food, it is proposed to organize a company of volunteer Native Know
Nothing Thugs, who are to circulate through the country and make an end
of the rest, and at the same time sack all the nunneries, burn all the
Popish churches, and finish up all the Foreign Catholics.
I was promised by the Ineffable Noodle, that if I did my duty well I
should have the pleasure of choking a dozen or two priests, burning a
couple of churches, and running away with the prettiest nun I could pick
out.
Instructions were then given me how to work my way into a lodge of
unadulterated Know Nothings.
Every member gives the pass-word, at the door (which is "Whiskey," and
"Lager Bier," on alternate months), walks to the centre of the room,
faces the Most Illustrious Ineffable, puts the thumb of his left hand on
the tip of his nose, grinds an imaginary hand organ with the other, at
the same time looking cross-eyed at the nonsensical numskull.
Each member is bound to bring a bottle of Irish whiskey to every
meeting, and drink it all before he goes, in order to prove his devotion
to the cause, and his determination to expunge the foreign element from
the liquid comforts of the country.
The recognition of members in the street is as follows:--One rolls his
chew of tobacco into the upper story of his left cheek, at the same time
motioning with his thumb over his shoulder towards the nearest grocery;
if the other nods his head and starts towards the rum-shop on a run, the
question of fraternity is decided, and they know each other as members
of the K. N. brotherhood.
Since my initiation I have striven to live up to the principles of the
order, and have got trusted for so much Irish liquor that I have kept
all my friends dead drunk for a month, and have three times had to bail
Bull Dogge out of the station-house, whither he had been taken for being
inebriated in the street, and giving the K. N. signs to the M. P., and
trying to pull his star off, insisting that an Irishman has no right to
wear the badge of the order.
The intention is to elect the next President, when there is to be an
immediate end made of all foreigners; they will drown the Dutchmen in
Lager Bier, pelt the Irish to death with potatoes, and pen up all the
Frenchmen in second-hand flat-boats, and send them over Niagara Falls.
I was expelled from the order for eating Dutch "Sauerkrout" with an
oyster stew, and I am now in danger of losing my life, as I hear that
the Ineffable Noodle is on the look-out for me, having two revolvers and
a bowie-knife in his bosom; a Congreve rocket in his hat; a six inch
bomb in each pocket; a large jack-knife in his pantaloons; and a Mexican
lasso round his waist.
P. S. I have just discovered that I have been hoaxed--that the lodge
into which I was admitted is not the genuine article, but a spurious
society who take in members under false pretences, by making them
believe that this is the society of "Sam."
The truth is, however, that "Sam" lives in different quarters, and has a
different set of people about him; and if I can gain admission to a
lodge of the pure-bred K. N.'s., I may then be able to tell something
more of the hidden mysteries of this popular individual.
XXVIII.
A Diabolical Conspiracy--A Shanghae Infernal Machine.
I have been the recipient of an unexpected favor. I have been gratified
by a bipedal compliment, and have here publicly to acknowledge the
receipt of a rare bird of unexampled dimensions--a Shanghae Rooster,
with double teeth, which has been presented to me by our friend, the
"Young 'Un."
When I desire to speak of the various beauties of this feathered pledge
of friendship, language can't come to time. His legs rival the
Grand-street liberty-pole, in length, size, and symmetry--in fact, he
exhibits rather a strong tendency to run to legs; his plumage is
variegated and generally shaggy, and his disposition courageous; he has
an eye like a hen hawk, a tail like the butt-end of a feather-duster,
and a voice like a rhinoceros with the whooping cough; he is perfect in
every point; to combine in a single expression, the elegance and euphony
of the ancient Latin tongue, and the expressive intensity of the more
modern Bowery idiom, he is literally "gallus."
He is a present from Burnham, Professor No. 1 of Henology, and such a
proficient in universal humbug that he ranks only second to the
Bridgeport Fejee Prince--Burnham, who made one fortune by selling "pure
bred" Shanghae stock, and another by showing up the tricks of the trade,
and the mysteries of Roosterdom, in a blue covered book, with gilt
edges, and who has now left the hen trade, only keeping on hand a few
chicks, of warranted _pure_ blood, which he prescribes at high prices to
any anxious individuals who haven't yet had the "hen fever"--(a popular
epidemic, price $1, can be caught at any book store).
How they ever got my bird from Boston to New York, I am uncertain; but I
have the authority of the engineer for stating that they switched the
locomotive off on a side track, and made him draw the passenger train.
Got him home; for fear he should stray away in the night, anchored him
in the barn yard to a brick smoke-house, with a chain cable. Was waked
up in the morning by a sound like an army of tom-cats, in league with a
legion of amateur musical bull-frogs--listened--heard it again--thought
my time had come--covered my head up with the bed-clothes--was soon
startled by the sudden disappearance of the same--looked up and saw that
Mr. Shanghae had poked his head in at the third story window, and was
pulling the covers off me with a vengeance; he made a grab at my leg,
but I hit him with a bootjack, and succeeded in impressing him with the
idea that he was trespassing; kept out of his reach during the day, and
watched him from a distance; he has to get down on his knees to eat,
inasmuch as his neck isn't more than half as long as his legs. But I
admire his beauties, though I can't conceive what he's made for; and I
can bear ample testimony to the excellence of his appetite. On the
whole, I am delighted, and the donor has my sincere thanks.
ONE WEEK LATER.
What kind of a fellow is Burnham?
Is he a malicious, unscrupulous conspirator?
What can I have done to provoke his ire?
This voracious animal which he has given me is eating me out of house
and home; my means are limited, my salary is small, corn is expensive,
and at the present rate one of us must starve; he has eaten every thing
I have given him, and (the poor brute being tortured by growing hunger)
he has at last actually _devoured his own toes_.
Two small pigs and a litter of kittens have also mysteriously
disappeared; one of the children last night was attacked by the monster
and barely escaped with his life, but left his Sunday breeches in the
unappeasable maw of the _pure_ bred biped, who has twice been observed
to cast longing eyes upon the Irish kitchen girl--the cannibalic
feathered Know Nothing.
Like the eastern prince, who, when he wants to ruin a man, makes him a
present of an elephant, which court etiquette will allow him neither to
give away, sell, or kill, and which he must keep and allow to devour his
patrimony; so the vengeful Burnham, for some unmentioned injury which I
have done him, has sent me this rapacious villain, who eats as if he was
the result of a cross between the Anaconda and the Ostrich. I must get
some one to kill him, or coax him into the rural districts, where they
might use him for a breaking-up team, or some two or three counties club
to keep him as a curiosity.
ONE HOUR LATER.
Our stable boy, half an hour ago, found the bird suffering an
indigestion (consequent upon eating a bushel and a half of corn with the
cobs in, a pyramid of oyster shells, and a barrel of guano), and boldly
attacking him with a revolver and broad-axe, has succeeded, after a
prolonged struggle, in making an end of him. I ask B. if his fiendish
and diabolical malice is sated.
THE VERY LATEST.
I have for sale half a ton of feathers, which would make capital bean
poles, a side of tanned Rooster hide, and two Shanghae hams.
XXIX.
An Evening with the Spiritualists--Rampant Ghostology.
After the election excitement was over with, all ordinary means of
amusement seemed "stale, flat, and unprofitable." I no longer took any
interest in Theatres, Balls, or Darkey Minstrelism--and even a fire at
midnight failed to rouse me from my bed, unless it was in the next
block, visible from my window without getting up, and I could hear Hose
71 pitching into Engine 83 on the next corner.
A near relative of the illustrious Damphool, who believed in the
Spiritual performances, persuaded me to visit, with him and my
inseparable friends, the habitation of a "Medium" who retailed
communications from the other spheres at twenty-five cents an interview.
Being sated with the ordinary common-place things of every-day life, and
having heard a great deal about the mysterious communications
telegraphed to this, our ignorant sphere, by wise and benignant spirits
of bliss, through the dignified medium of old chairs, wash-stands and
card-tables, we three (who had met again) determined to put ourselves in
communication with the next world, to find out, if possible, our chances
of a favorable reception when business or pleasure calls us in that
direction.
Up Broadway, till we came to an illuminated three-cornered transparency,
(which made Bull Dogge smack his lips and say "oysters,") which informed
us that within, a large assortment of spirits of every description were
constantly in attendance, ready to answer inquiries, or to run on
errands in the spirit world, and bring the ghosts of anybody's defunct
relations or friends to that classic spot, for conversational purposes,
all for the moderate charge before mentioned.
Damphool, who had been there before, said that these "delicate Ariels"
were the spirits of departed newsboys, who are thrown out of their
legitimate business, and strive to get an honest living by doing these
eighteen-penny jobs.
Entered the room with _be_coming gravity, and _over_coming awe. Two
old foozles in white neckcloths and no collars, a returned Californian
in an Indian blanket, two peaked-nosed old maids, a good-looking widow,
with a little boy, our own sacred trio, and the "medium," composed the
whole of the assembled multitude.
The "medium" aforesaid, was a vinegar-complexioned woman, with a very
ruby nose, mouth the exact shape of the sound-hole to a violin, who wore
green spectacles, and robes of equivocal purity.
The furniture consisted of several chairs, a mirror, no carpet, a small
stand, a large dining table, and in one corner of the room a bedstead,
washstand, and bookcase, with writing desk on top. After some remarks by
the medium, we formed the magic circle, by sitting close together, and
putting our hands on the table. Bull Dogge, who, despite the Maine law,
had a bottle in his pocket, took a big drink before he laid his
ponderous fists by the side of the others.
After a short length of time the table began to shake its ricketty legs,
to flap its leaves after the manner of wings, and to utter ominous
squeaks from its crazy old joints.
Pretty soon "knock" under Damphool's hand; he trembled, and turned pale,
but on the whole, stood his ground like a man. Knock, _knock_ in _my_
immediate vicinity--looked under the table, but couldn't see any
body--knock, _knock_, KNOCK, KNOCK, directly under Bull Dogge's elbow.
He, frightened, jumped from his seat, and prepared to run, but, sensible
to the last, he took a drink, felt better--reverently took off his hat,
said "d--n it"--and resumed his seat.
Knocking became general--medium said the spirits were ready to answer
questions--asked if any spirit would talk to me.
Yes.
Come along, I remarked--noisy spirit announced its advent by a series of
knocks, which would have done honor to a dozen penny postmen "rolled
into one."
Asked who it was--ghost of my uncle--(never had an uncle)--inquired if
he was happy--tolerably.
What are you about?
Principal occupations are, hunting wild bees, catching cat-fish,
chopping pine lumber, and making hickory whip stocks.
How's your wife?
_Sober_, just at present.
Do you have good liquor up there?
_Yes_ (very emphatically).
What is your comparative situation?
I am in the second sphere; hope soon to get promoted into the third,
where they only work six hours a day, and have apple dumplings every day
for dinner--good-bye--wife wants me to come and spank the baby.
One of the old foozles now wanted to talk spirit--was gratified by the
remains of his maternal grandmother, who hammered out in a series of
forcible raps, the gratifying intelligence, that she was very well
contented, and spent the most of her time drinking green tea and singing
Yankee Doodle.
Damphool now took courage, and sung out for his father to come and talk
to him--(when the old gentleman was alive, he was "one of 'em")--on
demand, the father came--interesting conversation--old man in
trouble--lost all his money betting on a horse race, and had just pawned
his coat and a spare shirt to get money to set himself up in business
again, as a pop-corn merchant.
(Damphool sunk down exhausted, and borrowed the brandy bottle.)
Disconsolate widow got a communication from her husband that he is a
great deal happier now than formerly--don't want to come back to
her--no thank you--would rather not.
Old maid inquires if husbands are plenty--to her great joy is informed
that the prospect is good.
Little boy asks if when he gets into the other world he can have a long
tail coat--mother tells him to shut up--small boy whimpers, and says
that he always _has_ worn a short jacket, and he expects when he gets to
Heaven, he'll be a bob-tail Angel.
Damphool's attention to the bottle has re-assured his spirits (he is
easily affected by brandy--one glass makes him want to treat all his
friends--when he has two bumpers in him he owns a great deal of real
estate, and glass No. 3 makes him rich enough to buy the Custom-House),
and he now ventures another inquiry of his relative, who shuts him up,
by telling him as soon as he gets sober enough to tell Maiden Lane from
a light-house, to go home and go to bed.
Went at it myself; inquired all sorts of things from all kinds of
spirits, "black spirits and white, red spirits and grey." Result as
follows.
By means of thumps, knocks, raps, and spiritual kicks, I learned that
Sampson and Hercules have gone into partnership in the millinery
business. Julias Caesar is peddling apples and molasses candy. Tom Paine
and Jack Sheppard keep a billiard table. Noah is running a canal boat.
Xerxes and Othello are driving opposition stages. George III. has set up
a caravan, and is waiting impatiently for Kossuth and Barnum to come and
go halves. Dow, Junior, is boss of a Methodist camp meeting.--Napoleon
spends most of his time playing penny "ante" with the three Graces.
Benedict Arnold has opened a Lager-bier saloon, and left a vacancy for
S. A. Douglas (white man).
John Bunyan is a clown in a circus. John Calvin, Dr. Johnson, Syksey,
Plutarch, Rob Roy, Davy Jones, Gen. Jackson, and Damphool's grandfather
were about establishing a travelling theatre; having borrowed the
capital (two per cent. a month)--they open with "How to pay the Rent;"
Dr. Johnson in a fancy dance; to conclude with "The Widow's Victim," the
principal part by Mr. Pickwick.
Joe Smith has bought out the devil, and is going to convert Tophet into
a Mormon Paradise.
Shakspeare has progressed in his new play as far as the fourth act,
where he has got the hero seven miles and a half up in a balloon, while
the disconsolate heroine is hanging by her hair to a limb over a
precipice; question is, how the heroic lover shall get down and rescue
his lady-love before her hair breaks, or her head pulls off.
Spirits now began to come without invitation, like Paddies to a wake.
Soul of an alderman called for clam soup and bread and butter.
Ghost of a newsboy sung out for the Evening Post.
All that was left of a Bowery fireman, wanted to know if Forty had got
her butt fixed and a new inch and a half nozzle.
Ghost of Marmion wanted a dish of soft crabs, and called out, after the
old fashion, to charge it to Stanley.
Medium had by this time lost all control over her ghostly company.
Spirits of waiters, soldiers, tailors (Damphool trembled), babies,
saloon-keepers, dancers, actors, widows, circus-riders, in fact all
varieties of obstreperous sprites, began to play the devil with things
generally.
The dining table jumped up, turned two somersets, and landed with one
leg in the widow's lap, one in Damphool's mouth, and the other two on
the toes of the sanctimonious-looking individuals opposite.
The washstand exhibited strong symptoms of a desire to dance the Jenny
Lind polka on Bull Dogge's head.
The book-case beat time with extraordinary vigor, and made faces at the
company generally.
Our walking canes and umbrellas promenaded round the room in couples,
without the slightest regard to corns or other pedal vegetables; while
the bedstead in the corner was extemporizing a comic song, with a
vigorous accompaniment on the soap-dish, the wash-dish, and other
bed-room furniture.
Bull Dogge here made a rush for the door, and dashed wildly down
Broadway, pursued, as he avers to this day, by the spirit of an
Irishman, with a pickaxe, a handsaw, and a ghostly wheelbarrow.
Concluding I had seen enough, I took Damphool and B. D----'s bottle
(empty, or he would never have left it), and went home, satisfied that
"there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of," except
by lying "_mediums_," so called; who too lazy to work, and too cowardly
to get an honorable living by stealing, adopt this method to sponge
their bread and butter out of those, whom God in his mysterious wisdom
has seen fit to send on earth weak enough to believe their idiotic
ravings.
XXX.
Special Express from Dog Paradise--A Canine Ghost.
I regret the strong language used in the preceding chapter, for since it
was penned I have become a firm believer in ghosts, "spheres," saltatory
furniture, and the other doctrines of professed Spiritualists.
It is a solemn truth that I, Q. K. Philander Doesticks, P.B., although
neither a doctor, clergyman, nor Judge of the Supreme Court, have
received a visit from the spirits. The secrets of the other world have
been partially revealed to me.
I have had a glimpse of horse-heaven--a very fair view of the very
blissful residence of pigs and poultry, and been vouchsafed a key-hole
peep at the paradise of Spiritual Jackassdom.
I have discovered that Esop is a reliable historian, and I find that in
a future world the power and liberty of quadrupedal speech will be
restored in all its pristine euphony and elegance. Listen, wonder, and
believe!
Some time since, I had a beloved and beautiful bull-terrier--(not the
Bull Dogge alluded to in other epistles,) he was perfect in every
point--his hair stuck out in multitudinous directions--his snarl was of
the crossest--his teeth of the sharpest, and his ordinary behavior
exhibited a general and impartial hatred of mankind. He was a canine
Ishmael, for every man's hand was against him. His cognomen savored of
the satanic. I called him Pluto.
He mysteriously disappeared--an offered reward of seven dollars and a
half failed to restore him to my fireside. I tearfully gave him up, and
mourned sincerely. I suspected the dog-killers, and wept for him as for
one gone "to that bourne from which" bull-terriers don't come back.
Last evening I was aroused from a thoughtful contemplation of my
nightcap (liquid and hot, with nutmeg,) by the unusual and remarkable
conduct of a pet tom-cat, who deliberately climbed upon my lap, and, in
a voice intelligible, if not absolutely musical, spoke to me--positively
spoke to me!--he informed me that various spirits were present who
desired to hold communication with me.
Having recovered somewhat from my momentary astonishment, I sung out to
fire away.
No sooner said than done--the services of the feline "medium" were
instantly dispensed with, and there suddenly appeared to my bewildered
sight the unmistakable form of my lamented Pluto.
I was astonished, and so I said, but I could not be deluded--it was my
"real, old, original, genuine" Pluto. I knew his warning growl--I
recognized the friendly wag of his tail--I could have sworn to each
particular hair.
He addressed me in a voice trembling with emotion--he narrated the full
history of his untimely decease--told of his seduction by a tempting
mutton chop, and consequent _ab_duction by the remorseless thief--his
vain and ineffectual struggles to escape--related his incarceration in
an unseaworthy canal-boat, with a hundred other unfortunates--described
their embarkation and departure for a foreign market--the terrific
collision which ensued when about four miles and a half from port, when
the canal-boat was met by a mudscow which was recklessly running with
great velocity in a thick fog, the entire force of her propelling
apparatus (one-horse power) being brought into requisition to attain a
frightful speed--he dwelt upon the terrors of the scene--the dastardly
desertion of the crew, (a mulatto woman and two coffee-colored boys,)
who took to the boat, (a bass-wood "dugout,") and escaped, leaving the
helpless passengers to their awful fate. He told the agonies he endured
when submerged in the raging flood--his attempt to save himself upon an
empty cheese-tub. How he was crowded off by a frightened spaniel
pup--the last excruciating, agonizing pain of the final struggle, and
his subsequent entrance to the canine spirit world. He whispered, in a
mysterious tone, that he had just come from a sixpenny eating-house,
where he had witnessed the final disappearance of his mortal remains
through the jaws of a confiding drayman who had asked for a mutton pie.
The whole history was related with an appearance of earnestness
and sincerity which left not a doubt of its truth; and the entire
narrative was couched in such elegant language that I strongly
suspected that Pluto had read the report of those accommodating
spirits who had imparted such reliable information concerning the
untimely loss of the lamented steamship "Arctic," to a distinguished,
and formerly-supposed-sensible-and-sane, Judge of the Superior Court
for the Empire State. And, like those unfortunate ghosts, these, too,
came to reveal to mortal ears the story of their sufferings and death.
For my beloved animal was not alone: with him appeared the disembodied
ghosts of all the crowd who perished with him.
Pluto informed me that they were in such a disturbed state of mind that
they did not know much yet--most of them were not permanently
billeted--but that he himself, on account of his superior sagacity, had
been already assigned his sphere and situation. He volunteered to show
me some of the celebrities.
With a majestic motion he moved his pathetic tail, and forth they came
in grand procession, the "Happy Family" being headed by old Mother
Hubbard's dog and Dick Whittington's cat, in neighborly proximity.
From a hurried inspection I was enabled to gather the following items:
The Trojan horse was suffering from indigestion; Coleridge's "mastiff
bitch" has just become the happy mother of thirteen lovely cherubs, and
is "as well as can be expected;" "the rat that eat the malt that lay in
the house that Jack built" says the Maine Law would have spared him
that early indiscretion; Balaam's ass had his jaw tied up with the
toothache; Rozinante was in good racing condition; St. George's dragon
looks much more amiable than I should have supposed; Bucephalus and Old
Whitey had been fighting a pitched battle, and are on short allowance of
oats for insubordination; the Fee Jee mermaid said she had got tired of
her Caudal appendage, and desired me to ask Barnum, if her tail must be
continued.
Jonah's whale, some time since, swallowed the Nassau-st. four-cent man,
but gave him up, like a second Jonah, and he is now on his old
"stamping-ground" again. In the distance, I perceived John Gilpin's
horse, and the bull that was unceremoniously displaced from a well known
architectural elevation, and was informed that Nebuchadnezzar, who had
not yet lost his fondness for greens, sometimes shares their pasture
with them.