Merdle The Banker.

Now Merdle this day having toss'd with his horns
The bears that were pulling so hard at the stocks,
And gored every bull that was treading his corns,
Had lined all his pockets with "plenty of rocks,"
And home now was driving at "two forty" speed,
Where dinner was waiting--"a jolly good feed."

Himself feeling happy, he knew by my looks,
A case full of sadness and deep destitution
Was present in person, not read of in books,
Appealing in pity for an alms institution.

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Horatio Alger, Jr. was a prolific 19th-century American author, best known for his many young adult novels about impoverished boys who rise from humble backgrounds to lives of middle-class security and comfort through hard work, determination, courage, and honesty. His works, which typically feature a rags-to-riches narrative, were immensely popular and instilled the American Dream ideal. Alger's stories were a reflection of the societal values of his time. However, despite his success as a writer, he lived a rather modest life and never married.

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Barbara's Courtship.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

Gone To The War.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

He Imploreth Merry For Other Unfortunate Beings.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

The Poet Moralizeth - He Discourseth To Those Who Gorge And Complain.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

English

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The Merdle Origin.

Now Merdle, en passant, I had known for a score
Of years, when a dinner with Jones, Brown or Smith
As good as one gets for a quarter or more,
Was a thing unthought of, or else but a myth
In Merde's day-dreaming of things yet in store,
When hope painted visions of a painted abode,
And hope never hoped for anything more--
I'm sure never dreamed he would dine a la mode.

In dreams wildest fancy I doubt if he dreamed,
That time in its changes that wears rocky shores,
Should change what so changeless certainly seemed,
Till Merdle, Jack Merdle, would own twenty stores,
Much more own a bank, e'en the horse that he rode,
Or pay half the debts of the wild oats he sowed.

I knew when he worked at his old father's trade,
And thought he would stick to h...

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Mrs. Merdle At Home.

She Discourseth of Nothing to Eat and the Cost thereof.

Why Merdle--why did you bring Dinewell to-day?
So very, though welcome, so quite unexpected!

For dinner, if any, I'm sure I can't say,
Our servants with washing are all so infected.

If any's provided, 't is nothing but scraps
Of pot-luck or pick up of some common fare;
Or something left over from last week perhaps,
Which you've brought a friend, and an old one, to share.

I never, I'm sure now, so much was ashamed,
To think he'll discover--what's true to the letter--
We've nothing, or next to't that's fit to be named,
For one who is used every day to what's better.

But what can you expect if you come on a Monday?
Our French cook's away too, I vow and declare--
But if you would see ...

Horatio Alger, Jr.

How The Author Sometimes Dines.

And now by your leave I will try to expound it,
In truth as it is and the way that I found it.

My dinner, sometimes, like things transcendental
And things more substantial, like women and wine
A thing is, uncertain, and quite accidental,
And sometimes I wonder, "Oh! where shall I dine?"

It was when reflecting one evening of late,
What tavern or hotel or dining-room skinner,
With table cloth dirty and dirtier plate,
Would give me a nausea and call it a dinner,
I met with Jack Merdle, a name fully known
As good for a million in Stock-gamblers' Street,
Where none but a nabob or forger high flown
With "bulls" or with "bears" need look for a seat.

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Mrs. Merdle Goes To Market.

With prices outrageous they charge now for meat,
And servants so worthless are every day growing,
I wonder we get half enough now to eat,
And shouldn't if 't want for the fact of my going
To market to cheapen potatoes and beef,
And talk to the butchers about their abuses,
And listen to stories beyond our belief,
They tell while they cheat us, by way of excuses.

And grocers--do tell us--is 't legal to charge
Such prices for sugar, and butter, and flour?

Oh, why don't the Mayor in his wisdom enlarge
Both weight and measure as he does 'doubtful power?'

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Mrs. Merdle Discourseth Of Things Earthly.

No matter how costly or flimsy her dresses,
The angel you honor with your kind attentions;
No matter how foolish her wardrobe inventions,
You love her, or say so, from slipper to tresses;
But, presto! you call her the greatest of sinners,
Though smiling, she treats you to badly cooked dinners;
Which proves where the seat is of men's best affections,
With which 'pon their honor they extol us as wives,
And treat us at dinner with sagest reflections,
Of beauty, and duty we owe all our lives
To you, noble lords, of this mundane creation;
Which, judging from some things they tell us,
Was made for the creatures of this trading nation,
Who make it a business to buy us and sell us,
Like 'Erie,' or 'Central,' or other such stocks;
With care, when they bid for a very 'Miss N...

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Mrs. Merdle, Having "Nibbled A Little" For Two Hours At Dinner, Retireth From The Table Unsatisfied.

"Impatient--oh yes--just the way with you men!

I never have time to half finish my eating
Ere Merdle is done; such a fidget is then,
He'd starve me I think rather 'n miss of a meeting
Where brokers preside o'er the fate of the stocks,
As Pales presided o'er shepherds and flocks.

Now while you are smoking--what nonsense and folly--
I'll go to my room.--don't say No, for I must--
Put on a new dress, with assistance of Molly,
And then with a little strong tea and a crust,
My strength I may hope for a walk will be able
As far as the gate, and a very short ride,
To give me a relish again for the table--
What else do we live for in this world beside?"

Horatio Alger, Jr.