Punchinello's Vacations.
Vain heading! This paper is not intended to communicate anything about a
vacation. "Would that it were! says Mr. PUNCHINELLO, from the bottom of
his heart.
Last week Mr. P. intended going to the White Mountains.
But he didn't go.
On his way to the Twenty-third Street depot, he met the Count JOANNES.
"Ah ha! my noble friend!" said the latter. ""Whither away"?"
Mr. P. explained whither he was away; and was amazed to see the singular
expression which instantly spread itself over the countenance of his
noble friend.
"To the "White Mountains!"cried the Count," why, my good fellow, what
are you thinking of? Do you not know that this is September?"
"Certainly I do,"said Mr. P." I know that this is the season when Nature
revels in her richest hues, and Aurora gilds the fairest landscape; when
the rays of glorious old Sol are tempered by the soft caresses of the
balmiest zephyrs, and--"
"Oh, certainly! certainly!" cried the Count, "I have no doubt of it; not
the least bit in the world. In fact, I have been in those places myself
when a boy, and I know all about it. But let me tell you, sir, as
_amicus curiae_, (and I assure you that I have often been _amicus
curiae_ before,) that society will not tolerate anything of this kind on
your part, sir. The skies in the country may be bluest at this season,
sir; the air most delicious, the scenery most gorgeous, and
accommodations of all kinds most plenty and excellent, but it will not
do. The conductor of a first class journal belongs in a manner to
society, and society will never forgive him for going into the country
after the season is over. As _amicus curiae_--"
"_Amicus_ your grandmother, sir!" said Mr. P. "What does society know
about the beauties of nature, or the proper time for enjoying them?"
"Society knows enough about it, sir!" cried the Count, drawing his sword
a little way from its scabbard and letting it fall again with: clanging
sound. "And representing society, as I do in my proper person here, sir,
I say that any man who would go into the country in the latter part of
September is a---"
"A what, sir?" said Mr. P., nervously fingering his umbrella.
"Yes, sir, he is, sir!"
"Do you say that, sir?"
"In your teeth, sir!"
"'Tis false, sir!"
"What, sir?"
"Just so, sir!"
"To me, sir?"
"To you, sir!"
The Count JOANNES drew his sword.
Mr. P. stood _en garde_.
Just at this moment the Greenwich Street Cordwainers' Target
Association, preceded by one half the whole body of Metropolitan Police,
approached the spot. The Target Society were out on a street parade, and
the policemen marched before them to clear Broadway of all vehicles and
foot-passengers, and to stop short, for the time, the business of a
great city, in order that these twenty spindle-legged and melancholy
little cobblers might have a proper opportunity of showing their utter
ignorance of all rules of marching, and the management of firearms.
Perceiving this vast body of police, with Superintendent JOURDAN at its
head, advancing with measured tread upon them, the Count sheathed his
sword and Mr. P. shut up his deadly weapon.
Slowly and in opposite directions they withdrew from the ground.
It was too late for Mr. P.'s train, and he returned to his home. There,
in the solitude of his private apartments, he came to the conclusion
that it would be useless to oppose the decrees of Society. The idea that
the Count, that worthy leader of the metropolitan _ton_, had put into
his head, was not to be treated contemptuously. He must give up all the
fruity richness of September, the royal glories of October, and the
delicious hazes of the Indian Summer, pack away his fish-hooks and his
pocket-flask, and stay in the city like the rest of the fools.
This conclusion, however, did not prevent Mr. P. from dreaming. He had a
delightful dream that night, in which he found himself sailing on Lake
George; ascending Mount Washington; and participating in the revelry of
a clam-bake on the seagirt shore of Kings and Queens and Suffolk
Counties. As nearly as circumstances will permit, he has endeavored to
give an idea of his dream by means of the following sketch.
Taken as a whole, Mr. P. is not desirous that this dream should come
true, but taken in parts he would have no objections to see it fulfilled
as soon as Society will permit.
Which will be, he supposes, about next July.
In the meantime, he advises such of his patrons as have depended
entirely upon his letters for their summer recreation, and who will now
be deprived of this delightful enjoyment, to make every effort to go to
some of our summer resorts and spend a few weeks after the fashionable
season is over,--that is, if they think they can brave the opinion of
society. It may not be so pleasant to go to these places as to read Mr.
P.'s accounts of them, but it is the best that can be done.
The following little tail-piece will give a forcible idea of how
completely Mr. P. has given up, for the season, his field sports and
country pleasures. Copies may be obtained by placing a piece of
tracing-paper over the picture and following the lines with a
lead-pencil.
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