Back Humorous Stories and Sketches Save as PDF
Chapters (12)
  1. Title Page
  2. Bibliographical Note
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Note
  5. The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County
  6. Journalism in Tennessee
  7. About Barbers
  8. A Literary Nightmare
  9. The Stolen White Elephant
  10. The Private History of a Campaign that Failed
  11. Fenimore Cooper’s Literary Offences
  12. How to Tell a Story

“Mark, are you sick? I never saw a man look so haggard and worn and absent-minded. Say something; do!”

Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said: “Punch, brothers, punch with care! Punch in the presence of the passenjare!”

My friend eyed me blankly, looked perplexed, then said,—

“I do not think I get your drift, Mark. There does not seem to be any relevancy in what you have said, certainly nothing sad; and yet—maybe it was the way you said the words—I never heard anything that sounded so pathetic. What is”—

But I heard no more. I was already far away with my pitiless, heart-breaking “blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, pink trip slip for a three-cent fare; punch in the presence of the passenjare.” I do not know what occurred during the other nine miles. However, all of a sudden Mr. - laid his hand on my shoulder and shouted,—

“Oh, wake up! wake up! wake up! Don’t sleep all day! Here we are at the Tower, man! I have talked myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never got a response. Just look at this magnificent autumn landscape! Look at it! look at it! Feast your eyes on it! You have traveled; you have seen boasted landscapes elsewhere. Come, now, deliver an honest opinion. What do you say to this?”

I sighed wearily, and murmured,—

“A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare, punch in the presence of the passenjare.”

Rev. Mr. - stood there, very grave, full of concern, apparently, and looked long at me; then he said,—

“Mark, there is something about this that I cannot understand. Those are about the same words you said before; there does not seem to be anything in them, and yet they nearly break my heart when you say them. Punch in the—how is it they go?”

I began at the beginning and repeated all the lines. My friend’s face lighted with interest. He said,—

“Why, what a captivating jingle it is! It is almost music. It flows along so nicely. I have nearly caught the rhymes myself. Say them over just once more, and then I’ll have them, sure.”