Persons apparently Drowned" whizzed through my mind, and I came very
near forgetting that I didn't know how to swim. I managed, however, to
fish myself out in season to observe the bald-headed ANANIAS, who
murmured that he had been laid upon the table and should take a peel!
I came out to the drying-room, and made them think I was General GRANT,
by calling for a cigar. I drank a cup of coffee. After a while I rattled
into my clothes and felt better. So much so, that I did what I seldom
do, walked clean home.
If I live to be ninety-eight years old, and am pensioned by Congress,
the explanation which I shall give to the country at large is that it is
due to that Turkish Bath. I can't tell you what I owe to it.
SARSFIELD YOUNG.
* * * * *
[Illustration: DEATH OF THE "ENTENTE CORDIALE."
_Mother Bull._ "WELL, I NEVER THOUGHT MUCH OF IT. IT ALWAYS WERE A PUNY,
SICKLY LITTLE THING."
_Mother Nap._ "AND TO THINK HOW I HAVE NURSED IT AND NURSED IT!"]
* * * * *
HIRAM GREEN WRITES TO NAPOLEON.
HIS OPINION OF THE CAUSE OF THE WAR--REVIEWS THE LATE WAR FOR THE
UNION--A FEW SUGGESTIONS.
SKEENSBORO, NYE ONTO VARMONT, _July--18 Seventy_.
FREND LEWIS:--How does the Emperor bizzness pay about these times?
Wouldn't you rather be door-keeper in some well payin' Circus, than rool
on the Thrown of Frants about now?
Haint your present birth enuff to occashunly make a man forgit the 3rd
Commandment, and use Congreshunal langwige freely?
I see, by the papers, you're up on your mussle, and are about to cave in
Prushy's head, unless Prushy nocks you out of time.
You've got a very ingenious brain, my friend.
What you don't know, DANIEL WEBSTER never rote in his Dickshunary.
Feelin' bad about BENDITTY gettin' his smell-o-factory snubbed by King
WILLIAM, haint what you got up this ere war for.
I can see through your little dodge, my Royal friend.
Things was gettin' too warm for your Imperial top-knot.
Them little jewels, which rested upon your brow, didn't set easy, and
was makin' Corns on your figger head.
Your subjects was spilin' for a fite--and as sure as your borned,
nothin' but a forrin war would keep you from follerin' in the footsteps
of LEWIS the 16th, and keep the Boneypart Die-nasty on its pins.
A good chance turnin' up, you got up a _nasty_ war, so the Prints
Imperial would _die_ off of the Thrown.
"Eh! how's that for Hi'?"
Yes, LEWIS, you are a bitter pill to swaller, and no mistake.
I, the Lait Gustise says so.
Us folks over here hain't so much on the war as we was. We've had our
stomack full of war.
Nootrality is what ales us jist now, altho' I must confess we don't go
quite so heavy on it as England did doorin' our family quarrel. England
was so afrade she couldn't preserve her nootrality alone, that she
fitted up the Alabarmy to help her. And some other folks I know of was
so fast to perserve _her_ nootrality, that she came over to Mexico so as
to be near bye to do it, but if this court hain't laborin' under a
teckinal error a few Pea-crackers traded off their soger overcotes for
white pine ones. And the rest of 'em scratched gravel pooty lively for
_lay bell France_.
I'm afrade I can't jerk soft sawder when I git hold of a goose quil.
Guess not.
When you kill off all your present army, you must git up a draft.
When we had our war here, a man who didn't stand his little draft didn't
amount to shucks. Altho' we had more cripples and able-bodied loonatics
here them times, than since. The enthusiasm got up to that pitch, that
when an enrolling officer would pass down the streets, crowds would rush
after him, and with tears in their eyes and a $300 bill in their hand,
beg the enrolling officer to let them die for their blessed country--by
sendin' a substitoot. Patriotism ran so high, that altho' a man hadn't a
dollar to his back or a shirt in his pocket, he marched gallantly to the
war meetins, and voted to assess his rich nabor to raise money for the
purpose of buyin' substitoots with which to prosecute the war.
Them was the times as tride men's soles, and made the shoomakers laff,
who done the toppin'.
Jumpin' bounties paid them times.
The bold patriot and able-bodied hero who couldn't jump his two bounties
a week, beside his bord and washin', wasn't warmed by the fires of 1776.
Yes, sir; the self-sacrificing contractor, doorin' that eventful period,
by cuttin' down the poor sewin' wimmen's wages, partriotically furnished
the Government a superior lot of pastebord shoes for $27.00 a pair, and
a nice cool shoddy overcote for $97.00 apiece.
Having received the reward of a gratefool country, he is resting from
his patriotick labors at Saratogy or Long Branch.
Seein' that you have got a war on your hands, I hope it will pay better
than your Plebiscotum, altho' I don't know whether that 'ere article
resembles a bile or a brick meetin' house.
I understand you have mobolized your army.
My advice is to unmobilize 'em again, and get 'em in line.
I don't believe in mobs.
They are apt to get mixed, and popp off each other.
Millingtery disipline is a commander's best holt.
Little FILL SHERIDAN is comin' over to see you fite.
FILLIP is a plucky little cuss. He allers used to fite in the Calvary.
I don't believe he likes Infant-ry, for he remains onmarried.
If "Old 20 miles away" calls on you, tell him I've got a gal, smarter'n
a 2 year colt, he can have by the askin'. She's a good cook, and can do
up a shirt _el commee faw_, and you know what that is, better'n I do.
Don't appint your wife Re-gent. It will be a sorry day for you, if you
do.
I appinted Mrs. G. in that position durin' the Honey moon of our wedded
life, and the old gal has hung onto the Specter ever since, and she
wields it with a cast-iron hand. As somebody says:
Give a woman an inch, and you'll get 'el.
Remember your grate uncle.
He was a able sojer, and could worry down hard tack and mule beef ekal
to the best of 'em.
But Waterloo ukered the old man, and the "Head of the army" pegged out
at Saint Heleny.
Look out that his nefew don't get served ditto.
As I've writ you considerable on public affairs, I will addres you a few
lines on private ones.
Mrs. GREEN would like to borrow a new fashioned caliker dress pattern of
UGEENY.
MARIAR bought a ticket in a church lottery, and drew a new fast collers
caliker.
Would you have her make it up with a pancake attached to back of it, or
would you put a pendelum on it?
She thought of having it scolloped, but in hot weather scollops are apt
to spile unless cookt, and I think a _roosh_ of oyster shells would be
rather more _distangue_.
My wife makes all her own dresses; but I suppose, as you get good wages,
like as not your woman has some one to do the fittin', while she runs up
the seams on a sewin' machine.
Take good care of yourself.
Don't drink ice water this hot weather without temperin' it with brandy.
When "this cruel war is over" come and see us, and believe me, my dear
Imperial rooler--duke of the Empire--and master of the royal Household
of Frog Eaters,
Ewers:
HIRAM GREEN, ESQ.,
_Lait Gustise of the Peece._
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE LAST CASE OF "SHOO! FLY."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: PLIGHT BY THE SEA.
_Charles_. "O THAT LAST DIP! SPEAK, NOW, MY DEAREST JANE, AND SAY THOU
WILT BE MINE FOREVER."
_Jane_. "I AM THINE, DEAREST! EVER, EVER THINE!--BUT SAY, WILT THOU NOT
GIVE ME ANOTHER DIP?"
_Charles, (vulgar wretch!)_ "YOU BET!"]
* * * * *
RAMBLINGS.
BY MOSE SKINNER.
MR. PUNCHINELLO: I infer that you never visited Slunkville, Vermont.
Still, it is not strange, for many very estimable people have not done
so, and still they are happy.
It is a very quiet hamlet. More quiet, if possible, than BOOTH'S HAMLET.
I am sojourning here for the summer. Communing with Nature, I believe
they call it. I can commune here for five dollars a week and no extra
charge for retiring pensively to a babbling brook, and reading MILTON or
BYRON, though when my poetic soul hankers most, I prefer Bacon.
I take it fried, about an inch thick, with plenty of ham fat.
I went to hear Parson SLOWBOY last Sunday, on the Coolie question. He
handled it without gloves, and, it being very warm, without stockings
also. It's a very exciting question just now, almost as exciting as the
question, "What'll you take?" and I must say, that, even in the heat of
argument, he talked Cool-ie.
The Parson is very zealous, but rather illiterate. During a fervent
exhortation he prayed that, "all the undiscovered and uninhabited isles
of the sea might become converted," and on another occasion he began
with,--"Oh, Lord, thou art a merciful sinner."
But he means well, and that is everything. A man knocked me down once,
and stamped on my head several times. But he meant well because he
thought I was another fellow. He apologised so politely that I actually
felt cheap because he hadn't done it a little more.
But I'm afraid we shall lose Parson SLOWBOY. He's had a call. He hates
to go, but he says it's his duty; the call is so loud.
It is two hundred dollars louder than his present salary.
The Lyceum Committee held their annual meeting last week. They are in a
flourishing condition, having recently embellished their front door-step
with a new and elegant scraper of unique design; and purchased four
superb spittoons for the use of the committee. The President announced,
amid great cheering, that they would probably open the fall campaign
with eleven dollars in the treasury. The course will open with a debate
on the question: "Are sardines wholesome when ripened in the shade?"----
She who was among us one short year ago, with her winning smile and
gentle simplicity of manner, is now no more. The grass grows green o'er
her last resting place, while he who crushed her young life is far away
among his dissolute companions.
LUCY JONES was indeed a lovely maiden. The tear rises unbidden to my
eye, as I recall her in the artlessness of her maiden beauty, hanging
her feet into the mill-pond, or chewing the strings of her sun-bonnet.
And when the stagecoach came in she would stand with her apron full of
horse-chestnuts, and heave 'em at the passengers.
But the tempter came, and from that time she began to droop.
She continued to droop till she couldn't get any drooper.
And, with the gentle breath of June wafting sweet perfume from a wealth
of new-born roses, they laid her away.
And the undertaker's bill was seven dollars and forty-five cents.
Her old man's constitution was never robust, and this was too much.
"I don't complain at the seven dollars," said he, in a voice broken by
emotion, "but ain't the forty-five cents rather crowding the mourners?"
This undertaker is an awful lazy man. The neighbors say he was born with
his hands in his pockets, and they go so far as to say that 'twould have
been a good thing for his wife and family if he'd been still born. But I
think this is going too far.
I don't think he ever got over the death of his brother, about a year
ago. It was very sudden. Without thinking what he was doing, he sat down
on a keg of powder with a lighted pipe in his mouth, and we have no
authentic information of his whereabouts since.
The neighbors heard him when he went off, and, amusements being scarce
in that section, they proposed to regale themselves with an inquest.
Twenty active boys volunteered to scour the neighborhood in search of a
piece of the unfortunate man. Nineteen came back empty-handed.
The twentieth brought a button-hole, and over this the inquest was held.
His brother never took on much, but I know he felt it, for he always
calculated to have that pipe when JOHN died. It _was_ rather rough, if
you examine it critically.
P.S. What'll you charge to publish a little editorial in your paper,
saying that I am as genial and polished a gentleman as you ever met, and
'twould be perfectly safe to lend me any amount? I want it for
circulation among new acquaintances.
* * * * *
PARDONABLE SOLICITUDE.
MR. PUNCHINELLO: Having the most unbounded respect for your Gudgment i
wanto know whether you think ther is rely gonto be mutch fiting between
the french and the Prooshuns. It will be a important question to me this
Year, as i hev Raised over 100 bushel of weat and i think it wood make a
differns of over $20 to me, and i think if NAPOLIN gives up without
fiting he isen't mutch of a man eny how.
AN AMERICAN FARMER.
[Our correspondent will understand that the question of the continuance
of the war depends altogether on the comparative merits of the needle
gun and the Chassepot. Possibly our correspondent has not a supply of
either of these weapons at hand, but he can test them as follows: Arm
yourself with a sewing-machine as a representative of the needle gun;
then let one of your neighbors arm himself with a _chasse café_ to
represent the Chassepot, and then fight it out on that line until the
best weapon wins.--ED. PUNCHINELLO.]
* * * * *
THE MERCANTILE LIBRARY ASSOCIATION.
[Illustration: 'P']
Perusal of the last Annual Report of the Mercantile Library
Association--the forty ninth annual, by the way,--convinces PUNCHINELLO
that matters are all serene in that favorite resort of his. The only
"burst" about it appears, according to the report, to arise from a
plethora of books, which are bursting each other off from the shelves
for want of room. There is something funny in this statement when we
read, elsewhere, that 250 copies of "Little Women" have been added to
the shelves. Little women are notoriously pugnacious, and, as a matter
of 250 copies of the "Old-fashioned Girl" have also found lodgings on
the library shelves, no wonder that there was a "muss" on the premises.
So far as the Reading-room is concerned, PUNCHINELLO is glad to know
that the reserve with which magazines were kept behind the desk for a
year or two past, has given place to a new and better arrangement. One
can take up his magazine, now, from a table appropriated to periodicals,
just as if he were in his own house--only more so, as there are not many
private mansions that can boast of a supply of 174 magazines, which is
just the number taken in at the Reading-room. The only objection to this
arrangement, according to PUNCHINELLO'S way of thinking, is that it
debars a fellow from the opportunity of addressing himself to one of the
fascinating ladies in charge of the room, and having a private lark with
her under the pretext of obtaining a magazine.
The Report states that the magazine thief, and the cutter and maimer of
newspapers, are characters not as yet altogether unknown to the pleasant
acre or two of room appropriated to the readers of such literature. Not
unfrequently has PUNCHINELLO, when tumbling about copies of magazines
exposed for sale on street tables, detected copies bearing the mark of
the Association. Hence it appears that certain mean miscreants keep
themselves in tobacco and other cheap luxuries by filching single
magazines from the room, and disposing of them in bulk, when they have
accumulated as many of them as will fetch fifteen or twenty cents at
reduced prices. Meaner, if possible, than said miscreant, is the one who
cuts from a paper such paragraph as may be most valuable to him for some
inscrutable purpose--a paragraph containing important news, perhaps,
from the knowledge of which the next reader is consequently debarred. A
roll upon the first layer of a patent pitch pavement, and a subsequent
plunge into the show-case of a feather-dealer, would be merely a
sportive hint to these reading-room malefactors that their room would be
nicer than their company.
PUNCHINELLO is glad that the Directory of the Association have paused on
the question of opening the Reading-room on Sundays. The matter with
most city people is that their eyes have too much paper and printer's
ink forced upon them during the six days of the week. Give the eyes a
holiday on Sunday, by all means. Let them rest themselves upon the blue
skies and the green meadows; upon the birds, and flowers, and
butterflies, in Central Park, and upon everything else that is lovely,
including the muslins and sweet things in ribbons of the period.
In conclusion, PUNCHINELLO delights in whiling away an hour or two in
the Reading-room of the Mercantile Library Association. There he feels
perfectly at home; and if he has a word or two of information to obtain
from the dark-eyed young lady in charge of the room, he is always
certain to find himself prettily Posted.
* * * * *
AN INTERESTING RELIC.
A gentleman of this city is in possession of a very curious and
elaborate watch-guard made of the Hairs of ANNEKE JANS.
* * * * *
THE NEW "PROCESS."
The two-fold plan which contemplates, 1st, Making Ice out of Water; 2nd,
Making Money out of Ice, has some features which, we should say, will be
of interest to the various Metropolitan Ice Companies. As it can be "no
joke" to them, perhaps it should be no joke to us: though, on
reflection, we are not so very like. No, no, indeed! As for ourselves,
we are liberal. You will never find us taking advantage of the
necessities of the public.
The "cream" of the joke, as we see it, is that, owing to the abundance
and cheapness of this machine-made ice, the Ice Cream of the future--by
containing rather less farina and skim-milk (very good, indeed, in a
pudding,)--may be rather more worthy its title, at present so idealistic
and humorously preposterous. ("Cream," indeed! Ha! ha!)
Success to the new Process. We "freeze to it" instantaneously, and find
that we have left the celebrated Zero at least forty degrees behind.
* * * * *
THE WRINGER OF THE FUTURE.
The Yankee who invented everything else has now invented the "Wringer
Man's Monitor!" In spite of its name, the Monitor is a machine for the
use (and, we suppose, benefit,) of washer-women. "It is so
constructed----_so_ as to allow the rollers to separate _equally alike_
at both ends," observes the tautological inventor. We hope he has been
more economical in the expenditure of wringing power than he seems to be
in the use of the English language; otherwise, we fear the poor
laundresses will find the Monitor a trifle too heavily plated.
What we want (and we here beg the attention of inventive Yankees,) is a
machine that will, if possible, wring the truth from current Cable news,
and stop just as the lies begin to be squeezed out. Perhaps the stuff
won't wash! Then let the main pressure be felt by its inventors and
publishers.
* * * * *
O THAT AIR!
At the Grand Opera, in Paris, the great excitement is the singing of the
"Marseillaise," by Madame SASS. Not many months ago the _Sans-culottes_
made the streets ring with this famous air, which was then a
revolutionary one, but, since the declaration of war, has flushed up
with the deepest dye of imperial purple. On the principle that "What is
Sass for the goose is Sass for the gander," Madame S. certainly should
not decline to sing the air on "t'other tack," when the time arrives for
the _Sans-culottes_ to demand it of her.
* * * * *
SINGULAR MISTAKE.
On Wednesday of last week a rumor prevailed in the city that most of the
waiters in the hotels and restaurants were on a strike. Investigation
proved, however, that the rumor arose from the immense number of Waiters
congregated at Sandy Hook, waiting for the arrival of the winning yacht.
* * * * *
THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT.
Just when the weather was at its hottest, a newspaper item kindly stated
that "yesterday, the sun's rays were tempered by a strong breeze."
Perhaps so; but they were very ill-tempered.
* * * * *
LOCAL.
There is in this city a rag-picker so wealthy that he can afford to
drink wine every day. It is needless to say that Sack is the wine
preferred by him.
* * * * *
SHEAR DISSIPATION.
A man having his head shorn in hot weather, in order that he may be able
to continue his mad career of mixed drinks with diminished danger.
* * * * *
LATEST FROM THE SEAT OF WAR.
THE WAR SPIRIT IN FRANCE.--Cognac.
THE WAR SPIRIT IN PRUSSIA.--Kornschnapps.
* * * * *
A CHINA PATTERN.
[Illustration: 'T']
There has been much obloquy heaped upon the Chinaman ever since he has
become an article of importation. He has been morally pilloried on
account of the alleged immorality of his character. Some call him a
thief; others impute unto him a kind of sub-cannibalism, inasmuch as he
bringeth unto his fleshpots that sagacious canine creature known for
ages as the friend and companion of man. There be those who proclaim him
liar, thief, counterfeiter, and apt practitioner, generally, in all the
branches of infamy and crime. That some of these allegations may be true
is more than probable, seeing that the city of New York, alone, not to
mention the rest of the world, contains not a few individuals known to
be liars, thieves, counterfeiters, and apt practitioners, generally, in
all the branches of infamy and crime, and who yet belong to races
supposed to be far superior to the Mongolian.
None of the depreciators of the Chinaman, however, have yet impeached
him of a fondness for intoxicating liquors. That he smokes opium is
neither here nor there, seeing that smoking is not drinking. He
stupefies himself to some extent with the drug, it is true, but the
stupidity resulting from it is of an amiable and passive kind, quite
unlike that of our native or imported rough, whose fiery potations,
(word evidently derived from Irish potato,) impel him to imbrue his
brass knuckles in blood, if only simply for amusement and to "keep his
hand," (with the brass knuckles,) "in." And so, at present, WHANG-HI
seems to be a far better citizen than HI! HI! of our low places, nor is
there any prospect that he will turn over a new tea-leaf, and forsake
his national beverage for the "fire-water" of the Western hemisphere.
Perhaps, in time, our great cities may profit by the presence of JOHN
Chinaman among us as a pattern. O happy day! that on which the
pug-nosed, bull-necked, brass-knuckled, beetle-browed, ugly New York
rough discards whiskey and takes to opium instead. Ere long the use of
the comatose drug would effect such a change in the characteristics of
our dangerous classes, that the maintenance of so large a police force
as we have at present would no longer be necessary. That they would use
the drug to excess there can be no doubt, and that is the main point.
Eventually, the brutes might become absolute Mongolians, and develop
tails. That would be a blessed illustration of the gradual development
theory! With our roughs all turned to Coolies, happily would glide the
swift hours away. Let the government take this view of the matter, with
which Mr. PUNCHINELLO has here the pleasure of presenting them. If they
cannot abolish whiskey, let them increase the tax upon it, at least, and
let them take the duty off opium just so soon as our American Chinaman
shall have outgrown the use of that fatal narcotic, and introduced it to
the favorable notice of our American rough.
* * * * *
[Illustration: POCAHONTAS SAVING THE LIFE OF CAPT. JOHN SMITH. FROM THE
ORIGINAL PICTURE PAINTED BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH, FOR HER MAJESTY, QUEEN
ELIZABETH, AND FOR WHICH THE QUEEN BEKNIGHTED HIM.
With admirable skill, the painter has depicted the heroic maiden as she
uttered those memorable words--"Persevere in this measure, and you will
lose the confidence of your squaw constituents!" the ladies having
pronounced the Captain "perfectly splendid."
In the foreground is seen a wretched widower, clasping with affection an
urn, supposed to contain the ashes of his dear departed, who was slain
at the polls.]
* * * * *
QUERY.
MR. PUNCHINELLO: On very high authority, (that of the Emperor of France
and the King of Prussia,) Providence is on the side of both parties in
the present contest. As this is uniformly the case, according to the
affirmations of both parties in the war, are we to infer that killing is
a laudable pursuit, and that it is only in cases where one side happens
to have "heavier artillery" than the other, that Providence actually
chooses sides?
Two things I know--the weather is uncommonly warm, and this is an
uncommonly tough question; so you may answer at your leisure (indeed, I
suppose you would do that any way,)--or not at all: which, I observe,
you sometimes do, when the question before you is a little _too_ tough.
PARADOX.
* * * * *
OUR POPULARITY.