of a comely and well-developed jag.
With a proprietary and assertive air
He climbed into the seat of honor,
And, with thick utterance, and, be it said,
A slack politeness, bade the Senegambian
Remove from his sandals all trace of stain
Or disfiguration. Promptly the youth obeyed,
And when his task was ended
The generous traveler laid within
The dusky palm a silver quartern,
And, with yammering utterance, asked
The simple child of Afric' far transported
To lead him to the barber's velvet seat.
Lying at ease within the odored room.
He slept in peace the while he yet received
Kindly caresses and vapory ablution.
Roused and sent forth, he viewed,
As he stepped high to pass the threshold,
The ebon youth once more contemplative
And talking to himself. " What ho! "
The liquorish pilgrim cried, " What ho!
Attend upon me! Help me to the chair! "
With mercenary speed the youth obeyed;
With honeyed words he answered all the taunts
And alcoholic cracks. Again he cleansed
The scandals, which, ere he began a second time
To cleanse, shone bright as any cuirass.
With simulated humbleness he bowed
As he received once more a silver piece;
Then, with a gentleness which well
Bespoke a tender and a helpful disposition,
He led the traveler back into the shop
And spread him on a chair.
" A shave! " huskily cried the stranger,
Then lapsed he into deep forgetfulness,
Until they shook him rudely and collected.
Now once again behold the jag-ged man,
Palid with powder, reeking with hammamelis,
Seeking, circuitously and with serpentine
Meanderings to find the door leading to the place
Where he could have his sandals cleaned.
" Thrice welcome! " cried the ebon youth, merrily,
Boosting him, meanwhile, to the throne.
What visions filled th' Ethiopian's brain
Of pork chops, chicken, carmine neckwear
And the blood raw! With dreamy eyes
The pilgrim gazed upon the busy slave and tried,
With uncertain effort, to recall where
Or when he had seen that face before.
Thus dimly balmed in thought, he
Closed his eyes and soon thereafter drooped
And rolled most calmly to the floor below.
Now see him, under the brawny arm
Of the Celt, attending as house policeman,
Carried to where the wind blows free;
And the ebon youth sad and regretful,
Philosophizing among the dead embers of hope,
Recalling that in this vale of disappointment
A good thing comes and seems inclined to stay
'Till Fate shows up and chases it away.

A BUSINESS DEAL

An ancient joker, grizzled and half-bald,
With the outward seeming and the attire
Of a devout deacon, and yet possessing
The frolicsome nature of an unbroken colt,
Pushed soft his entrance to a long day coach.
The same, to make the purpose of the tale,
Was well-nigh filled with passengers
Of all degrees. " Where shall I sit? "
Thus asked the ancient joker, for, in truth,
His sweeping glance discovered no place
Vacant. Until at last! Ah, there!
Beside a buxom woman, well removed
From the endangered age of coquetry
And whose condens-ed features made
A chaperon a superfluity, there sat
A dog. The woman and the canine thus
Doubly held down a cushioned seat
Meant for two human beings.
" To stand or not to stand?
That is the question;
Whether 'tis nobler in a man to suffer
The crampy leg aches and the jolty motion
Or to take chances with the heavy female
And oust the dog? "
Not overlong he waited, for he knew
That sweet diplomacy might win a cause
Which harsh attack would lose.
Gently he lifted then the limber brute
And sat he where the dog had sat before,
And to the matron's cold astonishment
He turned a smile, oily and melting
In its sublime benevolence.
Upon his knee he held the dog, stroking,
With unpracticed hand, the wiry coat,
And then he spoke. " Madam, " quoth he.
" Full many a league, in this and foreign lands,
Have I, your servant, wandered,
But never in my wide perambulations
Have I beheld a dog of any breed
More pleasing to my eye than this one. "
'Twas a judicious lie, for well he knew
The cur had neither pedigree nor value.
" Listen! " he said. " In my far-distant home
I have a niece, a dimpled little thing,
Who craves a true companion.
If I could take this dog to her
Methinks I now can hear her cry with joy
And note her glad amazement.
This dog I must possess, and now,
In furtherance of what I most desire,
I offer you one hundred dollars for him. "
Delight and fright worked for supremacy
Within the ample figure of that dame.
Moved by the subtle flattery she was,
And yet alarmed to know that any one
Should covet thus her chief possession.
" Alas, I dare not part with him, " she said.
" My husband loves him. Should I now return
Without the household pet
'Twould wrench his heart. "
" What say you then to fifty dollars more? "
Urged the persistent one. " My niece,
My little, bright-eyed darling relative,
Must have this dog. "
" Tempt me not! " cried the woman.
And speaking thus she gazed
More infinitely fond than e'er before
Upon the fice. " I'll give two hundred. "
" Ah, now, methinks, you play upon my avarice, "
The woman said. " At the next station
I must leave you. Better than life itself
I love this little dog; but then — alack-a-day!
Two hundred takes him! "
" Good! He is mine! One word, however,
Relating to the terms of this transaction.
Two hundred dollars is the price I give,
But not in paltry gold or silver, mind you. "
" What, then? " she asked, and as she spoke
The whistle blew the signal for the station.
" With your permission, madam, I will pay
In Maltese cats worth eighty dollars each. "
Too full of wrath to answer him
She fled, pressing the dear one to her bosom.
The ancient joker watched her mad retreat
And said, " I lose the dog but keep the seat. "
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