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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punchinello, Vol. 1, No. 14, July 2, 1870 + +Author: Various + +Posting Date: October 29, 2011 [EBook #9819] +Release Date: February, 2006 +First Posted: October 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCHINELLO, JULY 2, 1870 *** + + + + +Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Sandra +Brown and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>Punchinello, Vol. 1, No. 14, July 2, 1870</h1> + + +<center> + + +<h1>PUNCHINELLO</h1> + +<h2> +SATURDAY, JULY 2, 1870.</h2> + +<h3>PUBLISHED BY THE<br> + +<br>PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY.<br> + +<br>83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.<br> +</h3></center> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="001.jpg (295K)" src="images/001.jpg" height="1150" width="800"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="002.jpg (240K)" src="images/002.jpg" height="1126" width="782"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="003.jpg (41K)" src="images/003.jpg" height="606" width="631"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + +<br><br><hr><br><br> +<center> +<h2>THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.</h2> + +<h4>AN ADAPTATION.</h4> + +<h3>BY ORPHEUS C. KERR,</h3> +</center> +<br><br> + +<p> +CHAPTER VII.</p> + +<p> +MORE CONFIDENCES THAN ONE.</p> + +<p> +"You and your sister have been insured, of course," said the Gospeler to +MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON, as they returned from escorting Mr. SCHENCK.</p> + +<p>"Of course," echoed MONTGOMERY, with a suppressed moan. "He is our +guardian, and has trampled us into a couple of policies. We had to +yield, or excess of Boreal conversation would have made us maniacs."</p> + +<p>"You speak bitterly for one so young," observed the Reverend OCTAVIUS +SIMPSON. "Is it derangement of the stomach, or have you known sorrow?"</p> + +<p>"Heaps of sorrow," answered the young man. "You may be aware, sir, that +my sister and I belong to a fine old heavily mortgaged Southern +family—the PENRUTHERSES and MUNCHAUSENS of Chipmunk Court House, +Virginia, are our relatives—and that SHERMAN marched through us during +the late southward projection of certain of your Northern military +scorpions. After our father's felo-desease, ensuing remotely from an +overstrain in attempting to lift a large mortgage, our mother gave us a +step-father of Northern birth, who tried to amend our constitutions and +reconstruct us."</p> + +<p>"Dreadful!" murmured the Gospeler.</p> + +<p>"We hated him! MAGNOLIA threw her scissors at him several times. My +sister, sir, does not know what fear is. She would fight a lion; +inheriting the spirit from our father, who, I have heard said, +frequently fought a tiger. She can fire a gun and pick off a State +Senator as well as any man in all the South. Our mother died. A few +mornings thereafter our step-father was found dead in his bed, and the +doctors said he died of a pair of scissors which he must have swallowed +accidentally in his youth, and which were found, after his death, to +have worked themselves several inches out of his side, near the heart."</p> + +<p>"Swallowed a pair of scissors!" exclaimed the Reverend OCTAVIUS.</p> + +<p>"He might have had a stitch in his side at the time, you know, and +wanted to cut it," explained MONTGOMERY. "At any rate, after that we +became wards of Mr. SCHENCK, up North here. And now let me ask you, sir, +is this Mr. EDWIN DROOD a student with you?"</p> + +<p>"No. He is visiting his uncle, Mr. BUMSTEAD," answered the Gospeler, who +could not free his mind from the horrible thought that his young +companion's fearless sister might have been in some way acscissory to +the sudden cutting off of her step-father's career.</p> + +<p>"Is Miss FLORA POTTS his sister?"</p> + +<p>Mr. SIMPSON told the story of the betrothal of the young couple by their +respective departed parents.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>that's</i> the game, eh?" said MONTGOMERY. "I understand now his +whispering to me that he wished he was dead." In a moment afterwards +they re-entered the house in Gospeler's Gulch.</p> + +<p>The air was slightly laden with the odor of cloves as they went into the +parlor, and Mr. BUMSTEAD was at the piano, accompanying the Flowerpot +while she sang. Executing without notes, and with his stony gaze fixed +intently between the nose and chin of the singer, Mr. BUMSTEAD had a +certain mesmeric appearance of controlling the words coming out of the +rosy mouth. Standing beside Miss POTTS was MAGNOLIA PENDRAGON, seemingly +fascinated, as it were, by the BUMSTEAD method of playing, in which the +performer's fingers performed almost as frequently upon the woodwork of +the instrument as upon the keys. Mr. PENDRAGON surveyed the group with +an arm resting on the mantel; Mr. SIMPSON took a chair by his maternal +nut-cracker, and Mr. DROOD stealthily practiced with his ball on a chair +behind the sofa.</p> + +<p>The Flowerpot was singing a neat thing by LONGFELLOW about the Evening +Star, and seemed to experience the most remarkable psychological effects +from Mr. BUMSTEAD'S wooden variations and extraordinary stare at the +lower part of her countenance. Thus, she twitched her plump shoulders +strangely, and sang—</p> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + +<p> "Just a-bove yon sandy bar, + As the day grows faint—(te-hee-he-he!) + Lonely and lovely a single—(now do-o-n't!) + Lights the air with"—(sto-o-op! It tickles—)</p> +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +<p>Convulsively giggling and exclaiming, alternately, Miss POTTS abruptly +ended her beautiful bronchial noise with violent distortion of +countenance, as though there were a spider in her mouth, and sank upon a +chair in a condition almost hysterical.</p> + +<p>"Your playing has made SISSY nervous, JACK," said EDWIN DROOD, hastily +concealing his ball and coming forward. "I noticed, myself, that you +played more than half the notes in the air, or on the music-rack, +without touching the keys at all."</p> + +<p>"That is because I am not accustomed to playing upon two pianos at +once," answered BUMSTEAD, who, at that very moment, was industriously +playing the rest of the air some inches from the nearest key.</p> + +<p>"He couldn't make <i>me</i> nervous!" exclaimed Miss PENDRAGON, decidedly.</p> + +<p>They bore the excited Flowerpot, (who still tittered a little, and was +nervously feeling her throat,) to the window, for air; and when they +came back Mr. BUMSTEAD was gone. "There, Sissy," said EDWIN DROOD, +"you've driven him away; and I'm half afraid he feels unpleasantly +confused about it; for he's got out of the rear door of the house by +mistake, and I can hear him trying to find his way home in the +back-yard."</p> + +<p>The two young men escorted Miss CAROWTHERS and the two young ladies to +the door of the Alms-House, and there bade them good-night; but, at a +yet later hour, FLORA POTTS and the new pupil still conversed in the +chamber which they were to occupy conjointly.</p> + +<p>After discussing the fashions with great excitement; asking each other +just exactly what each gave for every article she wore; and successively +practicing male-discouraging, male-encouraging, and chronically-in-different +expressions of face in the mirror (as all good young ladies always do +preparatory to their evening prayers,) the lovely twain made solemn +nightcap-oath of eternal friendship to each other, and then, of course, +began picking the men to pieces.</p> + +<p>"Who is this Mr. BUMSTEAD?" asked MAGNOLIA, who was now looking much +like a ghost.</p> + +<p>"He's that absurd EDDY'S ridiculous uncle, and my music-teacher," +answered the Flowerpot, also presenting an emaciated appearance.</p> + +<p>"You do not love him?" queried MAGNOLIA.</p> + +<p>"Now go 'wa-a-ay! How perfectly disgusting!" protested FLORA.</p> + +<p>"You know that he loves you!"</p> + +<p>"Do-o-n't!" pleaded Miss POTTS, nervously. "You'll make me fidgetty +again, just thinking of to-night. It was too perfectly absurd."</p> + +<p>"What was?"</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>he</i> was,—Mr. BUMSTEAD. It gave me the funniest feeling! It was +as though some one was trying to see through you, you know."</p> + +<p>"My child!" exclaimed Miss PENDRAGON, dropping her cheek-distenders upon +the bureau, "you speak strangely. Has that man gained any power over +you?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear," returned FLORA, wiping off a part of her left eyebrow with +cold cream. "But didn't you see? He was looking right down my throat all +the time I was singing, until it actually tickled me!"</p> + +<p>"Does he always do so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know what he always does!" whimpered the nervous Flowerpot. +"Oh, he's such an utterly ridiculous creature! Sometimes when we're in +company together, and I smell cloves, and look at him, I think that I +see the lid of his right eye drop over the ball and tremble at me in the +strangest manner. And sometimes his eyes seem fixed motionless in his +head, as they did to-night, and he'll appear to wander off into a kind +of dream, and feel about in the air with his right arm as though he +wanted to hug somebody. Oh! my throat begins to tickle again! Oh, stay +with me, and be my absurdly ridiculous friend!"</p> + +<p>The dark-featured Southern linen spectre leaned soothingly above the +other linen spectre, with a bottle of camphor in her hand, near the +bureau upon which the back-hair of both was piled; and in the flash of +her black eyes, and the defiant flirt of the kid-gloves dipped in +glycerine which she was drawing on her hands, lurked death by lightning +and other harsh usage for whomsoever of the male sex should ever be +caught looking down in the mouth again.</p> + +<br><br> + +<p> +CHAPTER VIII.</p> + +<p> +A DAGGERY TYPE OF FORTALKRAPHY.</p> + +<p> +The two young gentlemen, having seen their blooming charges safely +within the door of the Alms-House, and vainly endeavored to look through +the keyhole at them going up-stairs, scuffle away together with that +sensation of blended imbecility and irascibility which is equally +characteristic of callow youth and inexperienced Thomas Cats when +retiring together from the society of female friends who seem to be +still on the fence as regards their ultimate preferences.</p> + +<p>"Do you bore your friends here long, Mr. DROOD?" inquired MONTGOMERY; as +who should say: Maouiw-ow-ooo-sp't! sp't!</p> + +<p>"Not this time, Secesh," is the answer; as though it were observed, +ooo-ooo-sp't! "I leave for New York again to-morrow; but shall be off +and on again in Bumsteadville until midsummer, when I go to Egypt, +Illinois, to be an engineer on a railroad. The stamps left me by my +father are all in the stock of that road, and the Mr. BUMSTEAD whom you +saw to-night is my uncle and guardian."</p> + +<p>"Mr. SIMPSON informs me that you are destined to assume the expenses of +Miss POTTS, when you're old enough," remarks MONTGOMERY, his eyes +shining quite greenly in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps you'd like to make something out of it," says EDWIN, +whose orbs have assumed a yellowish glitter. "Perhaps you Southern +Confederacies didn't get quite enough of it at Gettysburgh and Five +Forks."</p> + +<p>"We had the exquisite pleasure of killing a few thousand Yankee +free-lovers," intimates MONTGOMERY, with a hollow laugh.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, I remember—at Andersonville," suggests EDWIN DROOD, beginning +to roll back his sleeves.</p> + +<p>"This is your magnanimity to the conquered, is it!" exclaims MONTGOMERY, +scornfully. "I don't pretend to have your advantages, Mr. DROOD, and +I've scarcely had any more education than an American Humorist; but +where I come from, if a carpet-bagger should talk as you do, the cost of +his funeral would be but a trifle."</p> + +<p>"I can prepare you, at shortest notice, for something very neat and +tasteful in the silver-trimmed rosewood line, with plated handles, +dark-complexioned Ku-klux," returns Mr. DROOD, preparing to pull off his +coat.</p> + +<p>"Who would have believed," soliloquizes MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON, "that even +a scalawag Northern spoon-thief, like our scurrilous contemporary, would +get so mad at being reminded that he must be married some day!"</p> + +<p>"Whoever says that I'm mad," is the answer, "lies deliberately wilfully, +wickedly, with naked intent to defame and malign."</p> + +<p>But here a heavy hand suddenly smites EDWIN in the back, almost snapping +his head off, and there stands spectrally between them Mr. BUMSTEAD, who +has but recently found his way out of the back-yard in Gospeler's Gulch, +by removing at least two yards of picket fence from the wrong place, and +wears upon his head a gingham sun-bonnet, which, in his hurried +departure through the hall of the Gospeler's house, he has mistaken for +his own hat. Sustaining himself against the fierce evening breeze by +holding firmly to both shoulders of his nephew, this striking apparition +regards the two young men with as much austerity as is consistent with +the flapping of the cape of his sun-bonnet.</p> + +<p>"Gentlelemons," he says, with painful syllabic distinctness, "can I +believe my ears? Are you already making journalists of yourselves?"</p> + +<p>They hang their heads in shame under the merciless but just accusation. +"Here you are," continues BUMSTEAD, "a quartette of young fellows who +should all be friends. NEDS, NEDS! I am ashamed of you! MONTGOMERIES, +you should not let your angry passions rise; for your little hands were +never made to bark and bite." After this, Mr. BUMSTEAD seems lost for a +moment, and reclines upon his nephew, with his eyes closed in +meditation. "But let's all five of us go up to my room," he finally +adds, "and restore friendship with lemon tea. It is time for the North +and South to be reconciled over something hot. Come."</p> + +<p>Leaning upon both of them now, and pushing them into a walk, he +exquisitely turns the refrain of the rejected National Hymn—</p> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + +<p> "'Twas by a mistake that we lost Bull Bun,<br> + When we all skedaddled to Washington,<br> + And we'll all drink atone blind,<br> + Johnny fill up the bowl?"</p> + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +<p>Thus he artfully employs music to soothe their sectional animosities, +and only skips into the air once as they walk, with a "Whoop! That was +something <i>like</i> a snake!"</p> + +<p>Arriving in his room, the door of which he has had some trouble in +opening, on account of the knob having wandered in his absence to the +wrong side, Mr. BUMSTEAD indicates a bottle of lemon tea, with some +glasses, on the table, accidentally places the lamp so that it shines +directly upon EDWIN'S triangular sketch of FLORA over the mantel, and, +taking his umbrella under his arm, smiles horribly at his young guests +from out his sun-bonnet.</p> + +<p>"Do you recognize that picture, PENDRAGONS?" he asks, after the two have +drunk fierily at each other. "Do you notice its stereoscopic effect of +being double?"</p> + +<p>"Ah," says MONTGOMERY, critically, "a good deal in the style of +HENNESSY, or WINSLOW HOMER, I should say. Something in the school-slate +method."</p> + +<p>"It's by EDWINS, there!" explains Mr. BUMSTEAD, triumphantly. "Just look +at him as he sits there both together, with all his happiness cut out +for him, and his dislike of Southerners his only fault."</p> + +<p>"If I could only draw Miss PENDRAGON, now," says EDWIN DROOD, rather +flattered, "I might do better. A good sharp nose and Southern complexion +help wonderfully in the expression of a picture."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps my sister would prefer to choose her own artist," remarks +MONTGOMERY, to whom Mr. BUMSTEAD has just poured out some more lemon +tea.</p> + +<p>"Say a Southern one, for instance, who might use some of the flying +colors that were always warranted to run when our boys got after yours +in the late war," responds EDWIN, to whom his attentive uncle has also +poured out some more lemon tea for his cold.</p> + +<p>"For instance—at Fredericksburgh," observes MONTGOMERY.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of Fort Donelson," returns EDWIN.</p> + +<p>The conservative BUMSTEAD strives anxiously to allay the irritation of +his young guests by prodding first one and then the other with his +umbrella; and, in an attempt to hold both of them and the picture behind +him in one commanding glance under his sun-bonnet, presents a phase of +strabismus seldom attained by human eyes.</p> + +<p>"If I only had you down where I come from, Mr. DROOD," cries MONTGOMERY, +tickled into ungovernable wrath by the ferule of the umbrella, I'd tar +and feather you like a Yankee teacher, and then burn you like a +freedman's church."</p> + +<p>"Oh!—if you only had me <i>there</i>, you'd do so," cries EDWIN DROOD, +springing to his feet as the umbrella tortures his ribs. "<i>If</i>, eh? +Pooh, pooh, my young fellow, I perceive that you are a mere Cincinnati +Editor."</p> + +<p>The degrading epithet goads PENDRAGON to fury, and, after throwing his +remaining lemon tea about equally upon EDWIN and the sun-bonnet, he +extracts the sugar from the bottom of the glass with his fingers, and +uses the goblet to ward off a last approach of the umbrella.</p> + +<p>"EDWINS! MONTGOMERIES!" exclaims Mr. BUMSTEAD, opening the umbrella +between them so suddenly that each is grazed on the nose by a whalebone +rib, "I command you to end this Congressional debate at once. I never +saw four such young men before! MONTGOMERIES, put up your penknife +thizinstant!"</p> + +<p>Pushing aside the barrier of alpaca and whalebone from under his chin, +MONTGOMERY dashes wildly from the house, tears madly back to Gospeler's +Gulch, and astounds the Gospeler by his appearance.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. SIMPSON," he cries, as he is conducted to the door of his own +room, "I believe that I, too, inherit some tigerish qualities from that +tiger my father is said to have fought so often. I've had a political +discussion with Mr. DROOD in Mr. BUMSTEAD'S apartments, and, if I'd +stayed there a moment longer, I reckon I should have murdered somebody +in a moment of Emotional Insanity."</p> + +<p>The Reverend OCTAVIUS SIMPSON makes him unclose his clenched fist, in +which there appears to be one or two cloves, and then says: "I am +shocked to hear this, Mr. PENDRAGON. As you have no political influence, +and have never shot a <i>Tribune</i> man, neither New York law nor society +would allow you to commit murder with impunity. I regret, too, to see +that you have been drinking, and would advise you to try a chapter from +one of Professor DE MILLE'S novels, as a mild emetic, before retiring. +After that, two or three sentences from one of Mr. RICHARD GRANT WHITE'S +essays—will ensure sleep to you for the remainder of the night."</p> + +<p>Returning the unspeakably thankful pressure of the grateful young man's +hand, the Gospeler goes thoughtfully down stairs, where he is just in +time to answer the excited ring of Mr. BUMSTEAD.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, Mr. BUMSTEAD!" is his first exclamation, "what's that you've +got on your head?"</p> + +<p>"Perspiration, sir," cries BUMSTEAD, who, in his agitation, is still +ringing the bell. "We've nearly had a murder to-night, and I've come +around to offer you my umbrella for your own protection."</p> + +<p>"Umbrella!" echoes Mr. SIMPSON, "why, really, I don't see how—"</p> + +<p>"Open it on him suddenly when he makes a pass at you," interrupts Mr. +BUMSTEAD, thrusting the alpaca weapon upon him. "I'll send for it in the +morning."</p> + +<p>The Gospeler stands confounded in his own doorway, with the defence thus +strangely secured in his hand; and, looking up the moon-lighted road, +sees Mr. BUMSTEAD, in the sun-bonnet, leaping high, at short intervals, +over the numerous adders and cobras on his homeward way, like a +thoroughbred hurdle-racer.</p> + +<p>(<i>To be Continued</i>.)</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.</h2> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + +<img alt="005.jpg (92K)" src="images/005.jpg" height="609" width="401"> + +</td><td> + +</td><td> + + +<p>Many plays of various sorts have been explained and commented upon in +this column. Now for the first time a show claims attention. The +BEETHOVEN Centennial Festival has just ceased its multitudinous noise, +and the several shows connected with it—such as GROVER'S blue coat, +GILMORE'S light gymnastics on the conductor's stand, the electric +artillery and the plenteous PAREPA, have vanished away. Time and space +and patience would fail to tell the story of the ten successive showers +of noise that inundated the Rink during last week. Let us then content +ourselves with a reminiscence of the opening night.</p> + +<p>As the sun was understood to be descending the Western horizon (in some +rural locality that possesses a horizon,) last Monday afternoon, three +horsemen—who had doubtless left their horses at a convenient +stable,—might have been seen descending from a Third Avenue car. Before +them stood the Rink, glittering with rows of lamps—the last rows—not +of summer—but of the American Institute Fair. Passing these lines of +Rinkéd brightness long drawn out, (SHAKESPEARE) the three dismounted +horsemen entered the building and seated themselves. A mighty murmur of +applause rose from the chorus, as BERGMANN stepped to the front and +ordered his orchestral army to advance upon BEETHOVEN'S Sympony in C. +This what they heard and saw:</p> +</td></tr> +</table> +<p>FIRST HORSEMAN. "What a noise they make tuning their fiddles When's this +thing going to begin?"</p> + +<p>SECOND HORSEMAN. "Begin! Why, it has begun. This is BEETHOVEN'S Symphony +in C."</p> + +<p>THIRD HOUSEMAN. "Don't you know the Symphony at Sea? It represents a +storm, you know."</p> + +<p>YOUNG LADY FROM BOSTON. "How divinely beautiful! It ought to be played, +however, by GILMORE'S Band. They do not understand classical music in +New York."</p> + +<p>ACCOMPANYING FRIEND. "Hush. PAREPA is going to sing."</p> + +<p>There is a tremulous motion felt throughout the vast building. It is the +approach of PAREPA, who skips lightly—like the little hills mentioned +by the Psalmist—across the stage. She curtseys, and her skirts expand +in vast ripples like the waves of a placid sea when some huge +line-of-battle ship sinks suddenly from sight. She smiles a sweet and +ample smile. She flirts her elegant fan, and gallant little CARL +ROSA—who can lead an orchestra better than the weightiest German of +them all—is swept swiftly away, whirling like a rose-leaf before the +breath of the gentle zephyr. Then she sings.</p> + +<p>What is the grand orchestra compared with the exhaustless volume of her +matchless voice! What the chorus of three thousand singers or the +multitudinous pipes of the great organ! Far above chorus or orchestra or +organ soar her clear notes, full, rich, ringing. Her voice, like her +majestic presence, was made expressly for Boston Jubilees and BEETHOVEN +Centennials. The former can fill the largest building the continent has +ever seen; the latter—well, the latter is perceptible at quite a +distance.</p> + +<p>The "<i>Inflammatus</i>" is sung, and sung again, and then the programmes +rustle, as the audience looks to see who has the rashness to follow +PAREPA the peerless.</p> + +<p>RURAL PERSON. "Now we're goin' to hear somethin' like. The New Jersey +Harmonic Society is agoin' to sing 'When first I saw her face in 1616.' +I don't like none of your operas. That 'inflammation' may be a big +thing,' but give me some old-fashioned toon."</p> + +<p>Accordingly the New Jersey Society sings, and sings extremely well. The +simple melody sung by these gentle rustics pleases the people. They +demand its repetition, and it is generally conceded that the native +Jerseyman has more music in what he regards as his soul, than the wilder +aborigines who follow SPOTTED TAIL and SWIFT BEAR.</p> + +<p>YOUNG LADY FROM BOSTON.—"How sweet these old madrigals are. That piece, +however, ought to have been played by GILMORE'S Band. These New Jersey +people know nothing about any music that is above OFFENBACH'S melodies."</p> + +<p>And then everybody is seized with an impulse to whisper to everybody +else, "Now we are to have the Star Spangled Banner."</p> + +<p>It is evident that the American nation hungers and thirsts after +something over which it may wax patriotic and loyal. It has no monarch, +and the absurdity of becoming enthusiastic over GRANT'S cigar is only +too manifest. It is therefore obliged to content itself with simulating +a frantic admiration of the Flag.</p> + +<p>Now the flag is rather a pretty one, and to people north of MASON and +DIXON'S line, possesses many interesting associations. But the doggerel +which the late Mr. KEY attempted to celebrate it, is not altogether +above reproach. Beginning with the Bowery interrogative "Sa-ay," and +ending with a reference to the "land of the free and the home of the +brave," which the late ELIJAH POGRAM, or the present NATHANIEL BANKS +might have written, it is simply the weakest of rhymed buncombe wedded +to the cheapest of pinchbeck music. And yet we fancy ourselves inspired +when we hear it.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, as sung at the BEETHOVEN festival, the words are drowned by +the music, and the music by the artillery. It thus becomes an +inarticulate patriotic "yawp," of tremendous ear-splitting power. But +the public likes it.</p> + +<p>They greet it with tremendous roars of applause. The artillery, +discharged with uniform promptness several seconds in advance of time, +renders them wild with delight. PAREPA'S voice, rising at intervals +above even the combined din of instruments, voices, and cannon, is +hardly heeded by them. Noise is what they want, and they have a surfeit +of it. It is only after the performance is ended that the vision of +GILMORE'S ecstatic coat-tails, as they danced to the wild whirling of +his maniacal baton, comes back to their memory. Then they smile and say, +"Curious fellow that GILMORE. Knows how to make himself a pleasing and +prominent feature."</p> + +<p>But the Boston young lady says in a serious tone, "GILMORE'S band should +have played that piece without any assistance. These New York people do +not understand the potentialities of brass."</p> + +<p>Perhaps we don't. And then again perhaps we do.—Boston may have a +monopoly of virtue, but it has hardly a monopoly of brass.</p> + +<p>After the patriotic noise comes the <i>Oberon</i> overture, led by CARL ROSA +so daintily that it is the best performance of the evening. By and by +everybody attempts to leave in advance of everybody else, with a view to +a seat in the cars; and the first night of the Centennial is over.</p> + +<p>And nine-tenths of the people remark that it is "bully."</p> + +<p>And several of the remainder speak patronizingly of it.</p> + +<p>And the critics go up to the "Press Room" for another glass of—in +short, for a sandwich:</p> + +<p>And the Boston young lady expresses her firm conviction, that GILMORE +should have managed the whole affair, without the interference of those +uncultivated New-Yorkers.</p> + +<p>And the fat lady from the Fifth Avenue remarks that "nothing has +occurred to mar the misanthropy of the occasion."</p> + +<p>And a wretch who does not consider Miss KELLOGG the "Nightingale of +America," smiles a fiendish smile as he thinks that her pretty little +voice is to be heard by the conductor and the nearest chorus singers on +the following day.</p> + +<p>And the undersigned goes home to calm his mind by an hour's perusal of +Dr. WATTS, and then to dream of star-spangled GILMORES and electric +PAREPA batteries until morning.</p> + +<p>MATADOR.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="006.jpg (117K)" src="images/006.jpg" height="633" width="517"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<h2> +JOTTINGS FROM WASHINGTON.</h2> + +<p>WASHINGTON CITY, June 4, 1870.</p> + +<p> +DEAR PUNCHINELLO: I have noticed with pleasure your bold and generous +championship of Philadelphia. I have witnessed, with genuine delight, +your expose of the designs of the Iron Legislature upon that most +unhappy of rectangular cities; and I have been emboldened thereby to +hazard a petition to you to fly still higher in your philanthropic +endeavors to do and dare still more for the oppressed of your +race—to—to—in short, to attempt the defence of Washington and the +Washingtonians!!</p> + +<p>There! it is out! But that I know you of old; but that, knowing you, I +regretted with a great regret your former withdrawal from affairs of +State; but that I welcomed your return to the arena of which, in former +years, you were the acknowledged victor; but that I knew your unlimited +compassion, I would not, though a bold man, have dared to ask so much.</p> + +<p>Yet, I have reason for my request. For, if Philadelphia be rectangular, +Washington has greater claims, seeing that she is scalene, crooked, +trapezoidal, and, in general terms, catacornered. If Philadelphia be +legislature-ridden, Washington is Congress-burdened. It Philadelphia +suffers under an infliction of horse-railroads and white wooden +shutters, Washington groans under the pangs and pains of unmitigated +CHRONICLE!</p> + +<p>This last is our greatest grievance. Fortunately for you, dear P., you +know not what it is to be Congress-burdened, <i>but we do.</i> Alas! too +well. It means mud and dust; it means unpaved streets pervaded by +perambulating pigs and contemplative cows, and rendered still more rural +in its aspect by the gambolings of frolicsome kids around grave goats. +It means an empty treasury, high rents, extraordinary taxes, and poor +grub. In short, it means WRETCHEDNESS. But to be "Chronicled"—</p> + + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + +<p> "——<i>That</i> way Madness lies"</p> + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + +<p>In this connection, dear PUNCHINELLO, let me hasten to disclaim any +intention of abusing or "pitching into" the renowned "Editor of Two +Newspapers, Both Daily." Everybody has been doing that for the past five +or six years, and I do not wish to be vulgar. Besides, to do the +gentleman justice, we do not think he is to blame for much of our +misery; as he confines his editorial connection with our incubus to +writing a weekly letter to the Press, and publishing it in both dailies. +At the same time we do wish that he would, out of compassion for our +suffering souls, exercise a little supervision over the small boys whom +he employs to write the <i>Chronicle</i>, and thus spare us something of what +we are now obliged to stand.</p> + +<p>Let me give you one or two instances of the course pursued by this +tyrannous newspaper.</p> + +<p>It frightens timid citizens by its narratives of horrible outrages in +the South, especially in Georgia and Tennessee; and my wife, who has +relatives in the former place, was in chronic hysterics until it was +discovered that the "outrages" were, to use a vulgar expression, "all in +my eye." To this day she trembles at the word "loil," (I believe I spell +it correctly,) knowing, as she does, that the dreaded and mysterious +syllables, Ku-Klux, will most assuredly follow it.</p> + +<p>Why, did we not have a great scare here a week or two ago, when it was +announced that the mysterious chalk-marks on the pavements were +significant of the presence of the awful K.K. in our midst—at our very +doors? Did we not sleep with revolvers under our pillows, and dream of +cross-bones and coffins? Did not Mayor BOWEN receive a dread missive +warning him to evacuate Washington, lest he be made a corpse of in less +than no time? Had not several colored gentlemen and white men received +similar missives? And does it repay us for our fright and alarm, when it +is discovered that the mysterious marks are cunning devices of a +gentleman engaged in the oyster trade? By no means. We have suffered our +terrors, and no amount of oysters can alleviate them. To such straits +has the <i>Chronicle</i> reduced the citizens of Washington.</p> + +<p>But we have other causes of complaint against this extraordinary +newspaper. Here is one:</p> + +<p>It may not be unknown to you that the <i>Chronicle</i> has a habit of +identifying itself with the people and subjects which it discusses. Does +it put forth an article on naval matters—straightway it becomes salter +than Turk's Island, and talks of bobstays and main-top-bowlines and +poop-down-hauls in a manner that, to put it mildly, is confusing, and +would, if you read it, make you jump as if all your strings were pulled +at once! Are financial matters under discussion—behold even JAMES FISK, +Jr., is not so keen and shrewd, nor Commodore VANDERBILT so full of +"corners." And only the other day, it discussed the Medical Convention +which lately met here, and lo! we are amazed by the amount of knowledge +displayed by the omniscient journal! In a long article, after mildly +remonstrating with the doctors for refusing to admit their colored +brethren of the District of Columbia to a share in their deliberations, +it closes with this obscurely terrible remark:</p> + +<p>"Better die of nostalgia in exile abroad, than remain at home to suffer +from ossification of the pericardium—"</p> + +<p>or words to that effect, as the lawyers say.</p> + +<p>On reading this, with what strength I had left I secured a dictionary, +and found that "nostalgia" means homesickness;—a disease not known to +Washingtonian exiles—but what "ossification of the pericardium" means I +cannot discover. Not only have I searched every dictionary in the +Congressional Library, but I have pervaded all the bookstores, and made +myself a nuisance to every medical man of my acquaintance—in vain! +Nobody ever heard of such a disease, if disease it be. It may be +something more dreadful! And not only I, but those whom I have +persecuted with my inquiries, are on the verge of insanity; and for all +this the <i>Chronicle</i> is responsible.</p> + +<p>Now, this can't be endured; and I have come to you for help. Either tell +us what is the meaning of this terrible phrase, or else open your +batteries on the malicious genius who pens those <i>Chronicle</i> papers, +and—squelch him!</p> + +<p>As yet,</p> + +<p> "I am <i>not</i> mad—but soon shall be!"</p> + +<p>if you don't answer.</p> + +<p>Yours, in tribulation,</p> + +<p>ALONZO TARBOX.</p> + +<p>P. S.—Be sure and see that the printer spells my name rightly, and +don't transmogrify it into "TREEBOX," as a beast of a Treasury Clerk did +the other day. "There <i>are</i> chords—" you know.</p> + +<p>A. T.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>THE EASTERN QUESTION.</h2> + +<p>Egypt and Turkey—the Nile and the Bosphorus—seem coming to blows. But +if hostilities are happily averted, with what propriety can it be said +that <i>Nihil fit</i>?</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>THE EARTHLY PARADISE.</h2> + +<p>I wish the Editor would put a little note in large letters right here, +requesting readers not to run off and read Mr. MORRIS'S poem, after +gazing on the above title. My very respectable reader, you're smart, +very smart indeed, but let me assure you that you haven't discovered +from the float which I have placed on the surface, which way my string +is drifting, so, if you get on a string don't complain.</p> + +<p>As, at this season of the year, everybody who is anybody either goes +into the country or else shuts up his front windows and lives in the +back area, in order to create the impression that he is to be found in +the rural districts, PUNCHINELLO must of course follow the universal +example. His front windows, however, must never be shut, so he must fall +to packing his trunks at once. But where shall he go? List! oh, list! I +will give a list of spots present.</p> + +<p>They say the seas-on has commenced at Long Branch. This place is peopled +by the foolish men of whom we have heard, who built their houses on the +sand. The chief amusement of visitors is thus: you put on some old +clothes, which have evidently just retired from the coal-heaving +business, stand in the water up to your ankles, and grasp manfully, with +both hands, a rope; then a watery creature, named Surf, climbs upon you +and gets down on the other side; you rush to a neighboring shanty, put +on your store clothes, and feel twice as warm as you would have felt if +you hadn't wrestled with Surf. The reports from Boston are that the +Pilgrim Fathers have ceased to enjoy their coffins and shrouds, since +Jubilee JIM has commenced to carry pleasure-seekers to the seaside on +Plymouth Rock.</p> + +<p>Saratoga is still the place for SARA to patronize. The chief objection +to that place is that the water is so muddy that they call it Congress +Water. However, you soon become infatuated with it. I once saw a very +stout lady imbibe sixteen glasses of the water, and as I left the scene +of dissipation she was screaming for more. I concluded that she was a +sister-in-law to BOREAS. A young and tender Sixteenth Amendment, who was +a three-quarter orphan, (she had only a step-father,) has been known to +drink, unaided, thirty glasses of Saratoga water in twenty-four hours. +Can Mr. WESTON beat that? I forgot to say that she survived. The +difference between Long Branch and Saratoga is, that at the former you +take salt water externally, while at the latter you take salt and water +internally.</p> + +<p>Newport is still appropriately situated on Rowed Island. None but the +select deserve Newport. However, they say Old Gin is the next best +thing. You can rent a cottage by the sea and see what you can. (I may +add that you can also rent a cottage by the year, though I believe the +view is not any finer on that account.) Beware of the tow! This is not a +warning against <i>blondes</i>, but against rolls.</p> + +<p>The proper thing to do at Newport is thus: A scented youth, with a +perfumed damsel resting on his arm, wanders at eventide down to the sea +to hear the majestic waves roll upon the beach. Having selected a +suitable spot, the pair sit down and then make night hideous with "What +are the wild waves saying?"</p> + +<p>Niagara is perched upon its Erie. To a man of a reflective mind this is +an unpleasant place. As he gazes on the rushing flood he thinks of the +waste of raw material. Water being thrown away and no tax being +collected. As a rule in this place cheat your carriage-driver, for if +you don't, he'll cheat you for your negligence.</p> + +<p>Of course, as it is now June, no one will visit Cape May. The White +Mountains, having received a new coat of paint, are ready for summer +visitors. A few stock quotations, such as, "cloud-capped towers," "peak +of Teneriffe," &c., are very useful here. Also a large supply of breath. +Lake Mahopac may be packed, of course, but any one of a romantic turn of +mind, who loves to float with fair women idly upon a summer sea, (in a +boat, of course,) 'mid crocuses and lilies, while the air is filled with +the melodious sounds from a bass-drum and that sort of thing, and is +redolent with the perfume of a thousand flowers, will find solace here. +(I flatter myself that period is well turned.)</p> + +<p>All over the land you may find choice little spots, farm-houses, over +which the woodbine and the honeysuckle clamber, while the surrounding +wheat fields—(I have lost my volume of WHITMAN, and forget what the +wheat fields do, poetically.) Perhaps it is my duty to here introduce +some remarks about farming, but, as the Self-made Man is struggling with +that subject, and as a certain innocent, who has been abroad, proposes +to handle it, I refrain.</p> + +<p>I very nearly forgot Coney Island. This is the favorite resort of clams +and little jokers. Here you may daily fill your bread-basket with +bivalves, and then observe the mysteries of that mystic game, now you +see it, now you don't.</p> + +<p>Of course I don't propose to state which of these places is the Earthly +Paradise. You pays your money and you takes your choice. What hurts my +feelings is, that any one should have supposed that I intended to write +a criticism of Mr. MORRIS'S poem. Do people imagine that my time is +entirely valueless, and that I can afford to waste it in criticising +poetry?</p> + +<p>LOT.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>PLUCKILY PATRIOTIC, STILL.</h2> + +<p>A few years since the City of Portland, upon a certain Fourth of July, +was nearly consumed by fire, the origin of which was the well-known +Cracker. But Portland is undaunted, and proposes this year to have a +finer Independence Day than ever. If Mr. PUNCHINELLO might advise, he +would recommend to the Portlanders, festivities of a decidedly aquatic +character—swimming-matches, going down in diving bells, the playing of +fountains, battles between little boys with squirt-guns, regattas, and +floating batteries. Mr. P. himself intends to celebrate the coming +Fourth upon water—with something in it, of course, to kill the insects. +The Maine Liquor Law being in full force in Portland, there will be no +difficulty in obtaining ardent spirits on the Fourth; and Mr. +PUNCHINELLO therefore the more confidently recommends a full aqueous +infusion of the Down East toddies.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>SHOCKING</h2> + +<p>In Tipton, Indiana, has originated the secret order, with rituals, signs +and grips, called the "Earthquake." Were its object not altogether +earthly, we might regard it as merely a new set of underground Quakers. +The remarkable quiet of Friends' Burying-grounds is a guarantee against +all possible disturbance from Earth-Quakers, now that the Underground +Railroad has ceased to run.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>A TRIUMPH OF HOUSEKEEPING.</h2> + +<p>All honor to the gentlewoman in Aroostook, Maine, who put out a fire the +other day, first by pouring water on it, then all her milk and cream, +and finally all the pickle in her meat-barrels. 'Twas only applying +wholesale an old woman's cure for burns; but the point of the matter was +that she pickled a fire, and preserved her life.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + + + +<h2>COMPLICATIONS AHEAD.</h2> + +<h3> +WHAT OUR CRIMINAL COURTS ARE COMING TO.</h3> + +<p><i>Extract from Speech of Counsel for Defence</i>.</p> + +<p> +"Ladies of the Jury, I appeal to you; <i>should</i> such whiskers be hung? +True, he killed his wife; but, as you know, she was a horrid jealous +thing, and led her poor husband <i>such</i> a life. In <i>my</i> opinion, killing +was too good for her. Ladies, be merciful; the prisoner hangs upon your +lips. Consider his eyes; consider his nose. Were I married to a woman +who called me an unprincipled wretch, wouldn't I kill her? Wouldn't I? +Ladies, be generous." And so forth. (Jury retire, but return immediately +with a verdict of <i>Not Guilty</i>; Judge, Jury, Counsel, and all shed tears +and kiss indiscriminately. They take up a collection for the prisoner, +who, next day, marries the Forewoman of the Jury, out of gratitude.)</p> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> +<img alt="007a.jpg (35K)" src="images/007a.jpg" height="418" width="307"> + +</td><td> + +</td><td> +<img alt="007b.jpg (37K)" src="images/007b.jpg" height="411" width="298"> +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="008.jpg (235K)" src="images/008.jpg" height="653" width="894"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>A LETTER OF ADVICE.</h2> + +<p>STANDISH FOUR CORNERS, June —, 18—</p> + +<p>EDITOR OF PUNCHINELLO:</p> + +<p>SIR: I wish to call your attention to certain defects in the journal +conducted by you, and to make a few suggestions, which, if followed, +will greatly improve it. I have talked with several eminent gentlemen on +the subject, among whom are the Rev. EZEKIEL DODGE, pastor of the +Sandemanian Church in our town, and also the Hon. PELEG SMITH, our +Representative in Congress. Both fully agree with me in the ideas which +I am about to lay before you.</p> + +<p>In the first place, I object to the name PUNCHINELLO. It is too +frivolous, and suggests no food to the thoughtful mind. You should have +called your paper the <i>Banner of Progress</i>. This would have at once +enlisted the sympathy of all earnest men in your enterprise. Rev. Mr. +DODGE says that he wrote to you some weeks ago, proposing that you +change the name to that of the <i>Friend of Truth,</i> while Mr. SMITH thinks +that the <i>Pig Iron Review</i> would be the best possible name. He is, +however, a high tariff man, and his judgment may be influenced by that +fact. Either of these latter names would unquestionably be preferable to +PUNCHINELLO, but the name which I have suggested is the one which you +ought to adopt.</p> + +<p>Then the shape of your paper is all wrong. Any one can see that if it +were only shorter and broader, it would closely resemble the shape of +<i>Punch</i>. Now, sir, we Americans don't want anything that looks like +anything British or European. Our country is bigger, and consequently +better than any other. We have bigger rivers, bigger cataracts, bigger +steamboats, and bigger jimfisks than any other people, and, therefore, +our newspapers ought to be original in shape. You should make your paper +octagonal in form, otherwise everybody will justly accuse you of +imitating some effete and monarchical British journal.</p> + +<p>And I must strongly object to the spirit of levity which I find in your +paper. This is an Earnest Age, sir, and we cannot afford to joke. The +Rev. Mr. DODGE has been greatly grieved at the light way in which you +have treated such serious subjects as the Divorce Question. He will +forward to you a sermon of his own on the topic of "The Jewish Marriage +Law compared with that of the Amalekites and the Jebusites, together +with Remarks on the construction of the Ark, including an Inquiry into +the origin of the Edomites, and a Dissertation upon the Levitical law of +Tithes." This sermon would occupy from four to six pages of your paper +every week, if published in weekly instalments, for a period of about +ten weeks, and would give a tone to PUNCHINELLO which it now lacks. +Besides publishing this sermon, you would do well to print, every week, +a speech of the Hon. Mr. DODGE, who is one of the most eloquent members +of the House, and whose views on finance are greatly respected by such +men as Mr. KELLEY and Mr. CHANDLER.</p> + +<p>You ought also to have a definite purpose in view. At present you have +no Mission. The earnest men and women who look to you for aid and +counsel, find nothing in your paper bearing upon the great questions of +the day. You should make your paper the organ of some influential party. +There are the friends of Pig Iron, for example. Devote the greater part +of your space to the advocacy of their lofty cause, and there is not an +iron manufacturer in the United States who would not borrow PUNCHINELLO +from some one of his acquaintance, and read everything in it relating to +the contest now going on between the fearless champions of freedom, and +American pig iron, against the bloated upholders of British interests. +As it is, you appear to advocate no single practical measure which +concerns the welfare of this country and the perpetuity of our glorious +Union. PUNCHINELLO is the favorite paper of careless young men, depraved +middle-aged men, who care nothing for Progress and Humanity, and young +girls who prefer dress and admiration to addressing their Earnest +sisters from the platform of Reform meetings. The Rev. Mr. DODGE tells +me that all the young people of his congregation read it, and he fears +that they prefer it to his sermons. A paper read by this class of +readers must be radically wrong. You must change its character at once.</p> + +<p>One thing more. You must cease to publish pictures of the character of +those which now appear in your paper. In their place you might +substitute drawings of practical value, such as the <i>Scientific Yankee</i> +publishes. If you do this, in addition to making the other changes which +I have suggested, you will find that PUNCHINELLO will make a very +different impression from that which I fear it has already made. In that +case I will become a subscriber, and will send you a few sound, earnest +articles of my own. I am, Yours, in behalf of Progress,</p> + +<p>AN EARNEST MAN.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="009.jpg (280K)" src="images/009.jpg" height="1018" width="711"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="011.jpg (199K)" src="images/011.jpg" height="859" width="642"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + + +<h2>THAT INDIAN TALK.</h2> + +<p> How, how, Great Father, how.<br> + Me Spotted Tail; me Rattling Cow;<br> + Me Red Cloud; whiskey time now?<br> + How, Great Father? How? How?</p> +<br> +<p> Me Ogallala; me Brulé Sioux.<br> + How, Great Father, how do?<br> + Bed children come long way, ugh!<br> + Big Whiskey love. Great Father too?</p> +<br> +<p> Poor Injun tired; peace Injun try.<br> + War-paint no good; no whiskey buy;<br> + Treaty no want; treaty all lie.<br> + Great Father's whiskey Injun no spy.</p> +<br> +<p> No whiskey give, no have pow-wow.<br> + Poor Injun dry; dry Injun row.<br> + When whiskey time? Whiskey time now?<br> + Father no tongue? How! How! How!</p> + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>INTERESTING TO THE P. R.</h2> + +<p>A paragraph states that a "piece of Spar, seven feet long, and weighing +two hundred pounds, has been taken from the great Spar Cave near +Dubuque." We were not previously aware that O'BALDWIN, the "Irish +Giant," was serving out his term of imprisonment, in the Spar Cave, but +the thing has a fitness about it.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>A CON FOR COCKTAILERS.</h2> + +<p>WHEN do topers like to make a raid upon the rural districts?</p> + +<p>When the herbage is "lush."</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>REMARK BY A MARKSMAN.</h2> + +<p>Moose, as well as other members of the cervine family, live mostly on +the shoots of trees, but they die mostly by the shoots of hunters.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>OUR PORTFOLIO.</h2> + +<p>PUNCHINELLO hears with sincere regret that the notorious Miss CRAIG, of +Chicago, once more threatens the unhappy SPRAGUE with another suit for +breach of promise of marriage. We had thought that the forty thousand +dollars awarded by the jury in the first trial were a plummet heavy +enough to reach the lowest depths of "AMANDY'S" affections, and so in +fact they were; but "ELISHA'S" lawyers, utterly disregarding the claims +of true love, have interposed the absurd claims of what they call +"justice to ELISHA," and so the thing will have to be all done over +again.</p> + +<p>It seems a cruel exercise of power to compel this delicate and shrinking +female to stand once more in the pillory of the law; or, to put +"ELISHA'S" orthography to a second test by a crucial and censorious +public. Whatever may be the result of all this indifference to the +sanctity of private character and correct spelling, PUNCHINELLO wishes +to put upon record his total disapproval and abhorrence of it.</p> + +<p> +It is strange, yet nevertheless true, that a woman's glances are not +always her own property. The old proverb, that "a Cat may look at a +King," goes a-begging when applied to a woman; and this enables us to +present to the Sorosis a subject for examination, at least as +metaphysical as the philosophy of the MCFARLAND verdict.</p> + +<p>Only last week a New York Judge committed an unsuspecting female because +she did not look at him, while giving her evidence. The consideration +that the unhappy creature was cross-eyed does not seem to have affected +in the least the judicial aspect of the matter, and although counsel +particularly directed the Judge's attention to the fact that even if the +witness looked as straight as she could, her lines of vision would meet +at an angle far short of the tip of his Honor's nose, still this +pocket-edition of Lord Chief-Justice JEFFRIES "blinked" the point sought +to be made, and absolutely insisted that she should suffer the penalty +of her alleged disrespect.</p> + +<p>PUNCHINELLO has a heart which warms naturally toward the sex, but he has +also a cat-o'-nine-tails, which longs to warm the back of such a Judge, +and if he will come down from his woolsack he can both see and feel what +that cat-o'-nine-tails is like. Whether she be blue-eyed, or black-eyed, +or cross-eyed, makes no difference to PUNCHINELLO, for he is, under all +circumstances, the champion of the sex.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>"Y. M. C. A."</h2> + +<p>These much printed initials, which (as our intelligent readers are +aware,) belong to certain modern Associations that combine Religion and +Business in a highly prosperous manner, have sometimes a kind of +secondary meaning, which may vary according to circumstances.</p> + +<p>When, for example, the Young Men's C. A. of Iowa City, after having +regularly engaged Miss OLIVE LOGAN in their lecture course, concluded to +back out, the cabalistic letters seemed to read—</p> + +<p>"Y-ou M-ust C-ancel A-rrangements."</p> + +<p>But when the spirited OLIVE—perceiving rather more of Business than of +Religion and Honor in this despatch—replied promptly that they might +expect her without fail, according to programme, prudence suggested a +quite different version of their initials, which now signified—</p> + +<p>"Y-ou M-ay C-ome A-long!"</p> + +<p>We forbear to comment on the dramatic and touching picture here +afforded.—We suggest still another reading of their abbreviation,—one +that may serve as a permanent interpretation for <i>that</i> latitude at +least.—</p> + +<p>"Y-outh M-ade C-onscientiously A-cute."</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>GREENISH-BLACK.</h2> + +<p>Chicago boasts having sent a colored Fenian to Canada. But is he a +true-blue O'SAMBO or MCCUFFEE? Or is he recognized as colored only in +respect to his peculiar wearin' of the grin?</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>AT THE WATERING PLACES.</h2> + +<h3> +PUNCHINELLO'S VACATIONS</h3> + +<p> +It need not be supposed that Mr. PUNCHINELLO intends to work himself to +death this summer.</p> + +<p>By no manner of means!</p> + +<p>He guarantees that the paper shall come out regularly, and get riper and +lovelier every week, but he will have his good little times, +notwithstanding.</p> + +<p>Every week during the season he expects to slip off somewhere, for a day +or two, and hopes to have something worth telling when he comes back. +Last week he ran down to Long Branch. It's early yet, but folks like Mr. +P.; CHILDS, of the Philadelphia <i>Ledger;</i> THOMPSON, of the Pennsylvania +Central; and other rich fellows always do go early. The big bugs always +fly the soonest. Mr. P. went directly to the West End Hotel—the old +Stetson House, you know. He went there because he always did like a +hotel that had three men to keep it. What you can't get out of one of +them is pretty certain to be screwed out of one of the others. "When Mr. +P. drove up, Messrs. PRESBURY, SYKES, and GARDNER, were all sitting out +on the front piazza, smoking seventy-five-cent cigars. They arose in +chorus, and assured Mr. P. that the house was not yet quite ready for +occupancy,</p> + +<p>"But, sir—" said Mr. PRESBURY, "the Girard House, my hotel in +Philadelphia, is always open. If you would like to go there—" And here +SYKES struck in.</p> + +<p>"But, sir," said he, "my hotel, WILLARD'S, in Washington, is always +ready for guests, and if you could go there for a while—"</p> + +<p>But forward sprang GARDNER, and says he:</p> + +<p>"But, sir—if you would like to run down to Cape May, you will find my +hotel—the Stockton House—" And here Mr. P. interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said he, "I would not have you quarrel, and you shan't +split on my rocks. Good evening to you all," and he drove directly to +General GRANT'S thirty-two thousand dollar cottage in the Park. GRANT +was not there yet, but Mr. P. did not expect that he was. There being a +butler and some cooks on hand, Mr. P. considered them sufficient, and +had his baggage taken right up to the second story back room.</p> + +<p>The butler looked a little astonished at first, but when Mr. P. +explained about the hotel, and how he didn't want to go about any +more—for from riding in the salt evening air he had already got a +little hoarse—the man brightened up immediately.</p> + +<p>"Oh, a little horse!" said he. "If that's what you come about you'll be +welcome here. The General isn't here yet, but till he comes the rooms is +yours."</p> + +<p>And they were!</p> + +<p>If any one feels inclined to follow Mr. P.'s example, he begs to +recommend the President's "Old Yarns,"—the hind box on the top shelf of +the library closet.</p> + +<p>The next morning, Mr. P. wandered on the sands. Fond memories flocked +around him, as he stood gazing on the corruscating waves.</p> + +<p>But they were mostly memories of sheepsheads and flanneled bathers and +'tis not for these that the poet gazes into the emerald depths whence +the pearly scum, like tears of mermaids—Ah! Mermaids! Mr. P. had never +seen a mermaid. These were not among his memories He deeply woulded that +he could—and lo! he did! The creature came gliding to his very feet, +and he had barely time to bound back before she reached the shore. +Shaking the water from her spectacles, she came up, and stood before +him.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="012a.jpg (61K)" src="images/012a.jpg" height="308" width="528"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>Twas SUSAN B. ANTHONY.</p> + +<p>"How do, PUNCHY?" said she; "I've left the <i>Revolution</i>. Yes, left it +now, and we've got a new editor, and she's beautiful and don't charge a +cent."</p> + +<p>"Why, that's like me!" said Mr. P.</p> + +<p>"Oh, PUNCHY!" said the gentle SUSAN, wringing the water out of her +flannel skirts, "none of your joking here. Come, take my arm."</p> + +<p>Here Mr. P. drew back in apprehension.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter?" said SUSAN. "Are you afraid of a little water, +and you a man, too? See me! I'm as wet as sop. Don't keep me waiting +here, now, or I'll feel like saying "Damn" again, and that sort of thing +won't do too often. I want you to come along with me up to LESTER +WALLACE'S place—the 'Hut,' you know. I'm stopping with him. It's two or +three hours yet before lunch-time, and we can have a good talk."</p> + +<p>Just at this minute Mr. PUNCHINELLO saw a sea-gull skimming past, and he +said he would like to catch it and give it to LESTER for his menagerie. +So he hurried after it.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="012b.jpg (45K)" src="images/012b.jpg" height="289" width="482"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>The next day, Mr. P. went out fishing. He hired a boat, and a man to +sail it, and while the man was getting ready to put off, Mr. P. took his +seat in the bow and began to fix his lines. He always likes to sit in +the bow. The tiller don't knock him so often in the back, and the boom +don't bother his head so much. What he particularly wanted was to catch +a devil-fish! He thought to himself what a splendid thing it would be to +catch one of the big, VICTOR HUGO kind, and to take it home with him to +Nassau street! Wouldn't all his editors jump, when they saw him come +into the office with that! And he would get STEPHENS to draw it for the +paper.</p> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="012c.jpg (48K)" src="images/012c.jpg" height="282" width="482"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>STEPHENS has drawn nearly everything on earth, but Mr. P. did not +believe that he ever drew a devil-fish. Not from life, anyway.</p> + +<p>As they sailed out to sea, Mr. P.'s heart beat faster, and his brain +throbbed with delight as he thought of his great possible triumph.</p> + +<p>He fished for two hours and never got a bite. There was too much talking +at the stern. Mr. P. looked around, and there were three men there, +beside the sailor-man! "Confound it!" thought Mr. P.; "they must have +got on while I was fixing my lines, before we started." After this wise +reflection, he objurgated the sailor-man, but the latter wanted to know +if he wasn't to make any profit out of his stern and his mid-ships, as +well as his bow, and he objurgated back with such force that Mr. P. gave +him no further attention, but, turning to the interlopers, he said:</p> + +<p>"I'm not so much surprised to see you, Mr. DELANO, for if any man in the +country pushes himself and his hirelings where neither he nor they are +wanted, it's you; but why you, HORACE GREELEY, and you, JIMMY HAGGARTY, +should be here, I'm sure I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we're all in the same boat, PUNCHY, said DELANO, knocking off his +ashes to the windward of the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>"That's a lie," remarked HORACE, rubbing the ashes deeper into his eyes +with his handkerchief.</p> + +<p>J. HAGGARTY grunted at this emphatic denial of such a self-evident +proposition, and DELANO went on to say, "Yes, we're all alike"—all +'going through' our fellow-men. I with my assessors and collectors; +HORACE with his protection schemes, and JIMMY, there, with his nimble +fingers."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said the good JAMES, and he shifted his quid.</p> + +<p>The sailor-man, who had been objurgating straight ahead all this time, +now weighed anchor and put the boat in towards shore. Silence fell upon +the company. They seemed very shy of each other, and did not amalgamate +at all. Mr. P. went out to the extreme end of the bowsprit and gazed +down into the deep blue sea, wondering whether its color was really due +to excess of salt, or the presence of cuprate of ammonia. HORACE climbed +to the top of the mast, where he sat sadly, observing the swindling +waves, which came all the way from Europe, and didn't pay a cent of tax +when they landed. Mr. HAGGARTY went to the stern, where he employed his +time in cleaning out the sailor-man's pockets, while DELANO dived into +the hold, to see if he couldn't find an old worm-box, or a rope's-end, +which had no revenue stamp upon them.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="013.jpg (121K)" src="images/013.jpg" height="523" width="680"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + +<p>That evening Mr. P. strolled up to the Pavilion, and Governor MORRIS +told him all the news. When he heard that the Prince ERIE, of the Heavy +Ninth, was coming down with his six-in-hand, (being only half his usual +number of Temptations,) Mr. P. found that if he wished to shine at Long +Branch, he had better keep away until he could come down with some of +his pet seven-thirties in hand. So he picked up his $8.00 valise; put on +his $9.00 hat; buttoned up his $35.00 coat; took his $12.00 umbrella +under his arm; stuck his $00.00 free pass in his hatband, and went home +to Nassau street.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>A MARINE MIXTURE.</h2> + +<p>There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip. When the Berton +excursionists were taken by the Californians to the Cliff House, Mr. +RICE brought out a bottle. Of course the Californians were wide awake +for the drawing of the cork. "Whiskey, perhaps!" they murmured, "Brandy, +possibly!" they sweetly sighed. "Rum, maybe!" they conjectured. +"Schnapps, possibly," they surmised. But when Mr. RICE had drawn the +cork, it was discovered that there was nothing in the bottle except a +pint of salt water, taken from the Atlantic Ocean, which the bottle +holder (as a rare joke) proceeded to empty into the Pacific Ocean, thus +making (as he observed) "a literal blending of the waters." Very pretty, +indeed; but not the sort of witticism which a dry man would be likely to +appreciate—and Californians are sometimes extremely dry!</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>POLITICAL ECONOMY.</h2> + +<p>Employing female clerks in the Treasury Department because they will +work for small wages.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>A SIMPLE INQUIRY.</h2> + +<p>May not a pretty actress, when playing a page part, appropriately be +called a "belle boy"?</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>NINETY-NINE IN THE SHADE.</h2> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + + + +<h3> +A MIDSUMMER ODE.</h3> + +<p> Oh for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!<br> + Oh for an iceberg or two at control!<br> + Oh for a vale which at midday the dew cumbers!<br> + Oh for a pleasure-trip up to the Pole!</p> +<br> +<p> Oh for a little one-story thermometer,<br> + With nothing but Zeros all ranged in a row!<br> + Oh for a big, double-barrelled hygrometer,<br> + To measure this moisture that rolls from my brow!</p> +<br> +<p> Oh that this cold world were twenty times colder!<br> + (That's irony red hot it seemeth to me.)<br> + Oh for a turn of its dreaded cold shoulder!<br> + Oh what a comfort an ague would be!</p> +<br> +<p> Oh for a grotto to typify heaven,<br> + Scooped in the rock under cataract vast!<br> + Oh for a winter of discontent even!<br> + Oh for wet blankets judiciously cast!</p> +<br> +<p> Oh for a soda-fount spouting up boldly<br> + From every hot lamp-post against the hot sky!<br> + Oh for proud maiden to look on me coldly,<br> + Freezing my soul with a glance of her eye!</p> +<br> +<p> Then oh for a draught from a cup of "cold pizen!"<br> + And oh for a resting-place in the cold grave!<br> + With a bath in the Styx, where the thick shadow lies on<br> + And deepens the chill of its dark-running wave!</p> + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>BOW-WOW!</h2> + +<p> +One may discern a new argument for the removal of the National Capital +to St. Louis, in the Capital style of doing things in that accomplished +city. Supposing you have a business, we naturally admire you as a +business man, in proportion to your ingenuity in developing that +business, and your energy in prosecuting it. Now this genius for +business seems to characterize all grades of society in St. Louis,—even +so far down as to the "City Dog-Killer." This talented functionary so +developed his art, that he is able to kill the same dog a great many +times—at an average profit of twenty-five cents each execution. He has +a way of stunning the beast so that for all purposes of a canine nature +it is apparently quite dead. By the next day, however, the late defunct +has revived sufficiently to be susceptible of another killing, which is +accordingly administered, and so on, we suppose, all through the season.</p> + +<p>The inferiority of the East, in matters of this kind, may be justly and +satisfactorily inferred from the fact that in Philadelphia, lately, they +attempted to execute their dogs with carbonic acid gas. When the box or +tub was opened, the irrepressible spirits of the animals confined +therein were perceived to be at the topmost heights of jollity, and the +police were obliged to go back to first principles and shoot the +exhilarated curs.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>DRAINAGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES.</h2> + +<p>It is generally known to the world that Chicago needs draining. In order +that it may be drained, Mr. Sanitary Superintendent RAUCH has made a +report which is extremely figurative and which quite bristles with the +nine digits. Mr. PUNCHINELLO has read it until perfectly bewildered by +the intricacy of the computations; but what he does understand is that +if Chicago be not drained immediately, the amiable cholera may be +expected to put in an early appearance. Mr. Superintendent RAUCH prints +an aggravating table to show, by multiplication, addition, subtraction, +division, and the rule of three, that if you don't drain you will have +cholera, while if you do drain you will escape it. Under the +circumstances, we should advise Chicago to drain.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>"LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE."</h2> + +<p>A resolution has been introduced into one of the Southern Legislatures, +that any member sleeping during service hours shall forfeit his per +diem. The trouble with our fellows at Washington is that they keep too +wide awake.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>CONDENSED CONGRESS.</h2> + +<h3>SENATE.</h3> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> +<img alt="014.jpg (88K)" src="images/014.jpg" height="594" width="409"> + +</td><td> + +</td><td> + + +<p>Catching an idea, Mr. NYE objected to the bill which some wretch had +introduced, to abridge the privileges of Senators under the Franking +laws. He knew that it would be a fearful tax upon Senators to send the +<i>harmless</i> necessary editions of two or three hundred thousand copies of +the <i>Congressional Globe</i> to their constituents at their own expense, +and of course the constituents could not be expected to pay. What would +be the result? The <i>Globes</i> would accumulate in vast and useless numbers +over all the land, to such an extent as to impede traffic, and they +could, in that condition, kindle neither patriotic enthusiasm nor +private fires. Somebody had suggested that these copies need not be +sent. They all saw the folly of such a suggestion. True, constituents +never read their speeches, but it was natural for the constituents to be +gratified at having a representative thoughtful enough to tell his +secretary to make out a list of eminent idiots in his district, and send +them a <i>Globe</i> apiece. This secured the idiotic element, which, he was +proud to say, was the chief support of his political life.</p> + +<p>Mr. SUMNER said that a bookseller in Boston was getting out an edition +of his speeches in thirty-seven volumes. He was, accordingly, quite +indifferent upon the Franking privilege, since it was certain that no +constituent who read one of the speeches in the book would ever yearn to +read another in a newspaper, and since no constituent would ever survive +the reading of the entire series thus published.</p> + +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Mr. CHANDLER said he would be Frank. He always had been Frank. It was +his Franking Privilege. He was in favor of declaring a war with every +nation which would not allow matter franked by Senators of this glorious +Republic to pass their post-offices. He had sent copies of all his +speeches to the effete and loathsome monarchs of Europe, with his frank +neatly lithographed in one corner. But he had since heard that the +minions of tyranny in foreign post-offices had stopped those documents, +upon the paltry pretence that the postage was not paid. Thus he had been +prevented from freezing the monarchical marrow and curdling the royal +blood, since nobody could be expected to derive instruction or +admonition from a speech which was used to feed the fire, or stuff the +window, of one of his petty tools. He called upon the Senate to do him +justice.</p> + +<p>Mr. CARPENTER observed that justice would never be done to Mr. CHANDLER +until the occurrence of a public execution. But still he considered that +the franking privilege ought to be retained. The party that he belonged +to was the party of intelligence. Strange as this might seem, it was +true, and it was also true that, in spite of their intelligence, they +would read his speeches. Let the Senate have pity upon these misguided, +but not wilfully wicked men.</p> + +<h3> +HOUSE.</h3> + +<p>Mr. BANKS said he would offer a few observations upon Cuba.</p> + +<p>The Speaker (who is coming out very strong as a comic presiding +officer,) said he would rather see BANKS square a circle than a Cuba +root. (He meant a cigar.) This sally was greeted with sickly smiles by +the members who wanted the floor.</p> + +<p>Mr. BANKS went on to say that our course towards Cuba was not what was +due to her.</p> + +<p>The Speaker begged to correct Mr. BANKS. His nautical friends assured +him that our course towards Cuba was due South to her.</p> + +<p>Mr. BUTLER. This is bosh. Let us annex San Domingo. Nobody does anything +for another country without bonds—BANKS had Cuban bonds—he had the +bonds of San Domingo. Annex San Domingo, or else give him San Domingo.</p> + +<p>The Comic Speaker said BUTLER ought to be put under bonds to keep the +peace. But perhaps it was superfluous, inasmuch as he always kept a +large piece anyhow.</p> + +<p>The House, at this, put crape on its left arm and adjourned.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>COMIC ZOOLOGY.</h2> + +<h3> +GENUS, FALCO. SPECIES, BIRDOFREEDOM.</h3> + +<p> +This magnificent American fowl, like the more domestic weathercock, may +often be seen wheeling through the air on the approach of a storm, and +exhibits unmistakable signs of exultation when it is going to thunder. +It is not a bird of song, but is unsurpassed as a screamer. To the +common Kite, a plebeian member of the genus, has been ascribed an +attribute which in fact belongs exclusively to this Banner species. The +Kite, according to Dr. FRANKLIN, draws the lightning from the clouds, +but this, in reality, is the proud prerogative of the Great American +Eagle, the noblest of the falcon tribe, which may often be seen with a +sheaf of flashes in its talons, rushing through the skies as a lightning +express. It feeds on all the inferior birds, but its principal food is +the American Bunting, which it bears fluttering aloft in its powerful +mandibles. Strange to say, its feats with the electric fluid, and its +fondness for the Bunting, have not been noticed by any of the great +naturalists; but as innumerable artists have depicted the bird in the +very act of scattering the one and carrying off the other, the omission +is not, practically, of the slightest consequence.</p> + +<p>The habitat of the Birdofreedom was originally limited to about twelve +degrees of latitude, but being like the Imperial Eagle of Italy (now +extinct,) given to Roam, it has within the last fifty years greatly +enlarged the area of its feeding grounds. It is now found as far North +as the Border of the Arctic Sea, where it cultivates amicable relations +with the hyperborean humming-bird, and Professor GRANT is at present +attempting to naturalize it in Saint Domingo. The time is probably not +far distant when it will prune its morning wing on the upper pole, and +go to roost on the equator. It is, upon the whole, a grasping bird, and +inspires the weaker tribes with terror; yet, notwithstanding its +fierceness, it perches familiarly on the Arms of the American people.</p> + +<p>Although the Birdofreedom makes a magnificent appearance at all seasons, +it is in its fullest feather about the Fourth of July. Its truculent +disposition is then manifested by a threatening attitude toward the +Anglo-Saxon Lion, (<i>Leo Britannicus,</i>) which it has twice worsted in +single combat, and to whose well-knit frame it is prepared at any moment +to administer a third sockdologer.</p> + +<p>There are many varieties of the Eagle—as the Russian and Prussian, +(which, singularly enough, have two heads,) the bald Eagle, the Osprey +or Sea Eagle, the Golden Eagle, &c. The Golden species was formerly +quite common in the United States, but has now almost entirely +disappeared. Of the smaller species of the genus Falco, it is only +necessary to say that, like the Eagle, they are inedible. In other +words, though excellent for hawking, they are too tough for spitting.</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + +<h2>CURRENT FABLES.</h2> + +<h3> +THE CENTAUR.</h3> + +<p> +At one time the animals living on either side of a river which ran +through the middle of a vast tract of land, supplied in profusion with +everything necessary to make their lives comfortable and happy, got into +a terrible conflict with each other, which was waged with great +bitterness for a long time, and caused the loss of a great many lives. +At last an enormous Centaur appeared, and, putting himself at the head +of the animals on the colder side of the river, led them in an attack on +their opponents, which was so destructive that the latter were fain to +surrender and promise to live in peace under the dominion of their +stronger neighbors. Then the animals that had conquered were so pleased +that they met together and agreed to make the Centaur ruler over the +whole land, and when he was made ruler he made a speech, and all the +animals thought they were going to have peace, and everybody was happy.</p> + +<p>But after the Centaur became ruler, and when it was too late to do any +good, his subjects repented of their choice, because he grew so fat that +he could hardly move himself, and became indifferent to everything but +his own amusement. He made the animals bring him presents of the +choicest products of the country, and those that brought presents he +made rulers under him, until there were so many idle rulers that the +unhappy subjects could barely get enough to eat, and became so thin and +weak that other animals, of whom they had before been the envy, now +pitied and despised them.</p> + +<p><i>Moral by</i> PUNCHINELLO. + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="015.jpg (219K)" src="images/015.jpg" height="1128" width="757"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="016.jpg (245K)" src="images/016.jpg" height="1131" width="776"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punchinello, Vol. 1, No. 14, July 2, +1870, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCHINELLO, JULY 2, 1870 *** + +***** This file should be named 9819-h.htm or 9819-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/1/9819/ + +Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Sandra +Brown and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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