Volume VI Part 19 (1/2)
The secret of my fortune lies In one small fact, which I may state, Too many tradesmen learn too late, If I have goods, I advertise.
Then people come And people go In constant streams, For people know That he who has good wares to sell Will surely advertise them well; And proudly I reiterate, I am an advertiser great!
THE FAMOUS MULLIGAN BALL
BY FRANK L. STANTON
Did ever you hear of the Mulligan ball--the Mulligan ball so fine, Where we formed in ranks, and danced on planks, and swung 'em along the line?
Where the first Four Hundred of the town moved at the music's call?
There was never a ball in the world at all--like the famous Mulligan ball!
Town was a bit of a village then, and never a house or shed From street to street and beat to beat was higher than Mulligan's head!
And never a theater troup came round to 'liven us, spring or fall, And so Mulligan's wife she says, says she: ”Plaze G.o.d, I'll give a ball!”
And she did--G.o.d rest her, and save her, too! (I'm liftin' to her my hat!) And never a ball at all, at all, was half as fine as that!
Never no invitations sent--nothin' like that at all; But the whole Four Hundred combed their hair and went to the Mulligan ball.
And ”Take yer places!” says Mulligan, ”an' dance till you shake the wall!”
And I led Mrs. Mulligan off as the lady that gave the ball; And we whirled around till we shook the ground, with never a stop at all; And I kicked the heels from my boots--please G.o.d--at the famous Mulligan ball.
Mulligan jumped till he hit the roof, and the head of him went clean through it!
The s.h.i.+ngles fell on the floor pell-mell! Says Mulligan: ”Faith, I knew it!”
But we kept right on when the roof was gone, with never a break at all; We danced away till the break o' day at the famous Mulligan ball.
But the best of things must pa.s.s away like the flowers that fade and fall, And it's fifty years, as the records say, since we danced at Mulligan's ball; And the new Four Hundred never dance like the Mulligans danced--at all, And I'm longing still, though my hair is gray, for a ball like Mulligan's ball!
And I drift in dreams to the old-time town, and I hear the fiddle sing; And Mulligan sashays up and down till the rafters rock and ring!
Suppose, if I had a woman's eye, maybe a tear would fall For the old-time fellows who took the prize at the famous Mulligan ball!
THE GENIAL IDIOT DISCUSSES THE MUSIC CURE
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS
”Good morning, Doctor,” said the Idiot as Capsule, M.D., entered the dining-room. ”I am mighty glad you've come. I've wanted for a long time to ask you about this music cure that everybody is talking about and get you if possible to write me out a list of musical nostrums for every day use. I noticed last night before going to bed that my medicine chest was about run out. There's nothing but one quinine pill and a soda-mint drop in it, and if there's anything in the music cure I don't think I'll have it filled again. I prefer Wagner to squills, and compared to the delights of Mozart, Hayden and Offenbach those of paregoric are nit.”
”Still rambling, eh?” vouchsafed the Doctor. ”You ought to submit your tongue to some scientific student of dynamics. I am inclined to think, from my own observation of its ways, that it contains the germ of perpetual motion.”
”I will consider your suggestion,” replied the Idiot. ”Meanwhile, let us consult harmoniously together on the original point. Is there anything in this music cure, and is it true that our Medical Schools are hereafter to have conservatories attached to them in which aspiring young M.D.'s are to be taught the _materia musica_ in addition to the _materia medica_?”
”I had heard of no such idiotic proposition,” returned the Doctor. ”And as for the music cure I don't know anything about it. Haven't heard everybody talking about it, and doubt the existence of any such thing outside of that mysterious realm which is bounded by the four corners of your own bright particular cerebellum. What do you mean by the music cure?”