OH YES! PUNCHINELLO has an Editor's Drawer, and a very nice one, too.
(As no allusion is here made to any of the artists of the paper, you
needn't be getting ready to laugh.) This Drawer--and no periodical in
the country possesses a better one--is chock full of the most splendid
anecdotes, and as it is impossible to keep them shut up any longer (for
some of them are getting very old and musty), a few of the bottom ones
will now be given to the public.
A GENTLEMAN just returned from a tour in Western Asia sends to the
Drawer the following account of a little bit of pleasantry which took
place in the gala town of South Amboy:--
A young doctor, clever, rich, pure-minded, and just, but of somewhat
ambigufied principles, was strenuously married to a sweet young
creature, delicate as a daffodil, and altogether loveliacious. One
night, having been entreated by a select party of his most aged patients
to go with them on a horniferous bendation, he gradually dropped, by
dramific degrees, in a state of absolute tipsidity, and four clergymen,
who happened to be passing, carried him home on a shutter, and thus
ushered him in all his drunkosity, into the presence of his little
better-half, who was drawing in crayons in the back parlor. "My dear,"
said she, looking up with an angelic smile, "why did you come home in
that odd manner, upon a shutter?" "Because, _mon ange_," said he, "you
see that these worthy gentlemen, all good men and true, _mon_ only
_ange_, brought me home upon a shutter because they were not able to get
any of the doors off of their hinges. (Hic.)"
This is almost _too_ funny.
The descendant of the Hamnisticorious sojourner in the ark knows what is
good for him. For pungent proof, hear this: A young lady, a daughter of
the venerable and hospitable General G-----, of Upper Guilford, Conn.,
was once catechizing a black camp-meeting, and when the exercises were
over, a colored brother approached her and said:
"Look-a-yar now, 's MARY, jist gib dis nigger one obdem catekidgeble
books."
"But what would you do with it, CUDJO, if I gave it to you?"
"Oh, _dis chile 'ud take it_!"
Ha! ha! ha! Our colored brother will have his wild hilarity.
Two septennialated youngsters of Boston. Mass, (so writes their gifted
mother), thus recently dialogued:
"PERSEUS," said the younger, "why was the noble WASHINGTON buried at
Mount Vernon?"
"Because he was dead," boldly answered his brother.
Oh! the tender-aged! How their sub-corrected longings curb our much
maturer yearnings.
Here is an anecdote of a "four-year old," which we give in the exact
words of our correspondent, an aged and respected resident of Oswego
county, in this State:
"Well, now, ye see, I couldn't do nothing at all with this 'ere
four-year old 'o mine, fur he was jist as wild an onruly as anything ye
ever see; and so I jist knocked him in the head, and kep the hide and
the taller, and got thirteen cents a pound for the beef, which wasn't so
bad, ye see."
Strange, practical man! We could not do thus with all our little
tid-toddlers of but four bright summers.
A correspondent in San Francisco sends the Drawer these epitaphs, which
are entirely too good to be lost.
The first is from the grave of a farmer, much notorified for his
"forehandidification," and who, it is needless to say, was buried on his
own farm:--
"Here lies JOHN SIMMS, who always did
Good farming understand;
E'en now he's gratified to think
He benefits his land."
Here is one upon a gambler, who died of some sort of sickness,
superinduced by some description of disease:--
"His hand was so bad that he laid him down here;
But up he will certainly jump,
And quick follow suit for the rest of the game
When Gabriel plays his last trump."