WIXLIB

THE LIBRARYOFTHE UNIVERSITYOF CALIFORNIALOS ANGELES

The Author1896.

UNCLE CHARLIE SPOEP1S.MIRTHFUL AND OTHERWISE.Charles Noel Douglas.TO MILLIONS Or FRIENDS,SCATTERED BROADCAST O ER THIS MAJESTIC LAND,DEDICATE THIS LITTLE VOLUME OP VERSE.1Brooklyn, N. 7.:Charles Noel Douglas,1299 Park Place.

J. 8.COPTEIGHT, 1906, BYOGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY.

?sPREFACE.STthe urgent request of many friends, who havekind enough to take an interest in the verseTaeenfrom time to time, contributed to various magazines, I have gotten together a numberpublished efforts, and herewith present them to theI have,ofmypublic.Thislittleworkis calleda book of poems, but, as a matter of fact, it does not contain a singleamthankful, as publishers inform,mepoem, for which Ithat poetry does notsell.All I claim for this book is that it contains some versewhich may, possibly, bring a smile to the faces of thosewhoreadit, ifthose readers are not hopeless dyspeptics, orconfirmed hypochondriacs.If the mirth-seeker finds nothing laughable in the socalled humorous verse, perhaps in the section devoted tothe more serious subjects hemaydiscover sufficient excusefor indulging his risibilities to his heart s content.In any event, I hope the reader will mark the note ofcheerfulness and optimism which runs through the book,in spite of the fact that every line in this volume has beenwritten during ten years of shut-in life, six of which werepassed in the wards of hospitals and institutions amongscenes which cannot be recalled without a shudder.THE AUTHOB.3904176

AN APPRECIATION.WISHto tendersincere thanks to thosemywho havelishersso kindly permittedmepubto reproduce, in this volume, verse that has appearedin their publications.I have to thank themeto use thethe"WhenNew BoyKnows"God"GloriousBest,"days in the OldJim,"etc.Fourth .""ACautiousfor permittingHow WeTheJesus to"WillieLover,"The DesignerandforGotIt,"andChristian Herald forWill Take Care of"PreachSt. Nicholas forforHisNew York HeraldMe,"Me,"on Classic"Sun"CobblerFiction."Casey CameAlexander and"When"SidneyThe Delineator forandAreGirlsMadeThe Woman s HomeBoysfor"DontThatand edicamentof athe Wall," "TheHangsPoet."The Ladies World for "Baby s First Sunday inChurch."W. H. Gannet, Esq., of Comfort, for "Turkeyand Pie," "The Art of Being Good," "Santa Glaus," "Willie s Opinion of Babies," "Squash," "The Confessions of Of."Dunce,"of"HeKnewThe WomanSi,"sItThen,"etc.The Currier BoyceWorld and Homefolks, for"MandyCo.,andKatie Went to Cooking-school," "God Knows,"Pop Played Santa Glaus," "The Little Bird That s"Since"WhenAlways Telling Ma," "Butt RightFew Things to Be Thankful ot;Story,""A"So

AN t;"ANovelty atLast,""MatSpare Moments for "The Boy WhoMoney."Talked and the Boy Who Did." The Sunday "of anetc.of aThe Brown Book,Apple."mate fors Prayer," "Summer"ConfessionsNew"PassingIdea forVillain,""Theof Boston, for"Dollieof the Old"Tragedian sPlans,"sSick."Church,"Family TheTragedy"TheandTheHomeClassLife,Chicago, for the greater portion of the biographical sketch.THE AUTHOE.

A BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH.February, 1897, after some years of failing health,an obscure nervous trouble,which rendered me almost entirely helpless,I was stricken withand put me on a bed ofneversickness,which I haveleft.Sicknessisan expensive matter, and it forced me eventand surroundings of refinementAfter nine months of hospitaldo nothing for me, I was listedually to sacrifice a homefor a ward in a hospital.life, as the doctors couldas a chronic case,and informed that I must vacate, or goto a public hospital, which is a polite term for the poorhouse.means were exhausted, and, with the excepMytion of one or two faithful friends, everyonehad forgottenme.I realized the plight I was in, and begged the hospitalauthorities to give me a few days grace.request wasandthenifeveramanforgranted,help and guidprayedMyance I did.I did not pray in vain, and I never have. Anto me to write the words for a song. Cooninspiration cameand, as I had sung many durII would write a coon songdecidedstage career,songs were theningmyallthe<rage,and, on borrowed paper and with a borrowed pen and ink,the words of my first lyric were dictated to a fellow-patient.had not held a pen in months, and had almost forgottento write, but my amanuensis waspatient and skilful,and eventually got my lines on paper. A borrowed envelopeIhow7

AgBIOGRAPHICAL. SKETCH.and borrowed stamp tookmyverses to a very celelittleTwo days of agonizing suspense passed,intense delight and unspeakable joy, a letter was brought me from the famous singer, and inside theThat night Ienvelope was a check for twenty dollars.brated actress.and then,mytothought out another song "pome," and Weber and Fields,then in the zenith of their fame, sent me twenty dollars forit.Forty dollars now were mine. I felt richer than Rockefeller,andhappiness were wealth I certainly had theifking beaten to afinish.to another hospital,poem"SundaysWith myand herein the Oldforty dollars IoilmovedI wrote iny first magazinewhich, after monthsChurch"of effort, I sold to the Christian Herald for twelve dollars.product, an eight-verse humorousYouth s Companion, and brought me twenty-fiveMy nextMy"pome,"initial successeswere too much formewenttodollars.inmyintensely delicate condition, and soon after moving to thenew hospital, I collapsed, and for three months hardly knewname. From this on it it was one long, grim,heart-breaking, soul-crushing fight, but I was not in theIn the slang of the day, I was upleast discouraged.against a tough proposition, but it is the same thing everymy ownothermanby the pen.has had to experience who has sought a livingOne piece, I remember, in which I had sublime faitha faith afterward justified by events I sentIt was a set of humorous versesout twenty-nine times."TheTragedy of an Apple," and it nearly becamethe tragedy of a would-be versifier before I got throughwith it, for after it had been rejected twenty-eight times,entitledfor onceAtmyoptimismleftme andI think I broke down.on their twenty-ninth mission,of Boston, and a substantial check waslast I sent the verses offto theBrownthe result.Boole,Itbut I sold it!had taken me two yearsto sell thatpoem

A BIOGRAPHICAL, SKETCH.9I now moved to a home for incurables, where I spentthree years, in an attic, under a tin roof, roasted in summer, frozen in winter. My companions were a blind man,a speechless and helpless paralytic, a lunatic, and a pooryoung man who had broken his back when seven years oldand had spent all his life in institutions. Here I wrotesome two hundred song lyrics and poems, the majority ofwhich I marketed. Sometimes my funds were so low Iwould have to practically give my work away. Once circumstances were such that I sacrificed an entire book ofThe seven dollars werejuvenile verse for seven dollars.sent me by check, the check I gave to a friend to cash, henever returnedthe work of two months went with him.one hope and prayer had been that I might oncemore have a home of my own, where I could again surMyround myself with those little things a man of refined andartistic tastes craves so much. At times I despaired of everaccomplishingobject, but I toiled on, hoped on, prayedon, and, finally, in September, 1902, after close on sixyears of unspeakable misery, I turned my back on the hosmyand moved into a home of my own.that change meant to me? Forseen a vestige of nature. Spring came ;pitals forever, I trust,Can you imagine whatthree years II saw nothadntverdant splendor; Fall rolled on, but thegorgeous tints of autumn were not for me. I could onlytell the seasons from the heat or cold.At night the blindman wasbed. Heitsin the habit of wandering around, and losing hisinvariably passed his hand all over my face,nose which is of generous proportions being thelandmark by which he located his lost sleeping-place Thedemented gentleman used to keep me in a constant statemyof suspense, and, at times, almost in a state of terror, foroften no nurse appeared for an hour or more, and then themaniac would come and inform me that I was trespassing

A BIOGRAPHICAL. SKETCH.10onhis property,andif Ididntvacate at once he wouldbe under the painful necessity of assisting me through thewindow. At such times the most delicate tact and alertmental gymnastics were necessary, or there would havebeen a tragedy. On these occasions I reminded him thathe had sold me half his property the night before, and thegentleman opposite (the old blind man) had witnessed theThis immediatelysale and had the deed in his possession.sent him scurrying to the blind man, who was quite powerful and pugnacious, and, while the imaginary deed wasbeing discussed by them, I was forgotten, and help came.Sometimes this ruse would not work, and then I alwayshad an old newspaper handy, and the lunatic would oftenspend half an hour examining the signatures (?) andterms of the deed, and (thank heaven) he invariably returned totellme it was"allcorrect."I got a good deal of entertainment out of this poor soul,for usually he was in excellent humor, but I always had todomy workfor I neverwith one eye on my paper and one on him,knew what wild scheme was hatching in hispoor, distracted brain.You canimagine, I say, whatall these scenes of suffering,mydelight was to leavemy bed in a winand havedow which gave me asplendid view of the world, of whichI d seen nothing in six years. I shall never forget my excitement as I watched the first automobile chug-chug pastBut perhaps the most delightful andwasaband of lovely children darling litrefreshing sighttle totsplaying "Bing-a-ring, a-rosy" on the lawn of aon thestreet below.Ah, me! how little we appreciate thewe lose them, and then, and notuntil then, do we realize what we ve lost.For a week Icould do nothing but gaze out of my window, and laughand sing, and thank God I was alive. It was gloriousInhouse opposite me.small things of life until!