Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 37, December 10, 1870

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Title: Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 37, December 10, 1870
Author: Various
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 37, December 10, 1870" ***

Vol. II. No. 37.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1870.

PUBLISHED BY THE

PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,

83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.

PRANG'S LATEST PUBLICATIONS: "Joy of Autumn," "Prairie Flowers,"
"Lake George," "West Point," "Beethoven," large and small.

PRANG'S CHROMOS sold in all Art Stores throughout the world.

PRANG'S ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE sent free on receipt of stamp.

L. PRANG & CO., Boston.

* * * * *

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

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress at Washington.

* * * * *

MAN AND WIVES.

A TRAVESTY.

By MOSE SKINNER.

CHAPTER FOURTH.

THE HALF-WAY HOUSE

The first person to discover that ANN BRUMMET had left the house, was
Mrs. LADLE, Now, ever since the Hon. MICHAEL had asked ANN to go to the
circus, Mrs. LADLE had hated her. But when he took ANN to the
Agricultural Fair, and bought her a tin-type album and a box of initial
note-paper, Mrs. LADLE was simply raving. Whether she herself was
viewing the Hon. MICHAEL with an eye matrimonial, and was jealous of
ANN, must remain an open question. At any rate, she was the first to
start the scandal about ANN and JEFFRY, and lost no time in conveying it
to the ears of the Hon. MICHAEL, with profuse embellishments. At the
croquet party the Hon. MICHAEL had been particularly sweet on ANN, his
ardor finding vent in such demonstrations as throwing kisses at her
slyly, holding up printed lozenges for her inspection, or tossing sticks
at her and dodging behind a tree. And when Mrs. LADLE went to ANN'S room
next day, for a good square scold, she found her out.

Now Mrs. LADLE was a mother-in-law, and consequently a pretty old fowl
in ferreting out things of this sort. She determined to discover the why
and wherefore of ANN'S departure. If she could confront the Hon. MICHAEL
with proofs of ANN'S indiscretion, it would be the loudest kind of
feather in her cap.

She examined everybody in the house, and everybody that went by the
house, but without the smallest result. She was out in the front yard
waiting for a fresh victim, when she saw HERSEY DEATHBURY coming up the
road. She signed to her to come in.

She came in.

HERSEY DEATHBURY was an extraordinary woman. A woman of genius, sir.
What if her make-up _was_ limited? What if, when she was born, nature
_was_ economizing, and gave her only one eye, and she was lame and
hump-backed, and hadn't got any eyebrows and wore a wig; what of that?
It's to her credit, _I_ say. You saw her just as she was. No airs
_there_. And in this lay the great charm of H. DEATHBURY'S character.
Looking at her closely, you would see a fixed and stony eye and a
chronic scowl, and you would say: "Disposition a little morose; some man
has soured on her." Looking at her more closely, you would see under her
right arm a common blackboard, such as is used in schools, and over her
shoulder a canvas bag containing lumps of chalk, and you would say: "A
little eccentric; likes to write on the blackboard instead of talking.
Would make a nice wife. Looks, on the whole, like a country schoolma'am,
whom the boys have stoned out of town, with the fixtures of the
school-house tied to her." But she has talents. What is she, an
authoress? "Yes, she is." But, like other authoresses, she isn't
appreciated, and has returned to her legitimate occupation, the
Wash-Tub; but still doth she itch for fame, and so, between times, she
writes verbose essays on Female Suffrage, composed during the process
known as "wringing." And when there's a Woman's Rights Convention in
that locality, she sits on the platform, and applauds all the Red-Hot
Resolutions with that trenchant female weapon, the umbrella, in one
hand, and an antediluvian reticule the other. In the words of the Hon.
MICHAEL: "She is not only a leading _Re_former, sir, but a great
_Plat_former." And Mrs. LADLE will tell you that, as a washer, she is
superb. She "does up things" in a manner simply celestial.

Mrs. LADLE told her first to shut the door.

"Have you seen ANN BRUMMET to-day?" she said.

HERSEY nodded.

"Where?" was the eager inquiry.

HERSEY DEATHBURY placed her blackboard against the wall, unslung her
chalk, and wrote in very large letters:--

"I C hur a-Goin on The rode 2 forneys Kragg."

"Ah!" ejaculated Mrs. LADLE joyfully, "traced at last." And she ran to
tell the Hon. MICHAEL all about it.

* * *

The Half-Way House at Forney's Crag was a hoary-headed old vagabond of a
house, that had passed the heyday of its youth long before that great
encyclopaedia, the oldest inhabitant, emitted his first infantile
squawk. Each successive season caused it to lean a little more and the
most casual observer must perceive that it couldn't by any possibility
become much leaner without pining entirely away.

Nevertheless, it had been the only hotel that Spunkville could boast,
all within a short period of this writing. Like most Western hotels, it
had been ably supported by a large floating population, known as "New
York Drummers," and many a time had its old walls re-echoed with their
guileless hilarity and moral tales; and, if the ancient and time-honored
spittoon in the bar-room could speak, it could relate wonderful stories
concerning the Sample Gentry; relating, perhaps, to a Spunkville
merchant, who, having retreated precipitately down his cellar stairs
several tunes during the day, to avoid "them confounded drummers, with
their everlasting samples," was, while plodding his lonely way homeward,
seized upon by these commercial freebooters, conveyed forthwith to the
Half-Way House, and there deluged with such a perfect torrent of
brow-beating eloquence as to reduce him to an imbecile state, in which
condition he would willingly order large bills of goods, a custom still
somewhat in vogue, and known as "commanding trade."

At other times, it was refreshing to see a drummer emerge from a week's
carousal, take a drink of plain soda, and write a long letter to his
employers concerning the extreme dulness of trade.

But since the new hotel had been built the Half-Way House had waned, and
its quiet was only invaded by an occasional straggling traveller or a
runaway couple, and its walls resounded with nothing more clamorous than
the orgies of a Sunday-school picnic.

It is, however, with the Ladies' Parlor only (that wretched abode of
female discomfort in all country hotels) that we have to do.

The furniture of the room consisted of the articles usually found in a
_boudoir_ of this kind, to wit: a straight-backed sofa, much worn; the
inevitable and horrid straw carpeting; that old Satanic piano, that
never was in tune; an antique and rheumatic table, and three wheezy old
chairs. The only present attempts at ornament were two in number. The
first was a large engraving of the Presidents of the United States,
which had formerly done duty in the bar-room, where the villagers were
wont to gaze upon it in an awe-struck manner, being impressed with a
vague idea that it was CHRISTY'S Minstrels. The second was a living
statue, none other than ANN BRUMMET waiting for JEFFRY MAULBOY.

"Half-past three, and not come yet," said she. "Look out, JEFFRY
MAULBOY, for if you _do_ go back on me"--

She paused, for she saw a man coming towards the house.

"Well, if that ain't ARCHIBALD BLINKSOP," she added, "I'm regularly
sold. What can _he_ want _here_?"

Yes, it was ARCHIBALD sure enough, biting his finger-nails and breathing
very short, while he cast furtive glances at the windows.

He went slowly up the steps and into the entry just as Mrs. BACKUP, the
landlady of the House, came out of her sitting-room.

Now, Mrs. BACKUP was one of your eminently respectable females, who are
always loaded to the muzzle with Beautiful Moral Essays, which they try
to cram down everybody's throat, but never practise themselves. She
formerly kept a boarding-house in the city, where, at table regularly
after soup, she would regale those present with long dissertations on
the shocking immorality of the present day, varying the monotony,
perhaps, by allusions to the boarders who had just left. "Mr. SIMPSON
was a pleasant-spoken young man as I want to see, and as good as the
bank, but I'm afraid he _was_ agettin' dissipated;" or, "Mr. FIELDING
was quiet and mannerly, and never found fault with his vittles, but he
had _one_ DREAD_ful_ habit;" and then she would sigh heavily. And when
little Miss PINKHAM, who occupied the second floor back (and who, being
a schoolma'am, was naturally debarred from the other sex), indulged in
the smallest possible flirtation with the good-looking young man
opposite, Mrs. BACKUP'S sharp eye not only saw her, but Mrs. BACKUP'S
sharp tongue took occasion to berate her severely on a Sunday morning
(for then the boarders are all in), at the top of the first landing (for
then the boarders could all hear her). "I _am_ saprised, Miss PINKHAM.
Why, when I see that young man asittin' at his winder, and a blowin'
beans. Yes, a blowin' beans, Miss PINKHAM, through a horrible tin
pop-gun at _your'n_, and a winkin' vicious, and you a enjoyin' on it,
Miss PINKHAM, I sot down; yes, I sot right down, and I shuddered. 'Sich
doin's in _my_ house,' says I, 'I am totilly congealed.'" When all the
time, mind you, the virtuous Mrs. BACKUP was a woman who would bear any
amount of watching, having already caused three husbands to frantically
emigrate to parts unknown.

Seeing that ARCHIBALD hesitated, she said:--

"Well, young man, what's wanted?"

"I--I--want to see ANN BRUMMET," said ARCHIBALD.

"Oh, you _do_, do you?" rejoined Mrs. BACKUP, regally; "and _who_, may I
ask, is ANN BRUMMET?"

"A young lady that I was--a--to meet here," replied ARCHIBALD, timidly.

Mrs. BACKUP immediately organized a virtuous tableau, and glared at him
majestically.

"A young lady you was to _meet_ here. _In_-deed. And do you think, young
man, that _my_ house is a place where young chaps can go a-roystorin'
and a-gallivinatin' about, and a meetin' young women?"

"But I don't want to go oysterin'," said ARCHIBALD, "and I don't know
how to galvinate. I only want to tell her something."

"Oh, to _tell_ her something, is it? Well, I'd have _no_ objections,
young man, if you _said_ she was your wife. _Then_ you'd have a right,
but not now, for my cha-_rac_ter is precious to me, young man."

"But she ain't my wife," said ARCHIBALD; "I only--kind of know her, you
see."

"Drat the man," said Mrs. BACKUP to herself; "he's a born fool that
can't take a hint like that. TEDDY!" she cried to a seedy-looking,
pimply man, who was sucking a forlorn-looking pipe on the back-door
step, "you're wanted." She whispered a few words in his ear, and went
up-stairs.

TEDDY MCSLUSH was the General Utility man of the Half-Way House. Born
down East, of an Irish father and Scotch mother, he was eminently
calculated to live by his wits. His natural talents were numerous and
sparkling. He could tell more lies without notes than any man in the
State, or make a beautiful prayer, all in the way of business. When a
runaway couple were married at the Half-Way House, he would not only
give the bride away in a voice broken by emotion, but he would bless the
bridegroom with tears in his eyes, and he would do all this at the
lowest market price. And every Sunday he dressed in a black suit and
sung in the choir, and patted the little children on the head, and was
generally respected.

He approached ARCHIBALD, and poked him in the ribs, facetiously.

"Ah!" he ejaculated; "and it's a cryin' shame, so it is, that a fine lad
like yerself should be took with sich a complaint. It's modeshty what
ails ye, man. And wasn't it Mester JOHN SHAKESPEER himself, him as writ
the illegant versis, Lord luv his ashis, as says to me only jist afore
his breath soured on him, 'TEDDY,' says he, wid much feelin', 'TEDDY,
modeshty is a fine thing in a woman,' says he, 'but it's death to a man.
Promise me now,' says he, 'for I feel as this clay is a coolin'
fast--promise me, TEDDY, as you'll never hev nothink to do with it--no,
not never, my boy.' I promised him, and Hevins knows as I've kep' my
word. But, Lord alive, I'm a keepin' you all the time from yer own dear
wife, as is a dyin' to see you--and a sweet dear it is."

He ushered ARCHIBALD into the Ladies' Parlor, closed the door, and
applied his ear to the key-hole, with an air of the most respectful
attention.

According to TEDDY'S way of thinking, ANN was not hankering for
ARCHIBALD'S society.

"What do you want _here_?" said she, sharply.

"Oh, don't speak cross to me, Miss BRUMMET," said he, looking timidly
around. Then he put his finger on his lip, and shook his head
energetically.

"I know all about it, you see," said he; "JEFF told me. Oh my! wasn't I
struck up, though? But I'll never tell. _He_ couldn't come, you see. His
mother sent for him, and--"

"You lie," she broke in fiercely; "it's a put up job between you two.
But it won't do; do you _hear_? It _won't do_."

"Oh, don't look at me _that_ way," said ARCHIBALD, backing toward the
door; "I want to go home."

"I'd like to see you go home," she replied, placing her back against the
door. "You must think I'm a fool, to let you off as easy as that. You've
got to sit up with me this evening, anyhow."

"But what would folks say?" stammered ARCHIBALD. "Oh, think of my
reputation, Miss BRUMMET, and let me go."

"Your reputation!" she sneered. "Humbug! Men don't have any reputation,
except when they steal a woman's. Come," she added, in a more
conciliatory tone, "we'll have some supper, and then we'll have a game
of euchre."

"Euchre! Oh, don't ask me to play euchre," said he; "I'm so mixed up,
Miss BRUMMET, I couldn't tell the King of Ten-spots from the Ace of
Jacks. Oh, won't BELINDA grab hold of my hair when she hears of this!"

"Yes, she'll pull it till she makes her ARCHIE-_bald_," said ANN,
laughing.

ARCHIBALD sat down, and looked at her in a supplicating manner.

"I'll do anything you say," said he, "if you please won't get off any
more puns. It's awful. I knew a fellow once who had it chronic. He
doubled every word that he could lay his tongue to. When he was going to
a party, he'd take the dictionary and pick out a lot of words that could
be twisted, and set 'em down and study on 'em, so he could be ready with
a lot of puns, and when he got 'em off folks would laugh, but all the
time they'd wish he'd died young. And that's the way he'd go on. He
finally drove his mother into a consumption, and at her funeral, instead
of taking on as he ought to, he only just looked at the body, and said,
'Well, that's the worst _coffin-fit_ the old lady ever had.' And then he
turned round and began to get off puns on the mourners. Wasn't it
dreadful?--But what's that?"

Somebody was knocking at the door.

"What's wanted?" said ANN.

"It's your minister as has come, mum," said TEDDY, from the outside.
"What word shall I give him?"

"Tell him I shan't want him," said ANN.

In a few minutes TEDDY came back.

"He says, mum, as he won't go without marryin' somebody, or a gittin'
his pay anyway, for it's a nice buryin' job as he's lost by comin'."

"But," said ANN, "I can't--" She hesitated, and seemed to form a sudden
resolution. "Tell him," she continued, "tell him--"

(To be continued.)

* * * * *

BIOGRAPHICAL.

There was an agriculturist, philosopher, and editor,
Who thought the world his debtor and himself, of course, its creditor;
A man he was of wonderful vitup'rative fertility,
Though seeming an embodiment of mildness and docility,
This ancient agriculturist, philosopher, and editor.

The clothes he wore were shocking to the citizen æsthetical,
Assuredly they would not pass in circles which were critical,
So venerable were they, and so distant from propriety,
So utterly unsuited to respectable society,
Which numbers in its membership some citizens æsthetical.

He kept a model farm for every sort of wild experiment.
Which was to all the neighborhood a source of constant worriment;
For every one who passed that way pretended to be eager to
Discover pumpkin vines that ran across the fields a league or two,
So queer was the effect of each preposterous experiment.

He had a dreadful passion, which was not at all professional,
For going for an office, either local or congressional.
But though often nominated, yet the people wouldn't ratify,
Because they thought, quite properly, it would be wrong to gratify
The all-consuming passion that was not at all professional.

Among the many hobbies which he cantered on incessantly
Was one he called Protection, and he rode it quite unpleasantly;
For if any one dissented from his notions injudiciously,
He went for him immediately, ferociously and viciously,
Did this absurd equestrian who cantered on incessantly.

With which remarks the author of this brief, veracious history
Concludes his observations on the incarnated mystery
Known as an agriculturist, philosopher, and editor,
Who thought the world his debtor, and himself, of course, its creditor,
And who will surely figure on the oddest page in history.

* * * * *

THE FITTEST PLACE FOR A "PRESERVER" OF THE PEACE. A "Jam" on Broadway.

* * * * *

DR. HELMBOLD TO J.G. BENNETT, Jr. "Boo-shoo! fly."

* * * * *

[Illustration: A BRIGHT IDEA.

_Customer_. "WAITER, BRING ME SOME FROZEN CLAMS."

_Waiter (lately caught)_. "YES, SIR; WILL YOU HAVE 'EM ROASTED OR
BILED?"]

* * * * *

WORDS AND THEIR USES.

Nothing, except counting your stamps, can be more pleasant and exciting
than tracing out the origin of words by the aid of a second-hand
dictionary. It's the next funniest thing to grubbing after stumps in a
ten-acre lot. Dentists make capital philologists--: they are so much
accustomed to digging for roots. It's rather dull work to shovel around
in the Anglo-Saxon stratum, but, as soon as you strike the Sanscrit,
then you're off, and if you don't find big nuggets, it's because--well,
it's because there are none there. Sometimes you dig down to about the
time when NOAH went on his little sailing excursion, and strike what
seems to be a first-class sockdolager of root, but what is the use?
Unfortunately the philology business is overdone; it's chock full of
first-class broken down pedagogues and unsuccessful ink-slingers, and,
as soon as you offer a curious specimen in the way of roots, they write
a book to prove that the root don't exist, or, if it does, that it
should not.

However, there is an advantage in knowing the roots of words, and the
use to which they were put in former years. Everybody, you know, is very
anxious to read CHAUCER and SPENSER. Now, after you have studied this
subject about forty-two years, you will be able to read CHAUCER with the
aid of an old English dictionary and an Anglo-Saxon grammar.

Many so-called philologists, who have preceded me, have ignorantly
derived words from improper sources. Thus, the compound word, shoofly,
has been traced by some to the Irish word _shoe_, meaning a
hoof-covering, and the French word _fly_, meaning an insect, when it is
apparent to even the casual observer that it comes from the Guinea word
_shoo_, meaning get out, and the English word _fly_, meaning a tripe
destroyer. I propose, therefore, to show you the origin of a few words,
in order that you may use them properly, and in order that you may
subscribe freely for my book on this subject, which will shortly be
placed before an admiring public.

_Theatres_. When the players were servants of the king, they were
compelled to be proficient in reading, riting, rithmetic, rhyming,
riddling, reciting, rehearsing, and romping. These accomplishments were
grouped together and called _the 8 r's_, which name naturally enough was
soon applied to the play-houses. This example shows how simple the whole
subject is, and how easily the philology business could he run by a
child six years of age.

_Country_. The origin of this word is, to say the least, odd. City
people were accustomed to visit the rural districts at about the time
when rye was ripe, and they were generally amused by the farmer's
pereginations around his rye. Farmers always count rye-stacks in the
morning, in order to discover whether any of them have been lifted
during the night. When, upon their return to the City, the visitors were
asked where they had been, they facetiously replied, "To count rye."
This soon became a favorite expression; the "e" was dropped for euphony,
and the rural districts were called country.

_Spittoon_.--This word comes from the Greek word _spit_, meaning to
slobber, and the Scotch word, _tune_, meaning the noise made by the
bag-pipes. As the saliva struck the receptacle it made a noise
delightful to the ears of the smoker, and resembling the note of the
national instrument of Scotland. Hence the receptacle was called the
spittoon.

_Politics_.--Quack philologists, who evidently were insane, have gone
back to the classics for the root of this word, when it is well known
that immediately after the termination of the Revolution, when the
Government of this country was about to be settled, the word came into
existence. A woman, called POLLY, kept a corner grocery in New York, and
all the fellows who wanted offices were accustomed to go to POLLY'S for
their beer, because she trusted. Here they usually divulged their ideas
of the manner in which the Government machine should be run. When asked
why they went to that store, they always answered, "POLLY ticks."
Outsiders, when asked what was going on in POLLY's store, always
answered with a wise look, "POLLY ticks." The words soon spread, and
talking about the Government was facetiously called POLLY ticks. The
expression was finally used in earnest, and, by euphoric changes,
reached its present shape.

_Cheese-it_.--This compound word has by some silly person been traced to
the Saxon _cyse_, meaning condensed cow, and the Celtic _it_, meaning
it. Now every way-faring man, even though _non compos mentis_, knows
that when he is invited to come in and cut a cheese, come in and take a
drop of whiskey is meant. This word, then, is derived from the Sanscrit
_cheese_, meaning drop, and the English _it_, meaning whatever you may
happen to be saying, and the whole expression may be properly translated
"drop that yarn."

I might go on straight through the Dictionary, but I refrain, desiring
only to show you what a light and entertaining subject philology is, and
what quantities of fun you can get out of it on winter evenings.

If any one should desire to pursue this subject further, let him go
through CHAUCER, SPENSER, SHAKSPEARE, and MILTON with a fine-tooth comb
and a pair of spectacles, looking for roots, and then try my book on
"Words and their Uses." He had better not attack the latter work on an
empty stomach. An empty head will be more appropriate.

* * * * *

The Mendicant Mission.

Two fresh rumors about that unfortunate English Mission are afloat. One
is that it has been tendered to the Hon. HENRY T. BLOW; the other is
that the--well, no, not exactly Hon.--DAN. SICKLES is to be transferred
from Madrid to the Court of St. JAMES. 'Tis much the same thing. If BLOW
is appointed, it's BLOW; and if SICKLES is appointed, it's Blow, too.

* * * * *

Military Intelligence.

The Fifth Regiment N.G.S.N.Y., composed altogether of Germans, have
adopted the Prussian helmet with a spike on top. This is appropriate, as
most Germans are linguists, and like to "spike the French."

* * * * *

Where to Commence the Civil Service Reform.

In our Hotels and Restaurants.

* * * * *

THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.

Regarding me thoughtfully for a moment, MARGARET asks, "What is an 'old
comedy?'"

I say to her, "An old comedy is to the comedy of to-day, precisely what
an old beau, padded, painted, simpering with false teeth, and leering
with rhumy eyes, is to a handsome, gallant young fellow, such as Mr.
LESTER WALLACK impersonates in _Ours_ or _School_."

To which she replies, "What are roomy eyes, dear?" (Being her fourth
cousin by marriage, I am a sort of maiden aunt to her,--whence this
respectful familiarity.) "Eyes in which there is room for the honest
glances that never show themselves?'"

I sternly remark that "nice girls never pun."

"Yes," she replies; "punning, like beer and other vices, is the peculiar
prerogative of men, I suppose. But you need not be afraid. I read
PUNCHINELLO sometimes, and it is a terrible warning to people who are
tempted to pun. I could give you frightful instances of the appalling
depth to which the men who make puns in PUNCHINELLO occasionally sink."

I hastily close the discussion by inviting her to come to WALLACK'S and
see an old comedy. So we find ourselves on the following evening in the
only theatre in the country where that rather important adjunct of a
theatre--a company--is to be found,

There are quantities of elegant dresses in the house,--the ladies having
an idea that an old comedy is one of those things which every
fashionable person ought to see. There are also numbers of nice young
men, who, being the burning and shining lights of fashionable society
(after their day's work behind the counter is ended), come to be bored
by the old comedy, with a heroism which proves how immeasurably superior
to the influences of tape and calico are their youthful souls. By the
by, it is one of the unavoidable _désagréments_ of New York society that
the wearer of the elegant dress is often conscious that her partner in
the waltz knows precisely how many yards of material compose her skirt,
and exactly how much it cost per yard, for the excellent reason that he
himself measured it with his professional yard-stick, and cut it with
his private scissors. This, however, is a subject that belongs not to
old comedy, but to the extremely modern comedy of New York society. The
two resemble each other only so far as they are fashionable and dull.

But to our WALLACKIAN old comedy. The curtain rises upon the veteran
GILBERT and the handsome ROCKWELL. They converse in the following style:

GILBERT.--"Well, you young dog, ha! ha! So you have decided to make your
old uncle happy by marrying my neighbor's daughter. Gad! I remember my
own wedding-day. Well, well; we won't talk about that now, but hark ye,
you young villain, if you don't marry the girl, I cut you off with a
shilling."

ROCKWELL.--"My dear uncle, I can have no greater pleasure than to fulfil
your wishes. But suppose our adorable young neighbor has the
ill-breeding to refuse me."

GILBERT.--"Refuse you! Refuse my nephew? Gad! I'd like to see THOMAS
OLDBOY permit his daughter to refuse my nephew! I'd--d--e, I'd--"
(chokes and stamps with rage.)

Further on we meet with Miss OLDBOY and her mother,--the latter a stout
old lady, addicted to smelling salts and yellow silks.

LYDIA OLDBOY.--"To-day I am expecting the arrival of young WILDOATS, who
comes to pay his addresses to me. I wonder if he is like that dear,
delightful THADDEUS OF WARSAW."

Mrs. OLDBOY.--"Now, Miss, remember that your honored father insists upon
this match. I expect you to be a dutiful daughter, and accede to his
wishes. Here comes the young man himself."

ROCKWELL.--"My. dear Mrs. OLDBOY, I am charmed to see you. You are
looking positively younger than your ravishingly beautiful daughter.
Fair LYDIA, I come to lay my heart at your feet. 'Tis the wish of my
uncle and your honored father that we should unite our respective
houses. Let me touch that exquisite hand. Unseal those ruby lips and
tell me that I am the happiest of men."

Here the UNCLE and OLDBOY enter. They chuckle, and poke one another in
the ribs, remarking "Gad" and "Zounds" at intervals. They bless the
young couple, and order up some of the old Madeira. The curtain falls as
OLDBOY gives the health of the young people, with the wish that they may
have a dozen children, and a cellar never without plenty of this
splendid old Madeira,--"that your father, bottled, Miss LYDIA, the year
our gracious sovereign came to the throne."

This is a fair sample of the old comedy. The oaths are of course
omitted, out of deference to the tender susceptibilities of the editor
of PUNCHINELLO. So are the indecencies, which are the spice of the old
comedy, but which cannot be written in a respectable journal, and are
almost too gross and brutal for the _Sun_. Take from an old comedy its
oaths and its grossness, and nothing is left but a residuum of
boisterous inanity. The condensed old comedy which has just been laid
before the readers of PUNCHINELLO, is as inane and vapid as anything
that WALLACK'S theatre has shown us in the past month. Do you find it
dull? For my part, I don't hesitate to say that the "Essence of Old
Virginny," as furnished by the venerable poet, Mr. DANIEL BRYANT, is
vastly more amusing than the Essence of Old Comedy.

All of which I say, in my most impressive manner, to MARGARET as we
struggle through the crowded lobby. But she irreverently disputes my
assertions, and asks, "How is it that everybody admires these comedies
if they are so wretched as you say they are? Is your judgment better
than that of anybody else?"

There being nothing to say, if I mean to maintain my ground, except that
my judgment is the only infallible critical judgment in this city or
elsewhere, I promptly and unblushingly say so. But MARGARET tells me I
am "a goose"--(I think I have mentioned that she is my aunt, and hence
allows herself these pleasing freedoms of speech)--and says that I shall
take her to see the old comedies every night, until I am willing to say
that I like them.

Who is there that, in view of this threat, will not drop the tear of
sensibility, so neatly alluded to by Mr. STERNE, in sympathy with the
prospective sufferings of

MATADOR.

* * * * *

UNIVERSITY-MANIA.

MY DEAR P.:--I have made some curious observations of this disease,
which lead to startling conclusions.

It is a malady peculiar to the United States, being an eruption
resulting from indigestion of unripe knowledge, together with excess of
vanity in individual blood.

Universities spring up among us like mushrooms, in a night. The seed of
knowledge is sown broadcast over our land. In fact, in this particular
we may be said to be very seedy, indeed.

For my part I have no objection to Universities--when they _are_
Universities. But, at the rate at which we are now progressing, we shall
soon have "every man his own University." It will become the fashion to
keep a University in the back-yard. And then, you know, the institution
must have its own particular organ, you know. Every man, and every
member of his family, shall print his or her _Free Press_, and
independence of opinion shall reign.

Glorious country! Glorious free speech!
With WALT WHITMAN, we may well exclaim:
O the BROWN University!
O the splendid University of SMITH!
O CORNELL, his University!

_&c. ad infinitum._

As for me, dear NELLO, I am in the front rank of civilization. I have
accepted the Chair of Cane-bottom in a Grub-Street garret, and rejoice
in a barrel-organ, which plays with great freedom of speech.

Yours pedagoguically,

JEREMY DOGWOOD.

* * * * *

A. Sop for Ireland.

It is stated that Queen VICTORIA has ordered from a Dublin manufacturer
an extensive assortment of Balbriggan hosiery for the wedding outfit of
the Princess LOUISE. There is a stroke of policy in this. In firemen's
phrase it may be called laying on the "hose" to quench disloyalty.

* * * * *

THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT. The Marine Hospital.

* * * * *

TRIALS OF A WITNESS.

MR. PUNCHINELLO:--As all people seem to come to you with their troubles
and grievances, I hope you will not refuse to listen to my woes. And
whether they are woes or not, I leave you to judge for yourself.

At the beginning of last week I made my first appearance in any
court-room, in the character of a witness, in the case of VALENTINE
vs. ORSON; in which the point in dispute was the ownership of a tract
of land in Wyoming Territory. I knew something in regard to the sale of
these lands, and was fully prepared to testify to the extent of my
knowledge in the premises; but judge of my utter surprise and horror on
being obliged to go through such an ordeal as the following extracts
from my examination will indicate.

The counsel for the plaintiff commenced by asking me if I was a married
man, and when I had answered that. I was, he said:--

"Is your wife a believer in the principles of the Woman's Rights party?"

I could not, for the life of me, see what this had to do with the land
in Wyoming, but I answered, that I was happy to say she was not.

The examination then proceeded as follows:--

_Q._ You are happy, then, in your matrimonial relations? _A._ Yes--(and
remembering the oath) reasonably so.

_Q._ Is your wife pretty? _A._ (Witness remembering at once his oath and
his wife's presence in court) She is pretty pretty.

_Q._ What are her defects? _A._ (Witness remembering only his wife's
presence.) I have never been able to discover them.

_Q._ Do you wear flannel? _A._ Yes, in winter.

_Q._ Can you testify, upon your oath, that you do not wear flannel in
summer? _A._ I can.

_Q._ Now be careful in your answer. What do you wear in the spring and
fall? _A._ I--I wear my common clothes.

_Q._ With flannel, or without flannel? _A._ Sometimes with, and
sometimes without.

_Q._ No evasion; you must tell the Court exactly when you wear flannel,
and when you do not.

A series of questions on this subject brought out the fact that I wore
flannel when the weather was cold, or cool; and did not wear it when it
was mild, or warm.

_Q._ Have you a lightning-rod on your house? _A._ I have.

_Q._ How much did it cost you to have it put up? _A._ It has not cost me
anything yet--I owe for it.

_Q._ Is that all you owe for? _A._ No, I have other debts.

_Q._ Have you any money with you now? _A._ I have.

_Q._ How much? _A._ (Counting contents of porte-monnaie.) Sixty-two
cents.

_Q._ Where did you get that? _A._ (With embarrassment.) I borrowed it.

_Q._ Were you present when defendant first offered his land for sale to
the plaintiff? _A._ (Brightening up.) I was.

_Q._ Do you burn gas or kerosene in your house? _A._ Gas.

_Q._ How many burners? _A._ Ten, I think.

_Q._ Are you willing to assert, upon your solemn oath, that there are
only ten? _A._ (Witness counting on his fingers.) I am.

_Q._ Do you wear studs or buttons on your shirt fronts? _A._ Studs.

_Q._ Gold, or pearl? _A._ Mother-of-pearl, as a general thing, but
sometimes I wear one gold one at the top.

_Q._ Were all your studs of mother-of-pearl, at the time when you first
heard this transaction mentioned between the parties? _A._ They were.

_Q._ Do you ever wear your gold stud in the middle of your bosom? _A._
No, sir, I always wear it at the top.

_Q._ Do you ever wear it at the bottom? Can you swear it was not at the
bottom on the day of the transaction referred to? _A._ I distinctly
remember that I did not wear it at all that day.

_Q._ Did you wear it that night? _A._ No, sir.

_Q._ Can you swear that after you went to bed you did not wear it? _A._
I can.

_Q._ Have you ever been vaccinated? _A._ I have.

_Q._ On which arm? _A._ The left.

_Q._ At the of the first mention of this land to the plaintiff, who were
present? _A._ (Witness speaking with hopeful vivacity, as if he hoped
they were now coming to the merits of the case.) The plaintiff, the
defendant, and myself.

_Q._ Do you use the Old Dominion coffee-pot in your house? _A._
(Dejectedly.) No, sir.

_Q._ What kind of a coffee pot do you use? _A._ A common tin one.

_Q._ You are willing to swear it is tin? _A._ I am.

_Q._ Has your wife any sisters? _A._ She has two; ANNA and JANE.

_Q._ Are they married _A._ They are.

_Q._ Are either of them prettier than your wife? _A._ (Quickly.) No,
sir.

_Q._ Have you any children? _A._ Two.

_Q._ Have they had the measles? _A._ They have.

_Q._ Has any other person in your household had the measles? _A._ I have
had them, and my wife has had them.

_Q._ How do you know your wife has had them? _A._ She told me so.

_Q._ Then you did not see her have them? _A._ No, sir.

_Q._ We want no hearsay evidence here; how can you swear that she has
had them when you did not see her have them? _A._ She told me so, and I
believed her.

_Q._ Did she take an oath that she had had them? _A._ No sir.

_Q._ Then, sir, you are trifling with the Court. Do you understand the
obligations of an oath? _A._ I do.

_Q._ Beware, then, that you are not committed for perjury. Is your
gas-metre ever frozen? _A._ Yes, sir.

_Q._ What do you use when the gas will not burn? _A._ Candles.

_Q._ How many to the pound? _A._ Nine.

_Q._ How do you know there are nine to the pound? _A._ They are sold as
nines.

_Q._ Then you never weighed them yourself? _A._ No, sir.

_Counsel_, to the _Court_. May it please your Honor, this is the second
time that this witness has positively testified, under solemn oath, to
important points of which he has no certain knowledge. I ask the Court
for protection for myself and my client.

Here a long discussion took place between the lawyers and the Judge, and
at the end of it the case was postponed for four months. I suppose it is
expected that I will then re-ascend the witness-stand; but I have
determined that when I enter a court-room again I shall appear as a
criminal. These fellows have much the easiest times, and they run so
little risk, nowadays, that their position is far preferable to that of
the unfortunate witnesses.

J. BADGER.

* * * * *

Singular Fatuity.

The reason why so few persons emigrate to this country from Poland, is
the general belief prevailing there that we have throughout the Union a
heavy Pole tax.

* * * * *

THE A.B.C. OF NEW YORK SOCIALISM. ANDREWS, BRISBANE, AND CLAFLIN.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THRILLING MELODRAMA.

Scene: Lord DE VERE'S Manor: The Blue Chamber.

_Lord De Vere._ "BUT ONE COURSE, LADY CLAUDE, IS LEFT TO RETRIEVE OUR
FALLEN FORTUNES. WITH THESE DEAD CATS WE'LL FLY TO MICHIGAN AND START A
MINERAL SPRING. THE MICHIGANDERS ARE WILD ABOUT THEIR SPRINGS, AND WITH
THIS MATERIAL OURS CANNOT BUT BE A SUCCESS."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: ONE OF OUR SOCIAL HUMBUGS.

_Old Gent (figuring up probable receipts of his silver wedding, close at
hand)_. "I'VE HIRED A SPLENDID TEA-SERVICE FOR BROWN TO PRESENT TO US;
IT WILL MAKE QUITE A SENSATION, AND I'VE GOT IT CHEAP FOR THE EVENING."]

* * * * *

POEMS OF THE POLICE.

I, MARY SMITH.

O gallant p'licemen, list to me,
I'll sing a mournful ditty
About a poor young serving-gal,
What lived in this here city.

She had a name, and SMITH it was
(The rest of it was MARY);
Her constant duty, at daybreak,
Was sweeping out the arey.

One evening she went to a jig
(Her missus was attending
A private hop), when there befel
What truly was heart-rending.

She wore her missus' gayest clothes,
Her muslin dress all fluty,
Her waterfall and tag-rags all,
Which well became her beauty.

But missus found poor MARY out,
And in a p'liceman took her,
And walked her up before the Judge,
On charge of being a hooker.

The missus swore the girl a thief
Her property as lifted,
Which proved beyond all doubt would be
When things came to be sifted.

The girl said she'd been to a jig;
Then out spoke Judge MCCARTY,
"You must not wear the fixings of
A party to a party."

They sent her up for sixteen months,--
Oh! drop a tear to MARY,
Whose missus ne'er shall see her more
A-sweeping out the arey.

* * * * *

Sic Transit.

Life being in any event a transitory affair, and especially so in New
York, where, every one lives some miles from his business, our means of
transit are of interest to every one. However well the owners of those
at present in use may insist that they are, yet the public feels they
should be better, and Mr. PUNCHINELLO, having the interest of his
fellow-citizens at heart, most earnestly hopes that the undertakers of
the last new scheme will not so mistake the meaning of this term as to
suppose that their business with it is simply to bury it.

* * * * *

Discounting a Bill.

The Germans are disposed to glorify their king, and look upon him as the
Great WILLIAM; but when they commence to calculate the cost of his
glory, in men slaughtered, homes desolated, women beggared, industries
destroyed, taxes increased, and liberty chained, it is more than
probable that they will become disgusted with their Little BILL.

* * * * *

Query

Can Russia's designs upon Turkey, at this season of the year, be
attributed to her admiration and imitation of New England Thanksgiving
customs?

* * * * *

A Maniac's Mutterings.

PUNCHINELLO'S special Lunatic gives it as his opinion, that a
continuance of a horse-flesh diet in Paris must go far towards
disturbing the Parisian Equine-imity.

* * * * *

An Old Saw Sharpened.

Some one has applied the old Latin motto, _"Horas non numero nisi
serenas,"_ to Mr. GREELEY, by making it read, "HORACE is of no account
except when serene," which, by the by, he never is.

* * * * *

Query for Naturalists.

How can a person who stands four feet in his boots be called biped?

* * * * *

DENTS-LY FILLED. Government offices.

* * * * *

[Illustration: KING WILLIAM OF PRUSSIA WAITING FOR HIS ALLY.]

* * * * *

HIRAM GREEN ON MARK TWAIN'S BABY.

The "Lait Gustice" congratulates the newly organized Papa.

SKEENSBORO, NYE ONTO VARMONT.

Friend TWAIN--Allow an old statesman, which has served his country for 4
yeers as Gustise of the Peece, rite a congratulotery letter to you on
your success as a boy raisest. Altho your name is MARK TWAIN, I notiss
that on this occashon you dident Mark but One.

I am a little older in years and _Parentelism_ than you are, and am able
to call myself the seenyer pardner in a firm who are the sole
proprieters of eleven offspring and 2 grand-children.

Raisin children is a bizziniss which haint every mans best holt, and as
long as you've got into the bizziness, excoose me for givin you a little
wisdom, which you as a parent must swaller without makin up a face.

If your child, in its infantile days, is given to squallin nites, obtain
a beverige, called soothin sirup, and just before you pull off your
butes nites, give the little cuss about 3 tablespoons full, and he will
sleep so sound that you can use him for a piller. Should he kick &
squall, and refuse to take it, lay him down onto the floor, set on him,
then takin hold of his nose, pour the stuff down his throte, and you've
got him, ekal to Jo JEFFERSON'S Rip Van Winkle 20 yeers snooze.

To amoose him--If your wife is too bizzy durin the day, doin the cookin,
washin, &c. 4th, to amoose the child, give him an ink bottle, and set
him down on the parler carpet. If he has any idee of geografy, when you
come home nites you will find a good helthy map of the black sea, which
Rooshy will insist on bein added to your war map.

Another way of amusin him, is to give him a raiser, and let him play
learn to shave. If he should cut his nose off, it would make the little
_shaver smart_.

If you expect to bring your boy up to hold offis,' let him cultivate
cheek. This is done by tyin his grandmother in her rockin cheer, and
lettin him pelt the old lady with snow balls in the winter time. In the
summer time get him a bow and arrer, and let him see how neer he come to
the venerable lady's nose without breakin her spectorcals. If this don't
make him cheeky enuff to hold offis, let him pour a lot of benzine onto
his little cuzzin, then push her onto a red hot cole stove. If he can do
this and think it a joak, he will do for a cabinet offiser.

If he tries to jump over parental authority, fill him with shot, same as
_your_ man did his jumpin frog, only pour it into him with a mustick.

If you've got any regard for our nashnal caracter, don't let your son
rite comic copy for the noosepapers, after which, be so rash as to rite
a book, and have English crickets set up their darn singin, when they
catch your little _innocent abroad_.

JOHN BULL don't tickle easy, remember that. I actually believe you
couldent stir him with a hul bag full of laffin gas.

As your boy has entered the Lecture field, I shouldent be surprised if
he got up quite a _breeze_ on the roast-rum. In fact, when he opens his
mouth before an audience, look out for _squalls_.

When your offspring is big enuff to enjoy chastisin, remember the "good
little boy," and examine your son's garments to see if the lad has been
roostin onto any nitro-gleserine cans, lest the parental hand, when
brought in contact with the youth's _habeas corpus_, mite necessitate the
sweepin up of father and son's scattered remnants.

Let your son reed the works on good morril men's lives.

By the time he gets old enuff to read, I will have my life out in
pamphlet form, and you can draw onto me for a copy. Beware of works of
fiction. Don't let your boy have a great deal to do with such readin as
HOYLE on Games, TOM PAINE on Infidelity, nor HORRIS GREELY on farmin.
Such works are bringin more ruin onto the country, than the numerous
jewrys of twelve talented men, who allow murderers to come the loonatic
dodge over 'em.

I don't believe in spoilin the rod and sparin the child, but I think it
is well enuff to keep a rod hung up in the barn, where your child can
occasionally look at it, to see what he will come to, if he undertakes
to kick over the traces.

Children are a good deal like wimmen. If you don't set _your_ foot down
when you first get married your wimmen will raise _their_ foot up, and
afore you realize any pain, your gentle form will be histed out into the
street.

With boys you must begin talkin _turkey_, when they are young _goblins_,
ef you don't, when they get old enuff, they will "strike for their
sires," and _gobble_ up the old man's scalp.

Teach your son to honor his pa and ma, and decline the English mission,
when it comes his turn.

Between you and I, aspirants for the honor of bordin with St. JIMMY are
on the _decline_, Pitty it haint a gin-cocktail. I shouldent be
surprised, if some big criminal was sentenced to go there yet, which
minds me of a konundrum. Why is the English mission like lager beer?

Give 'er up?

Because it ruins any _minister's_ reputation, who goes for it.

Hopin that when you shovel off your mortil coil, that your mantle may
not pass out of the family, and as time flies on with greased wings, you
may make the family name _sound_ by bein able to Mark Twain in your
family record, I drop the goose feather.

Ewers, parentally,

HIRAM GREEN, ESQ.,

Lait Gustise of the Peece.

* * * * *

A SURE WAY OF DOING IT.

Seekers after notoriety must often be at their wits' end for some new
sensation with which to advertise themselves. Mr. TWAIN, for instance,
having gone through Fenianism and France, seems to have collapsed for
the present; and here now comes Mr. WEMYSS JOBSON, who subsided into
oblivion years ago, but has just emerged again into the light of _The
Sun_. The efforts of both these gentlemen to keep themselves prominently
before the public, however, are very inadequate and feeble. They should
suffer more and be stronger. Let TRAIN do a bold stroke of business by
declaring himself the perpetrator of the latest mysterious murder, and
it might be the making of the exhumed JOBSON to revive a fossilized
memory, and confess himself to be the criminal who delivered the fatal
blow to the late Mr. WILLIAM PATTERSON.

* * * * *

True to his Colors.

A Bostonian visiting New York, not long since, and reading in the papers
that there was to be a celebration of Mass in an up-town church, decided
to remain over Sunday for it, thinking, Bostonially, that Mass meant
Massachusetts and nothing else.

* * * * *

SUITABLE INSCRIPTION FOR A BOATMAN'S RACE-PRIZE. "The noblest
Row-man of them all."

* * * * *

[Illustration: A NEW LEAF IN THE FAMILY HISTORY.

_Jack._ "NOW, I'LL BE PAPA, GOING TO FIX THE FURNACE."

_Sallie_. "OH, YES!--AND I'LL BE THE NEW NURSE, AND YOU MUST KISS ME
BEHIND THE CELLAR DOOR!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: BEHIND THE TIMES.

EXPLANATORY OF MR. JOHN BULL'S VIEWS.]

* * * * *

POEMS OF THE CRADLE.

CANTO XIII.

When I was a bachelor I lived by myself;
All the bread and cheese I had, I laid upon the shelf.
But the rats and the mice they made such a strife,
I was forced to go to London to buy myself a wife.
The roads were so bad, and the lanes were so narrow,
I had to bring my wife home in a wheelbarrow.
The wheelbarrow broke. My wife had a fall;
Deuce take the wheelbarrow, my wife, and all.

The above lines were written when the author was quite advanced in
years; when he had solved, in his humble way, the great problem of life,
and discovered the futility of mundane things generally, and t
undesirableness of an unsuccessful or unfortunate existence; when he
could look back through a long vista of years, and see the follies of
his youth and the mistakes of his manhood. It should have been placed at
the end of his book, with only the word Finis after it; but somehow,
either by mistake of the author or of the publisher, it was placed among
the records of the simple events of the village, and thus loses half its
force. However, let the history, placed as it is, be a warning to rash
young men who contemplate matrimony; and let them give heed to it, lest
they also have cause to repent of their doings and exclaim with the
poet:--

"The deuce take it."

Observe how pathetic and touching his reminiscence of his lost youth and
the priceless boon of liberty. He commences in a quiet descriptive way,
leaving one at a loss to know whether it is to be a joyful lyric a dirge
he intends singing.

"When I was a bachelor I lived by myself;
All the bread and cheese I had I laid upon the shelf."

Here we have him alone, at peace with himself and the world; happy in
the contemplation of his beloved muse; jotting down, now and then, the
brilliant ideas that flash through his teeming brain; and munching in
solitude his homely meal of bread and cheese. In telling us he laid his
bread and cheese upon the shelf, he at once shows he had left his
parental abode, and the ministering and watchful care of his maternal
parent.

There must, of course, have been a cause for such a step. Some reason
why the gentle being should have been wrought up to that pitch, when he
daringly throws off all restraint, and steps into the world to act and
think for himself. It may have been the want of sympathy that drove him
to the act. They were plain folks, and didn't appreciate his peculiar
turn of mind, and so only laughed at him, and ridiculed his pretensions.
That there was a quarrel there is no manner of doubt, and it was
probably caused by the mortifying act of his mother in fainting when he
read her the poetry he had written at her request. That, in itself, was
enough to break all ties between them. She was horrified and overwhelmed
with dismay that a child of hers could be guilty of such atrocious
rhymes; and he, in turn, was disgusted that a mother of his should be so
unappreciative and earthly. And so, by mutual consent, they separated.

That accounts for his bachelor habit of laying his bread and cheese on
the shelf that he might have it handy, and not forget where he had
placed it. But as

"The rats and mice made such a strife,"

he found that would never do. Something else must be thought of; and
being an inventive genius, he tried putting it in his trunk, but it
scented his Sunday jacket and trousers, and the girls all turned up
their noses at the odd perfume. So, driven to extremity, he in an evil
hour decided, as many another has since done, that the remedy for his
ills was matrimony, and that it was not well for man to live alone.

A Prophet is without honor in his own country, and so ofttimes is a
Poet. To his bashful supplication of "Wilt thou?" the young maidens if
his village unhesitatingly refused to wilt, and thus it was that
circumstances forced him

"To go to London to buy himself a wife."

How fortunate that he should give us, inadvertently as it were, the
information so necessary to the unlucky young men of this later day, the
best place to go shopping for wives! No man after reading the above need
say "he doesn't marry because he cannot, as no one will have him." He
need not stop for that hereafter, but just go to London, pick out one to
suit, pay the price, and bag the article. It can all be done in a day,
and save time wonderfully.

He bought his wife--a cheap one undoubtedly--and gave his promise to
pay; then started homeward, feeling his importance as a married man, and
chuckling over the idea of the astonishment and dismay of the rats and
mice when he should set his wife after them, and thereby deprive them of
their daily rations. But while musing thus, he discovers his wile shows
signs of fatigue, as

"The roads were bad, and the lanes were narrow,"

and not wishing to have her exhausted before commencing business, he
gallantly determined to give her a ride, well knowing she would need all
her strength for the battle he intended she should win.

So borrowing a wheelbarrow of a trusting neighbor, he seated her
therein, and amid great rejoicing at his extraordinary "luck" he set
forward. But now comes the sad part of the story:

"The wheelbarrow broke--my wife had a fall."

And what a fall was there, my countrymen! Words are inadequate. The
scene was indescribable, and we leave a blank that each may picture it
to suit themselves.

After the excitement occasioned by the catastrophe was somewhat abated,
he picked up the pieces and tried to put the wheelbarrow together again.
But it was too far gone; it was un-put-togetherable, and so he, more in
sorrow than anger, stood gazing at the wreck, while his wife, being a
woman, could not resist the impulse to cry exultingly, "I told you so; I
knew it." That on top of all the rest of his trouble was a little too
much; and after fumbling over the pieces a while, "I told you so"
ringing in his ears, he completely lost his temper, and vented his
passion in the words:--

"The deuce take the wheelbarrow."--

and then in a low voice, cautiously turning his head aside, he added:--

"My wife and all."

Together they trudged homeward. Fearful misgivings as to the wisdom of
his step came swooping down upon him, and he almost wished he had not
tried to mend matters, but had patiently borne with the rats, when
suddenly--the vision of a _cat_ swept athwart his mind, and he groaned
aloud in bitterness of spirit.

Not even the ever after clean hearth-stone, with the dead bodies of his
enemies, the rats, piled thereon, could make him forget that one moment
of agonizing consciousness, when he realized for the first time that he
had burdened himself with a wife when a cat would have answered as well.

* * * * *

HURLY-BURLY.

No wonder that the folks turn pale
And preachers talk of doom,
Since by each telegram and mail
Come words of awful gloom:

Explosions of N. glycerine;
Expulsion of the Pope;
Earthquakes along the Eastern line
And THE PACIFIC SLOPE.

Surely the world is upside down,
Its framework out of joint;
At coming change all things of town
And country seem to point:

The very sea some day may try
To climb the mountain side,
And hill-folks yet be staggered by
THE MOANING OF THE TIED.

* * * * *

OUR PORTFOLIO.

By Diligence from Paris to Versailles--Fastest Time on Record--Happy
Travelling Companions--Mud, Misery, and Malignity--Life on the Road.

NEAR ST. CLOUD, NINTH WEEK OF THE REPUBLIC, 1870.

It would have done you good to see us getting over that muddy, jagged,
rutty old turnpike that leads off from the south of the Bois de Boulogne
toward St. Cloud and Versailles. Since writing my last, I had been to
Paris _par ballon monté,_ and was now returning in the _diligence_ that
took five American ladies and a couple of war correspondents, all
friends of WASHBURNE, away from the temptation of eating horse-flesh in
the beleaguered city, to such edibles as the rapacity of the German
appetite had left undevoured in the neighborhood of the old "stamping
grounds" of Louis XVI. We were not a jolly party. It rained in torrents,
and our little driver perched upon the box in front smoked the most
infernal tobacco I ever smelt. Moreover, the horses were not lively
steeds. They were rather safe than otherwise, and not given to running
away. Although the driver addressed himself to their flanks, between
each puff of smoke, with a pointed stick, they didn't rear and plunge so
as to frighten the ladies, and that was a point gained, albeit we had
leisure to count the pickets in the fences as we dragged toward our
destination. One of our lady passengers came from Connecticut, and she
talked with a nutmeg dialect that made her garrulity oftentimes quite
spicy. We two sat back to back, and when the vehicle lurched heavily her
chignon took me "amidships" (if I may be permitted the expression) with
a concussion that felt like the impact of a muffled ball from a
six-pound field howitzer. "Goodness gracious, dew git eout of the way
and give me some room, man!" she would exclaim as our wagon plunged into
a three-foot "gore" and the coachee plied his pointed ramrod with
increased vigor to the attenuated haunches of the insensible beasts.

"My dear madam, you will perceive that I cannot 'git' any further
without climbing upon the back of my companion in front." Lord knows I
would have given a hundred francs to be out of her reach; but we had
been all ticketed and labelled through under the same "pass," and there
was no such thing as dissolving partnership _now._

"Ugh!" she muttered, putting her handkerchief to her nose, "and that
horrid smoke too!" But the imperturbable director of our flight took no
heed, and drew away at his clay idol with unabated satisfaction. 'Twas
thus we jogged on for five weary hours, "OLD CONNECTICUT" charging head
foremost at my spinal column with a frequency and momentum that made me
believe, finally, she did it on purpose. Three miles out from St. Cloud
we found the road completely blocked up with artillery wagons, and saw
large masses of troops moving through the fields on either side. It
still rained incessantly, and the forlornness of the situation was no
wise relieved by the distant booming of guns, and the sucking sound of
the wheels in the mud.

"Oh, my!" sail a thin, squeaky voice on the back seat. "I believe they
are coming this way. Do let us get out, SARAH. I would rather die on the
road than be murdered in such a sepulchre as this."

She referred to a battalion of the Landwehr that had just denied into
the road, not a hundred yards in front of us.

"Stop your sniffling back there!" peevishly exclaimed "OLD CONNECTICUT."
"It would serve you right if they bayonetted you;" and she added
emphasis to her expostulation by planting her chignon between my
shoulder-blades with terrific force.

I felt at once that either my back or my gallantry would have to give
way; so I took a bond of fate, and sacrificed the latter on the spot.

"That'll do--that'll do," I remonstrated. "No more of that; if you want
to knock the brains out of that haystack on the back of your head, why,
knock away; but spare my bones, if you please."

I looked around, and she looked around with such suddenness as to bring
her nose in contact with the brim of my hat, and force the tears from
her eyes. She started to her feet, and I verily believe would not have
postponed hostilities a moment, had not the door of the _diligence_ just
then been opened, and a Prussian officer demanded to see our papers. I
paraded the "documents," and he said they were "good;" but he also said
that we must make up our minds to halt here until the following morning,
as there was a movement of the troops, and no vehicles would be
permitted to pass this point.

_Gaudeamus!_ I could have sworn, but my wrath sailed away when I saw
what a volcano was working in the bosom of "OLD CONNECTICUT." She didn't
strike the officer, or utter a single complaint in his hearing, but sat
down as if she had been a spile driven through the top of the coach, and
let the vinegar run out of her eyes in pure impotency of speechless
rage.

"SARAH'S" companion on the back seat broke forth afresh, and again
wanted to know as to the probability of our being charged upon and put
to the sword. I couldn't hear "SARAH'S" answers to these harrowing
questions, but it seemed to me as if she were trying to throttle her
timid friend into a perfect sense of security. Whatever she did had the
desired effect, and I heard no more from the "back seat."

It was nightfall ere the several members of our little colony composed
themselves to await in such tranquillity as they could command, the
ordeal of sleeping, sitting bolt upright in a French _diligence,_ upon a
dark, tempestuous night, and surrounded on all sides by the dreadful
presence of "red-handed war." The last thing I remember ere the drowsy
god "MURPHY" sent his fairies to weave their cobwebs about my eyelids,
was "OLD CONNECTICUT." She didn't look like the battering-ram that she
was. She had taken that chignon for a pillow, and fastened it to the
back of the seat. Her head was thrown back; her chin had fallen, and at
the extreme tip of her thin red nose a solitary tear glistened like a
dew-drop on a beet. Once, about midnight, she awoke me by her snoring,
but I gave the old gal's chignon a hitch, and it was all right again.

Yours, somniferously,

DICK TINTO.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THOSE COUNTRY COUSINS AGAIN.

_Celia (just arrived from the country)._ "JUST THINK, JANE, COUSIN JOHN
IS TO BE MY ESCORT TO THE FRENCH BAZAAR AND THE NILSSON CONCERTS, AND
BOOTH'S AND WALLACE'S, AND THE OPERA BOUFFÉ, AND LOTS OF OTHER
FIRST-CLASS SHOWS!"]

* * * * *

FACTS ABOUT THE ENGLISH MISSION.

It is not true that I ever accepted the English Mission; and if any man
says I did, I now deliberately brand him as a Liar and Villain.

I am not going to deny that the place was offered me, but I do
unhesitatingly, say that I never absolutely consented to take it.

Gen. GRANT may have construed my note on the subject as an unqualified
acceptance, but that was owing entirely to his devouring desire to get
the thing off his hands, and not to any ambiguity in my language.

"No, Mr. PRESIDENT," I said in the note, "far be it from me to stand
between my friend, Mr. GREELEY, and the gratification of his noble
desire to wear military things at receptions abroad. Moreover your
Excellency, I would not for the world deprive our cousins and other
relations in England of an opportunity to cultivate the grand old art of
swearing under the instruction of so eminent a professor as HORACE."

This is the sort of language I used, and I don't see how any man except
Gen. GRANT could get hold of it the wrong way.

Of course I had some reasons besides those stated in my note for
declining the Mission, but I did not want to hurt the President's
feelings by going over the whole ground.

It was not unknown to me that the situation had been offered to about
five thousand persons before it came round to my turn, or that the
English Mission had fallen into a general decline. I knew all about that
just as well as Gen. GRANT, but it would not have done any good to
parade my knowledge on the subject.

There was the Hon. THOS. JENKINS who refused to take it, because his
wife had a prejudice against Bulls ever since she was scared by one that
chased her five miles for no other reason than that she was what might
be called a red woman--well-read in the exciting house-wife literature
of the day. JENKINS positively declined.

Then it was offered to Col. CANNONAYDE, who declined it because his
mother-in-law declared that she would go along too, if he went, and he
thought it would be better not to let her have a change of air, as she
was in a fair way to wind up pretty soon by remaining near those swamps.
CANNONAYDE wanted the place kept open till after the funeral, but this
was not granted.

The next offer was made to Gen. BRAYLEIGH; but _he_ refused it on the
ground that he had made arrangements for going into the coal trade, and
he could not be sure of holding the place more than a few weeks. Anyway,
he thought it would not pay to give up the coalition he had entered into
with another party. In fact, old BRAYLEIGH treated the whole matter very
coldly.

It was next tendered to the Hon. THEOPHILUS SKINNER, but peremptorily
declined because SKINNER'S district had become Democratic since he was
elected, and he knew that if he resigned an infamous cannibal copperhead
would be sent to Congress in his stead. SKINNER consulted all the
leaders of his party, and they unanimously agreed that it would be
better to let every court in Europe be without an American
representative than risk the loss of that district.

Everybody knows why the Rev. Dr. BANGWELL, of Chicago, did not accept
it. The Doctor expected his divorce case to come on in a few days, and
could not neglect that; and besides, he had made all the arrangements
for his other marriage, and sent out the invitations. If the President
had just made some inquiries before appointing Dr. BANGWELL, he could
have found out that the Doctor's engagements would not permit him to
leave Chicago on any account.

The offer that was made to Col. KAMPSTUHL was declined solely because
the Colonel had an old score to settle with Gen. GRANT for something in
the way of a court-martial that happened near Tricksburg. He swore that
he would get square with the author of that business sometime, and when
the mission was offered to him (by accident, for Gen GRANT had forgotten
all about the court-martial), he got up a sepulchral voice, and said,
"Ha, ha! R-e-e-e-vendge at last!" and then wrote a bitter letter to
Washington on the subject.

After that it was peddled all round the country in a promiscuous way,
and offered in succession to a blacksmith who used to shoe horses for
Gen. GRANT, a conductor who refused to take fare from a well-known
Presidential excursion party, a dealer in hides who had conferred some
high obligations when a certain official was in the tanning business, a
grocery-keeper, a family shoemaker, a manufacturer of matches, and such
a multitude of people, in fact, that it finally got to be looked upon as
the greatest missionary undertaking of modern times.

The only really prominent man that the place was not tendered to is
GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN; but I wouldn't say that it won't get around to him
somewhere in Asia before the circle is completed.

All these things were very well known to me before the office was placed
at my disposal, but I did not care to wound the fine sensibilities of
the President by saying anything about them in my note.

My reason for declining in favor of Mr. GREELEY has been stated--I put
the whole matter frankly to Gen. GRANT--but I can't say whether the
suggestion I offered has been acted upon or not. The only thing I am
certain about on this point is, that if the offer should be made to
HORACE, it won't get around to GEORGE FRANCIS afterwards.

There has been so much talk about this business, that I have considered
it a sacred duty to state the facts and let some floods of light shine
upon the whole thing. The duty is now conscientiously, discharged.

DARBY DODD.

* * * * *

The Truth In a Nut-shell

CHANCELLOR CROSBY, in his inaugural address, has, we may say, bored
right to the root of the whole vexed question of education, and
extracted it, as will be seen from this extract: "It need hardly be
urged," says the new Chancellor, and we hope, all the discontented will
take the full force of the remark, "It need hardly be urged that the
didaskalos should be didaktitos, and yet perhaps emphasis on so plain a
truth may be sometimes necessary." Let us thank the Chancellor for
forever removing this necessity.

[Illustration: THE PROPOSAL.

_Ambitious Foreigner._ "AH! MEECE BULLION, BECAUSE I AM POOR YOU SCORN
MY HAND; BUT REMEMBER HOW ZE POET HE TELL YOU ZE MAN'S ZE GOLD."

_Miss B._ "GO DOWN TO PAR, THEN--_I_ HAVE NOTHING MORE TO SAY ON THE
SUBJECT."]

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 37, December 10, 1870" ***

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