CYCLOPEDIA OF WIT AND HUMOR. AMERICAN. THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT. 1625. "THE MERRY SONG OF THE MAYPOLE" is undoubtedly the first piece of "hilarious verse "" composed on the continent of North America. A scapegrace lawyer, Thomas Morton, of Clifford's Inn, London (Justice Shallow's abiding place), landed with other ad venturers at Plymouth, in 1622. Three years afterwards, he joined Wollaston's party at Pasonagessit, which place was named after their leader, but afterwards they called it Ma-re Mount. They lived, according to the chronicler of Plymouth, "in great licentiousness of life, in all profaneness, and the said Morton became lord of misrule, and maintained, as it were, a school of Atheism; and after they had got some goods into their hands, and got much by trading with the Indians, they spent it as vainly in quaffing and drinking both wine and strong liquors in great excess, as some have reported ten pounds' worth in a morning, setting up a Maypole, drinking and dancing about it, and frisking about it like so many fairies, or furies rather, yea, and worse practices, as if they had anew revived and celebrated the feast of the Roman goddess, Flora, or the beastly practices of the mad Bacchanalians." Thomas Morton published a book in 1637, called "New English Canaan." Butler, in his "Hudibras," has made use of some of the stories narrated by Morton, whose account of the Maypole is as follows:-"Being resolved to have the new name (Ma-re or Merry Mount) confirmed for a memorial to after ages, the inhabitants did devise amongst themselves to have it performed in a solemn manner with revels and merriment, after the old English custom, prepared to set up a Maypole upon the festival day of Philip and Jacob; and therefore brewed a barrel of excellent beer, and provided a case of bottles to be spent, with other good cheer for all comers of that day. And because they would have it in a complete form, they had prepared a song fitting to the time and present occasion. And upon May-day they brought the Maypole to the place appointed, with guns, drums, pistols, and other fitting instruments, for that purpose; and there erected it with the help of salvages, that came thither of purpose to see the manner of our revels. A goodly pine tree, of eighty feet long, was reared up, with a pair of buck horns nailed on, somewhat near unto the top of it. There was, likewise, a merry song made, which was sung with a chorus, every man bearing his part; which they performed in a dance, hand-inhand about the Maypole, while one of the company sung, and filled out the good liquor, like Gammedes (Ganymede) and Jupiter." The Song of the Maypole. Drink and be merry, merry, merry boys, Nectar is a thing assigned, Give to the melancholy man, Give to the nymph that's free from scorn, Morton remarks that "this harmless mirth, made by young men, was much distasted of the precise Separatists, who, from that time, sought occasion against my honest host of Ma-re Mount, to overthrow his undertakings, and to destroy his plantation quite and clear." Nathaniel Hawthorne, who has a sweet sketch on this subject, says, "Bright were the days at Merry Mount, when the Maypole was the banner-staff of that gay colony! They who reared it, should their banner be triumphant, were to pour sunshine over New England's rugged hills, and scatter flower-seeds throughout the soil. Jollity and gloom were contending for an empire." NEW ENGLAND'S annoyances, you that would know | Our mountains and hills and our valleys below, them, Pray ponder these verses which briefly doth show them. The place where we live is a wilderness wood, Where grass is much wanting that's fruitful and good: Being commonly covered with ice and with snow; But when the Spring opens, we then take the hoe, If fresh meat be wanting to fill up our dish, Instead of pottage and puddings, and custards and pies, Our pumpkins and parsnips are common supplies; We have pumpkins at morning, and pumpkins at noon; If it was not for pumpkins we should be undone. If barley be wanting to make into malt, # Now while some are going, let others be coming; FATHER ABBEY'S WILL. BY JOHN SECCOMB. 1732. MATHEW ABBEY was a bedmaker and sweeper at Harvard College, Cambridge, for many years. He is supposed to leave his childless wife (also a bedmaker) the whole of his estate, as follows: The Poet's Lamentation for the Loss of his Cat, which he used to call his Muse (Mews.) Felis quædam delicium erat cujusdam Adolescentis.-Esop. OPPRESS'D with grief, in heavy strains I mourn No more I feel my mind with raptures fir'd, I want those airs that Puss so oft inspir'd; No crowding thoughts my ready fancy fill, In acts obscene she never took delight; I stroked her head, her ears, her back, and tail, Ofttimes, when lost amidst poetic heat, And lick'd and claw'd me to myself again. Then, friends, indulge my grief and let me mourn, My cat is gone, ah! never to return! Now in my study, all the tedious night, Alone I sit, and unassisted write; Look often round (0 greatest cause of pain), And view the num'rous labors of my brain; Those quires of words array'd in pompous rhyme, Which braved the jaws of all-devouring time, THE JESTS OF MATHER BYLES, A celebrated Boston Divine. Born, 1706. Died, 1788. THE ana which have been preserved, show that | "Gentlemen, I have often complained to you of this Dr. Mather Byles's reputation as a wit was well deserved. There was a slough opposite his house, in which, on a certain wet day, a chaise containing two of the town council stuck fast. Dr. Byles came to his door, and saluted the officials with the remark, nuisance, without any attention being paid to it, and I am very glad to see you stirring in this matter now." In the year 1780 a very dark day occurred, which was long remembered as "the dark day." A lady neighbor sent her son to the doctor to know if he could tell her the cause of the obscurity. "My dear," was the answer to the messenger, "give my compliments to your mother, and tell her that I am as much in the dark as she is." One day a ship arrived at Boston with three hundred street lamps. The same day, the doctor happened to receive a call from a lady whose conversational powers were not of the kind to render a long interview desirable. He availed himself of the newly-arrived cargo to despatch his visitor. "Have you heard the news?" said he, with emphasis. "Oh, no! What news?" "Why three hundred new lights have come over in the ship this morning from London, and the selectmen have wisely ordered them to be put in irons immediately. The visitor forthwith decamped in search of the particulars of this invasion of religious liberty. When brought before his judges, at the time of his trial, they requested him to sit down and warm himself. "Gentlemen," was the reply, "when I came among you, I expected persecution, but I could not think you would have offered me the fire so suddenly." COLONEL PUTNAM'S INDIAN STORY. Nov. 10, 1772.-Sunday. Heard Mr. Cutler, of Ipswich Hamlet; dined at Dr. Putnam's with Colonel Putnam and lady, and two young gentlemen, nephews of the Doctor and Colonel and a Mrs. Scollay. Colonel Putnam told a story of an Indian upon Connecticut River, who called at a tavern, in the fall of the year, for a dram. The landlord asked him two coppers for it. The next spring, happening, at the same house, he called for another, and had three coppers to pay for it. "How is this, land lord?" says he; 'last fall you asked but two coppers for a glass of rum, now you ask three." "Oh!" says the landlord, "it costs me a good deal to keep rum over winter. It is as expensive to keep a hogshead of rum over winter as a horse." "Ah!" says the Indian, "I can't see through that; he won't eat so much hay: Maybe he drink as much water." This was sheer wit, pure satire, and true humor. Humor, wit, and satire, in one very short repartee. This version, copied from the "Historical Collections of N. Hampshire," varies in the last six verses from other editions. |