Punchinello, Volume 1, No. 22, August 27, 1870

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Title: Punchinello, Volume 1, No. 22, August 27, 1870
Author: Various
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Punchinello, Volume 1, No. 22, August 27, 1870" ***

Vol. 1. No. 22.

PUNCHINELLO

SATURDAY, AUGUST 27, 1870.

PUBLISHED BY THE

PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,

83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.

THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD,
By ORPHEUS C. KERR,
Continued in this Number.

[Sidenote: See 15th Page for Extra Premiums.]

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District
Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.

* * * * *

THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.

AN ADAPTATION.

BY ORPHEUS C. KERR.

CHAPTER XV.

"SPOTTED."

When the bell of St. Cow's began ringing for Ritualistic
morning-service, with a sound as of some incontinently rambling dun
spinster of the lacteal herd--now near at hand in cracked dissonance, as
the wind blows hither; now afar, in tinkling distance, as the wind blows
hence--MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON was several miles away from Bumsteadville
upon his walking-match, with head already bumped like a pineapple, and
face curiously swelled, from amateur practice with the Indian Club.
Being by that time cold enough for breakfast, and willing to try the
virtues of some soothing application to his right eye, which, from a
bruise just below it, was nearly closed, the badly banged young man
suspended his murderous calisthenics at the door of a rustic hotel, and
there entered to secure a wayside meal.

The American country "hotel," or half-way house, is, perhaps, one of the
most depressing fictions ever encountered by stage-passenger, or
pedestrian afield: and depends so exclusively upon the imagination for
any earthly distinction from the retired and neglected private hiding-place
of some decayed and morbid agricultural family, that only the
conventional swing sign-board before the door saves the cognizant mind
from a painfully dense confusion. Smelling about equally of eternal
wash-day, casual cow-shed, and passing feather-bed, it sustains a lank,
middle-aged, gristly man to come out at the same hour every day and
grunt unintelligibly at the stage-driver, an expressionless boy in a
bandless straw-hat and no shoes to stare blankly from the doorway at
the same old pole-horse he has mechanically thus inspected from infancy,
and one speckled hen of mature years to poise observingly on single leg
at the head of the shapeless black dog asleep at the sunny end of the
low wooden stoop. It is the one rural spot on earth where a call for
fresh eggs evokes remonstrative and chronic denial; where chickens for
dinner are sternly discredited as mere freaks of legendary romance, and
an order for a glass of new milk is incredulously answered by a
tumblerful of water which tastes of whitewash-brush. Whosoever sleeps
there of a night shall be crowded by walls which rub off into a faint
feather-bed of the flavor and consistency of geese used whole, and have
for his feverish breakfast in the morning a version of broiled ham as
racy of attic-salt as the rasher of BACON'S essays. And to him who pays
his bill there, ere he straggles weakly forth to repair his shattered
health by frenzied flight, shall be given in change such hoary ten-cent
shreds of former postal currency as he has not hitherto deemed credible,
sticking together in inextricable conglomeration by such fragments of
fish-scales as he never before believed could be gathered by handled
small-money from palms not sufficiently washed after piscatorial
diversion.

It was in at a country hotel, then, that the young Southern pedestrian
turned for temporary rest and a meal, and pitiless was the
cross-examination instituted by the inevitable lank, middle-aged gristly
man, before he could reconcile it with his duty as a cautious public
character to reveal the treasures of the larder. Those bumps on the
head, that swollen eye, and nose, came--did they?--from swinging this
here club for exercise. Well, he wanted to know, now! People generally
used two of the clubs at once--did they?--but one was enough for a
beginner. Well, he _wanted_ to know, now! Could he supply a couple of
poached eggs and a cup of milk? No, young man; but a slice of corned
pork and a bowl of tea were within the resources of the establishment.

When at length upon the road again, the bruised youth resolved to follow
a cattle-track "across lots," for the greater space in which to exercise
with his Indian club as he walked. Like any other novice in the
practice, he could not divest his mind of the impression, that the
frightful thumps he continually received, in twirling the merciless
thing around and behind his devoted head, were due to some kind of
crowding influence from the boundaries on either side the way, and it
was to gain relief from such damaging contraction of area that he left
the highway for the wider wintry fields. Going onward in these latter at
an irregular pace; sometimes momentarily stunned into a rangy stagger by
a sounding blow on the cerebrum or the cerebellum; and, again, irritated
almost to a run by contusion of shoulder-blade or funny-bone; he finally
became aware that two men were following him through the lots, and that
with a closeness of attention indicating more than common interest. To
the perception of his keenly sensitive Southern nature they at once
became ribald Yankee vandals, hoping for unseemly amusement from the
detection of some awkwardness in the Indian-club-play of a defeated but
not conquered Southern Gentleman; and, in the haughty sectional pride of
his contemptuous soul, he indignantly determined to show not the least
consciousness of their disrespectful observation. Twirling the club
around and around his battered head with increasing velocity, he smiled
scornfully to himself, nor deigned a single backward glance at the one
of his two followers who approached more rapidly than the other. He
heard the hindermost say to the foremost, "Leave him alone, I tell you,
and he'll knock himself down in a minute," and, in a passionately
reckless effort of sheer bravado to catch the club from one hand with
the other while it yet circled swiftly over his skull, he accidentally
brought the ungovernable weapon into tremendous contact with the top of
his head, and dashed himself violently to the earth.

"Didn't I tell you he'd do it?" cried the hindermost of the two
strangers, coming up; while the other coolly seated himself upon the
prostrated victim. "These here Indian clubs always throw a man if he
ain't got muscle in his arms; and this here little Chivalry has got arms
like a couple of canes."

"Arise from me instantly, fellow. You're sitting upon my breast-pin,"
exclaimed MONTGOMERY to the person sitting upon him.

They suffered him to regain his feet, which he did with extreme hauteur,
and surveyed his bumped head and swollen countenance with undisguised
wonder.

"How dare you treat a Southerner in this way?" continued the young man,
his head aching inexpressibly. "I thought the war was over long ago. If
money is your object, seek out a citizen of some other section than
mine; for the South is out of funds just now, owing to the military
outrages of Northern scorpions."

"We're constables, Mr. PENDRAGON," was the reply, "and it is our duty to
take you back to the main road, where a couple of your friends are
waiting for you."

Staring from one to the other in speechless wonder at what this fresh
outrage upon the down-trodden South could mean, MONTGOMERY allowed them
to replace his Indian club in his hand, and conduct him back to the
public road; where, to his increased bewilderment, he found Gospeler
SIMPSON and the Ritualistic organist.

"What is the matter, gentlemen?" he asked, in great agitation: "must I
take the oath of Loyalty; or am I required by Yankee philanthropy to
marry a negress?"

At the sound of his voice, Mr. BUMSTEAD left the shoulder of Mr.
SIMPSON, upon which he had been leaning with great weight, and, coming
forward in three long skips, deliberately wound his right hand in the
speaker's neck-tie.

"Where are those nephews--where's that umbrella?" demanded the organist,
with considerable ferocity.

"Nephews!--umbrella!" gasped the other.

"The EDWINS--bone handle," explained Mr. BUMSTEAD, lurching towards his
captive.

"Mr. MONTGOMERY," interposed the Gospeler, sadly, Mr. DROOD went out
with you last night, late, from his estimable uncle's lodgings, and has
not been seen since. Where is he?"

"He went back into the house again, sir, after I had walked him up and
down the road a few times."

"Well, then, where's that umbrella?" roared the organist, who seemed
quite beside himself with grief and excitement.

"Mr. BUMSTEAD, pray be more calm," implored the Reverend OCTAVIUS.

"Mr. MONTGOMERY, this agitated gentleman's nephew has been mysteriously
missing ever since he went out with you at midnight: also an alpaca
umbrella."

"Upon my honor, I know nothing of either," ejaculated the unhappy
Southerner.

Mr. BUMSTEAD, still holding him by the neck-tie, cast a fiery and
unsettled glance around at nothing in particular; then ground his teeth
audibly, and scowled.

"My boy's missing!" he said, hissingly.--"Y'understand?--he's
missing.--I must insist upon searching the prisoner."

In the presence of Gospeler and constables, and loftily regardless alike
of their startled wonder and the young man's protests, the maddened
uncle of the lost DROOD deliberately examined all the captive's pockets
in succession. In one of them was a penknife, which, after thoughtfully
trying it upon his pink nails, he abstractedly placed in his own pocket.
Searching next the overwhelmed Southerner's travelling-satchel, he found
in it an apple, which he first eyed with marked suspicion, and then bit
largely into, as though half expecting to find in it some traces of his
nephew.

"I'll keep this suspicious fruit," he remarked, with a hollow laugh;
and, bearing unreservedly upon the nearer arm of the hapless MONTGOMERY,
and eating audibly as he surged onward, he started on the return march
for Bumsteadville.

Not a word more was spoken until, after a cool Christmas stroll of about
eight and a quarter miles, the whole party stood before Judge SWEENEY in
the house of the latter. There, when the story had been sorrowfully
repeated by the Gospeler, Mr. BUMSTEAD exhibited the core of the apple,
and tickled the magistrate almost into hysterics by whispering very
closely in his ear, that it was a core curiously similar to that of the
last apple eaten by his nephew; and, having been found in an apple from
the prisoner's satchel, might be useful in evidence. Judge SWEENEY
wished to know if Mr. PENDRAGON had any political relations, or could
influence any votes? and, upon being answered in the negative, eyed the
young man sternly, and said that appearances were decidedly against him.
He could not exactly commit him to jail without accusation, although the
apple-core and his political unimportance subjected him to grave
suspicion: but he should hold the Gospeler responsible for the youth's
appearance at any time when his presence should be required. Mr.
BUMSTEAD, whose eyes were becoming very glassy, then suggested that a
handbill should be at once printed and circulated, to the effect that
there had been Lost, or Stolen, two Black Alpaca Nephews, about 5 feet 8
inches high, with a bone handle, light eyes and hair, and whalebone
ribs; and that if the said EDWIN would return, with a brass ferule
slightly worn, the finder should receive earnest thanks, and be seen
safely to his home by J. BUMSTEAD. Mr. Gospeler SIMPSON and Judge
SWEENEY agreed that a handbill should be issued: but thought it might
confuse the public mind if the missing nephew and the lost umbrella were
not kept separate.

"Has either 'f you gen'l'men ever been 'n Uncle?" asked the Ritualistic
organist, with dark intensity.

They shook their heads.

"_Then,_" said Mr. BUMSTEAD, with great force,--"THEN, gen'l'men,
you-knownor-wahritis-to-lose-'n-umbrella!"

Before they could decide in their weaker minds what the immediate
connection was, he had left them, at a sharp slant, in great
intellectual disturbance, and was passing out through the entry-way with
both his hands against the wall.

Early next morning, while young Mr. PENDRAGON was locked in his room,
startled and wretched, the inconsolable uncle of EDWIN DROOD was
energetically ransacking every part of Bumsteadville for the missing
man. House after house he visited, like some unholy inspector: peering
up chimneys, prodding under carpets, and staying a long time in cellars
where there was cider. Not a bit of paper or cloth blew along the
turnpike but he eagerly picked it up, searched in it with the most
anxious care, and finally placed it in his hat. Going to the Pond, with
a borrowed hatchet, he cut a bole in the thick ice, lost the hatchet,
and, after bathing his head in the water, declared that his alpaca
nephew was not there. Finding an antique flask in one of his pockets, he
gradually removed all the liquid contents therefrom with a tubular
straw, but still could discern no traces of EDWIN DROOD. All the
live-long day he prosecuted his researches, to the great discomposure of
the populace: and, with whitewash all over the back of his coat, and
very dingy hands, had just seated himself at his own fireside in the
evening, when Mr. DIBBLE came in.

"This is a strange disappearance," said Mr. DIBBLE.

"And it was good as new," groaned the organist, with but one eye open.

"Almost new!--_what_ was?"

"Th'umbrella."

"Mr. BUMSTEAD," returned the old man, coldly, "I am not talking of an
umbrella, but of Mr. EDWIN."

"Yesh, I know," said the uncle. "Awright. I'm li'lle sleepy; tha'sall."

"I've just seen my ward, Mr. BUMSTEAD."

"'She puerwell, shir?"

"She is _not_ pretty well. Nor is Miss PENDRAGON."

"I'm vahr' sorry," said Mr. BUMSTEAD, just audibly.

"Miss PENDRAGON scorns the thought of any blame for her brother,"
continued Mr. DIBBLE, eyeing the fire.

"It had a bun-bone handle," muttered the other, dreamily. Then, with a
momentary brightening--"'scuse me, shir: whah'll y'take?"

"Nothing, sir!" was the sharp response. "I'm not at all thirsty. But
there is something more to tell you. At the last meeting of my ward and
your nephew--just before your dinner here,--they concluded to break
their engagement of marriage, for certain good reasons, and thenceforth
be only brother and sister to each other."

Starting forward in his chair, with partially opened eyes, the
white-washed and dingy Mr. BUMSTEAD managed to get off his hat, covering
himself with a bandanna handkerchief and innumerable old pieces of paper
and cloth, as he did so, from head to foot; made a feeble effort to
throw it at the aged lawyer; and then, chair and all, tumbled forward
with a crash to the rug, where he lay in a refreshing sleep.

(_To be Continued._)

* * * * *

CHINCAPIN AT LONG BRANCH.

A QUAKER friend of mine once observed that he loved the Ocean for its
Broad Brim. So do I, but not for that alone. I am partial to it on
account of the somewhat extensive facilities it affords for Sea Bathing.
Learning to swim, by the way, was my principal Elementary study. I have
just returned from taking a plunge in company with many other
distinguished persons. How it cools one to rush into the "Boiling Surf."
How refreshing to dive Below the Billow. I don't think I could ever have
a Surfeit of the Surf, I am so fond of it. Oh! the Sea! the Sea! with
its darkly, deeply cerulean--but stop! I am getting out of my depth.
Would that I were a poet, that I--But I ain't, so what's the use?

As I sat on the verandah of the ------ Hotel the other morning, gazing
on the broad expanse of Ocean and wiping the perspiration which trickled
from my lofty brow, (the thermometer marked 90 degrees,) I could not
help recalling the beautifully appropriate lines of the celebrated bard:

"When the sun's perpendicular rays
Begin to illumine the Sea,
The fishies exclaim in amaze
'Confound it! how hot it will be!'"

What a pity that the Bathing here has a drawback. I refer, of course, to
the Under Tow, which has caused some Untoward accidents. Those who have
experienced it, say it is impossible to keep your Feet when caught by
the Under Tow. Presence of mind is indispensable in such a case, but,
unfortunately, timid swimmers are too apt to lose their Heads as well as
their feet. Some of the lady visitors are Beautiful Swimmers, and their
Divers Charms excite universal admiration. Many of these fair
Amphitrites are so constantly in or on the water that it would hardly be
a Fib to call them Amphibious. Their husbands and brothers are, I regret
to say, not so much On the Water, preferring something a trifle stronger
semi-occasionally, if not oftener.

You know what a popular amusement crabbing is here. I seldom indulge in
it myself, as I have bad luck, which makes me Crabbed.

Our "distinguished guests," as JENKINS would say, are very numerous, and
it is truly an edifying sight to see judges, legislators, eminent
politicians, and other "Heads of the People" bobbing about in the water
together.

Some folks don't seem to care what they spend when they come here, and
no sooner arrive at the Branch than they Branch out into all sorts of
extravagance. There is some superb horseflesh here just now, and the
fastest nags may be seen doing their Level best on the Smooth Beach. The
Race Track, Grand Stand, &c., are all that the vivid fancy of a
PUNCHINELLO can paint them. The bathing costumes! who can do justice to
them and their lovely wearers? Some time ago, (as I am informed,) a lady
made her appearance on the beach as a Nereid. Did you Ne'er read of the
Nereids, Mr. PUNCHINELLO? If you have, you are aware that they were the
Sea Nymphs of the Ancients, in other words the Old Maids of the Sea, who
never got married, and frequently played Scaly tricks on Mariners. The
Nereid referred to was arrayed in pea green and spangles, with green
tresses, which is very well known to be the correct costume of a mermaid
of antiquity, copied from the latest Paris fashions. This Spritely lady
was, however, unprovided with a tail, which was Unmermaidenlike in the
Extreme.

You know how brilliant the Hops are, so I will Skip them. One thing,
however, is worth noting. At some of the Hotels they have a Spread on
the carpet before the dancing begins, as well as a supper afterwards.
The excellent music of the Hotel bands is Instrumental in drawing crowds
of listeners to the Ball rooms. Some Chinese Jugglers gave an
entertainment here the other evening, but I didn't go, not being in the
Juggler Vein. Yours Reverentially,

CHINCAPIN.

* * * * *

[Illustration: PRUSSIC ACID.

"FIFTY DOUSAND FENIANS ARMED MID REPEATERS FOR FRANCE! LET 'EM GO!
BEESMARK WILL MAKE DEM NOT COOM PACK TO REPEAT IN DIS GOONDERY NO MORE!"]

* * * * *

THE POEMS OF THE CRADLE.

CANTO IV.

Little JACK HORNER
Sat in a corner.
Eating a Christmas Pie:
He put in his thumb
And pulled out a plum,
And said, "What a brave boy am I."

In Canto I, I have shown the varied emotions which seized the tender
soul of Old Mother HUBBARD'S Dog. Emotions so fierce in their sorrow,
that they left not a single wiggle in his tail: his hopes were crushed,
his expectations ruined. In Canto II I have pictured the musical
propensities of the genus _Cat_, the wandering vagaries of the moon-dane
cow, the purp's withering contempt thereat, and the frisky evolutions of
the dish which rolled off on its ear. In Canto III I have portrayed the
"tender passion" and its melancholy result on the hill-side--a fitting
illustration of the fact that the course of true love never did run
smooth, especially if there were big rocks to knock one's toes against.
And now, in Canto IV, I am about to portray childish innocence in the
pursuit of bliss.

All things are graded, with the trifling exception of many of our
streets. But who cares about this grade of bliss? I don't, and I am sure
the poet didn't when he sang the lines at the head of this chapter.
Bliss is graded. The old man in Wall street, with white hair and white
necktie, and smooth polished tongue, has his degree of bliss when he is
engaged in throwing stones at the Apes in the tree-top, that they may
return the throw with gold cocoa-nuts. The young lady has her degree of
bliss when her waist is entwined by "Dear CHAWLES," who soothes her
troubled spirit with the tender melody of "Red as a beet is
she,"--alluding to her would-be rival. The nice young man has his degree
of bliss when he chews a tooth-pick--poor goose! (not the nice young
man, but the fowl which gave the quill,)--and is given a smile by a
dark-eyed female in a passing stage.

And Infantdom has--But our poet beautifully illustrates this in the
stanzas we have quoted.

"Little JACK HORNER,"

says he, with the easy grace of one perfectly familiar with the subject
he is to treat; neither frightened at its immensity, nor putting himself
in the way of a dilemma by stopping to examine details. Little JACK was
the poet's pet because he was the afflicted one of the household, and
poets know full well how to sympathize with affliction. Perhaps JACK sat
down to dinner next to cross-eyed SUSAN ANN, "by Brother BILL'S gal,"
and perhaps JACK'S nose was tickled by a little blue-bottle, and that he
sneezed right into her soup-plate; and then he was hurried from the
table for blowing a fly into SUSAN ANN'S soup! He would lose his dinner.
His napkin would miss its accustomed wash!

"Shall it be thus? No!" says the poet. "Dry your tears, little JACK, go
to the well-stocked pantry, my boy, and get something to eat. The jury
will not convict you of stealing, for their verdict will be that you did
the deed in self-defence." And he did--go to the closet, and--

"Sat in the corner,
Eating a Christmas Pie."

See the smiles as they wreathe themselves on his chubby countenance. How
little JACK looks at the pie! how he turns it round and round to find
the best spot whereon to begin the attack! How he smacks his lips, and
thinks how nice it would be if he _could_ wish to give SUSAN ANN a
taste! But he can't.

Suddenly an idea strikes JACK. He has heard Uncle TOM talk of a big war
between Frawnce and Proossia, and all about the soldiers and the cannon,
and the big noises. Little JACK will make war on the pie. He will be
Frawnce, the pie will be Proossia. He sets it squarely before him on the
floor; rolls up his sleeves, may be; his eyes sparkle with
determination; he finds the most vulnerable spot in the crust; he makes
one bold dive with his thumb, it goes down, down down, crushing
everything before it; it feels something; renewed vigor flows through
JACK'S veins, and gives him new strength for the attack; victory crowns
him; and, in the words of the poet,

"He pulled out a plum,
And said, 'What a brave boy am I.'"

--Now he is happy. He has realized his fondest hopes. The blue-bottle
has no tickle for him now. He was Frawnce and he has licked Proossia.
There is nothing left but the plate, and his teeth are not hard enough
for that.

* * * * *

"Hooray for the Impurrur!"

The ardor with which our Milesian element embraces the cause of France
furnishes a puzzle for many thoughtful minds; and yet its solution is
simple. In planning a passage of the Rhine, LOUIS NAPOLEON proposes to
BRIDGET. That's all.

* * * * *

A Roland for his Oliver.

OLIVER DYER, of the _Sun_, is the original "Dyer Necessity that
knows no law."

* * * * *

OUR PORTFOLIO.

And now comes to light another divorce case in Chicago. Mrs. HUGG sues
Mr. HUGG for a decree _e vinculo matrimonii_. If there is anything in a
name, no one will gainsay the observation that if hugging has lost its
charm, Mrs. HUGG is the last person to make a fuss about it. She took
her HUGG with a full knowledge of the circumstances, and it is contrary
to public policy and good morals that her plea of "hugged out" should
enable her to obtain the remedy which she seeks.

In France they do not wait for the completion of the years of
adolescence to dub a scion of the royal family with the title of "man."
The Prince Imperial, prior to his departure for the wars, was presented
at Court as the "first gentleman" of France. For a youth of fourteen he
is said to have gone through the trying ceremonies with great credit
until directed by his mamma to dance with a venerable female of noble
blood, just as he was about to lend a beautiful American miss through
the mazes of a Schottische. The son of his father took one glance at the
ancient dame, and one at the lovely creature beside him, and then set up
a right royal blubber of disappointment.

"Remember, my son," said EUGENIE, "you are a man now, and men never
cry."

"Oh! mamma," sighed the afflicted Prince, "let me be a boy again, rather
than dance with _cette vieille_ yonder!"

Alas! for the ambition of monarchs, who put forward their beardless
progeny to do the deeds of men, and to suffer with men's fortitude, when
they are more fit to be puling in a nurse's arms, or unravelling silk
skeins for some maid of honor.

* * * * *

THE WATERING PLACES.

Punchinello's Vacations.

It was hot when Mr. PUNCHINELLO started for Niagara. So hot that no
allusions to Fahrenheit would give an idea of the tremendous
preponderance of caloric in the atmosphere. The trip was full of
discomforts, and there was great danger, at one time, that the train
would arrive at Niagara with a load of desiccated bodies. Of course the
water all boiled away in the engine-tanks, causing endless stoppages;
and of course the hot sun, pouring directly upon the roof of the cars,
caused the boards thereof to curl up and twist about in such fantastic
fashion, that they afforded no protection whatever to the passengers,
who were obliged to resort to sunshades and umbrellas, or get under the
seats. Added to this were the facts that the ice-water in the coolers
scalded the mouth; the brass-work on the seats blistered the hands; and
the empty stoves, almost red-hot from their exposure to the sun,
superheated the cars to a degree that was maddening. Added to these was
the fact that the intense heat expanded the rails until they were
several miles longer than usual, and thus the passengers suffered the
tortures of the transit for an increased length of time.

When, at last, Mr. P. was conveyed, in a stifling hack, (the fare had
risen, under the unusual circumstances, about one hundred and ten
degrees,) to a stifling little room under the hot roof of an hotel
exposed to the sun on every side, and had taken an extempore Russian
bath while changing his linen, and had partaken of a hot dinner, he
might have been excused for saying that he would like to cool off a
little.

Inquiring if there was any stream of water convenient, he was directed
to the river Niagara, which runs hard by the hotel.

Reaching the banks of the river, Mr. P. was very much pleased by the
prospect. There is a considerable depression in the bed of the stream at
one point, and the water runs over the rocks quite rapidly, carrying
with it such leaves, twigs, steamboats or other objects that may be
floating upon its surface.

Mr. P. immediately perceived the advantages of this condition of things
to a a gentleman suffering from the heat, and procuring a boat, he rowed
close to the foot of a cascade formed by the inclination in the bed of
the river, and throwing out his anchor, revelled in the luxury of the
cool spray and the refreshing sound of the rushing water.

[Illustration]

Does not this look cool?

When sufficiently refreshed, Mr. P. rowed to shore, feeling like another
man. With the greatest confidence in its merits, he recommends his plan
to those who may be suffering from the summer heat.

After breakfast the next morning, Mr. P. set out to see what he could
see. He did not engage the services of any hackman or professional
guide.

He had heard of their extortions, and determined to submit to nothing of
the kind. He intended relying entirely upon himself. He walked some
distance without meeting with any of the places of interest of which he
had heard so much.

Meeting at length with a respectable elderly gentleman, Mr. P. inquired
of him the way to the Cave of the Winds.

"The Cave of the Winds? Ah!" said this worthy person. "You turn to your
left here, sir--ah! and then you keep on for about--ah! half a mile, and
you will--ah! see a gate--ah! Behind that is a man and the cave--ah!"

Mr. P. thanked him and was proceeding on his way, when the worthy
citizen touched him on the arm, saying:

"Twenty-one dollars, if you please, sir."

"Twenty-one dev----developments!" cried Mr. P; "Why, what do you mean?"

"Information, sir; fifty cents a word; forty-two words; twenty-one
dollars."

It must not be supposed that Mr. P. submitted tamely to this outrage,
but after a long dispute, it was agreed to refer the matter to the
arbitration of three of the principal citizens. They promptly decided
that the charge was just and must be paid, but, owing to Mr. P.'s
earnest protestations, they agreed to throw out the "ahs," as being of
doubtful value as information. The sum thus saved to Mr. P. exactly paid
for drinks for the party.

Mr. P. now very sensibly concluded that it was about time to leave, if
his editors, his printers, and the employés in his pun-factory were to
expect any pay that week, and so he set out for home in the evening,
taking a shortcut by the way of Montreal.

He thought that a day might be very profitably spent here, especially if
he could fall in with any of the French-Canadians, of whose
peculiarities he had heard so much. The study of human nature was always
Mr. P.'s particular forte.

On the morning of his arrival, Mr. P. met, in the dining-room of the
hotel, a gentleman who was unmistakably a Frenchman, and being in
Canada, was probably Canadian. As they were sitting together at the
table, Mr. P., having mentally rubbed up his knowledge of the French
language, addressed his companion thus:

"_Avez-vous le chapeau de mon frere?_"

The gentleman thus politely addressed, bowed, smiled, and after a little
hesitation answered:

"_Non, Monsieur; mais jài le fromage de votre soeur._"

"_Eh bien_" said Mr. P., as he scratched his head for a moment. "_Otez
vous vos souliers et vos bas?_"

The other answered promptly, "_Je n'ote ni les uns ni les autres._"

"_Votre père,_" remarked Mr. P., "_a-t-il la chandelle de votre oncle?_"

His companion remained silent for a minute or two, and then he said:

"I forget the French of the answer to that, but I know the English of
it; it is 'no, sir, but he has the apples-of-the-ground-of-sugar of my
mother-in-law.'"

When Mr. P. discovered, after a little conversation in the vernacular,
that his companion was a New York dry-goods clerk, he gave up the study
of the French-Canadian character and went on with his breakfast.

When he went out into the streets to see the lions of the city he was
delighted to meet with some old friends. In company with them he visited
the Government House; the Cathedral; the Statue of NELSON; the VICTORIA
bridge; and everything else of interest in the place. But nothing was so
delightful to him as the faces of these old friends, from whom he had
been separated so long.

* * * * *

[Illustration: When, at last, they left him, he returned sadly to New
York.]

* * * * *

IDIOTIC ITEMS.

On Tuesday last one of the swans in Central Park laid a hen's egg.

A celebrated English professor of heraldry is now at Long Branch,
studying the crests of the waves.

Dr. LIVINGSTONE is no longer a white man. The large colored princess
whom he has been compelled to marry has beaten him black and blue.

Louis NAPOLEON'S first bulletin about the war was the bullet in the
pocket of NAP Junior.

An intelligent cordwainer of this city has invented a bathing shoe to
fit the under-toe at Long Branch.

The lock of the writing-desk made with his own hands by LOUIS NAPOLEON,
at Hoboken, has been presented to the Empress EUGENIE by a gentleman
residing at Union Hill, in exchange for a lock of her Majesty's hair.

Yesterday, while three eminent Wall street brokers--names, BROWN, JONES,
and ROBINSON--were engaged in watering stock, they fell in and were
drowned. Loss fully covered by insurance.

CARL FORMES is oddly reported to have lost his Bass voice through over
indulgence in lager-beer. He drank a barrel of beer a day, and his voice
has now become a barrel organ.

In France the _Marseillaise_ has become the national Him; while, in
Prussia, BISMARCK is decidedly the national Herr.

A French paper has an article respecting certain musical fishes found in
the Indian Seas, They ought to be engaged for PIKE'S Opera House.

The annual panther, weighing 8 ft., 9 inches, from snout to tip of tail,
and measuring 213 lbs., has just been killed in the Adirondacks by a
reporter.

* * * * *

POLITICAL CLAPTRAP.

The sympathy exhibited by the _Sun_ reporters and editors for the
unhappy victim of Ogre Tammany is particularly touching.

Association with the Wickedest Man in New York, the Honorable JOHN
ALLEN, _protégé_ of the Reverend OLIVER DYER, has evidently demoralized
the pure beings who control the immaculate sheet known as the _Sun_,
whose putrescent light "shines for all."

These panders to the depraved taste of a depraved portion of the
community, may exult in the spectacle presented in the City of New York
on Sunday, the 7th inst., but is it not a sorrowful thing in a so-called
Christian land to see a murderer borne with triumph to his grave, while
pseudo philanthropists deck his bier with flowers, and deliberately
charge a great political party with having hunted the wretched man to
his death?

Was there no nobler game worth the killing by Tammany? Was there not a
"stag of Ten" to be found, to be struck, if party necessities required
it? Would OAKEY HALL and PETER B. SWEENY put such a slight upon these
bastard allies of the O'BRIENS and MORRISSEYS whose columns are open to
the highest bidder, and whose lips reek venom while their hands are ever
ready to strike a victim in the back, as to pass them by while they were
on the war-path?

But hold--perhaps we have a clue to this singular conduct of the Tammany
warriors. They may have foreseen how apt the sweet people are to confer
immortality upon those whose death becomes them better than their life,
and therefore wisely forebore to disturb those blissful with murderers
and felons which seem to bind the Satellites of the _Sun_ and the
denizens of the Tombs together.

* * * * *

SUMMER ON THE CATSKILLS,

BY REGALIA REYNA.

O thou Mount Katskill! whom I now survey
In roseate brightness of the new-born day,
To thee my thankfulness I would convey,
For self and crowd;
Who from the glare and hum of hot
Financial lives,
Have sought repose upon thy wondrous crest, and
Brought our wives--
I gaze upon thy placid brow, where storms do
Reckless rage,
Forgetful of the storms of life, and Mister
BEACH's stage.

II.

I gaze upon thy beauteous vistas
Far and wide;
I see the day-break beautifully paint thy
Rugged side:
I see AURORA show the panorama
Night did hide:
I see the lazy Hudson grad-u-
Ally glide,
Reluctant to abandon thee, and seek
The salt sea tide.
I think almost excusingly of that tough
Two dollar ride;
And only for my wallet's sake, I longer
Would abide.

III.

Nature has kindly gifted thee with meadow,
Lake and dell,
And for the Falls of Kauterskill I know no
Parallel:
Humanity has crowned thee with this festive
Gay Hotel,
Where Fame and Fashion eager wait to hear
Thy dinner bell:
O Mount! O view! thy beauties now I can no
Longer tell,
For, after breakfast, I must say--O Katskill!
Fare thee well!
And leave thee--in one of those abominable stages,
"which I wish it"
Was in H------eaven!

* * * * *

Extraordinary Ledger-demain.

The Soldiers' Monument at Cambridge is the result of the combined
efforts of CYRUS and DARIUS COBB, whereas, SYLVANUS, alone and
unassisted, is able to raise, every week, a tall column on the surface
of the _N.Y. Ledger._

* * * * *

Censor of the Press.

The unfortunate official who sought reliable information, the other day,
respecting the age and immense property possessions of PUNCHINELLO, on
comparing his notes subsequently, remarked to a friend that he felt as
if he had temporarily lost his Census.

* * * * *

Appropriate.

DANA, of the _Sun_, is about to open an undertaker's establishment for
the arrangement of murderer's obsequies. Motto--"Pinking done here."

* * * * *

The Wrong Mouth.

A LITTLE Fourth-of-Julyer in Pittsburgh, going along with his mouth
open, (after the manner of boys), caught a fire-cracker therein, just as
the cracker was going off. He had often had crackers in his mouth, but
preceding ones had proved nourishing and non-explosive; whereas, this
cracker was quite the reverse. As a consequence, the boy has lost his
voice, but (what is curious, certainly,) is otherwise all sound.

Were we certain that heaving a fire-cracker into an open mouth would
always produce such a result, we should certainly hire some one to shut
up the noisier of our public nuisances--such as G.F. TRAIN, and several
members of Congress. This could be easily done, as their mouths are
always open, and usually are very large ones. We invite proposals from
boys, relating to next season's operations.

* * * * *

Theft Extraordinary.

A weekly journal gravely informs a correspondent that "the line, 'A
thing of beauty is a joy forever,' occurs in TUPPER's _Proverbial
Philosophy_."

Shades of the poets! More than fifty years ago, JOHN KEATS commenced a
poem called "Endymion," with that very line. To think that he should
have gone and borrowed it from TUPPER!

* * * * *

Politician's Plant.

See WEED.

* * * * *

[Illustration:

THE LATEST MELODRAMATIC DODGE OF A PLAYED-OUT POLITICIAN.

PROMPTER DANA, OF THE "SUN," GIVES THE CUE TO A _REAL_ SKELETON.]

* * * * *

Conversion of the "Sun."

It was said of Bishop COLENSO that he "undertook to convert a Zulu
Kaffir, but the Z. K. converted him."

Such a circumstance may be fallen upon without going so far as Africa to
seek for it. JOHN ALLEN, of Water Street, was, once upon a time, the
Zulu Kaffir of DANA of the _Sun_ and his fascinating Satellite, OLIVER
DYER.

The ways of JOHN ALLEN were very wicked when these pious
missionaries threw themselves upon his trail, and tried to convert him.
Perhaps the reformatory effort was well meant; but, alas! for the
feebleness of all human arrangements--JOHN ALLEN remains the reprobate
he was, while he to his flock has brought DANA, the _Sun_ man, and DYER,
the Satellite man, converts to the Allenian theory that money made from
dirt is the only healthful stimulant to virtuous toil.

And so it was that DANA the devout, and DYER the saintly, went forth to
convert the Zulu Kaffir of Water Street, and the Z. F. converted them.

* * * * *

Ready for Another Heat.

The horses of PHOEBUS.

* * * * *

A Royal Game.

The ex-queen of Spain fears that ALFONSO will be "euchred." She remarked
to him recently, Play you're king.

* * * * *

CONTEMPORARY SENTIMENTS,

On the Great War Question.

"WILLIAM'S my man!" cries one enthusiast,--
"He'll be in Paris, _sure_, within ten days!"
"'Paris' your Granny!" cries one just as fast;
"'Ere that, man! you'll see Berlin in a blaze!"

"France has the finest soldiers ever seen!"
Says one who knows; "they never can be beat!"
One who knows also, says, "the French are green!
Their only real strength is in their fleet!"

"Oh, hang their fleet!" exclaims another man;
"It's useless now,--it has no work to do!
But let France use her navy all she can,
You'll see if Prussia doesn't put her through!"

"Prussia ain't able!" cries an eager one:
"Let her drink all the lager in her shops,
She'll find the little job is not yet done,
For all there's such enormous strength in hops!"

"And if there's any danger comes to France,"
Remarks the seventh man, "_Ireland_ will arise!"
"And if she does, old England will advance!"
The eighth (an Englishman,) with pride replies.

And so they have it hot, for half a day,--
First A., then B., then C. and D. at once,
And thus the precious moments roll away,
And none can tell who is the greatest dunce.

* * * * *

The Aldermen to their Dinner.

Gorge us!

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE OVATION OF MURDER.

_The Devil, (soliloquizing.)_ "NEW YORK'S THE PLACE FOR ME! THIS IS WHAT
I CALL _REAL_ ENJOYMENT--A MURDERER'S FUNERAL PROCESSION GRANDER FAR
THAN THAT OF ANY GREAT AND GOOD CITIZEN, AND THIS IN A CITY OF
SUNDAY-SCHOOLS AND CHURCHES!". _(The Devil's Walk: Sunday, August 7,
1870.)_]

* * * * *

HIRAM GREEN AT THE FEMALE CONVENTION.

The Cardiff Giant and other Fossils at Saratoga.

"Duble, duble, heaps of truble,
Wimmen's rites will bust the bubble."

SHAKESPEAR. (WM.)

The wolves in sheeps clothin' convenshed agin for an annual rippin' up
of things, at Saratogy.

The undersined, in custody of the undersined's wife, who is a
Hicockalormn of the Skeensboro Sore-eye-sisses, was present at the
singin' of the above selection from the defunct bard.

Male and femail wimmen was there dressed emblamatical of their callin'.

"Black folks and white
With red hair and gray,
Mingled for a fite
In Sar-a-to-ga." SHAKESPEAR & GREEN.

SOOZAN B. ANTHENY was scrumpshusly ragged out in broad-cloth.

A turkish towellin' vest-pattent lether butes and silk hat, completed
her _Toot in cymbals_.

ERNEST L. ROZE wore a nobby scotch cassimer soot. She carried a cane and
wore her hair parted in the middle.

Mrs. RUBE PHENTON--MARTHY WRITE--O'LIMPING BROWN--SARY FILLEO--Mrs.
DEXTER NOLTON--LILLY DEVERS BLAKE--SARY HALLEK--FEBEE CAREY, and other
prominent Fireside agitaters and Herthstun depopulaters, were becominly
araid, and did gustise to their tailors.

PHREDRICK DOUGLIS, a firey broonet from Rochester, looked bewitchin' in
a _more anteek_ silk dress.

A camels hair overskirt hung grasefully over his loins. Peepin' out from
beneath his robes, was a delicate little foot, encased in a flesh
cullered pair of No. 11 buckskin mocasins.

His hair was done up in a 2 bushel waterfall, and was frizzled all over,
_a lar Ethiope_.

EDWIN A. STUDWELL, of Brooklyn, looked stunnin' in a granny Dean walkin'
dress and red cotton umbreller.

His back hair was tempestously arranged.

A couple of bolony sassiges, in a hily chawed up state, hung pendent
from the aft of his gorgeous waterfall, and dangled to his heels, _a lar
cheapee John_,

When approached by that great captivater of susseptible hearts (?)
SOOZAN B. ANTHENY, ED blushed like a red-headed woodpecker, and hid his
modesty behind a $4.00 palm leaf fan.

STEVE GRISWOLD, DAN KETCHAM and a few other manikins, was dressed
accordin' to the prevailin' fashions of the feminin sects.

A good cleen shave would have completed their disgize, and folks
woulden't have had a suspicion but what they was what they was actin' to
be.

I was shocked to hear one audacious retch remark:

"Them chaps look like a lot of hen-peckt broken furniture."

"Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites
And show the best of femail spites,
So teach that horrid critter, man,
We'll swaller him hul, when ere we can." 1ST WITCH.

SOOZAN B. was elected chairman.

On takin' her seat she said:

"My femail friends by birth, and my femail friends by brevet;"

"We have convenshed for the purpuss of having our rites redressed----"

A voice: "Haden't you better go home and redress yourselves first?"

The whole convention was onto their feet in a second, while the chairman
fell into her seet and regained her composure, by takin' a good helthy
pinch of scotch snuff.

Quiet bein' restored, a Mrs. GAGE riz to her feet, and, removin' a chew
of tobacker from her mouth, read the follerin' resolutions:

Whereas: 2 National Wimmen's Suffrage Circus are industrously plyin'
their vocation.

Whereas: A effort is afoot to jine 'em together under the same tent.

Now be it resolved: We don't perceeve it in them sunbeams. The New York
State Suffrage Circus is able to paddle her own stone bote. Bosting to
the contrary not-with-out-standin'-up.

Resolved finally: We is the original JACOBS, and if Bosting don't like
the cut of our Jib, let her lump it.

(Grate applaws.)

A strange lookin' woman, who wore a swaller tail cote, red the follerin
resolutions:

Whereas: Woman has a spear, it hain't to cook vittles--darn
stockin's--tend baby and try to make her husbin happy.

Whereas: Man is a brute--woman an angle. Man can vote--woman can't.

Resolved: That as long as man won't give us the ballit, that after Jan.,
1871, every mail brat that comes squawkin' into the world, be smothered
the minnit he is borned.

Resolved: That when the mail rase is extinguished, the superior critter,
woman, take peaceable possession of the ballit box.

These resolutions was vociferously cheered, Mrs. GREEN becomin' so
exsited that she whacked me over the head with her parasol in a most
ongentlemanly manner.

(N.B.--I would heer state that I'me a Resistanter agin femail suffrage.

Give woman the 16th Commendment and we can cry "peece" ontil our
wind-pipes are collored, but not a darned bit of peece will we git,
except occashunly a peece is nockt off of our snoot, for refusin' to get
up early Monday mornin's to do the washin'.)

At the above juncture of the proceedin's, the Cardiff Jiant, who is
spendin' the summer at this selebrated waterin' place, entered the room.

The old feller had heard of this grate Fossil Convenshun.

As the distinguished fraud entered the room, cheers filled the air.

Members in exstasy jumped up onto the benches--stood on their
heads--threw their false teeth all about the floor, and acted like a lot
of Rocky Mountain injuns, chock full of New England rum.

Silents was restored by tossin' a live man to the exsited Amazons, whom
they tore to peeces, partly satisfyin' their cravin' appetites.

Old GIPSUM then _oratoricised_ as viz.:

"Feller Fossils: This is indeed the most momentous event I've attended
since I left Onondagar.

"When COTTON MATHER came over in the Grate Eastern, he sent out a dove to
see if the Pilgrims, would allow her to pick any flowers off of Plymouth
Rock.

"What was the result of that experiment?

"Why, the dove coulden't find any rest for the soul of her shoo; for
Plymouth Rocks were thicker than Cardiff Jiants. That base man, BARNUM,
had taken plaster casts of the old rock, and there wasen't a town along
the coast, but what had its 'original Plymouth Rock.'

"The dove, not bein' a good judge of genuine stuns, made her "Shoo fly"
back to the old ark, and told her tail. Therefore, I ask as a personal
favor, seein' that BARNUM sarved me same's he did old Plymouth Rock,
that when this august assemblage of Fossilized human bein's comes down
onto the mail portion of the U. States, old P.T. be turned over to us.
I'le make him think he's got straddle his wooly hoss, and an army of
mermades was after him with red hot pitchforks.

"Grant me this favor, and when the fite of the Amazons begins, you can
count on me to hold your bonnets."

Amid tremenjus applaus old Fort Dodger squatted.

Letters were then read from the Cohoes Mastodon--ARTEMAS WARD'S wax
figgers--the wooly hoss--a miselaneous lot of Egipshun Mummies, and
THEODOR TILTIN--regrettin' their inability to attend the Fossil
Convention.

HORRIS GREELY was then anathemized, BEN BUTLER--Senator WILSON--and GEO.
FRANCIS TRAIN Ulogized.

Resolutions were offered that Congressman MORRISEY be pulverized, by
some talented femail startin' a opposition club house, employin' none
but Tigers of the gentle sects.

After a few more summer complaint speeches agin that Horrible!
Bloodthirsty! 2 legged Monkster, MAN!! the annual Hen convention of
Antideluvian Fossils tide up their bonnet strings--took their husbans
under their off arm--walked down to Congress Spring.

The witches who dipp up the mineral fluid danced about the cauldron,
while the President of the company spyin' the Femails approachin'
remarked:

"By the prickin' of my thumb
Somethin' wicked this way comes."

The above, Friend PUNCHINELLO, was as seen by,

Ewers faithfully,

HIRAM GREEN,

_Lait Gustise of the Peece_.

* * * * *

Birds of Passage.

The African ostrich is sometimes trained to carry passengers on his
back, but the player of "our national game" is often seen "going out on
a Foul."

* * * * *

[Illustration: A VERY NECESSARY PRECAUTION.]

* * * * *

BLOCKS AND BLOCKHEADS.

Mr. Punchinello: As the acknowledged redresser of American wrongs and
the enemy of public nuisances, we beg your attention to a vice which
seems to be upon the increase, and which grows in strength with what it
feeds upon. As the vice in question appears to be upon the increase, and
to fascinate its victims by the allurements of the excitement, we
consider it worthy of PUNCHINELLO'S lance, or, in other words, of being
transfixed upon PUNCHINELLO'S quill.

We refer to the loafing which invariably takes place upon the occasion
of the relaying of the wooden pavement. I say wooden more particularly,
inasmuch as new fangled varieties of pavement, such as Concrete,
Nicholson, etc., although they have their day, cannot be said to compete
for a moment in public regard with the good old fashioned kind first
described.

Of all the causes that arrest public attention, surely this laying of
wooden pavement is the most enduring and effectual.

People of every grade and degree make a dead halt as they approach this
centre of interest, and at once settle down for a prolonged inspection
of the works before them. It is true that everybody has seen the same
thing one hundred and fifty times, but this description of indulgence
appears to grow by what it feeds upon, and the fascinated victim watches
the operation of the workers with a gratification which knows no
abatement. The usual formula gone through upon these occasions is as
follows:

Citizen approaches the scene of interest, and sees crowds of spectators
upon each side; he glances at the workmen, and, after taking stock of
both them and the overseer, proceeds to read the opinion of his fellows
in their faces, after which he settles down in right earnest with his
hands in his pockets for a prolonged stare. This latter may continue for
periods varying from ten minutes to an hour and three quarters,
according to inclination or opportunity.

If the spectator is a man of business, it is just possible that he may
content himself with measuring the size of the blocks with his eye, and
then pass on, content to know that he, as one out of many taxpayers, is
getting the value of what they are called on to pay for. But with the
mass of the onlookers, the pouring of the hot pitch into the gravelled
interstices is watched with a satisfaction ever new, like that bestowed
in the pantomime upon the application by the clown of the red-hot poker.

There is also the pleasure of seeing others at hard work, and the
indulgence of everybody's belief (which is common to all present,) that
he or she could suggest an improvement upon the work proceeding, and the
manner of doing it. Then they look at each other once more and depart
contented.

Upon a moderate calculation, the amount of time devoted by human beings
to this amusing study, in the City of New York, amounts to 2,450,000
hours per annum.

* * * * *

ENGLAND'S QUANDARY.

Conjecture and expectancy, O PUNCHINELLO! have been the order of the day
in this European turmoil, with regard to the position of what are called
neutral Powers. People have been looking at England with much curiosity
to see what she really does intend. With the facilities which our
_special wire_ affords, I am enabled to report a highly interesting
soliloquy delivered by the Rt. Hon. W. E. GLADSTONE, to his bed-post, at
his home in Spring Gardens, London, after a hot night's debate at St.
STEPHEN'S. Our reporter concealed himself in the key-hole and took
_verbatim_ notes. As in the case of the speeches delivered by the rival
monarchs to their armies, which you published a week in advance of the
speeches themselves, the following can be relied on:

"I'm tired of answering questions. Let me think awhile. Is war the only
alternative? They blame me for not talking out. Fools, they don't know
where they stand. At home and abroad, difficulty. Our workmen
emigrating; the Irish irreconcilable, (curse that word!) nothing
cheerful that side.

"France can rock _her_ irreconcilables to sleep to the war lullaby of
that man we have so trusted only to betray us; _our_ irreconcilables
only wait for war to side with our enemy. Prussia, grasping bull-dog as
she is, makes capital out of it, and calls us to her side, while our
stupid people burn with a Prussian fever, which may turn to a plague
to-morrow.

"Is the Prussian whom we have helped to humble to be our only ally? Then
must we write ourselves down asses in Constantinople.

"If we had some other head besides weather-cock expediency. France has
an Emperor, Prussia a King to lead them; we have a Queen who takes walks
in the Isle of Wight; and her son--bah! a _roué_ about town. Their
marriage alliances are drag-chains, not bonds of love. Denmark does not
forget our treachery in '65. Holland is afraid of France. We are safe
from America yet. They are too much afraid of the German vote, thank
Heaven, to side with France, but "Alabama" is her watchword, and she
only waits to strangle us. LAFAYETTE and the Hessians are only memories,
they have no votes. Ah! it was a mistake to sympathize with the South.

"Our statesmen--Heaven save the mark!--are our worst enemies. D'ISRAELI,
the Jew, doubles our difficulty by showing our weakness. He would play
the part of PITT without his brains or his chances. Then we led, now we
are dragged at the tail. We may sign treaties, but we cannot write them.
BRIGHT would be friendly with both; GRANVILLE with neither, and thus
each is offended. It is ridiculous, and the only course left is to
bluster about Belgium.

"It must be the late dinner. There are all sorts of threatening shadows
around, and but one light; that is a war flame. Let me sleep. To-morrow
the gaping thousands will ask a sign. It may come, but it shall be
hoisted on the Rhine, and, helpless tide waiters, we cannot tell from
which side it shall come. Ah! 'Uneasy sits the man on the ministerial
bench,' as SHAKESPEARE would say to-day, for the crown that he spoke of
is an ornament in the tower."

REPORTER

* * * * *

Magnetic

Polish soldiers should choose the needle gun. The needle is always
true to the Pole.

* * * * *

[Illustration: A CAPITAL HINT FOR OUR STATIONARY STREET MUSICIANS, IF
THEY WANT TO MAKE MONEY. ]

* * * * *

THE LEAVEN OF LEAVENWORTH.

The great West has long been famous for the loose, untrammelled freedom
with which its inhabitants treat everything and everybody. Breadth, no
less than length, is a striking feature of Western settlements, and that
this element is conspicuous in the journalism of those singular abodes,
no less than in the social life of their inhabitants, generally, is
evidenced in the following advertisement cut from "_The Times_"--a paper
published at Leavenworth, Kansas:

"NOTICE TO DRIVERS OF FAST STOCK.--Hold your horses and do not drive so
fast. All gay and festive cusses caught driving faster than ordinary
gait in the city, will be brought before Judge Vaughan, for instance--the
fine is $20.

H. A. ROBERTSON, City Marshal."

The City Marshal of Leavenworth is clearly a pot-companion of the first
(whiskey and) water. He declines to address his fellow-citizens in the
commonplace terms usually recognised in more prosaic communities. To
adopt his own style of phraseology, ROBERTSON is clearly a "gay and
festive cuss." He is a specimen brick from Kansas, and doubtless always
carries one in his hat. The expression "ordinary gait," as applied to
driving in Kansas, where everybody owns "fast stock," is rather
equivocal in these quieter latitudes to be sure, but we may guess that,
at Leavenworth, a man who rides or drives at a pace of twenty miles an
hour, is liable, "for instance," to a fine of $20, or just one dollar
per mile. Kansas maybe a very nice place to live in, for some people,
but we would hardly recommend Mr. ROBERT BONNER to emigrate thither, and
so risk the probability of being advertised as a "gay and festive cuss."

* * * * *

SHIP AHOY!

Of all public performers, there are none who "draw" better than the
gymnasts who risk their necks by attempting hazardous feats. The fool
who attaches himself by the heels to the car of an ascending balloon is
sure to have thousands of feeble-minded females waving handkerchiefs at
him. BLONDIN, the great French tomfool, brought more people to Niagara
Falls to see him, possibly, add a new Fall to the prospect, than ever
the Falls themselves did. And when another donkey announces that he is
going to stand upon his head on the point of a church spire, that church
is sure to be thronged--outside. These performances, and all of their
sort, should be made punishable, and will probably be so when a hundred
or two performers shall have been killed, in addition to those who have
already suffered.

Not nearly so exciting as performances of the kind referred to, though,
perhaps, quite as rash, are the ocean voyages occasionally essayed by
tiny, toy ships. One of these--the _Red, White and Blue_--is announced
as about to start upon a "voyage round the world." We wish her our best
wishes, and hope she may get round in the roundest way and time. One of
her first stopping places, though, as we see, is Martha's Vineyard. Our
advice to the skipper of the toy ship, is to go no further than that
delightful haven of rest. MARTHA. will cherish her as a chimney
ornament, or give her to her kids to play with--and nobody will be hurt.

* * * * *

Two Renderings.

_Finis coronat opus:_--The end crowns the work.

_Finis coroner opus:_--There is plenty of work for the Coroner, but
the "end" does not always appear to be gained.

All of which is respectfully submitted to the investigators of murder
in this city.

* * * * *

The Modern Monks of La Trappe.

The Coroner, the Assistant District-Attorney, and certain other
officials who have been trying the "trap" game on the witnesses examined
in the NATHAN murder case.

* * * * *

Results of Silver Stock.

1. The dream is ore.

2. Never mined.

* * * * *

[Illustration: PUNCHINELLO CORRESPONDENCE. ]

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

_Englishman, London._--You have lost your wager. Ohio is not the capital
of Indiana.

_Stranger, New York City._--When you get lost in our streets and do not
know where you are, it is a good plan to seek information from a
policeman. If he does not know where you are, come directly to the
office of PUNCHINELLO.

_Antiquary._--"The Last of the Barons" was a term applied to an
implement used by the ancient shoemakers. The pedal members of the old
English barons were of a peculiar aristocratic conformation, and lasts
were made expressly for them. This is a curious fact not generally
known.

_Ploughboy_ finds the following remark in Mr. GREELEY'S thirtieth What,
and asks explanation.

"So with regard to Carrots. I have never achieved success in growing
these nor Beets."

We infer that the meaning is, With regard to carrots, sow them. "These
nor Beets" are probably a new variety. They may have come from Norfolk,
but more "presumably" they were found in Alaska.

_Metaphysician, Cloudland._--Your article on the "Psychical Basis of
Objective Existence" is excellent. Look out for it in the "Juvenile
Department" of our Christmas number.

_Grammarian._--The expression "We ain't got none" is manifestly
incorrect. It has two negatives. "We ain't got any" is by far more
elegant.

_Wager_ says that A. made a bet with B. that he could cut a dime in two
at one stroke of his pen-knife, C. to hold the stakes. A. took a
ten-cent "scrip" and chopped it in two with his blade. Meantime C.
walked away with the stake money. Who won? _Answer._--The bet is off. C.
is also off, but no better, and neither A. or B. is any better off.

* * * * *

[Illustration: NOTES ON THE FERRY.

_Gushington, (with the pipe.)_ "SHE SMILED ON ONE OF US, I'LL SWEAR."

_Spindle_. "PERHAPS; BUT WHAT'S A SMILE? A POSITIVE NOD FOR ME, OR
NOTHING!"]

* * * * *

AERATED VERBIAGE.

An Every-day Romance.

CHAPTER I.

In a room in a palatial tenement house in Avenue D, stood GILBERT
FERNANDE FROU FROU SNOGGS. G.F.F.F.S. was rampant.

"Why?" you say.

Gentle reader, hurry me not. Let the tale wag on. She was talking to her
mamma.

"Now," said G.F.F.F.S., "I prognosticated that my maternal relative
would become oblivions of my reiterated solicitations to perambulate the
Avenue, and make the acquisition of four yards of cerulean hued ribbon,"
and she stamped her tiny number eights on the floor.

You will notice that, even in her anger, she did not forget her English.

"You can purchase it on the morrow," replied her mamma.

"I will not remain acquiescent. I will promenade upon my profluence to
Sixth Avenue, and purchase the ceruleous ribbon immediately," said
G.F.F.F.S., putting on her waterproof and sun-bonnet.

Her mother pointed to the paternal turnip, which hung over the mantel,
and showed her that old Time was "doing stunts" at 10-1/2.

But G.F.F.F.S. was obstinate. She put on her chignon, her curls, her
breast elevator, her bustle, her high-heeled shoes, a little rouge, a
little whiting and a bit of court-plaster, and sallied forth, down the
dumb-waiter to the cellar, and thence, through the ash-hole, to the
street.

CHAPTER II.

The deed was done!!! The purchase was made find G.F.F.F.S. walked
towards her palatial paternal mansion. She felt slightly timid, for, as
she looked at the heavens, she saw that ARCTURUS, who had been playing
tag with CASTOR and POLLUX all the evening, had reached hunk, the Great
Bear. From the astronomical knowledge which she had acquired at the
Vavasour Female Academy, she knew that the paternal turnip now pointed
to the witching hour of 11-1/2.

Suddenly she found herself surrounded by a party of bandits, (she
thought she was in Greece, but she was only in the 19th Ward.)

They seized her.

"Not a word," said the leader. "Your money or your life."

Now G.F.F.F.S. had lots of life and very little money, so she could
hardly determine whether to give up some of her life or all of her
money.

"Illustrious banditti," said she, "the auriferous contents of my
reticulated depository are notable for minuteness. Be conservators of my
pullulating existence."

"I say, TOM," said the leader, "what's her little game?"

"It sounds like Irish," said TOM.

"Hand over your stamps," said the leader.

G.F.F.F.S. slowly drew out her net purse, when suddenly the robbers
fled. G.F.F.F.S. felt that her hero had come, and, like all the
ARAMINTAS in the novels, she fainted and was caught in the arms of--

CHAPTER III.

The author tried to persuade the editor to allow him to write "to be
continued" after the last thrilling chapter, but the editor was
inexorable, hence this chapter, "in the arms of"--a little red-headed
policeman.

G.F.F.F.S. smiled gently, but, as soon as she had opened her eyes, and
had cast them on the red head, freckled face, pug-nose, and little eyes
of MIKE MCFLYNN, she sprang to her feet. It was better than forty
gallons of hartshorn. She had wasted a faint.

"_Perdidi animi deliquium_," said she.

"Mother of MOSES, but you was heavy!" said MCFLYNN.

But she did not wait, and a pair of number eight shoes might have been
seen by an inquisitive reporter, cutting around the corners and stamping
up seven flights of stairs.

MORAL.

When the paternal turnip solemnly points to 10-1/2, G.F.F.F.S. puts her
number eights on the mantel, looks reflectively at a sore-eyed kitten,
and falls into polysyllables.

* * * * *

HOMODEIFICATION.

Late advices from China convey the intelligence that the
American-Chinese General WARD, who died in the service of the Celestial
empire, has been postmortuarily brevetted to the rank of a "major god,"
and is now regularly worshipped as such by JOHN PIGTAIL.

Possibly the antithesis to this may turn up on the cards, here. In the
course of events the bronze idol to which our PHILLIPSES and SUMNERS
used to bend the knee, has been prostrated from his pedestal by the
Fifteenth Amendment. Coolie labor, with its possible abuses, may engage
the attention of the philanthropists, next, and we may yet behold JOHN
PIGTAIL on a pedestal, in the character of an American "major god."

* * * * *

"LUCUS A NON," ETC.

In the culinary department of a newspaper we find a recipe for making
"bird's nest pudding," which would surely make the pigtail of a JOHN
Chinaman stick straight up on end. The component parts of the pudding
are apples, sugar, milk, five eggs, and vanilla. Perhaps the inventor of
the pudding once found a bird's nest with five eggs in it, and has thus
essayed to immortalize the interesting fact.

* * * * *

Bullet Proof.

The fact of the young Prince Imperial having picked up a bullet on the
field of Saarbruck is significant It proves that, like a true BONAPARTE,
he is prompt to take the Lead.

[Illustration: IMITATION THE SINCEREST FLATTERY.

_Regular Customer._ "ALONZO, BRING ME SOME BEANS AND TOMAYTESES."

_Waiter._ "YES'M. "WILL YOU HAVE 'EM ON ONE PLATE OR ON TWO PLATESES?"]

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*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Punchinello, Volume 1, No. 22, August 27, 1870" ***

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