FASHION – FURY – FELLOW – FUN – FUSS – FLUNKY – FRETS – FITS – FINIS

FASHION

Fashion is a goddess.

She iz ov the maskuline, feminine and nuter gender.

Men worship her in her maskuline form – wimmin in her feminine form, and the excentricks in her nuter gender.

She rules the world with a straw, and makes all her suppliants.

She enslaves the poor az well az the ritch, she kneels in sanktuarys, pomps in cabins, and leers at the street korners.

She fits man’s foot with a pinching boot, throttles him with a stubborn collar, and dies his mustash with darkness.

She trails the ritch silks ov wimmin along the filthy sidewalks, leads sore-eyed lap-dogs with a string, and banishes helpless children to murky nurserys, in the kare ov faithless hirelings.

She cheats the excentric with the clap-trap of fredom, and makes him serve her in the habiliments ov the harlequin.

Yea, verily.

FUN

Fun is the soul’s vent.

Fun iz whare the kruditys eskape, where she kiks up her heels, and runs snorting around the lot, unhaltered, and az eager az an eskaped konvikt.

Fun iz a safety-valve that lets the steam preshure oph from the biler, and keeps things from bussting.

Fun iz the dansing particles, which fli oph from the surface ov unbottled cider, it iz the senseless frolik ov the spring lam in the clover, it iz the merry twinkle that kreeps down tew the korner ov the parson’s eye, to stand in the sunlite, and see what’s going on.

Fun iz az karliss az a kolt, az happy az a bridegroom, and az silly az a luv-sik skool-girl.

Fun iz the holy day wisdum ov the sage, the phools pholly, and everyboddys puppet.

Next tew the virtew in this world, the fun in it iz what we kan least spare.

Truly! O! truly!

FRET

Fret iz a kanker, a gangreene, a blister, a bile, salt on a sore place, and a sliver everywhare.

Fret iz frickshun, a dull lancet, a gimblet.

Fret makes a yung man ackt like an old one, and an old man ackt like a yung one.

Fret iz a grind stun, whare he holds hiz noze on, haz tew do hiz own turning.

Fret haz burnt more holes thru a man’s koppers that all the other hot things, it haz killed az often az the doktors hav, and iz az lawless, and senseless, az a goose.

Fret makes the husband a tyrant, the wife a plague, the child a nuisance, an old maid terrible, and a bachelor disgusting.

Fret makes home a prizon, and puts teeth into the gums ov all life’s misfortunes.

I bet! thou bet! he, she, or it, bets!

FURY

Fury iz the tornado ov the inner man, a thunder shower, a blak kloud phull ov litening, a tiger out ov hiz kage, a maniak armed, a bull in fli time.

Fury knows no law only its strength, like a rocket, it whizzes till it busts, and when it haz bust, like a rocket, it iz but a senseless and burnt reed.

Fury iz the argument ov tyrants, and the revenge ov the embecile, the courage ov the kat, and the glowing embers ov dispair.

Fury makes the hornet respektabel, and the pissmire a laffing stok, it makes the eagle allmoste human, and clothes the little wren, battling for her brood, with a halo sublime.

Indeed! indeed!

FITS

Fits are the moral tumblings ov man’s natur, the bak summersets ov hiz disposishun, the flying trapez ov the kritter himself.

Fits prompt him tew klimb a greast pole, tew fite a wind mill at short range, to go too near a mule’s heels, and to make a kussid phool ov himself generally.

Fits taketh a man bi the end ov hiz noze, and leadeth him into bak lots.

Fits hav no conshience, and no judgment.

Fits jerk a man from the path ov duty, they knok him krazy at noontime, they seize him at twilite, and twist him arly in the morning.

Sum men, and sum wimmen, are good only in fits, and bad only in fits, when they haint got a fit they are unfit for ennything.

Yes, i think so.

FUSS

Fuss iz like an old setting hen when she cums oph from her nest.

Fuss iz like kold water dropt into hot grease – it sputters, and sputters, and then sputters agin.

Fuss iz haff-sister to Hurry, and neither ov them kant do enny thing without gitting in their own way and stepping on themselfs.

Thare iz more fuss in this world than thare iz hurry, and thare iz a thousand times more ov either ov them than thare iz ov dispatch.

Fuss works hard all day, and don’t do enny thing, goes to bed tired at night, then gits up next morning, and begins agin whare she left oph.

Oh, dear! whi iz this sutch.

FELLOW

A fellow iz like a bottle ov ginger pop that haz stood six hours with the kork out, in a warm room – it ain’t ginger nor it ain’t pop.

A fellow iz a hybrid; he hain’t got enny more karakter than a drizzly day haz, he iz every boddy’s cuzzin, and hangs around like a lost dog.

He iz often clever, and that iz jist what ruins him. A clever phellow iz wuss oph than a mulatto.

I am sorry for this – i am aktually sad.

FLUNKEY

Flunkeys are just abuv loafers, and just belo fellows.

They ain’t maskuline, feminine, nor nuter – they are just human dough.

They hav the currage ov a spring chicken, the ferocity ov a kricket, the combativness ov a grasshopper, and the bakbone ov an angleworm.

They are human dough made to order, and baked az yu choose.

Ain’t it orful?

FINIS

Finis iz the end ov all things – the happyest place in the whole job.

All things on arth hav an end to them, and i kant think ov but phew things now that hain’t got two.

A ladder haz two ends to it, and the surest way tew git to the top ov it iz tew begin at the bottom.

Finis iz the best and only friend that menny a man in this world ever haz, and sum day Finis will be the autokrat ov the universe.

Bully for yu, Finis.

THE NU FOUNDLAND AND THE TARRIER

Dogs are one ov the luxurys ov civilizashun.

In uncivilized life they perhaps are more one ov the necessitys, az they quite often are cooked, and eaten whole.

Among the civilized, if they ever do git onto a bill ov fare, (ov which i have mi own private doubts,) they are more artisktly handled, and enter into hash, or sassage, not az the leading artikle, but more tew kreate a good average.

But i am not now disposed to treat ov dogs az vittles, but as the companyun ov man, hiz pet, and hiz partner.

The Nu foundland dog iz a natiff ov the place whare the nobel kodfish iz kaught.

He dont liv in the water, like the kodfish, but unlike the kodfish, livs on the land.

Hiz principal amuzement iz saving life, and i am told that thare iz hardly a man, or a woman, in all Nu foundland, but what haz had their lives saved several times by these wonderful dogs.

They are taken from Nu foundland to various parts ov the world, and are kept for the purpose ov dragging the drowning from a watery grave.

Yu will find them in mountaneous countrys, whare thare aint enny water, but little brooks. Here they dont hav mutch to do, in their line ov bizzness, and git verry fatt.

But i am told, that even here, they dont forget their natur, and kan often be seen looking down into the wells, after drowning men.

This shows the grate power ov instinkt, and the force ov bizzness habits, alwus looking for a job.

I never hav had mi life saved by one ov theze nobel kritters, but am reddy tew hav it done, at enny time, at the usual rates.

Life iz sweet, and it iz cheaper tew hav it saved by a dog than by a doktor.

But these dogs are all hydropaths, and thare iz sum pholks so kussid sentimental that they had rather die than be doktered bi ennything else than an old skool allopath.

I am just phool enuff, if I waz in the pond, just at the pint ov deth on ackount ov too mutch water, and thare waz a Nufoundland dog standing on the shore out ov a job, I should let him handle the case, rather than send four miles for a regular dokter.

I may be all wrong in this, but if the dog hauled me out all right, I should hav time tew repent ov mi blunder, and next time send for a physician with a diploma.

It iz never too late tew repent ov a blunder, not if you hav got plenty ov time on hand that you don’t kno what to do with.

I never hav owned a Nufoundland dog, but just az soon as i git able tew board one, without skrimping mi family, i mean to buy one, or borro one, just for hiz board.

I don’t know ov ennything more magnificent than tew hav a grate illustrious Nufoundland dog tew follow yu in a mountaneous country.

I liv at Pordunk (the home ov the Billings family) and Pordunk iz not a wet place.

Thare iz sum good wells thare, and two grocerys, but the water priviliges at Pordunk are used only az a beverage.

Thare iz only one Nufoundland dog now at Pordunk, and i think the town would support two.

I don’t suppose i should hav work enuff tew keep one ov theze nobel animals bizzy hauling drowning men out ov wells, but in the spring ov the year, after the gardens waz made, i could lend him out tew the nabors tew run in the gardens.

I don’t kno ov enny thing better tew keep the angleworms, and early lettiss, and beets out ov a garden than a full-grown Nufoundland pup.

It iz nothing but phun tew giv them a kalf-skin boot, and turn them out into a nu-made garden, and see them kick up their heels, stir up the garden, and jerk the boot.

I am almoste krazy tew hav a Nufoundland dog.

THE RAT TARRIER

Theze dear little pets ov the dog perswashun are natiffs ov the ile ov Grate Brittain.

They are born there with grate precision and purity ov karakter, hav a pedigree az klean az the queen’s, and as free from spots az a nu tin dipper.

A rat tarrier who could ketch 97 rats a day, with a rust on his pedigree, ain’t worth only haff az mutch in market az one with a pure set ov ansestors, who couldn’t ketch only 43 rats.

It iz hard work for a kussed phool tew see this, but it takes edukashun tew see theze things.

A man without edukashun kan stand out doors in a klear night and count the moon, and he won’t see enny thing but a grate chunk ov light sumthing bigger than a kartwheel.

But you let an edukated man stan out there by his side, and he kan see turnpikes, and toll gates, and torch-lite proceshuns, and wimmin’s rites convenshuns, and municipal rings, and koporashun thieving in it.

Edukashun iz bully.