Nonsense About Love — 441
What nonsense people talk about love, don’t they? Sleepness nights, broken dreams, beatin’ hearts, pale faces, a pinin’ away to shaders, fits of absence, loss of appetite, narvous flutterin’s, and all that. I haven’t got the symptoms, but I’ll swear to the disease. Folks take this talk, I guess, from poets; and they are miserable, mooney sort of critters; half mad and whole lazy, who would rather take a day’s dream than a day’s work any time, and catch rhymes as niggers catch flies, to pass time; hearts and darts; cupid and stupid; purlin’ streams and pulin’ dreams, and so on. It’s all bunkum!—Sam Slick.
An exchange, recording the fall of a person into the river, says:—“It is a wonder he escaped with his life.” Prentice says: “Wouldn’t it have been a still greater wonder if he had escaped without it?”