What Another Poet Did.

Another expounder of life's thorny mazes
Excited our pity at fortune's hard fare,
And troubled the city's most troublesome places,
While singing his ditty of "Nothing to Wear."

"A tale worth the telling,"' though I tell for the same,
Great objects of pity we see in the street,
"With nothing to wear, though a legion by name,
Is not to buy clothing, but something to eat.

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.

Mrs. Merdle Discourseth Again On Dinner.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

Mrs. Merdle Discourseth Of Things Eatable.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

He Discourseth Of A Common Prayer.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

The Merdle Origin.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

English

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Nothing To Eat. The Argument

Though famine prevails not at all in the city;
Though none of starvation have died in the street;
Yet many there are now exciting our pity,
Who're daily complaining of nothing to eat.

The every-day cry and the every-day fare,
That's every day heard where the Livewells are dining,
Is nothing to eat, or else nothing to wear,
Which naked and starving rich Merdles are whining.

There's Kitty Malone--Mrs. Merdle 'tis now--
Was ever on earth here before such a sinner;
Protesting, excusing and swearing a vow,
She'd nothing worth eating to give us for dinner.

Why Kitty, if starving for want of a meal,
And had'nt a cent in the world to buy meat,
You wouldn't exclaim with a more pious zeal,
"I'm dying of hunger--we've nothing to eat!!"

Horatio Alger, Jr.

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.

He Discourseth Of Trouble And Sorrow.

What else do they live for? They live but for this;
And nothing but this ever troubles their thinking;
Rich eating, rich dressing, and flirting's their bliss,
And life's better purposes constantly blinking.

Their life's but a tissue of trouble and sorrow
Of what is the fashion or will be to-morrow.

Horatio Alger, Jr.

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

Oh! Kitty Malone--Mrs. Merdle 'tis now--
Was there ever on earth than this, greater folly?

Still gorging, while groaning, and swearing a vow,
That yours is a case of most sad melancholy.

With table that Croesus never had but might covet,
You live but to eat and to eat 'cause you love it;
And yet while you swallow great sirloins of meat
Complain like a beggar of nothing to eat.

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.

The Object Aimed At.

But what "lady patron" as queen holds the sway;
Or sweeping, whose hoops in the street are most sweeping;
The burthen is not of this truth-telling lay,
That should in its reading the world set to weeping,
While telling the suff'rings from head to the feet,
Of poor human beings with nothing to eat.

Horatio Alger, Jr.