COURTESIES IN OUR SUNDAY-SCHOOLS. Teacher. “BY THE BY, DEAR, CAN YOU LEND ME A COUPLE OF
SMALL PUPILS FOR ANNIVERSARY, MY CLASS IS SO LITTLE? YOU
SHALL HAVE THEM BACK AGAIN NEXT SUNDAY.”
THE GREAT CANAL
ENTERPRISE. [FROM OUR SPECIAL BOSTON CORRESPONDENT.] BOSTON, May 8th, 1870. We Bostonians are greatly surprised that your valuable
journal has as yet taken no notice of the great
undertaking of the century—the Cape Cod Canal. However,
you New-Yorkers are quite out of the world, and unless
you read the Boston Transcript regularly, can not
be expected to know much about the enterprises with which
the earnest men of the nation are occupied. The great
Cape Cod Canal is, however, not meant simply for the
benefit of the Bostonian nation, but for the commerce of
the civilized world. It is destined to work a more
important revolution in the trade of Plymouth,
Barnstable, and Nantucket, than the Suez or Darien
Canals. Of course you are familiar with the peculiar
conformation of Cape Cod. It juts out into the Atlantic
like an immense elbow, and, indeed, is understood to be
modelled after the brawny arm of the gallant CHARLES
SUMNER. Vessels passing between ports on the western and
those on the southern coast of Massachusetts, are now
obliged to make a wide detour in order to
circumnavigate the Cape. It is now proposed to cut a
canal across the Cape just where it juts out from the
mainland, and thus avoid the tedious circumnavigation.
The enormous importance of this work will be at once
perceived. The Canal will be nearly four miles in length,
and will be made of a uniform width of four feet, with a
depth of two. This gigantic undertaking will of course
cost an immense amount of time and money, but under the
able supervision of ELKANAH HOPKINS, the gifted engineer
who constructed the board-walk in front of Deacon
BREWSTER’S house, at Standish Four Corners, there can be
no doubt of its success. Advantage will be taken of the
duck-pond of Captain JEHOIAKIM BROWN, which is situated
in the course of the proposed canal. By leading the Canal
directly through this pond, at least a quarter of a mile
of excavation will be avoided. M. DE LESSEPS is known to
have decided upon making a similar use of the Bitter
Lakes in the construction of his Suez ditch, after having
seen ELKANAH HOPKINS’ plans for our great Cape Cod Canal.
Vessels will hereafter pass through this Canal instead of
taking the long voyage around the Cape; and it is
believed that the saving which will be effected in
the transportation of cod-fish and garden-sass by the
consequent shortening of the voyage, will be something
enormous. There are those who believe that the Canal will
yield a yearly revenue of from eighty to ninety dollars
in tolls alone. It is understood that the European
Governments have already proposed to the Mayors of Boston
and Barnstable to guarantee the neutrality of the Canal
in case of war; but it is not possible that the
proposition will be acceded to. Bostonians should have
the exclusive control of this magnificent work, and the
Selectmen of several of our prominent towns have drawn up
petitions against the proposition of neutrality. The
opening of the Canal will be the most splendid pageant of
modern times. Mrs. JULIA WARD HOWE will recite an
original poem on the occasion; Mr W. H. MURRAY will
preach a sermon; Mrs. STOWE will read a new paper on
BYRON, and the State authorities will proclaim a solemn
day of fasting and festivity. A procession of ten
fishing-schooners, headed by a flat-boat, containing the
Mayors and Selectmen of all the Massachusetts towns, will
pass through the Canal. After this, literary exercises
are ended; and the following month will be devoted to the
delivery of an oration by Hon. CHARLES SUMNER, on “The
Classical Ditches of Ancient Times, and their Influence
on the Cause of Truth and Freedom.” You, and the minor New-York papers, expect to devote
most of your space to this wonderful undertaking. It is
more important than any event which has taken place since
the election of Mr. SUMNER to the Senate. It is a subject
which will interest all your earnest readers, who will be
greatly obliged to me for calling your attention to
it. A FRIEND OF FREEDOM.
OLD SAWS RE-SET. That must be a pernicious agitation of the
circumambient atmosphere, which conduces not to the
benefit of any individual. The common table utensil which is too frequently
conveyed to the fountain, to obtain the thirst-slaking
beverage, will ultimately become fractured. By devoting our attention chiefly to the smaller
copper coin, the larger denominations represented by
paper currency will require no surveillance. Persons who inhabit residences composed of a brittle,
transparent, silicious material, should refrain from
forcibly casting fragments of granite, etc. When the optic image of a given object is not
projected upon the retina of the visual medium,
that object fails to be desired by the chief vital organ
of the human anatomy. When the vigilant feline quadruped, frequently
observed in the abodes of man, is absent, the common
domestic animal of the genus mus may indulge in
various relaxations of an entertaining nature.
Common Pleas. Pleas of Temporary Insanity.
A Standard Work. J. RUSSEL YOUNG’S new paper.
Drugs in the Market. An English chemist has discovered a process by which
wood of any kind can be dyed a beautiful and permanent
violet hue. Should that chemist fail to succeed in his profession,
he might profitably turn his attention to writing for the
stage, seeing that he has a decided turn for
Dye-a-Log.
Entered, according
to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the PUNCHINELLO
PUBLISHING COMPANY,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United
States, for the Southern District of
New-York.
THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.  egs have
heretofore been inseparable in the public mind from LYDIA
THOMPSON. Her successes have varied inversely as the
length of her trunk-hose. She has built up her reputation
by “break-downs,” and has clutched the burlesque diadem
with, innumerable bounds of her elastic legs. Now,
however, she has grown weary of offering up her fatted
calves at the shrine of a prodigal New-York audience, and
desires to hide the lightness of her legs under a bustle
and crinoline. Wherefore she exchanges her PIPPIN for a
MOSQUITO, and appears in serious instead of comic
burlesque.
Mosquito is a play written expressly for Miss
THOMPSON, by DUMAS père. There is the
more reason to believe this assertion, inasmuch as DUMAS,
or somebody else, has already written it expressly for a
variety of other people. It was written for MENKEN, under
the title of “The Pirates of the Savannah,” some
six years since, and was written for somebody else and
played at the Porte St. Martin about seventeen years ago.
We should not be surprised if the “Veteran Observer” of
the Times were prepared to prove that it was
written expressly for him about the year 1775. In view of
these facts, no one will regard it as improbable that it
was also written for Miss THOMPSON. Be that as it may,
however, there is no doubt that Miss THOMPSON appeared in
it on Monday evening last, and that the following
synopsis is much more accurate than even the play
itself. After an overture, performed principally on an
exasperating drum, the curtain rises on a scene in a
seaport town in South America, or, to be exact, in
Bolivia. Various disreputable pirates, whose appearance
is a libel on a profession adorned by such men as Captain
EYRE and the managers of cheap American republishing
houses, conspire together in such mysterious words as
these: Valderrama (a pirate chief.) “To-night we
must—” Pierre (a comic pirate.) “We will, or—” Val., etc. “You have your—?” Pierre. “I have; and—” Both Together. “S-s-s-s-h. Some one comes.
Swear to—” Enter LYDIA THOMPSON, clothed on with
crinoline. (To various pirates.) “Well! How’s
things? Are you still the—?” Various Pirates. “We are; and if—” Enter BRENTANO, the father of LYDIA.
He addresses her in tender accents. “Me cheyild,
the hour is come. I must away. (To Valderrama.)
Shall we—?” Val., etc. “We shall. Come, my friend,
and—” They come. Scene changes to a lonely glen. Comic
Pirate explains to LYDIA the secret of her birth
in terms which leave it more unintelligible than ever.
Various pirates conspire to murder BRENTANO. Scene
again changes to BRENTANO’S garden. Various
pirates enter and shoot the old man. Applause. Somebody
sets the house on fire. Enter LYDIA disguised in
boy’s clothes. She vows eternal fidelity to
VALDERRAMA The audience wildly welcome her familiar
legs, and the curtain falls amid tempestuous applause and
the frantic beating of the fiendish drum. Rather Dull Old Gentleman. “I can’t make out
what it’s all about. Why does she want to follow
VALDERRAMA when she knows he has killed her father?” Theatrical Person, who has seen the manuscript
play. “Don’t you see? She means to avenge herself by
reading the Nation to him, or by singing Shoo-fly.
She’ll make his life a burden.” Dull Old Gentleman. “Oh! I see. But will she
turn pirate, too?” Theatrical Person. “By no means. There were no
strong-minded women on the Spanish main. The pirates were
bad enough, but they didn’t have all the vices of the
present day. She’ll go to Paris with VALDERRAMA, and he
will take the title of MARQUIS of FONSECA, and live
sumptuously on old BRENTANO’S money. Just you wait and
see.” Curtain rises on second act, showing the Hotel
Fonseca, at Paris. Several French noblemen repeat
ponderous witticisms to one another. Enter Miss
MARKHAM with clothes on. She represents the icy
DIANA DE MAULEON. Diana. “Mon Doo! there is my lover LEON DE
BEAULIEU. I won’t have him, for he ain’t rich
enough.” Leon. “Mademosel! I love you.” Diana. “Mosshure, what’s your name? who are
your parents? and what’s your income?” Leon. “Alas! I have none.” Diana. “Then leave. Ah! Good evening, Mosshure,
the MARQUIS DE FONSECA.” Fonseca (aside.) “LEON is the son of somebody,
I forget who. Never mind, I’ll murder him and marry
DIANA.” Mosquito (in other words, Lydia Thompson in a dress
that shows her legs.) “I love LEON. I must save him.
I will save him.” Scene changes to an inn on the coast within a few
yards of Paris. Enter PIERRE and other pirates.
They conspire to murder LEON and the French
language. Enter MOSQUITO disguised as a serving
maid. She dances, sings, and overhears the plot.
Enter LEON in order to be murdered. By a neat
little stratagem MOSQUITO contrives to have the
pirates shoot each other, and saves LEON. Curtain
falls, followed by more maddening performances on the
drum. Dull Old Gentleman. “I begin to see into it a
little; but who is LEON, and why does FONSECA want to
murder him?” Theatrical Person. “Well, I can’t just now
remember. It is all cleared up in the last scene, though.
You see, MOSQUITO is the daughter of BRENTANO, who was
killed. She has another father who comes on later.
Somebody else is LEON’S father, and you see FONSECA is
the brother—no, the aunt of PIERRE—no, that’s not it
precisely—but you’ll see.” Dull Old Gentleman (doubtfully.) “I hope so;
but that infernal drum makes such a noise that I can
hardly think. Who is that tall, awkward woman with the
turned-up nose, who plays ‘DIANA?'” Theatrical Person. “Hush, GRANT WHITE is
sitting right behind you. That is Miss MARKHAM, and she
is considered to be very handsome. She is a little
awkward in clothes, but she’ll get used to them in
time.” The third act begins. Every body, from the Comic
Pirate down to a Dramatic Writer who is in the play, go
to a ball at the Palace Gardens. MOSQUITO,
disguised as a Gipsy, dances and tells cheerful
fortunes. Fonseca proposes for DIANA’S hand and
roars the subject over in a private conversation with her
father, while he and the old gentleman stand on opposite
sides of the garden. Every body quarrels with every body
else. The Comic Pirate challenges LEON to fight a
duel, intending to murder him. MOSQUITO, backed by
the REGENT of ORLEANS and the entire court,
stops the duel and denounces FONSECA. The latter
tries to murder her and is shot by the Comic Pirate. Then
explanations take place, by which every body is proved to
be the father or daughter of every body else, and the
play is ended by an appropriate suggestion from the
REGENT, that the entire party should engage in a
congratulatory dance. Dull Old Gentleman. “Well, I must say I don’t
understand any thing about it. I can’t even make out the
different actors. Who is the rather pretty, fat woman,
dressed like a boy. She don’t act a bit, but she dances
nicely.” Theatrical Person. “Why, that is LYDIA
THOMPSON. The play was written for her, you know.” Dull Old Gentleman (evidently getting
irritable.) “All I’ve got to say is this, that I
don’t know which is the worse, she or the play. What is
the stage coming to? In my day we used to have something
like acting at the old Park. Ah, there was PLACIDE, and
ELLEN TREE, and—” The old gentleman goes slowly out, muttering
reminiscences from ancient history. A tall,
intellectual-looking man is seen to withdraw into the
grass-plat in the court-yard, and is there heard to
appeal to the chimney-pots and stars to note the
surpassing beauty of the vocal velvet of the fair
MARKHAM. And the undersigned wends his way homeward with
the conviction that Hamlet, with the part of
HAMLET omitted, would be intelligible and attractive in
comparison with LYDIA THOMPSON and PAULINE MARKHAM with
their legs banished from public view. MATADOR.
PUNCHINELLO IN WALL
STREET. The great art of Doing others as they would like to Do
you has always commended itself to PUNCHINELLO as a very
happy rendering of a certain fusty old rule which, in its
original shape, did very well some nineteen hundred years
ago, but is altogether out of date in these brisk times.
Hence the gambols of the merry bulls in that Broad Street
which leadeth to DIVES palace are just now highly
entertaining. In that illustrious quarter of this amazing
metropolis there is a beautiful game going on which is
vastly more interesting to watch than to join in, and
this little game is much as follows: A number of the members of that worthy family of
undoubted ancestry and opulence, and known the world over
as the “Cliques,” have gone into the dairy business. The
cheese-presses are kept and the churning is done in the
big offices by the wayside; but the milking is carried on
in a very Long Room, found, from considerable experience,
to be peculiarly adapted to this profitable line of
trade. Now in the pastoral realms of Finance, it is an
odd fact that not only is the milk all cream, and golden
cream into the bargain, but it is sometimes hard to tell
which are the dairy-maids and which are the kindly
animals with the crumpled horns which furnish the lacteal
supply which is so particularly sought after. Of course
every body wants as much cream as possible, and all have
faith that, at the nick of time, it will be given to them
to milk instead of the other thing. There is a pleasant
amusement known among juveniles as “SIMON says up,” etc.
This is the very milk in the stock-market cocoanut. When
some great member of the big Clique family cries “DANIEL
says up,” and every body shouts by mistake “DANIEL says
down,” then the Long Room does a very huge business
indeed, and the number of cheeses made is marvellous to
relate. When, on the contrary, Clique says “down,” and
the crowd cries “up,” and it really should be up, then
the great Clique discover that their dairy-maids have
become the other thing, and that all the cheese is going
the other side of the way. This is exceedingly damaging
to the Clique firm; and as it is very painful indeed to
be the other thing, since it makes sore heads and brings
on a tendency to “bust,” requiring much careful nursing
to recover from the effect, the Clique family is always
careful to arrange every thing in a manner that shall
best insure the monopoly of the lacteal element to
itself. At present the Cliques have made, most excellent
provisions. It is a rule that nothing so stimulates the
production of cream in the financial pastures as that
curious esculent the greenback. Oddly enough, also,
although this esculent la greatly sought after by the
other useful animals in Uncle SAM’S plantation, yet, from
one and another cause, vast quantities of this
exhilarating food have been amassed in and around the
banks of Wall street—those banks where the woodbine
vainly twineth, and by whoso side our allegory unhappily
lies. With plenty of greenbacks, therefore, to make every
one gay and festive, with the pumps hard at work to keep
the stocks well watered, and with all sorts of devices to
lead the Street family (and a very low but ambitious and
prolific family it is) to cry “up” when DANIEL says
“down,” the jubilant Cliques have set their mind upon a
thriving Spring business. PUNCHINELLO gazes down upon the game with equal and
serene mind. Since all wish to milk and not to be the
other thing, and as it is not clear which is going to be
which, he is content to watch the cheeses as they come
from the press, and to declare that they at least are
seemly and good to behold. If PUNCHINELLO could only
believe that the Street family was likely to succeed, he
would certainly doff his cap to them. Success is
beautiful. It is to Do others as they would Do you. That
is the Nineteenth Century. It is, therefore, sublime. One
gets exhausted in hurrahing for the Cliques. They are
always getting the best of it. But the Street people need
encouragement. It is not pleasant to be the other thing.
And if the bloated Clique party are not some time brought
to a turn, the day will come when we shall find all
Clique and no cheese—a consummation devoutly not
to be wished for!
“Too Much for Good
Nature,” The acting at Wood’s Museum.
A Question for the “Veteran
Observer,” Who was the “Oldest Inhabitant”—Old PARR, or old
Grand Par?
Miss-Conductors. The young ladies who bring back the Trains.
FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE. [BY ATLANTIC CABLE.] GREAT BRITAIN. Having a peculiar privilege as the correspondent of
PUNCHINELLO, I was on the floor of the House of Commons
when Mr. GLADSTONE made his short speech, on the 25th,
about England and possessions. I was standing by the
O’DONOHUE when the Minister said, “A free and
voluntary contract is the only basis for continued
union.” I whispered to O’DONOHUE—Good for Ireland!
He did me the honor to repeat it aloud; but the
Minister’s answer was not heard. Mr. EASTWICK had just been making a speech about
“tightening colonial relations.” The Press Ass
made this charge somebody or other with “making tight the
Colonel’s relations.” It was just like that fellow. I
only succeeded by chance in saving him from sending
across some stuff about the Cardinal Archbishop of
CRANBERRY, instead of CHAMBERY. I got a dispatch from,
him quoting the Virago of Paris—meaning the
Figaro, of course. And then that Schema; a
Sphinx could not have made it more of a puzzle, whether
he meant that the bishops voted that the Pope should be
deified, or defied, or that the de
fide should pass by their vote. CYRUS W. FIELD has been here, in communication with
AIRY, the astronomer Royal, about a telegraph to the
moon. A lunatic observation makes it wax plain that it
will not be in wane to attempt it. STOKES and HUGGINS,
moreover, have been taking views of people through the
spectroscope. Absorption bands are very striking
in the spectra of the ROTHSCHILDS and other
bankers. Bright lines are seen in TENNYSON and
WILLIAM MORRIS; dark lines in SWINBURNE. Gaseous substances are shown to exist in certain
bodies and people; a great deal of gas was discovered in
VICTOR HUGO. Traces of iron are visible in NAPOLEON III;
and still more, at the last observations, n BISMARCK.
VICTOR EMMANUEL had more of the phosphorus; the Pope, of
sulphur; the PRINCE of WALES, of mercury; the editor of
the Times, of lead. GARIBALDI and MAZZINI have a
carbon-ari appearance through the instrument; with some
look of nitrous incandescence, also. Laughing-gas is
evidently abundant in PUNCH. The Lords of the Admiralty have observed that Mr. HALE
has proposed in Congress a 16 million bill for a new
American navy. It will be at once proposed to the House
of Commons that 32 millions be spent in iron-clads here.
And the Cabinet of the French Emperor have already
prepared their little bill, demanding of the Corps
Legislatif a sum of sixty-four millions for monster
ships. All this is, of course, encouraging. Mr. HALE had
better try again, Of course you have heard of the great Fenian raid,
which really is to come off. You know there are immense
amounts of vegetables and other provender brought to
London from the Continent every day. Now a large number
of sworn Fenians are to go to Holland and learn Dutch, so
that they can go over disguised as petty dealers in food,
get to London armed with revolvers, and carry off the
Queen! As the Fenians always do exactly what they promise
to do, this may be relied upon as certain to happen. It
is said that the Queen is studying Dutch as an amusement;
which may be very convenient on the way; she can
expostulate with them better in Dutch than in Irish. From GERMANY, we learn that JANAUSCHEK is coming to
London to play in English. Also that a ballet corps is
coming over to dance in Spanish, and an opera troupe, to
sing phonographically, in Hindoostanee. A new opera, by
BALFE, is spoken of; subject, the Tower of Babel. This
was suggested by the Ecumenical Council; where some body
must have been LISET-ening. A World’s Congress of Croquet Players will be held
next month at Baden. They will not hold their debates in
Latin. Among the points discussed will be, whether it is
allowable to pop the question on the croquet ground. Old
maids are quoted as thinking that it distracts the game.
Younger ones would consider it allowable in certain
cases. What people some travelling Americans are! There is
one nouveau riche from New-York, who has been
going about all over Germany, asking every body for the
sculptor—he thinks his name was METTERNICH—whose most
famous work was the Status quo! He wants one of
these, he says, for his jardin des plantes; which
is going to be as big as the one near Paris. He has also
heard of the Marquis of BUTE; and wants to buy one or two
of his things; because somebody once read to him, out of
a copy-book, that “a thing of Bute is a joy forever.” I
have not time to tell you, today, about my late interview
with the Pope. —PRIME
EVERY MAN HIS OWN POLICEMAN. 
OUR PORT-FOLIO. Upon opening our mail, the other morning, a
communication signed “Tragedian,” purporting to come from
the father of three boys, (each remarkable in his way,)
particularly attracted our attention. He stated with
peculiar succinctness some singular developments of
genius in the second of these prodigies, which do not
always accompany such tender adolescence. “But twelve
years old!” exclaims the enraptured parent, “and yet my
FRITZ has produced a tragedy in three acts, entitled ‘The
Drewid’s Curse.’ No less a judge than our leading town
lawyer, squire MANGLES, was so kind as to say that such
an instance of the histrionic flux in a child of FRITZ’S
years, was utterly unparalleled. If PUNCHINELLO could
find space for a few specimens of the ‘Curse,’ they shall
be cheerfully furnished.” (It might as well be stated here that curses of this
character are already quite abundant, and that
PUNCHINELLO can not find space for any of them. Still a
kind word may not be misunderstood.) To the son of a man who spells “Druid” with a
“w,” all things must be possible, from a hangman’s
noose to a Presidential nomination, and the danger to be
apprehended in this case is, that some of “Tragedian’s”
posterity may slip into one or the other of them. A
parental raid upon all the pens, ink and paper that could
possibly come within the reach of a youth whose soul
revels in Druidical reminiscences, is the only effective
remedy which at present occurs to us. The “histrionic
flux” is a kindred disease, and would, of course, be
susceptible of the same treatment.
DEAR PUNCHINELLO: I am not mad, but to you, alone, I
confide the secret of my sanity. Nevertheless I thirst
for blood. Feelings over which I have no control, render it
imperative that I should shoot somebody. Precisely who
may be the victim of this insatiable desire, fate alone
can decide. I propose some day next week to commence a
general fusilade from the windows of my office upon the
passers-by. My sole security in this affair, is a maiden
aunt now in the Lunatic Asylum. I look with confidence to
her malady as my triumphant vindication. My object in
writing to you is to ask whether, in your opinion, the
fact is sufficient to guarantee a verdict of “Not
Guilty,” in case I am prosecuted for murder, or whether
an unscrupulous jury could sacrifice me to the unsettled
condition of the popular mind on the subject of
justifiable insanity. Yours sanguinarily, —RABIES.
PUNCHINELLO expresses his opinion in reference to the
above letter with great reluctance. He fears that if he
gives his advice according to his real convictions, he
may be overrun with similar applications, and if he gives
advice that he doesn’t feel, he will condemn “RABIES” to
the mortification of the gallows. He therefore takes a
middle course, and observes that the possession of an
aunt in the Lunatic Asylum is certainly strong
presumptive evidence that her nephew is no better than
she is. Here in New-York, it would be difficult to upset
such evidence, but elsewhere the result might be
different. “RABIES” gives no clue to his whereabouts.
PUNCHINELLO, therefore, presumes that he does not
contemplate murder here. Very well, then, it would be
unadvisable to kill any one, until at least two
respectable physicians could testify that either before
or after the act they had called upon “RABIES,” fully
interviewed him on the subject of the maiden aunt, and
found that the slightest allusion to her was productive
of any of the following phenomena: 1st. Sudden and violent twitching of the eyes. 2d. Discoloration of the veins of the nose, resulting
in an appearance abnormally rubicund. 3d. Manifestations of extravagant thirst, which water
could not satisfy. 4th. Tendency to reach for his boot-straps, as if with
the view of lifting himself by the same. 5th. Rapid rise of the pulse from 50 to 500—say
within the space of ten seconds. 6th. Shoo-fly! movement of the hand toward the cheek
as if some thing had alighted there, and patient were
trying to rub it off. 7th. The presence of a cicatrix on the left temple
(This is a most irrefutable proof of insanity). 8th. Psychological developments indicative of “moral
alienation.” 9th. Gangrenous condition of the tongue, proceeding
from a disordered liver, and mysteriously communicated to
the brain. 10th. Any symptoms going to show that patient might
mistake another man’s wife for his own. 11th. Discovery at the last moment that patient’s
father suffered himself to be hung for murder. PUNCHINELLO offers these as the accepted data
by which RABIES may measure his chances for life in case
he executes his avowed purpose, but I would impress upon
him the fact that these are necessary outside of
New-York only. Here proof of the lunacy of the maiden
aunt would be sufficient.
UNCLE SAMUEL To His Lit-tle Lads in Con-gress. [A LESSON IN EASY WORDS OF ONE
SYLLABLE.] My lads!
I will be plain with, you:
I am not pleased with
all you do.
I hate to scold, and
yet I must;
And you will take it
well, I trust. When first I saw you,
nice and clean,
It was a sight to show
the Queen!
I was an ass to like
you so;
But where we
wish to like, we do.
I should have known it
could not be;
For luck, of late, is
gone from me.
No more I see the good
old times
When fools were fools,
and crimes were crimes,
And boys and men had
work to do,
And did not play till
work was through.
The times have changed;
so have the boys!
I know this, when I
hear your noise,
And note your slack
work, day by day;
Each lad must have his
own small way,
If it is but to loaf
and loll,
Or else, not to come in
at all,
Or not to care for what
is done
If so be it can yield
no fun,
Or else, to be as
coarse and rough,
As rash and rude, and
grum and gruff,
As though it were some
bear that spoke,
Whom all the world must
long to choke. For shame, my lads! I
let you draw
All I can spare to you
by law;
Each lad of you takes
all he can,
But not a soul acts
like a man!
What do you do,
for such fine pay?
What have you done
these five months? Say!
You know you ought to
do some good;
The friends that sent
you, think you should.
Have you no pride, no
sense! In fine,
Why do you waste their
time and mine? If it could move you,
I’d tell how
The boys that sat where
you sit now
Once earned
their pay, and got the name
Of fine, brave lads!
But you!—for shame!
Boys, I could thrash
you all, I fear! It may be, times will
change, this year—
Your friends all tire
of you, I know,
And what, if they
should let you go!
The school, through
you, has such a name
All good men feel a
kind of shame;
They feel the world
must laugh, at last—
The world that could
not scorn the past! Oh, think of that, my
lads! I see
You do not mean to turn
from me.
From me, your
best of friends? Oh, no!
I may seem grave, and
dull, and slow.
But you and I, my lads,
are one!
Your fame, your blame,
I can not shun.
Much have I borne for
you, of late;
But you are small, and
I am great!
A Reflection for Recorder
Hackett. The GRAHAM bread bakers are useful members of the
community, but the same can not be said of GRAHAM bred
lawyers.
CRITICAL INTELLIGENCE. Able Critic. “BUT WHAT SORT OF A CREATURE IS
THAT UPON WHICH THE YOUNG WOMAN STANDS?” Artist (who likes to “sell” bores.) “O! THAT’S
A GONOPH.” Able Critic. “AH! YES. I THOUGHT SO.” (And
he wonders what in thunder a “gonoph” is.)
A SONG OF THE NEW
BABEL. [Dedicated with sentiments of the most
inexpressible respect to the Members of the Forty-First
Congress.] I. Oh! who, for any
payment auriferous or argent,
Would undertake to do
the work that Mr. Speaker does—
With nobody to help him
except the trembling Sergeant,
While still begin and
never end the shout and scream and buzz?
Oh, never any where,
save in desert groves Brazilian,
Was ever heard such
endless and aimless gabble yet.
For there the tribes of
monkeys to the number of a million,
Screech and chatter
without ceasing, from the sunrise to the set.
Rap! rap!
rap!
To quell the rising
clamor;
Order! order!
order!
Hammer! hammer!
hammer!
II.
O strength of tongue
how awful! O power of lungs how mighty!
Whence draw ye, honest
gentlemen, your constant wind supply?
Whence comes your
inspiration, belligerent or flighty?
Your common-place that
grovels and your metaphors so high?
Pray, why not try, for
novelty, a kind of solo speaking?
One man upon his
legs—only one upon the floor?
For eloquence,’tis
possible, does not consist in shrieking,
And really where’s the
argument in all this thundering roar?
Rap! rap!
rap!
To quell the rising
clamor;
Order! order!
order!
Hammer! hammer!
hammer!
III.
The country listens
sadly to the racket most distressing,
And wonders, in its
bother, if e’er the time will come
When the Fates and
Constitution will vouchsafe to us the blessing
Of a House of
Representatives completely deaf and dumb;
Or if, perhaps, in
exile these noisy mischief-makers,
The stream of elocution
run most fortunately dry,
In seats of
legislation, rows of ruminating Quakers
May shake their heads
for “Nay” and may nod their heads for “Aye.”
Rap! rap!
rap!
To quell the rising
clamor;
Order! order!
order!
Hammer! hammer!
hammer!
IV.
But if these mighty
nuisances we cannot stop or flee ’em,
If past all other
remedy the sounding evil reaches,
Oh, why not send for
GILMORE of the Boston Coliseum,
That he may drill the
Members in a chorus to make speeches?
Then shall stop the
fierce rencontre—shall cease the idle
rating;
Then debates shall he
no longer without a head or tail;
And while the power of
song every soul is demonstrating,
Each member
cherubimical will scorn to rant or rail.
Rap! rap!
rap!
To quell the rising
clamor;
Order! order!
order!
Hammer! hammer!
hammer!
V.
But if for solo
speaking Members still feel an avidity;
If they burn to make
orations of most uncommon zest,
Let them just take our
precaution against intense stupidity!
Let them study
PUNCHINELLO and learn how to make a jest;
But away with dreams
chimerical and projects vain, though clever!
The power of tongue’s
proportionate to wondrous length of ear;
The beast that carried
BALAAM is as garrulous as ever,
And still the lobby
listener must be content to hear
Rap! rap!
rap!
To quell the rising
clamor;
Order! order!
order!
Hammer! hammer!
hammer!
BARNACLES ON OUR COMMERCE. Intelligent Foreigner. “WHY ARE ALL THESES
AMERICAN SHIPS LYING IDLE IN THEIR DOCKS, SIR, INSTEAD OF
EARNING MONEY AT SEA?” Despondent Ship-owner. “IT’S ALL THE BARNACLES,
SIR. NO SHIP CAN SAIL WITH THEM ON, AND WE DON’T KNOW HOW
WE’RE GOING TO GET THEM OFF.”
CONDENSED CONGRESS. SENATE.  ust as
usual, WILSON had another little scheme on hand. There
was no money in it—nothing but a little Massachusetts
glory. It was to set apart a day to decorate the graves
of the Union dead. Mr. WILSON remembered that it would
have been more consonant to his own feelings to confine
the ornamentations to the graves of colored men and the
men of Massachusetts. But for the sake of peace and
harmony he was willing to decorate all round.
Mr. GARRETT DAVIS suggested that it didn’t make any
difference whether they set apart a day or not. If people
wished to decorate, they would decorate, and if they
didn’t, they wouldn’t. Mr. DRAKE said Mr. DAVIS’S hands were dripping with
loyal gore. Mr. DAVIS said he would reply to that insinuation the
first leisure week he had. In the meantime he contented
himself with hurling the foul slander back into Mr.
DRAKE’S teeth, if Mr. DRAKE had any. Lest Mr. DAVIS should execute his threat of making a
speech, the Senate referred the subject. Then there was a first-class wrangle about giving
pensions to Mrs. LINCOLN and Mrs. RAWLINGS. It was
represented that Mrs. LINCOLN was given up to riotous
living upon pumpernickel and ganzebroost, at a German
watering-place, and that there was a rumor afloat that
unless Congress pensioned her at once, she might marry a
German prince. Mr. SHERMAN, on behalf of the Finance
Committee, represented that German princes were
notoriously expensive and impecunious, and that it would
be much cheaper to pension Mrs. LINCOLN alone than to
pension her and a German prince together. He submitted
some statements, showing what it had cost Great Britain
to have German princes marrying into the Royal family.
The Senate, therefore, incontinently passed the bill. Mr. Morrill introduced a neat little swindle, which
does equal credit to his hand and heart, providing that
the United States should have the free use of all patents
granted under it. He said this was to discourage that
pernicious class of men, the inventors. In many branches
of industry, such as arms, the Government was the only
customer of the inventor. In those cases, the inventor’s
gray hairs would be brought immediately to the grave. And
inasmuch as the Government had a finger in almost every
body’s pie, the future FULTONS and GOODYEARS would starve
to death before the completion of their diabolical
devices. Some land-grabs were rushed through, when Mr.
SAULSBURY objected. He said nobody made any thing out of
this except the Western Senators. He called upon the men
of the Eastern States to stand up for their share. He had
a little game in the interest of his own constituents. It
was no chimerical railway. It was a good, substantial,
practical concern. He demanded six million acres in
behalf of the Delaware Balloon Navigation Company. If
this demand were not complied with, it would show that
the Senate were actuated by the basest personal
motives. HOUSE. The gentle JULIAN insisted upon proposing his
sixteenth or seventeenth amendment. He said that he
understood several women intended to vote, and he
introduced this to preserve his domestic peace. Mr. JENCKES, for the forty-fifth time, called up his
Civil Service bill. Mr. BUTLER, for the thirty-seventh time, introduced a
bill to annex San Domingo. Mr. KELLEY and Mr. SCHENCK raved a neat but not new
duett, “Give us Tariff or give us Death.” Mr. LOGAN gave a fine rendering of his famous bass
solo, “The Tariff be Hanged.” Mr. SCHENCK intimated that Mr. LOGAN was an insect. At
first he said he was a pismire, but the Speaker said
pismire was not parliamentary, and he modified it to
grasshopper. Mr. KELLEY said that he took his stand upon American
pig-iron, for which our fathers fought and bled. Did they
never hear of Valley Forge? Our fathers suffered in that
forge for the sake of protecting their children in the
right to smelt in other forges. He said that the man who
could smelt two pigs of iron where only one was smelted
before, was a public benefactor. Mr. COX said he could not smelt a pig, but he thought
he smelt a rat. Mr. JENCKES said he thought his Civil Service bill
would tend to diminish stealing. Mr. PETERS said he would oppose it for that very
reason. He wished to reward his friends. It was no reward
for a man who stood by his country in her hour of peril,
to be given an office in which he had to work for a
living. What patriot would not be disgusted by the
ingratitude of a country which dared to insult him like
that? There was nothing in this bill to prevent a man
dripping with loyal gore from holding office, if he was
honest and intelligent; whereas, one of his, Mr. PETERS’S
staunchest supporters might be refused an office, if he
had the misfortune to be dishonest and dull. The notion
of making “capacity and integrity” a qualification for
office-holding was unprecedented, and was preposterous.
If things went on in this way, even members of Congress
would be compelled to do something for their pay. Now he
preferred to administer the public service on the good
old principle they all had practised, of “You tickle me
and I’ll tickle you.”
NOTES FROM CHICAGO. The Garden City seems to be in a quiescent state at
present. There is no startling divorce case on the
topis, and the main portion of the Court House has
not yet fallen in, and Mr. H.’s wife has not recently
surprised him in any well-matured plan for putting a
quietus upon her existence. Domestic felicity is
unusually prevalent. The scarlet-fever and measles have
prevailed to a somewhat alarming extent; but the most
contagious of all has been the French fever. This
malady seems to have spread amongst all classes; the
fashionable and the unfashionable, the strong-minded and
the frivolous. French teachers swarm like bees, here,
there, and every where, and all speaking the purest
Parisian French; even Mons. L’HARMONIQUE, who comes from
that wee little town in Canada, where the Canucks “most
do congregate.” But he says “the Americans do love so
much humbug,” that he gives them their fill of that
article. We have had French parties, French plays, French
lectures. We read French, speak French, sing French, and
look French; and, if you are so barbarously ignorant as
not to understand that language, why, you might just as
well retire for an old fossil or petrifaction. You’re
obsolete, that’s all; as much behind the times as RIP VAN
WINKLE himself, after his memorable sleep. English is out
of date here—a relic of the Dark Ages. Fashionable
ladies return from Paris, bringing with them accomplished
bonnes, and every one is prohibited from speaking
a word of English to the children; but, in spite of every
precaution, the vulgar little creatures will drop the
musical foreign tongue, and speak their own native
language. They are christened ADÈLE, MARIE, or
CLAIRE; the SUSANS, MARYS, and ELLENS having ceased to
exist. Parisian fashions, of course, reign triumphant, and
the pretty young girls in French frizzes and furbelows,
shrug their fair white shoulders exactly as they see
“that elegant Madame DE——” do, and gesticulate with
what they imagine to be the true French grace and
vivacity. They all have a charming young teacher, with
whom they carry on a most romantic flirtation, that of
course means nothing; and each one of these fair
students, (who conscientiously puts a “g” to every
termination possible, and who says monseer,) will
tell you, with a complacent smile, that Professor ——
considers her pronunciation unusually excellent. They are
all studying in the blissful anticipation of a trip to
Paris, where they will be presented to the Empress in
yellow satin gowns, and then, when they return, how
eagerly will they be sought by the fashionable young
snobs, who long will see upon their fair brows the
reflection of imperial glory. That is, if the dark-eyed
ROMEOS abroad allow them ever to return to their native
country.
 MR. GLAUBER, DRUGGIST, WHO HAS HAD A DISPUTE WITH HIS
SIGN-PAINTER, IS NOT AWARE THAT THE LATTER HAD COME IN
THE NIGHT, AND TRANSPOSED THE LETTERING OF HIS NEW
SIGN-BOARD. THIS ACCOUNTS FOR THE COMPLACENCY OF MR. G.,
AS HE VIEWS THE CROWDS OF PEOPLE OVER THE WAY WHO STOP TO
GAZE AT IT.
COMIC ZOOLOGY, Order-Reptilia. SPECIES-BULLFROG. Although the batrachian is of the genus bufo,
he is by no means a buffo genius. He may be styled
the solemn organist of the swamp; slough music being his
specialty. Like other out-door performers on wind
instruments, he is chiefly heard in pleasant weather, and
during the summer his organ is without stops. Being a
Democrat, he appreciates the dignity of labor, and
consequently is not ashamed to blow his own bellows. Winter shuts the bull-frog up like a four-bladed
jack-knife, and he does not open until the blades are
started by the Spring. He seldom leaves his mud bivouac
for active service before April, but a Forward March
sometimes induces him to move earlier. As a rule,
however, the smaller varieties of the species begin to
ply their bog-pipes some weeks before he volunteers a
voluntary. Originally, this member of the Frog family had no
surname, but about two thousand years ago, in consequence
of his disastrous failure in an attempt to rival a male
animal of the bovine species, the prefix “bull” was
incorporated with his patronymic by a crooked little
Greek. The name, however, more appropriately belongs to
the Horned Frog of Sumatra. The habits of the Bull-Frog are believed by observant
naturalists to be strictly temperate, although there is a
rumor afloat that he has been seen Over the Bay in
New-Jersey. It is suspected, however, that the
originators of the story were persons who visited that
State to avoid the restrictions of the Sunday liquor-law,
and consequently saw as through a glass darkly. Be that
as it may, it is certain that this species of reptiles
(unlike the “paragon of animals,”) is never too drunk to
navigate. Mankind is deeply indebted to the Bull-Frog. We should
never have known how to keep our heads above water but
for their example, and, though Mr. CHASE may not be aware
of the fact, their greenbacks were the first that ever
issued from the Banks of America. Naturally, therefore,
they are in advance of SALMON, and, long before he put
our currency on its present footing, the hinder limb of a
bull-frog was a legal tender. The frog exists in most parts of the world, and at one
time all the varieties of the species were Plaguily
abundant in Egypt. They were introduced there to punish
the people for their rascality, and appeared in such
numbers among the Egyptian blacklegs that they stopped
the game of PHARAOH. There is nothing poetic in the
aspect of the frog. It is simply a tenaqueous bag of
wind, yet it has occasionally given an impulse to the
divine afflatus. We have it on the authority of
the celebrated traveller Count SMORLTORK that the
distinguished Mrs. LEO HUNTER, once wrote an “Ode to a
Perspiring Frog.” The costume of a Bull-Frog consists of a green coat
with yellow vest and brownish breeches, and when he
requires a change of uniform, he pulls off the old one
and swallows it. This fact has been doubted; but why
should It be deemed incredible? Are there not parallel
cases in the human family? GOLDSMITH tells us that he
once lived for a fortnight on his coat and waistcoat; and
every pawnbroker knows that a cast-off suit often
furnishes the material for a family dinner. Why should
not a frog sustain life with his Pants as well as a
Christian? Common brown frogs are good baits for FISH in most of
the counties in this State; but when you go to HAMILTON
try the greenbacks. The unlicked cubs of the batrachian family are known
(irrespective of sex) as Pollywogs, and are the meanest
of all the reptile race except the radical Scaliwags.
They are all heads and tails, and then, not the toss of a
copper to choose between the two ends, as regards
hideousness. The manner in which the tails are gradually
developed into legs is very curious, but, as this is not
a Caudal lecture, it is unnecessary to describe the
process. It has been metrically stated that the fast young
batrachian goes a wooing in an Opera hat, irrespective of
his mother’s consent, but this assertion is not borne out
by BUFFON or CUVIER, and maybe set down as a lapsus
lyrea. Upon the whole the Bull-Frog, though harmless
as a lamb, is nearly as stupid as a donkey, which
accounts for his taking up his abode among Morasses, when
he might dwell in the woods with the turtle and “feel
like a bird.” Furthermore, and finally, the subject is a
slippery one and difficult to handle, and, therefore,
with this remark we drop it.
A Clerical Error. A PRESBYTERIAN clergyman, the Rev. CHARLES B. SMYTHE,
has been scandalizing a community in New-Jersey by
putting gin in his milk, and that on a Sunday afternoon.
From the rebuke administered to Rev. SMYTHE by the
authorities of his church, it appears that his case must
have been a very aggravated one. They admonished him to
“walk more correctly in future;” the inference to be
drawn from which is that the amount of milk-punch,
outside of which Rev. SMYTHE had placed himself, was
sufficient to impart a stagger to his gait.
Right to a T. The employment of Chinese laborers to build railroads
is very suggestive of a well-known product of the
Celestial Empire, since railroad tracks are usually laid
with T rails.
“What’s in a Name?” Letters of the Alphabet.
A Be-Knighted Set. The Canadian Government.
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. Anxious Inquirer. Can you give me any clue to
the whereabouts of Collector BAILEY? I have advertised
repeatedly for information concerning him without the
slightest success. N.B. PUNCHINELLO begs to give notice that he doesn’t
keep a detective police agency, but the gentleman in
question is said to be in Esse. Economist. Is a gentleman who invites a lady to
the theatre obliged to hire a carriage to take her
in? Answer. Not at all. He can Take her In by not
keeping his appointment, or—he can charter an omnibus if
he likes. Vinous. Can you give me any information about
high wines and dry wines? Can wines be high and not dry,
or both high and dry, or how? Please explain. Was HENRI
do BOURBON the last of the Bourbons? Answer I. DELMONICO’S Clos Vouguet at
$16 per bottle is a high wine but not a dry wine. It
might be, though, if it wasn’t wet. II. Not by a good
many. X. Please, Mr. PUNCHINELLO, who were CASTOR and
POLLUX? Answer. Twins. (By Gemini you ought to have
known that!) Scissors. Where can I have access to old files
of the leading news-papers? Answer. In the editorial rooms of the same. You
must be brief, however, as their time is valuable, and
these Old Files are apt to be crusty, if bored. Old Salt. How can sea-sickness be avoided? Answer. By never going to sea. Linnaeus. Does a knowledge of botany
necessarily involve a knowledge of square root and cube
root? Answer. Our correspondent is evidently trying
to quiz us. PUNCHINELLO will pay no attention to levity
of this sort. Claude. I desire to make a few presents to a
young lady who is intellectual but very timid. What shall
I give her? Answer. Presents of Mind. M.C. I am going to buy a new faro-table for my
place up-town—you know where. What is the best shape and
material? Answer. A Square Deal table generally suite
players the best. Williams. No, sir; the term Fiscal year has no
reference to Col. FISK, Jr. Gardener. Haydn’s Book of Dates is not a
Horticultural book. Byron, Jr. Your verses would be much better if
you would pay less attention to your Feet and more to
your Head. M.J.B. Dear Mr. PUNCHINELLO: Our darling little
pet, Tinkums, is not well, and does nothing but cry all
night, to Charlie’s great vexation. What will stop the
little darling’s crying? We would suggest a hot pitch plaster directly over the
mouth—that is, if the child was in the house with
us.
Ego Sum. I am some. (Pumpkins understood.)
The Milky Way. The road from Orange County.
Edwin to Emma. Flax Vobiscum.
SAILING DIRECTIONS FOR ENTERING AND LEAVING YOKOHAMA BAY. From our special correspondent if Washington we have
received the following Special Order of the Navy
Department, directing United States men-of-war how to
approach and leave Yokohama: SPECIAL ORDER NO. 999. In consequence of the late disaster to the U.S. sloop
Oneida, the following rules are hereby published for the
guidance of vessels of war approaching the Bay of
Yokohama: I. On making the land, or if at night, on striking the
soundings, all hands will be called to prayers. II. After prayers all boats will be lowered and towed
astern, to be out of the way of damage. III. The gunner, under direction of the executive
officer, will dismount all guns, and strike them into the
hold. The reasons for this action will be at once
apparent to commanders of vessels, when they reflect
that, in case of collision, the guns would be useless as
signals, owing to the extraordinary deafness of the
officers belonging to the Peninsular and Oriental Mail
Steamship Company; and a reference to the details of the
Oneida’s disaster will show the danger of the guns
breaking loose and destroying human life. They will,
therefore, be at once stowed in the hold. IV. On entering the bay, the helm must be kept
amidships. The rule of the road, according to English
interpretation, is so difficult of comprehension that the
above is by far the safest plan. V. Each officer and man will be directed to secure
upon his person such valuables belonging to him as he can
conveniently carry. VI. Finally, it shall be the duty of the commander to
see that all hands are provided with life-preservers. VII. The same rules will apply to vessels leaving
Yokohama and proceeding to sea. VIII. Having taken the above precautions, vessels may
stand boldly into the bay, and in case they are run into
and sunk by any other vessel (say for example one of the
Peninsular and Oriental Company’s ships) their officers
and men will stand some little chance of saving their
lives. But should all precautions fail, the gallant crew
will be no doubt greatly consoled, as they sink to their
graves, by the reflection that a pious Congress will pass
resolutions of sympathy for their widows and
orphans.
A PLEA FOR PROTECTION. MR. PUNCHINELLO: I like your paper, though it is
altogether too light and trifling in its treatment of
serious subjects. Besides, it never treats of any thing
serious. This won’t do. The earnest men and women of the
nation require something better at your hands. I have an
essay on the “Origin of Evil,” which I forward to you by
this mail, and which, when published, will give an
entirely different character to your journal. I want you,
moreover, to advocate our American doctrine of
Protection. Even our ablest statesmen, KELLEY, GREELEY,
and DANIEL PRATT, have never carried this doctrine far
enough. They are willing to protect American iron-masters
by prohibiting the introduction of foreign iron, but why
don’t they protect American laborers by forbidding
foreign workmen to land on our shores? I demand
protection for the native ditcher. Forbid the Irishmen to
land here and to lower the price of labor by competing
with our own ditch-diggers. Put a stop to the influx of
German tailors and bootmakers, who prevent native artists
from earning the wages that would otherwise be theirs.
Protect our authors by prohibiting the sale of works
written by foreigners. Keep all foreign pictures out of
the country, and give our own POWELLS and ROSSITERS a
chance. And, above all, protect our American girls by
preventing any pretty English, French, or German girls
from coming in competition with them. These foreign girls
bring their pretty faces here and glut the matrimonial
market. The fewer the marriageable girls, the higher
their market value. We protect iron-workers, and decline
to protect our own daughters. This is an outrage. Shall
we prevent the railroad companies from laying rails made
of foreign iron, and permit husbands to marry foreign
wives? Every patriotic and protectionist instinct revolts
against it. I want you to take this matter up. Let us
have no more foreign manufactures, foreign iron, foreign
books, foreign laborers, or foreign girls. This is the
true American system, and I look to you to aid in
carrying it out. MOTHER CAREY.
PUNCHINELLO IS SORRY.  las! it
is with tears in his eyes, albeit unaccustomed to such
humor, that PUNCHINELLO condoles with the ladies of
Massachusetts on the defeat of the proposition to endow
them with the right of suffrage. The Puritan Patriots in
the State Legislature, who unanimously recognize the
“inborn right” of the black field-hands of South Carolina
and Georgia to make laws for the white women of the
Republic, have scornfully denied, by a vote of 133 to 68,
that the white women aforesaid have any political rights
at all; thus officially proclaiming to the world that
they consider their wives, their daughters, and the
mothers that bore them, inferior to the ignorant male
African; unworthy to vote with him at the polls or to sit
with him in council.
PUNCHINELLO is aware that the ladies of Massachusetts
had set their hearts upon rising to the negro level
“before the law,” and can therefore appreciate their
disappointment; but they ought to have known that neither
the ties of nature, the bonds of wedlock, nor the claims
of intelligence, are of any force in the Home of the
Pilgrims, as compared with the influence of the Ebony
Lords of Creation, whoso reign as sovereigns commenced
with the ratification of the Fifteenth Amendment. The STANTONS, the BLACKWELLS, and the ANTHONYS, the
Members of the Women’s Parliament and the Sisters of
Sorosis, advocated negro suffrage with the full
expectation of sharing the franchise with PETE and CUFF;
but alas! while these wool-dyed Africans are conducted in
triumph to the ballot-box, they are ignominiously
thrust back from it. For this black wrong there is no
colorable pretext. There is not a shade of excuse for it,
and PUNCHINELLO hopes that it will open the eyes of the
ladies of the land, and prevent them henceforth and for
ever from placing the slightest confidence in the
gallantry or impartiality of the Puritanic prigs of
New-England.
ASTRONOMICAL CONVERSATIONS. [BY A FATHER AND DAUGHTER RESIDING ON THE PLANET
VENUS.] No. III. D. Now then, father, for that Description of
the Telescope! F. Very well, my child. The great Object of the
telescope— D. Is the Object-Glass, is it not, father? F. Come, come, HELENE; no nonsense, now. The
great object had in view by the inventors of the
telescope— D. Father, don’t you mean the Great Object they
expected to have in view, when they got it made; a
Distant World, for instance? F. Pshaw, child! be serious. Don’t spoil a good
thing by untimely interjections. They are as mal
à propos as a mosquito coming across the Field
of View. D. I’d rather he’d do that than come across
me! F. Well, HELENE, you are positively
exasperating! D. Not more so than your mosquito. F. Well, I declare—this is too bad! D. So is his bite! F. Well, well; I must walk out and take the
air. [Going] D. Yes, pa, (and see that you don’t take
anything else!) Now, then! for a grand look for my
Charmer! Really, I am getting quite Earthly! [Looks
through the instrument a few moments] Why, what is
this? Oh, pshaw! I see! I’ve got JUPITER by mistake! I
mistook one of his Belts for a new Belt Railroad. It
would have been a Big Thing, that railroad; not less than
75,000 miles long, as I figure it. Perhaps those Belts
are Railroads! Perhaps they have Rings there, as
they have at Saturn, only less conspicuous. JUPITER is
rather a Slushy planet, if I am correct in regard to its
Specific Gravity; of about the consistency, perhaps, of
the New-York Poultice Pavement I’ve been reading about. I
should think that JUPITER’S lack of gravity and
consistency would make him a favorite with Aldermen—not
the less for having so many Satellites. I wonder if the
New Charter is the celebrated Magna Charter under a new
name? Probably it is no better. Oh, dear! the annoyance
of living so far away! Nothing here attracts me. The
distant, the unattainable, is all I think or care
about! F. [Coming in quietly.] What’s that,
HELENE, about the charms of the Unattainable? You don’t
seem to see any thing very attractive in MERCURY or
MARS! D. Well, some things may be both unattainable
and undesirable. That’s the case with the little thieving
god MERCURY, and that big red-skinned Prize-Fighter,
MARS. I can’t understand, however, why these disreputable
deities should he worshipped in your favorite
New-York. F. Well, as near as I can see, (a matter of a
few million miles, more or less,) when you speak of
Worship, they have more regard there for Millinery than
any thing else. The Christian Religion is based on
Humility, which has Purity and Simplicity for her
Handmaids. Look into some of these New-York churches! see
how the jewels glisten, the rich stuffs fall gracefully
in massive folds. Observe the sumptuousness, the
elaborate display! A fine Humility this! Then look at the
ceremonial. Here is a church edifice, belonging to a
denomination that assumes to be Decent and Orderly in
ceremony. Is it so in this church? What means all
this tawdriness of color, the crimson, the blue, the
gold; what signify these fantastic designs and figures,
these monkey-like genuflexions; this wilderness of sign
and symbol, this elaborate abasement, this theatrical
show of exaltation? This an improvement on the old
dignified simplicity? Do you tell me that childishness,
and prettiness, and pettiness, are valid substitutes for
a genuine, manly modesty and simplicity? D. (Oh, dear! he’s been drinking again! How
bitter the Bitters do make him!) Look! Father, come,
quick! Here is a Railroad Accident, such as you have
often wished to see. Two trains have collided, and both
have rolled down an embankment at least seventy feet
high! into a river, I do declare! They are all lost! F. Do let me see at once, HELENE I [Looks
eagerly.] Ah, yes; all gone; nothing visible but one
smoke-pipe, three stove-pipe hats, four bits of
orange-peel, some pea-nut shells, and thirteen copies of
the New-York Ledger. Sad fate! But see! Some
dry-goods-no, a young lady flounders along toward the
shore! The bystanders rush up; she is nearly exhausted;
pants rapidly; they congratulate her. A well-dressed
young man approaches. She instantly begins to think of
her looks; her hand flies to her back hair. Heavens!
there is so much gone there that she shrieks in alarm!
Her fall in the water has detached her Waterfall!
That gone, every thing is gone! She springs to her
feet! Glancing hurriedly over the watery waste, now
plentifully strewn with fans, little canes, and certain
objects which are either mail-bags or chignons,
she descries her better part, and with a wild cry, (as
when a mother rescues her babe from tigers,) dashes in
and seizes the darling object! She presses it to her
lips, and impetuously breaks for the shore! Alas! too
late, by about ten and a half seconds! “Save it!” she
seems to cry; tosses the wad ashore, and down she goes,
with her hand on the back of her head, her last thoughts,
evidently, more or less, connected with that sympathizing
young man on the bank above. D. Father, you talk like a brute! Have you no
feeling? Boo-hoo hoo-hoo! F. Child, I am all feeling.
Boo-hoo-hoo-too!
HORTICULTURAL HINTS. KITCHEN GARDEN.—Plant pickles early, if you are up in
time; if not, later. But don’t eat them late, unless you
are equally fond of dyspepsia. In planting peas, select that kind that does not grow
hard and yellow; that is, unless you supply
boarding-houses, or have a government contract for the
supply of shot. Grated turnips, mixed with horse-radish, for the
table, will assuage one’s grief for one’s
grandmother. Rice-puddings can be grown, ready-made, by sowing rice
with cowcumbers. Try it. NURSERY.—Transplant from hot-beds to bath-tub as soon
as possible, using sponge with palm-soap and cold water.
Top-dress with comb and brush. Trim limbs according to
age. Train with rods. Much depends on starting right, so
start to school right after breakfast.
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