The Wit and Humor of America, Volume IX (of X) — A Closer Reading

Rhyme, Rhythm, and Nonsense Logic

Several poems in this volume rely on tight metrical structures to deliver humor. Riley's "The Nine Little Goblins" uses anapestic tetrameter that mimics a skipping, childlike cadence, while his "The Lugubrious Whing-Whang" employs a similar bouncy rhythm for a creature that is anything but cheerful. The nonsense logic—goblins with arms growing from their ears, a fist on the end of a tail—is presented with straight-faced precision, as if the absurdity were perfectly natural. This technique, also seen in Eugene Field's "The Warrior" and Sam Walter Foss's "He Wanted to Know," lets the verse carry the joke without explanatory nudges. The poems often end on a punchline that recontextualizes the preceding nonsense, rewarding attentive reading.

Prose Voices: From Deadpan to Dialect

The prose selections showcase a range of narrative voices. In Nesbit's telegram farce, the third-person narrator maintains a formal, almost judicial tone—"Limp, astounded, but delighted, James Trottingham Minton drew back a pace"—which contrasts with the characters' emotional chaos. Bill Nye's "A Great Celebrator" (listed in the contents) likely employs a folksy, first-person persona, while William Henry Drummond's "Natural Philosophy" uses dialect for comic effect. The variety means the reader encounters abrupt shifts in register: from the polished irony of John Kendrick Bangs's "The University Intelligence Office" to the rustic cadences of James Whitcomb Riley's dialect poems. These changes in voice prevent monotony and keep the reader alert to each author's distinct comic strategy.

Pacing and the Comic Build

The collection demonstrates how pacing shapes humor. In the telegram story, the comedy builds through a series of misunderstandings: Jimmy thinks he is proposing, Lucy thinks she has been proposed to, and the reader watches the gap widen. The narrator slows down to describe Jimmy's dawning realization—"Slowly it was filtering into his brain"—before accelerating into a cascade of kisses and congratulations. This controlled tempo, with its pauses for internal reflection and bursts of action, is a hallmark of effective comic prose. Other pieces, like Carolyn Wells's "The Experiences of Gentle Jane" or Frank L. Stanton's "When the Little Boy Ran Away," likely use shorter sentences and faster pacing for different effects. The volume as a whole rewards attention to how each author manages the rhythm of revelation.

Readers approaching this volume should treat it as a sampler of early twentieth-century American comic technique. The poems reward reading aloud to catch their metrical play, while the prose pieces benefit from attention to narrative voice and timing. Because the excerpts are incomplete, no single author's full arc can be assessed, but the variety of approaches—from Riley's nonsense to Nesbit's farce—offers a useful cross-section of the period's humor. Consider comparing how different authors handle similar comic situations, such as mistaken identity or absurd physical details, to see how voice and pacing create distinct effects.

Leafing through Volume IX, I found myself lingering on Riley’s gentle goblin verse—that quiet, wry ache beneath the wordplay. It reminded me, oddly, of the stark murmurs in Barbarians — Background and Themes, where the strange also wears a homely face. Both feel like candlelight: warm, but casting shadows that ask you to look twice.