6. VI.
THE SERENADE.
Things in our town is workin'. The canal boat
“Lucy Ann” called in here the other day and reported
all quiet on the Wabash. The “Lucy Ann” has
adopted a new style of Binnakle light, in the shape
of a red-headed gal who sits up over the compass.
It works well.
The artist I spoke about in my larst has returned
to Philadelphy. Before he left I took his lily-white
hand in mine. I suggested to him that if he could
induce the citizens of Philadelphy to believe it
would be a good idea to have white winder-shutters
on their houses and white door-stones, he might
make a fortin. “It's a novelty,” I added, “and may
startle 'em at fust, but they may conclood to adopt
it.”
As several of our public men are constantly being
surprised with serenades, I concluded I'd be surprised
in the same way, so I made arrangements
accordin'. I asked the Brass Band how much
they'd take to take me entirely by surprise with a
serenade. They said they'd overwhelm me with a unexpected
honor for seven dollars, which I excepted.
I wrote out my impromtoo speech severil days
beforehand, bein' very careful to expunge all ingramatticisms
and payin' particler attention to the
punktooation. It was, if I may say it without egitism,
a manly effort, but, alars! I never delivered it,
as the sekel will show you. I paced up and down
the kitcin speakin' my piece over so as to be entirely
perfeck. My bloomin' young daughter Sarah
Ann, bothered me summut by singin', “Why do
summer roses fade?”
“Because,” said I, arter hearin' her sing it about
fourteen times, “because it's their biz! Let 'em fade.”
“Betsy,” said I, pausin' in the middle of the
room and letting my eagle eye wander from the
manuscrip; “Betsy, on the night of this here serenade,
I desires you to appear at the winder dressed
in white, and wave a lily-white hankercher. D'ye
hear?”
“If I appear,” said that remarkable female, “I
shall wave a lily-white bucket of bilin' hot water,
and somebody will be scalded. One bald-heded old
fool will get
his share.”
She refer'd to her husband. No doubt about it
in my mind. But for fear she might exasperate me
I said nothin'.
The expected night cum. At 9 o'clock precisely
there was sounds of footsteps in the yard, and the
Band struck up a lively air, which when they did
finish it, there was cries of “Ward! Ward!” I
stept out onto the portico. A brief glance showed
me that the assemblage was summut mixed. There
was a great many ragged boys, and there was
quite a number of grown-up persons evigently
under the affluence of the intoxicatin' bole. The
Band was also drunk. Dr. Schwazey, who was
holdin' up a post, seemed to be partic'ly drunk—so
much so that it had got into his spectacles, which
were staggerin' wildly over his nose. But I was in
for it, and I commenced:
“Feller Citizens: For this onexpected honor—”
Leader of the Band.—Will you give us our
money now, or wait till you git through?
To this painful and disgustin' interruption I paid
no attention.
“—for this onexpected honor I thank you.”
Leader of the Band.—But you said you'd give us
seven dollars if we'd play two choons.
Again I didn't notice him, but resumed as follows:
“I say I thank you warmly. When I look at this
crowd of true Americans, my heart swells—”
Dr. Schwazey.—So do I!
A voice.—We all do!
“—my heart swells—”
A voice.—Three cheers for the swells.
“We live,” said I, “in troublous times, but I
hope we shall again resume our former proud position,
and go on in our glorious career!”
Dr. Schwazey.—I'm willin' for one to go on in a
glorious career. Will you join me, fellow citizens,
in a glorious career? What wages does a man git
for a glorious career, when he finds himself?
“Dr. Schwazey,” said I sternly, “you are drunk.
You're disturbin' the meetin'.”
Dr. S.—Have you a banquet spread in the house?
I should like a rhynossyross on the half shell, or
a hippopotamus on toast, or a horse and wagon
roasted whole. Anything that's handy. Don't put
yourself out on my account.
At this pint the Band begun to make hidyous
noises with their brass horns, and a exceedingly ragged
boy wanted to know if there wasn't to be some
wittles afore the concern broke up? I didn't exactly
know what to do, and was just on the pint of
doin' it, when a upper winder suddenly opened and
a stream of hot water was bro't to bear on the disorderly
crowd, who took the hint and retired at
once.
When I am taken by surprise with another serenade,
I shall, among other arrangements, have a
respectful company on hand. So no more from me
to-day. When this you see, remember me.
