The Complete Works of Josh Billings

Hash – A boarding-hous confidence game.

Fuss – An old hen with one chicken.

Twins – 2 mutch.

Boarding-School – A place whare wry coffee and flirtashun iz taught.

Experiment – Energy out ov a job.

Perfection – God in man.

Virtue – That ingredient whitch needs no foil, and without whitch nothing else iz valuabel.

Solitude – A good place tew visit, but a poor place tew stay.

Sloth – Life in a tomb.

Health – A call loan.

Memory – The shadow that the soul casts.

Politeness – Sixty day paper.

Poverty – The only birthright that a man kant lose.

Accidents – The dismay ov phools, the wize man’s barometer.

Ease – Discounted time.

Wealth – Baggage at the risk ov the owner.

Trials – Whetstuns.

Fortune – The aggregate ov possibilitys; a goddess whom cowards count by stealth, but whom brave men take by storm.

Economy – A fust mortgage on wealth.

Enough – Jist a leetle more.

Dignity – Wisdum in tights.

Mischief – The maliss ov fun.

Cook – One who manufakters appetights.

Diseases – The whipping posts and branding irons ov luxury.

Drunkenness – Shame lost and shame found.

Cowardice – Pluck on ice.

Glutton – A man with a drunken appetight.

Examples – Foot prints in the wilderness.

Nunnery – Piety in chains.

Ignorance – Raw happiness.

Sin – A natral distemper, for which virtew haz bin discovered to be an antidote.

Friendship – One ov love’s pimps.

Envy – A disease original with Cain, but which hiz brother Abel afterward caught, and died suddenly ov.

Belle – A female boss ov the situation.

Fancy – The flirtashun ov truth.

Sarcasm – An undertaker in tears.

Sulks – Deff and dum madness.

Courting – A hugg and kiss match, generally a drawn game.

Fiction – A lie with holiday clothes on.

Hen – A lay member.

Law – The shackels ov liberty.

Science – The literature ov truth.

Deceit – A ded wasp with a live tail.

Babys – Dividend.

Miser – A wretch who haz dug out hiz heart tew sto away hiz munny in.

Misfortunes – A band ov vagrants, who liv on what they kan steal.

Spirituolist – A curb stone broker, who sells exchange on Ben Franklin & Co.

Inheritance – Second-hand goods, other people’s leavings.

Ironclads – Vessels ov wrath.

Grave Yard – A small patch ov land, cultivated by the dead, lieing between time and eternity.

Lap Dogs – A nucleus for affeckshun out ov a job.

Society – Burning on an alter natral rights, and then sacredly watching over the ashes.

Jealousy – Self love.

Stingyness – The bran ov economy.

Buck Saw – An instrument ov torture.

Bragadocio – One who pulls hiz own courage by the noze.

Anxiety – Milking a kicking heifer with one hand, and holding her by the tail with the other.

Swearing – The metalic currency ov loafers.

Judicious Benevolence – The brains ov the heart.

Blue Jay – The fop ov the forest.

Policy – “Honesty iz the best policy,” but policy iz not alwus the best honesty.

Bachelor – The hero ov a cot bedstead.

Club Houses – Whare the hen-pecked go tew sware, and smooth out their feathers.

Lie – The cowardice ov truth.

Skunk – An athletick animal, stronger than an elephant.

OWLY

Here we have a batch of immaculate truths from the “Owl Club.”

After the minutes of the last meeting had been read and approved, each “Owl,” as is their custom, lit his cigar, shook out his feathers, and story-telling commenced, the President leading off as usual.

“I never can hear of a man’s gitting his head broke,” said the President, “but I call to mind the wonderful accident that occured at Austin, Texas, twenty years ago.

“A man was thrown from his horse, while riding at full speed into town, and striking against the sharp edge of a potash kettle, which lay beside the road, his head was split down to his collar-bone, each half hanging over his shoulders like a pair ov epaulettes.

“This man was taken up for dead, but recovered, by skillful treatment, and was elected county judge afterward on the strength of this accident.”

“A very good story, and undoubtedly true,” said the Vice-President “Owl,” “but I don’t think it quite so miraculous as the different escapes that Joe French, a friend of mine, a clerk on one of the Mississippi steamboats, has passed safely through.

“His last adventure was on the high-pressure steamer Hurricane.

“As she was passing Natches, on a down trip, she blew up, and filled the air with every kind of fragments.

“Joe was sent up about two hundred and fifty feet, and there being a strong wind at the time, he was carried over onto the center of the city, and fell through the roof of a jewelry store.

“After passing down through three stories of the building, he struck on his feet, by the side of the proprietor of the concern, who demanded five hundred dollars for the damages done to his building.

“‘I can’t pay so much money,’ said Joe, ‘but i will give you two hundred and fifty, and I have often settled for this price before.’”

“Bully for Joe French,” said one of the “Owls.” “But let me tell you a little story about an attorney by the name of Gersh’ Buckley, who practiced law at Burlington, Iowa, a few years ago.

“Gersh had a case, in the county court, which he lost, and in settling with his client was charged by the other attorney with taking less than the customary fees.

“Gersh plead quietly to the charge. ‘But, gentlemen,’ said he, ‘I done all in my power to sustain the honor of the profession, I took all the money the man had.’”

At this point, one of the “Owls,” more noted for his gravity than any of the rest, mounted his perch, and begged to be heard, as follows:

“Talking about steamboats reminds me of a circumstance which occurred on the lower Mississippi, in the year 1840. I had been down to New Orleans and was on my return, having taken passage on the fast side-wheel steamer, Fanny Birch.

“Twenty-five miles up the river we overtook the Memphis Belle, an opposition boat, just leaving a woodyard. Rosin and pine was soon the order ov exercises, and both boats were quickly side by side in a close-contested race.

“Suddenly word was passed along the boat, ‘Man overboard!’

“The captain, rushing aft, inquired of the clerk if the man had paid his passage.

“‘Yes!’ shouted the clerk.

“‘Then go ahead on her, engineer!’ was the captain’s order.”

“Owl” number five plumed his feathers and opened his short but silvery-toned beak, as follows:

“Out in Nevada, during a race week, a rider was thrown from a horse and taken up insensible. As he lay on a stretcher near the judges’ stand many wagers were made among the sporting fraternity present, upon his death or recovery.

“A surgeon present proposed to bleed the boy, but the gamblers interposed, for, they said, it would seriously affect the fairness of the bets.”

“I don’t believe that story,” said “Owl” Number Six: “but here is one which has been in our family for over forty years, and we all know it to be true:

“An old gentleman – who, by the way, was almost entirely deaf, had brought a suit against one of his neighbors, claiming certain damages. The case was one which the justice thought ought not to go to a jury, but should be settled between the parties. He therefore instructed the attorney to ask the old gentleman what he would take to settle the suit. The lawyer, putting his mouth near the deaf man’s ear, said, in a loud tone:

“‘The court wants to know what you will take.’

“Turning his eye blandly toward the judge’s bench, the old gentleman replied:

“‘Thank the squire for me, and tell him I will take a leetle Santy Cruise rum without sugar.’”

“Owl” Number Seven, looking uncommon wise, got off the following:

“Two shad fishermen got into a dispute lately about a fish net, which they both laid claim to, and, as the war of words was reaching its hight, a son of one of the beligerents coming upon the scene, cried out to his venerable parent:

“‘Old man, don’t let him git the start of you —call him a thief and a liar first.’”

“That puts me in mind,” said the next “Owl,” of a story, not at all similar, but more funny I think, than the one we have just listened to.

“Over in Jersey, an honest old Dutchman, who followed gardening for a living, had been to the neighboring town to do a little trading at the stores, and having taken his wife with him, both ov them got unco tight.

“On their way home the old woman fell, out of the wagon, as they were crossing a salt meadow, and was not missed untill the old gent reached home. The neighbors going back to search for the missing wife, found her stuck fast in the mud of the marsh, and talking in a maudlin manner, to the rising tide which had risen up, and just began to play about her lips. ‘Not another drop, hot, nor cold; not another drop, will I take.’”

Owlet.*

PORDUNK VILLAGE

Stranger! hav yu ever been to Pordunk Village, my natiff place?

It iz a dear little lulaby ov a place, sleeping between two small mountains, in the State of Pennsylvania.

It kontains about 1000 souls now, and is watered by goose crik, whitch meanders thru the village az crooked and az lazy az a skool boy, on hiz way tew the distrikt skool hous.

I waz born here, and the ground on whitch the old hous stood, iz thare yet. Mi ancesters are all here too, but they hav retired from bizzness, and are taking their eaze, in the old graveyard ov the little one story church.

The red painted tavern, whare years ago, the townsfolks gathered in, on Saturday nights, to wet their whistles, and brag on their bush beans, and other gardin sass, iz gone, and departed.

And Roger Williams, where iz he?

Roger waz the village blacksmith, and could out argy the parson, on a bit ov skripture, hiz anvil iz still, and he now livs in his new house, with the rest of the old people, just back ov the little one story church.

Whare iz Square Watkins, the justiss of the peace? he knu law, and the stattews, just az eazy az he did the 10 commands, hiz little old offiss, for 50 years unpainted, iz now no more.

No one ov hiz name iz left, he and Roger the blacksmith, lay side by side, just back ov the little one story church, az still az deth kan make them.

Sue Dunham, the crazy woman, I don’t see her! Poor Sue, she waz not alwus welkum, but no one turned her away, a night’s lodgeing no one refused, she was even butiful still, when i waz a boy, but i shrunk from the flash ov her misterious eye.

The old folks knu her story, it waz that sad one, so often told, and so soon forgotten, a mans perfidy.

Sue Dunham raves no more, but in the farther korner, just bak ov the little one story church, whare the ded lay the thikest, lays Sue.

A weep in willow, sown bi aksident, hangs over her grave, and on her hed stone, theze words, almost knawed away bi time, kan be made out, “Sue Dunham, aged 59.”

Parson Powell, who led hiz flok bi the side ov still waters who wet with hallowed drops at christnings, who jined in wedlok, and who asked God to take the departing ones, I miss him too; peacefully he sleeps, just bak ov the little one story church.

Deakon Tucker, who sold sugar bi the pound, and mollassis bi the pint, who delt in whale ile, and bar sope, who kept raizen and razor straps, who could mezzure a yard ov kotton, ov kaliko, tew a thred, and who, 4th ov Julys, sold 3 fire krackers, tew us boys, for a penny, what haz bekum ov the deakon?

Years ago, he fled, not far away, but cluss up tew the back wall ov the little one story church, near to Parson Powell.

An odd phellow waz Ez Farnham, and withal az keen at a trade az a hornet, Them that swopped hosses with Ez once, didn’t hanker tew do it again, he waz honest, but oh! how fatal tew dicker. No one now, in the whole village remember him, he haz gone whare they don’t giv, nor git boot, they put him in the halfaker, just bak ov the little one story church.

Job Pierson iz ded too, and so is Job’s wife, and all ov Job’s sons, and dauters.

I go up, and I go down, the good old village of Pordunk, the people all stare at me, az i stop here and stop thare, to say tew miself, “here it waz that Lige Turner, threw Dave Larkins, 40 years ago, in a wrassle on the village green, and thare stood the old town pump.”

“Here old Beverly, the barber, shaved for three cents a shave, and thare, Burbanks haff soled boots for a quarter.”

“Here – let me see! was it here? Yes Old Mother Benneway sold taffy here, each stick at least 8 inches long, and made out of Deakon Tuckers best Porto Rico molassis.”

“Thare stood the little red skool hous, right thare, it waz the forks ov a road then, it is the korner of a block now.

“Who kan tell me whare Daniel Purdy the skool master lives now, no one! I hav asked a dozen, but no one remember Daniel Purdy.

“It iz a sad thing tew be a skoolmaster, no one ever seems tew kno whare they go when yu miss them. They just seem to depart that’s all. I never knu one tew die, and be buried.”

Ah, it iz pleasant! – it is sad, to go bak tew the village of Pordunk, thare is more people now thare, than there waz when i waz a boy, but how different are they, – or how different am I.

The old trees are the same, man kant alter them, goose krik runs jist whare it did, with willows in all ov its elbows, the mountains each side haven’t grown enny smaller, the birds sing the same songs, but i don’t kno enny one that i meet, and what is more lonesome, no one that i meet knows me.

When i go tew Pordunk, and want tew see enny boddy that I remember, i go down the main street to the fust korner, just whare Joel Parker once lived, then i turn tew the left, and keep on for a ways, till i cum tew the little one story church.

Just bak ov that they are all living now. They don’t remember me when i go thare, but I remember them. It won’t be very long now before I shall jine them.

4 LETTERS

Mister Brown.– In haste, dear sur, I repli tew yure letter thusly:

Jews harps are a one stringed instrument, held between the teeth, blowed on gently, and tickled with the fore-finger. The musik which they yield is balmy, but looses much of its melloness unless played upon bi a bull frog. I hav listened for hours at a bull frog playing on a Jews harp, and wept like a child. This iz the kind a musik that enters mi soul like a sister ov charity out ov a job. I hav a yung female bull frog now in mi employ, who plays the Jews harp quite bully for one ov her sex. Sum people must hav opera musik or they aint helthy, but giv me the liquid Jews harp, tickled bi the yung and impashioned bull frog.

If i waz ritch i would buy me two akers ov swamp ground, issue proposals for a millyun ov Jews harps, and set every bull frog on mi farm to instrumental musik.

Thare are others who aint happy unless they kan hear the pensiv murmers ov the bass drum, or the hoarse gutteral ov the trombone, or the pig like laffing ov the fife, or the jigger ov the banjo and the bones.

I hav nothing but pitty for sich depraved tasted critters, and look forward, with the joyful gush ov a missionary, to the time when bull frogs will set under every vine and fig tree, tickling the buzzom ov a Jews harp.

If i kan hav plenty ov Jews harps, and a bull frog, i dont kare if i dont never hear a hand orgin agin.

Mister Bates.– The best kind ov bate for a rat, iz toasted cheeze, and the best kind ov a trap, iz the one, that will ketch them the oftenest, and hang onto them the most. It aint always a sure thing tew ketch a rat bi the tail, i hav knew them tew bight oph their tail, just outside ov the jaws ov the trap, and thus save their rat meat.

Bob tailed rats hav ceased tew be a curiosity to me long ago.

Once i should hav looked upon a bob-tailed rat with mingled pheelings ov pitty, and suprise, but them daze hav fled from me, i look upon a bob-tailed rat now, as a cluss bizzness transackshun.

Rats are one ov the far-famed butys ov civilashun, they wont live in the wildernes, and i wouldn’t if i waz they.

Sum folks are so enlightened they kant bear rats, but az i lay in mi bed, at mi boarding hous, at the deceased hours ov night, it iz one ov mi priviliges, tew hear the rats chawing holes throu the base boards, and playing tag in the wainscote.

Rats are very prolifick, one pair ov assorted rats, will keep a phamily in rats for years.

Rats are very easy tew keep, thare aint but phew things but what they will eat, and them phew things are locked up.

Rats are not a subjekt ov diet in this country, but i am told bi missionarys, that rat pi, iz thick in China.

I shouldn’t wonder if rat pi might be good, but i hav alwus accustomed mi self to plain vittles.

Mister Barnes.– Hash iz made out ov cast oph vittles.

Hash haz done more for the human race ov man than almost enny other breed ov food.

For breakfast, a small tender-lion steak, sum few ham & eggs, 3 baked potatoze, a plate of buttered toast, sum slap jacks, 2 cups of coffy, and sum hash iz good.

I like to eat hash this way better than enny other.

Sum pholks alwuz raize their noze up at hash.

If yu search history, with one eye, yu will find theze folks, 20, or 30 years ago, more or less, were born on hash.

I hav seen hash miself, that i had mi doubts about, but i et it, and still liv.

I love hash as a principle, and this iz mi rule, i watch the landlady, and if she eats it, i take the sekond plate.

This makes me very popular at all the boarding houses which I attend.

If folks would be a leetle more penurious with their hash, and not git stubs ov tallo kandles, babys morocko shoes, and now and then a fine tooth comb, that want more than half worn out, into their hash, hash would stand to day, at the head of all mux food.

Mister Bartlett.– Ov all the animals who waz brought akrost the waters, into this country, by that grate improver ov the breed ov kattle Noah, i consider the cow the most respektable.

A cow iz a kind ov old aunt in the family.

I dont kno ov a more honest, and salubrious sight, than a brindle cow, that wont kik, and who gives 10 quarts ov milk that aint watered.

It iz unkommon hard to git a cow to giv milk that aint watered now daze, thare iz a grate difference in cows about this.

It iz sed the cowcumber derives its name from the cow, but whether this iz so, or not, i kant find out.

Probably it iz, becauze they resemble the cow so mutch.

The cowcumber cums under the hed ov gardin sass, and they gro on a running vine, and the vine kan beat every vine running, for 100 yards, in Amerika, after it gits started.

They are a little balky about starting.

I hav known a cowcumber vine to run 15 foot in one night besides giving birth to 7 young cowcumbers on the way.

Kowcumbers kut up into thin slices, and rooled in peper, and psalt, and soaked in vinegar, are good, for a sharp pain in the hebdominal region.

A cowcumber iz about the only thing that i kan remember ov now, that iz good for nothing, after it reaches perfektshun.

Mister Boggs.– Yure letter, informing me ov the loss ov yure dog, reached me by yesterday’s male.

I know how to commune with you, Boggs, for i hav been deprived ov a dog once miself.

I lost a most flattering purp on the 16th day of March three years ago.

I found him ded in a vakant lot, near mi house.

He probably had been struck with lightning, or sumthin else.

He waz a most gifted pup, and could jerk a night-gown oft from a clothes line, or worry a goose, most butiful tew behold.

He waz a bul pup, but iz no more.

Tiger waz hiz fust name.

I hav made up mi mind never to own enny more dog.

Dog comfort, in this world iz, like all other joy, liable to leak.

Human happiness iz skase enny how, and wants too mutch watching, to be invested in dorgs.

JOSH SETTLES UP WITH HIS CORRESPONDENTS SUMMARILY

“Philander.” – If yu borrow ov the Devil, yu must keep yure eye peeled wide open, for the Devil always takes a mortgage, and seldum takes one, that he fails tew foreclose.

“Plato.” – Mi experience, az far az i have got, iz this, that i kan most alwus find out the style ov milk in enny man’s moral kokernutt, by hearing hiz opinion ov hiz nearest nabors, for men are quite apt tew dam in others, what they hav got the most ov themselfs, and praze what they have got the least ov.

“Pindar.” – The strongest sentiment in woman iz modesty, and the next strongest iz a silk dress, made in the fashion. The strongest sentiment in man iz money, and the next strongest iz 10 per cent. for the use ov it.

“Phillip.” – If yu expekt to win, yu hav got to suffer, – the bible tells us that heaven must be taken with hard knocks.

“Pan.” – Fame iz very mutch like good health, them men who hunt for it the most find it the least.

“Powell.” – Luv at fust sight iz perhaps a leetle risky, but it iz the richest, and most lastingest luv the heart ever feels.

“Postboy.” – Marrying for munny, iz much like falling out ov a third story winder, if yu happen tew make a good strike, it iz a fust-rate excuse for never trying it again.

“Peacock.” – Yu will find in yure journey through this vale ov tears and valley ov dispair, mutch tew fill yure soul with anguish, and dissapointments bitter: – thare iz one thing partickularly apt tew go back ov a yung man, whoze buzzum iz trieing tew bust with hope, and that iz – hiz mustash.

“Pilot.” – A man may hav a grate deal ov edukashun, and not be verry wize, after awl; jist az he may hav a heap ov strength, and not know the best holts.

“Pilgarlick.” – Yu ask me the best way tew make berlony sarsage. Here iz the best, and only way:

Take an eel, about six feet in length, and about one feet in wideness, (git a lively eel if possibel); skin the eel lengthways from hed to foot, and stuff the skin with pulvarized gutty perchy, and equal parts ov merino wool; seazon with Scotch snuff and asserfedity, hang it up bi the tail in a Duch grosery for 4 months, for the flies tew giv it the trade marks; it iz then awl reddy for use, and kan be cut up into right lengths, and sold for police clubs.

This kind ov sarsidge iz the only one who took a gold medal at the Paris imposition.

“Pharaoh.” – It iz an actewal fackt that most ov us work harder, tew seem happy, than we should have to, to be happy.

“Pedro.” – Before yu buy the hoss yu speak ov, look him over cluss, but don’t examin him much afterward, for fear yu may cum across sumthing that yu are looking after. This iz a good rule tew foller when yu take a wife.

“Pontoon.” – The principal art in flying a kite iz tew git the tail the right heft; tew mutch tail to things iz jist what haz spilte a whole parcel ov clever kites.

“Palmer.” – Early impreshions are like the dews on the young flowers, soon dried off, but what the fragrance iz made of.

“Pinchback.” – Don’t beleave more than half that yu hear, rumor haz got rising ov 600 toungs, and can lie faster with each one of them than Dexter can trot to an anatomy waggon.

“Palmer.” – In reply to yure kind and numerous letter, i am happy tew state that mi age iz a profound sekret, but i waz born in the old-fashioned way in the old ov the moon, am long, but crooked, don’t beleaf in speerits (not even Jamaka speerits;) am married, or waz twenty years ago, and hav every reazon to beleave that I am now; hav never raized enny boys to mi knowledge, on account ov their liability tew git out ov repair; hav turned mi attenshion tew girl children; hav two ov that specie, one ov whom iz now boarding with a yung feller; mi hair iz black, and quite tall behind; i wear a mustash, and number 10 pegged boots; hav a sangunary temperament, and a billyus noze; eat az other folks do, except roasted gooze; roasted gooze iz not one ov mi weaknesses, I kan eat two ov them, and then take a little more ov that are goose; I work for mi bread and roast goose; hav a grey eye, and am alwus az reddy tew wag az the next dog – this iz me. I forgot to state that I waz brought up by a Presbeterian Church in Massachusetts, and am a good job.