The Complete Works of Josh Billings

“Good morning, old mother Industry, good morning!” sed the grassbug. “A fine cernal ov wheat that, yu are rooling in!

“Hav yu heard the grate news?

“Dredfull sharp frost last night!

“Winter will soon set in, i reckon!

“I herd the owls hute last nite!

“Terribel bad acksident on the Harlem road yesterday!

“When dew yu think specie payments will be took up?

“Thare! mi pipe haz gone out, kant yu lend me a match?

“How menny aunts hav yu got in yure village?

“Enny sickness amungst them?

“I wonder if thare iz enny truth in the dispatch, that the pissmires, down on Sandy Creek, hav all struck for higher wages?

“Who do yu think yure ants will vote for for justiss ov the peace?

“What iz yure sold opinyun ov the new license law, will it make rum enny skarser?

“Do yu buy enny grocerys ov old Ferguson, i hope not, he iz a mean old skinflinter, he sold me, only last week, a peace ov bar sope, for sum beeswax.

“The world iz gitting more full ov wussness every day!

“I wonder if thare iz enny truth in what every boddy sez, about old Square Benson, that he kant pay, only now and then sum ov hiz dets!

“Do yu see much ov the krickets now a days?

“I should really like tew kno how they are gitting along; rather tuff times for them i guess, yu don’t think they will winter, do yu?

“When duz the moon change now days?

“Hav yu got enny onion seeds tew spare, that yu kan reckomend?

“Dew yu think England will ever pay the Allabarmer klaims?

“I kant see what makes the cockroaches so stuck up, i met one this morning, and before i could put two civil questions at him he was out ov sight!

“Sum folks are alwus in sich a swetting hurry!

“Aint thare sum good law agin the spiders bilding their webs in the grass?

“How mutch wheat haz yure aunts got laid up; yu must hav sum tew spare?

“I wonder if it wont up and rain, before tommorrow?

“They tell me that maple sugar iz a drug in the market, owing to its peculiar mutchness; yu kant tell, kan yu, whether this iz so or not, i wish yu could!

“Mi opinyun now iz, that he who livs to see next year, will see buckwheat a bigg crop!

“I overheard the older hens say, az i cum past nabor Sherman’s lower barn this morning, that eggs waz gitting a good deal on plenty, and they must git tew work agin!

“Well! i am in an awful hurry, i am going down tew tend a jumping match between Springsteel, and Steelspring, two yung grasshoppers; this iz tew be the last hop ov the seazon.

“I must be a going!

“I am uncommon sorry i kant stay longer, and make yu a good visit.

“By the way! Old mother Industry, i hav got a profound sekret, that i want to tell yu, but i wouldn’t hav it known bi ennyboddy, for awl the world, if it should git out once, it would ruin me!”

“Then keep the sekret yureself,” spoke the ant, “it iz worth more to yu than ennyboddy else.”

This iz every word the bizzy old ant sed, but kept her eye all the time on the phatt keernel ov wheat and the loafing grasshopper moved off, whistling “Sally cum up.”

REMARKS

This iz the way with all loafers, if they kant steal yure time with idle questions, their last dodge iz to steal yure credulity with an idle sekret.

A HEN

A hen is a darn phool, they was born so bi natur.

When natur undertakes tew make a phool, she hits the mark the fust time.

Most all the animile kritters hav instinkt, which is wuth more to them than reason would be, for instinkt don’t make enny blunders.

If the animiles had reason, they would akt just as ridikilus as we men folks do.

But a hen don’t seem tew hav even instinkt, and was made expressly for a phool.

I hav seen a hen fly out ov a good warm shelter, on the 15th ov January, when the snow was 3 foot high, and lite on the top ov a stun wall, and coolly set thare, and freeze tew deth.

Noboddy but a darn phool would do this, unless it was tew save a bet.

I hav saw a human being do similar things, but they did it tew win a bet.

To save a bet, is self-preservashun, and self-preservashun, is the fust law ov natur, so sez Blakstone, and he is the best judge ov law now living.

If i couldn’t be Josh Billings, i would like, next in suit tew be Blakstone, and compoze sum law.

Thare iz one law i would compoze, which iz this, “no yung snob shall walk on 5th avenew on the Sabbath day, and twitch hiz hat oph more than two times, on each block, to persons on the opposite side ov the street, whom he dont kno, and who dont know him.”

I would hav this law compozed in brass, and send a coppy ov it to all the bar tenders, and cigar shop clerks, in the city.

This would soon put a stop tew this kind ov snobosity.

But notwithstanding all this, a hen continues tew be a darn phool.

I like all kinds ov phools, they cum nearer tew filling their destiny than ennyboddy i kno ov.

They don’t never make enny blunders, but tend rite tew bizzness.

The principal bizzness, ov an able boddyed hen, iz tew lay eggs, and when she haz laid 36 ov them, then she iz ordained tew set still on them, until they are born, this iz the way yung hens fust see life.

The hen haz tew spred herself pretty well tew cover 36 eggs, but i hav seen her do it, and hatch out 36 yung hens.

When a hen fust walks out, with 36 yung hens supporting her, the party looks like a swarm ov bumble bees.

Thare aint nothing phoolish in all this, but yu put 36 white stuns, under this same hen, and she will set thare till she hatches out the stones.

I hav seen them do this too – i dont wish tew say, that i hav seen them hatch out the stones, but i hav seen them set on the stones, untill i left that naberhood, which waz two years ago, and i dont hesitate tew say, the hen iz still at work, on that same job.

Noboddy but a phool would stik tew bizzness az cluss az this.

Hens are older than Methuseler, and gro older till they die.

Now I dont want it understood, that enny one hen ken, kan commense life, with the usual kapital, and live 999 years.

This waz the exact age ov Methuseler, if I have been informed correktly.

I simply want tew be understood, that hens (az a speciality) laid, cackled, and sot a long time before Methuseler did.

After reading this last statement over agin, i dont kno az i make myself fluently understood yet.

I dont undertake tew say, that Mr. Methuseler, cackled, and sot, what i want tew prove, iz the fakt, that hens were here, and doing bizzness in their line, before Methuseler waz.

Now I hav got it.

Thare iz one thing about a hen that looks like wisdum, they don’t cackle mutch untill after they have laid their egg.

Sum pholks are alwus a bragging, and a cackling, what they are going tew do before-hand.

A hen will set on one egg just az honest az she will set on 36 eggs, but a hen with one chicken iz always a painful sight tew me.

I never knu an only chicken do fust rate, the old hen spiles them waiting on them, and then it tires out the old hen, more than 36 chickens would.

I think this rule works both ways, among poultry, and among other pholks.

I have seen a hen set on 36 duck eggs, and hatch the whole ov them out, and then try tew learn them tew skratch in the garden.

But a ducks phoot aint bilt right for skratching in the ground, it iz better composed for skratching in the water.

When the young ducks takes tew the water, it iz melankolly, and hart brakeing, tew see the old hen, stand on the brim ov the mil pond, and wring her hands, and holler tew the ducks, tew come right strate out ov that water, or they will all git drowned.

I have seen this did too, but i never see the ducks come out till they got reddy, nor never see a young duck git drowned.

Yu kant drown a young duck, they will stand az mutch water az a sponge will.

One egg, per diem, iz all that a hen ought to lay, espeshily nu beginner, but there iz sum smart writers on the subjekt, who claim they ought tew lay two.

This needs more testimony.

Az an artikle ov diet, thare is but phew things that surpass cooked hen, if eaten in the days ov their youth and innosense, but after they git old, and kross, they kontrakt a habit ov eating tuff.

After thinking the thing over, and over, and over, I am still prepared tew say, that a hen is a darn phool, ennyhow you kan fix it.

I don’t speak of this as enny disgrace two the hen, it only shows that natur dont even make a phool without a destiny.

Az long as hens phill their destiny, eggs won’t git tew be worth over 25 cents a dozen, and broiled chicken will be one ov the luxurys ov life.

Thare iz grate proffit, and sum loss, in razeing chickens, the loss iz the heavyest when sum boddy brakes into the chicken coop, and steals all the chickens.

Thare iz a grate menny breeds ov hens, just now, but the old-fashioned speckled hen breed iz the most flattering.

After they hav laid an egg, they aint afraid tew say so, and kan outkackle all other breeds ov hens, and when yu come tew scratching up a garden, they are wuth two ov enny other kind.

I dont kno ov enny sight that pleases me more than tew see an old speckled hen cum sputtering oph from her nest and pitch, feet fust, into a new made garden.

I suppoze if I owned the garden this thing might not look so phunny tew me, but yu see, I dont own enny garden.

I belong tew that misfortunate klass ov real estate men who dont own enny garden, and I have sumtimes wondered if it want just about az proffitable for me tew enjoy the skratching up ov the garden, and let them other folks who own the hens and the garden do their own gitting mad and swearing.

THE GOTE

The gote iz a koarse wollen sheep.

They hav a split hoof and a whole tail.

They hav a good appetite, and a sanguine digestion.

They swallo what they eat, and will eat ennything they kan bite.

Their moral karakters are not polished, they had rather steal a rotten turnip, out ov a garbage-box, than tew cum honestly bi a pek ov oats.

The male gote haz two horns on the ridge ov hiz hed, and a mustash on hiz bottom lip, and iz the plug ugly ov hiz naberhood.

A maskuline gote will fite ennything, from an elephant down to hiz shadder on a ded wall.

They strike from their but-end, insted ov the shoulder, and are az likely tew hit, az a hammer iz a nailhed.

They are a hi seazoned animal, az mutch so az a pound ov assifidity.

They are faithful critters, and will stick tew a friend az long az he livs in a shanty.

They kan klime ennything but a greast pole, and kno the way up a rock, az natral az a woodbine.

They are az certain tew raize az yung ones, sum familys are haff gotes, and the other haff children. They are good eating when they are yung, but they leave it oph az they git stronger.

They are alwus poor in the boddy, but phatt in the stumick, what they eat seems to all go to appetight, yu mite az well agree tew phatt an injun rubber over shew bi filling it with klam shells, az tew raize enny adipoze membrane on the outside bust ov a gote.

A phatt gote would be a literary curiosity.

They use the same dialekt az the sheep, and the yung ones speak the language more fluently than the parients do.

Thare iz only two animals ov the earth that will eat tobakko – one iz a man and tuther iz a gote, but the gote understands it the most, for he swallers the spit, chaw and all.

The male gote, when he iz pensiv, iz a venerable and philosophy looking old cuss, and wouldn’t make a bad proffessor ov arithmetik in sum ov our colleges.

They are handy at living a longtime, reaching an advanced age without arriving at enny definite konklusion.

How long a gote livs without giving it up, thare iz no man now old enuff tew tell.

Methuzeler, if hiz memory waz bad at forgetting, mite giv a good-sized guess, but unfortunately for science and this essa, Methuzeler aint here.

Gotes will liv in enny klimate, and on enny vittles, except tanbark, and if they ever cum to a square death, it iz a profound sekret, in the hands of a few, to this day.

I wouldn’t like tew beleave enny man under oath who had ever seen a maskuline gote acktually die, and stay so.

Speaking ov Methuzeler, puts me in mind ov the fackt, if a man should liv now daze, as mutch az he did, and only hav one eye tew see things with, he would hav to hav an addishun bilt onto the back ov hiz head tew sto away things into.

The femail gote iz either the mother, or sister, or cuzzin ov the male gote, ackording tew the prevailing circumstansis in the case, or else i labour under a delusion, i forget witch.

They giv milk intuitively about a quart, before it iz watered, in twelve hours, which iz the subjickt ov nourishment in various ways.

This milk, whitch is extrakted from the female gote, iz excellent tew finish up yung ones on, but is apt to make them bellycose, and fightful.

It iz not unkommon for a babe, while inhaleing this pugnashus fluid, to let oph hiz left colleckshun or diggit and ketch the nurse on the pinnakle ov the smeller, and tap it for claret.

This iz a kommon fakt amung irish babes, and explains the reazon whi, in after life, these same babes make such brilliant hits.

In writing the history ov the male and female gote tew adorn the pages ov futer times, i flatter miself that i hav stuck tew the truth, and haven’t allowed mi imaginashun tew boss the job.

A grate menny ov our best bilt historians are apt tew mistake opinyuns for facts, this iz an eazy mistake tew make, but when i strike a goose, or bed bugg, or gote, yu notis one thing, i stay with them. – Finis.

GOOSE TALK

The goose is a grass-animal but don’t chaw her cud.

They are good livers; about one aker to a goose iz enuff, altho there iz sum folks who thinks one goose tew 175 akers, iz nearer right.

These two calculations are so fur apart, it iz difficult tew tell now, which will finally win.

But i don’t think, if i had a farm ov 175 akers, awl paid for, that i would sell it for half what it was worth, just bekauze it didn’t hav but one goose on it. Geese stay well; sum ov our best biographers say, 70 years, and grow tuff tew the last.

They lay one egg at once, about the size of a goose egg in which the gosling lies hidd.

The gosling iz the goose’s babe.

The goose don’t suckle hiz young, but turns him out tew pasture on sumboddy’s vacant lot.

They seem tew lack wisdum, but are considered generally sound on the goose.

They are good eating, but not good chawing; the reason ov this remains a profound sekret to this day.

When the femail goose iz at work hatching, she iz a hard bird tew please; she riles clear up from the bottom in a minnit, and will fight a yoke ov oxen, if they show her the least bit ov sass. The geese iz excellent for feathers, which she sheds every year by the handful.

They are also amphibicuss, besides several other kinds ov cuss.

But they are mostly cureiss about one thing: they kan haul one leg up into their body, and stand on tuther, awl day, and not tutch ennything with their hands.

I take notis, thare ain’t but darn few men kan dew this.

“THE CLAM.”

The clam iz a bulbous plant, and resides on the under side ov the water. He iz born az the birds are, but don’t cum out ov his shell. He iz deserted by his parents at a young and tender age, but don’t bekum clamarous on this akount, but sits still, and keeps watch with hiz mouth, for sumthin tew cum along.

Hiz temper iz sed tew be cold and clammy, but he must hav a relish for sumthing, for hiz mouth waters aul the time.

Thare iz nothing more docile than the clam, and altho they sumtimes git into a stew, they are az eazy tew lay yure hand on, and ketch, az a stun, but they are like an injun, not very talky; they hav got an impediment in their noize; their lips open with too much titeness, and their mouth iz tew full ov tongue tew be glib.

Clams were fust diskovered, az the meazles waz, by being caught. How long a clam kan live I don’t beleaf they kan tell themselfs, probably 5 thousand years, but a large share ov this time iz wasted; a clam’s time aint worth mutch, only tew grow tuff in; it is jiss so with sum other folks I kno ov.

SNAILS, SNAIKS, AND BABYS

The slowest gaited animal on the face ov the earth iz the snail.

They are one ov the phew who take their house with them, when they go away from home.

Snails are sed tew be delikate eating, but if i kan hav all the hash i want, i will try and struggle along without any snail. You kant phool me with hash, I kno how that iz made, but i don’t kno how snail are put together. Ignorance iz sed tew be bliss, and i hav often thought that it waz, and if i don’t never kno how snails taste, i don’t think now i shall repent ov it.

It haz always been a source ov mutch doubt with me, in mi hours ov contemplashun, which waz made fust, the snail or hiz shell, but if i don’t know even this, i don’t mean tew git mad about it.

I hav grate phaith in enny job that natur turns out, and i had rather hav phaith than knowledge, it saves a grate deal ov hard work. It costs a grate deal to kno all about things, and then yu ain’t certain, but phaith iz cheap, and don’t make enny blunders.

Science iz smart, but she kant tell yu what makes the flowers blush so menny different colors, but phaith can. Science on a deth bed iz a pigmy, but phaith iz a giant.

STRIPED SNAKE

The striped snake iz one ov the slipperyest jobs that natur ever turned loose.

They travel on the lower side ov themselfs, and kan slip out ov sight like blowing out a kandle. They were made for sum good purpose, but i never hav bin informed for what, unless it waz tew hav their heds smashed.

They are sed tew be innocent, but they hav got a bad reputashun, and all the innocence in the world won’t kure a bad reputashun.

They liv in the grass but seldom git stept on, bekauze they don’t stay long enuff in the right place.

When i waz a little boy, and wore naked feet, and waz loafing around loose for strawberrys, i waz often times just a going tew step on a striped snaik, but it alwus cured me ov strawberrys.

If a striped snaik got into a 10-aker lot before i did, i alwus konsidered that all the strawberrys in that lot belonged tew the snaik.

“Fust cum, fust sarve,” was mi motto.

I am just az fraid ov snaiks now az i waz 40 years ago, and if i should liv tew be az old az Nebudkennezer waz, and go tew grass as he did, one striped snaik would spile 50 akers ov good pasture for me.

Wimmin don’t luv snaiks enny more than i do, and i respekt her for this.

How on earth Eve waz seduced by a snaik, iz a fust class mistery tew me, and if i hadn’t read it in the bible, i would bet aginst it.

I beleave everything thare iz in the bible, the things i kant understand, I beleave the most.

I wouldn’t swop oph the phaith i hav got for any living man’s knoweledge.

Snaiks are all sorts, and all sizes, and the smaller they are, the more i am afrade ov them.

I wouldn’t buy a farm at haff price that had a striped snaik on it.

Ded snaik are a weakness with me; i always respekt them, and whenever i see a ded one in the road, i dont drop a tear on him, but i drop another stone on him, for fear he might alter his mind and cum tew life agin, for a snaik hates tew die just az much az a kat duz.

I never could ackount for a snaik or a kat hateing tew die so bad, unless it waz bekauze they waz so poorly prepared for deth.

BABYS

Babys i luv with all mi heart; they are mi sweetmeats, they warm up mi blood like a gin sling, they krawl into me and nestle by the side ov mi soul, like a kitten under a cook stove.

I hav raized babys miself, and kno what i am talking about.

I hav got grandchildren, and they are wuss than the fust krop tew riot amung the feelings.

If i could hav mi way, i would change all the human beings now on the face ov the earth back into babys at once, and keep them thare, and make this footstool one grand nussery; but what i should do for wet nusses i don’t kno, nor don’t care.

I would like tew have 15 babys now on mi lap, and mi lap ain’t the handyest lap in the world for babys, neither.

My lap iz long enuff, but not the widest kind ov a lap.

I am a good deal ov a man, but i konsist ov length principally, and when i make a lap ov miself, it iz not a mattrass, but more like a couple ov rails with a jint in them.

I can hold more babys in mi lap at once, than any man in Amerika, without spilling one, but it hurts the babys.

I never saw a baby in mi life that i didn’t want tew kiss; i am wuss than an old maid in this respekt.

I hav seen babys that i hav refused tew kiss untill they had been washt; but the baby want tew blame for this, neither waz i.

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1

“Artemus Ward, His Book,” p. 316.