A Blog of Bosh

It was impolite, of course, but when Tabby started off with “Oh, promise me,” the piano couldn’t help laughing.

Peter Newell, from Harper’s Young People, vol. XV, No. 769, 24 July 1894, p. 664.

“Oh, what have you done with your little straw hat, with its streamers of ribbons so pretty and gay?”
“Oh, mother, dear mother,quite hungry was I, and I ate my straw hat, I am sorry to say.”

Peter Newell, from Harper’s Young People, vol. XV, No. 774, 28 August 1894, p. 744.

A QUICK CURE

MOTHER. “Don’t you feel able to sit up today?”
BOY. “No, mama, I am so weak.”
MAMMA. “Well, let me see. I guess you will be able to go to school Monday. To-day is Saturday, and –”
BOY (Jumping out of bed). “Saturday! I thought it was Friday!”

Peter Newell from Harper’s Round Table, vol. XVI, no. 804, 26 March 1895, 368.

An April Fool

“Well, I’m a bigger fool, my friends, than I had ever thought on;
I’ve gone an’ married me a wife, and find she’s stuffed with cotton!”

Peter Newell from Harper’s Round Table, vol. XVI, no. 805, 2 April 1895, 384.

Peter Newell, “Pussy and the Fool’s-Cap,” Harper’s Round Table, vol. XVI, no. 807, 16 April 1895, 416.

Peter Newell from Harper’s Round Table, vol. XVI, no. 820, 16 July 1895, 736.

A HONEY-LOVING grizzly-bear,
In a great bee-tree made his lair;
“There is a law,” he told the bees,
“That honey sha’n’t be kept in trees.

“I’ll take it out for you,” said he.
“Nay, nay, sir,” cries the old queen bee,
“Take yourself off!” and then and there
The stinging bees fell on the bear.

Peter Newell from Harper’s Round Table, vol XVI, no. 827, 3 September 1895, 904.

There were three little owl that had slept all day
In their downy nest in a dead tree’s hollow;
Said the first: “It’s time to go out and play,
I hear the good-night of the chimney-swallow!”
“Oh no,” said the second; “the sun is high,
Who wants to be blind as a bat? — not I!”
But the third said: “Rats! we have slept enough!”
Let’s go, anyhow, and play blindman’s buff!”

Peter Newell from Harper’s Round Table, vol. XVI, no. 825, 20 August 1895, 856.

A HOPPERGRASS, one sunny day,
Turning hand-springs amid the hay,
O’erleaped himself, and fell into
A piggin of good apple brew.

“Shame on you, thirsty little one,”
Cried the haymakers in the sun;
The hopper took one draught, and then,
Ere he flew off, addressed the men:

“Good sirs,” quoth he, “although one swallow
Does not make summer, it would follow
That several swallows were at fault
If you had made that summersault.”

Peter Newell from Harper’s Round Table, vol. XVI, no. 823, 6 August 1895, 808.