KONTENTMENT

Kontentment is the gift ov God, as it kan be cultivated a little, but it is hard tew acquire. Kontentment is sed to be the same az happiness, this ackounts for the small amount ov happiness laying around loose, without enny owner. I don’t beleave that man was made tew be kontented, nor happy in this world, for if he had bin, he wouldn’t hav hankered enuff for the other world.

When a man gits perfektly kontented, he and a clam are fust couzins.

Contentment iz a kind ov moral laziness; if thare want ennything but kontentment in this world, man wouldn’t be any more of a suckcess than an angleworm iz.

When a man gits so he don’t want ennything more, he iz like a rackcoon with his intestines full ov green corn.

Contentment iz one ov the instinkts, i admit it tew be happiness, but it iz kind ov spruce gum chawing happiness.

We all find fault with Adam and Eve, for not being kontented, but if they had bin satisfied with the gardin ov Eden, and themselfs, they would hav been living thare now, the only two human beings on the face ov the arth, az innocent as a couple of vegetable oysters.

They would hav bin two splendid specimens ov the handy work ov God, elegant portraits in the vestibule ov heaven, but they would not hav developed reazon, the only God-like attribute in man.

When a man iz thoroly kontented, he iz either too lazy to want ennything, or too big a phool tew enjoy it.

I hav lived in naberhoods whare everyboddy seemed to be kontented, but if the itch had ever broke out in them naberhoods, the people would have skratched to this day.

I am in favor of all the vanitys, and petty ambishuns, all the jealousys and backbitings in the world, not bekauze i think they am hansome, but bekauze I think they stir up men, and wimmin, git them onto their muscle, cultivating their venom and reazon at the same time, and proving what a brilliant cuss man may be, at the same time that it proves what a miserable cuss he iz.

I had rather see two wimmin pull hair, than tew see them set down, thoroughly satisfied with an aimless life, and never suffer eney excitement, greater than bleeding tears together, through their noze, for a parcel of shirtless heathen on the coast ov Madagaskar, or, once in a while, open their eyes, from a dream ov young hyson contentment tea, tew sarch the allmiknak, for the next change in the moon.

Contentment, in this age of the world, either means death, or dekay, in the days ov Abraham, contentment was simply ignorance.

The world iz now full ov larning, the arts, and sciences, and all the thousand appliances ov reazon, these things make ignorance the exception, and no man haz a right tew cultivate contentment, enny more than he haz tew cut oph hiz thum, and set quietly down, and nuss the stub.

Show me a thoroughly contented person, and i will show yu an useless one.

What we want iz folks who won’t be kontented, who kant be kontented, who git up in the morning, not simply to hav their bed made, but for the sake ov gitting tired; not for the sake ov nourishing kontentment, but for the sake ov putting turpentine in sum ded place, and stiring up the animals.

Contentment was born with Adam, and died when Adam ceased tew be an angel, and bekum a man.

I don’t say that a man couldn’t be hatched out, and, like a young owl, set on a dri limb, awl hiz days, with hiz branes az fasst asleep az a mudturkles, and at last sneak into heaven, under the guize of kontentment, but i do say, that 10 generashuns ov sich men would run most of the human race into the ground, and leave the ballance az lifeless, and az base, as a currency made out ov puter ten cent pieces.

I would like jist az well az the next man, tew crawl into a hole, that jist fitted me, hed fust, and thus shutting out all the light, be contented, for i know how awfully unsothening the aims, and ambishuns ov life are, but this would only be burying mi few tallents, and sacrificing on the ded alter ov kontentment, what war given me, to make a fire or a smudge with.

Thare aint no sich thing as contentment and reazon existing together; thoze who slip out ov the crowd, into sum alley, and pretend they are chawing the cud of sweet kontentment, the verry best specimens ov them, are no better than pin cushions, stuck full.

They have jist az menny longings az ennybody, they have jist az menny vices, their virtews are too often simply a mixtur ov jealousy and cowardice.

Contentment is not desighned, as a stiddy bizziness, for the sons ov man, while on this arth.

A yeller dogg, with a tin kittle tew his tale, climbing a hill, at a three minit gate iz a more reazonable spektacle for me, than a slimy snail, contented and happy.

MARRIAGE

Marriage iz a fair transaction on the face ov it.

But thare iz quite too often put up jobs in it.

It iz an old institushun, older than the pyramids, and az phull ov hyrogliphicks that noboddy kan parse.

History holds its tounge who the pair waz who fust put on the silken harness, and promised tew work kind in it, thru thick and thin, up hill and down, and on the level, rain or shine, survive or perish, sink or swim, drown or flote.

But whoever they waz they must hav made a good thing out ov it, or so menny ov their posterity would not hav harnessed up since and drov out.

Thare iz a grate moral grip in marriage; it iz the mortar that holds the soshull bricks together.

But there ain’t but darn few pholks who put their money in matrimony who could set down and giv a good written opinyun whi on arth they cum to did it.

This iz a grate proof that it iz one ov them natral kind ov acksidents that must happen, jist az birds fly out ov the nest, when they hav feathers enuff, without being able tew tell why.

Sum marry for buty, and never diskover their mistake; this iz lucky.

Sum marry for money, and – don’t see it.

Sum marry for pedigree, and feel big for six months, and then very sensibly cum tew the conclusion that pedigree ain’t no better than skimmilk.

Sum marry tew pleze their relashuns, and are surprized tew learn that their relashuns don’t care a cuss for them afterwards.

Sum marry bekauze they hav bin highsted sum whare else; this iz a cross match, a bay and a sorrel; pride may make it endurable.

Sum marry for love without a cent in their pocket, nor a friend in the world, nor a drop ov pedigree. This looks desperate, but it iz the strength ov the game.

If marrying for love ain’t a suckcess, then matrimony iz a ded beet.

Sum marry bekauze they think wimmin will be skarse next year, and liv tew wonder how the crop holds out.

Sum marry tew git rid ov themselfs, and diskover that the game waz one that two could play at, and neither win.

Sum marry the seckond time to git even, and find it a gambling game, the more they put down, the less they take up.

Sum marry tew be happy, and not finding it, wonder whare all the happiness on earth goes to when it dies.

Sum marry, they kan’t tell whi, and liv, they kan’t tell how.

Almoste every boddy gits married, and it iz a good joke.

Sum marry in haste, and then set down and think it careful over.

Sum think it over careful fust, and then set down and marry.

Both ways are right, if they hit the mark.

Sum marry rakes tew convert them. This iz a little risky, and takes a smart missionary to do it.

Sum marry coquetts. This iz like buying a poor farm, heavily mortgaged, and working the ballance ov yure days tew clear oph the mortgages.

Married life haz its chances, and this iz just what gives it its flavour. Every body luvs tew phool with the chances, bekauze every boddy expekts tew win. But i am authorized tew state that every boddy don’t win.

But, after all, married life iz full az certain az the dry goods bizziness.

No man kan swear exackly whare he will fetch up when he touches calico.

Kno man kan tell jist what calico haz made up its mind tew do next.

Calico don’t kno even herself.

Dri goods ov all kinds iz the child ov circumstansis.

Sum never marry, but this iz jist az risky, the diseaze iz the same, with no other name to it.

The man who stands on the bank shivvering, and dassent, iz more apt tew ketch cold, than him who pitches hiz hed fust into the river.

Thare iz but phew who never marry bekauze they won’t they all hanker, and most ov them starve with slices ov bread before them (spread on both sides), jist for the lack ov grit.

Marry yung! iz mi motto.

I hav tried it, and kno what i am talkin about.

If enny boddy asks yu whi yu got married, (if it needs be), tell him, yu don’t reccollekt.

Marriage iz a safe way to gamble – if yu win, yu win a pile, and if yu loze, yu don’t loze enny thing, only the privilege ov living dismally alone, and soaking yure own feet.

I repeat it, in italicks, marry young!

Thare iz but one good excuse for a marriage late in life, and that iz —a second marriage.

FASHION’S PRAYER

Kind Fortune may thi mersys endure forever; smile thou out ov thi loving eyes upon this fine bust ov mine.

Strengthen mi husband, and may hiz faith and hiz money hold out to the last.

Draw the lamb’s wool ov unsuspicious twilight over hiz eyes, that mi flirtashuns may look to him like viktorys, and that mi bills may strengthen hiz pride in me.

Bless, oh! Fortune, mi crimps, rats, and frizzles, and let thi glory shine upon mi paint and powder.

When i walk out before the gaze ov vulgar man, regulate mi wiggle, and add nu grace tew mi gaiters.

Bless all dri goods klerks, milliners, manty-makers and hair-frizzers, and give immortality to Lubin and hiz heirs, and assighns forever.

Lead me bi the side ov colone waters, and fatten mi calves upon the bran ov thi love.

Blister, oh! Fortune, with the heat ov thi wrath, the man who treds upon the trail ov my garments.

Take mi two children oph from mi hands, for they bother me, and take them to be thi children, and bring them up to suit thiself.

When i bow miself in worship, grant that i may do it with ravishing elegance, and perserve unto the last the lily-white ov mi flesh, and the taper ov mi fingers.

Smile thou graciously, oh! Fortune, upon mi nu silk dress, now in the hands of the manty-maker, and may it fit me all over like unto, as the ducks foot fitteth the mud.

Destroy mine enemys with the gaul ov jealousy, and eat thou up with the teeth ov envy, all thoze who gaze at mi style.

Save me from wrinkles, and foster mi plumpness.

Fill both mi eyes, oh! Fortune, with the plaintive pizon ov infatuashun, that i may lay out mi viktims, the men as knumb-images graven.

Let the lily, and the roze, strive together in mi cheek, and may mi nek swim like a goose on the buzzum ov krystal waters.

Enable me, oh Fortune, to wear shoes still a little smaller, and save me from all korns, and bunyons.

Bless Fanny mi lap dog, and rain down bezom ov destruckshun upon thoze who would hurt a hair ov Hektor mi kitten.

Remove far from me all the wails of the sorrowful, and shield mi sensitiff natur from the klamours ov the widder.

Shed the light ov thi countenance on mi kammel’s hair shawl, and mi necklace ov dimonds, I beseech thee.

Enable the poor to shirk for themselfs, and save me from all missionary beggars.

I hav always ben a friend to thee, oh Fortune, therefore bless me for ever, and ever.