[Illustration: Vol. I. No. 14. ]

PUNCHINELLO

SATURDAY, JULY 2, 1870. 

PUBLISHED BY THE

PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY. 

83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD, By ORPHEUS C. KERR, Continued in this Number. 

[Sidenote: See 15th Page for Extra Premiums. ]

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DICKENS

 The homage of our world to thee, O Matchless Scribe! when thou wert here, Was all that's loving in a Laugh, And all that's tender in a Tear. 

 So, if with quiv'ring lip we name The fellow Mortal who Departs, A Smile shall call him back again, To live Immortal In our Hearts. 

O. C. K. 

 * * * * *

THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD. 

AN ADAPTATION. 

BY ORPHEUS C. KERR, CHAPTER VII. 

MORE CONFIDENCES THAN ONE. 

"You and your sister have been insured, of course, " said the Gospeler toMONTGOMERY PENDRAGON, as they returned from escorting Mr. SCHENCK. 

"Of course, " echoed MONTGOMERY, with a suppressed moan. "He is ourguardian, and has trampled us into a couple of policies. We had toyield, or excess of Boreal conversation would have made us maniacs. "

"You speak bitterly for one so young, " observed the Reverend OCTAVIUSSIMPSON. "Is it derangement of the stomach, or have you known sorrow?"

"Heaps of sorrow, " answered the young man. "You may be aware, sir, thatmy sister and I belong to a fine old heavily mortgaged Southernfamily--the PENRUTHERSES and MUNCHAUSENS of Chipmunk Court House, Virginia, are our relatives--and that SHERMAN marched through us duringthe late southward projection of certain of your Northern militaryscorpions. After our father's felo-desease, ensuing remotely from anoverstrain in attempting to lift a large mortgage, our mother gave us astep-father of Northern birth, who tried to amend our constitutions andreconstruct us. "

"Dreadful!" murmured the Gospeler. 

"We hated him! MAGNOLIA threw her scissors at him several times. Mysister, sir, does not know what fear is. She would fight a lion;inheriting the spirit from our father, who, I have heard said, frequently fought a tiger. She can fire a gun and pick off a StateSenator as well as any man in all the South. Our mother died. A fewmornings thereafter our step-father was found dead in his bed, and thedoctors said he died of a pair of scissors which he must have swallowedaccidentally in his youth, and which were found, after his death, tohave worked themselves several inches out of his side, near the heart. "

"Swallowed a pair of scissors!" exclaimed the Reverend OCTAVIUS. 

"He might have had a stitch in his side at the time, you know, andwanted to cut it, " explained MONTGOMERY. "At any rate, after that webecame wards of Mr. SCHENCK, up North here. And now let me ask you, sir, is this Mr. EDWIN DROOD a student with you?"

"No. He is visiting his uncle, Mr. BUMSTEAD, " answered the Gospeler, whocould not free his mind from the horrible thought that his youngcompanion's fearless sister might have been in some way acscissory tothe sudden cutting off of her step-father's career. 

"Is Miss FLORA POTTS his sister?"

Mr. SIMPSON told the story of the betrothal of the young couple by theirrespective departed parents. 

"Oh, _that's_ the game, eh?" said MONTGOMERY. "I understand now hiswhispering to me that he wished he was dead. " In a moment afterwardsthey re-entered the house in Gospeler's Gulch. 

The air was slightly laden with the odor of cloves as they went into theparlor, and Mr. BUMSTEAD was at the piano, accompanying the Flowerpotwhile she sang. Executing without notes, and with his stony gaze fixedintently between the nose and chin of the singer, Mr. BUMSTEAD had acertain mesmeric appearance of controlling the words coming out of therosy mouth. Standing beside Miss POTTS was MAGNOLIA PENDRAGON, seeminglyfascinated, as it were, by the BUMSTEAD method of playing, in which theperformer's fingers performed almost as frequently upon the woodwork ofthe instrument as upon the keys. Mr. PENDRAGON surveyed the group withan arm resting on the mantel; Mr. SIMPSON took a chair by his maternalnut-cracker, and Mr. DROOD stealthily practiced with his ball on a chairbehind the sofa. 

The Flowerpot was singing a neat thing by LONGFELLOW about the EveningStar, and seemed to experience the most remarkable psychological effectsfrom Mr. BUMSTEAD'S wooden variations and extraordinary stare at thelower part of her countenance. Thus, she twitched her plump shouldersstrangely, and sang--

 "Just a-bove yon sandy bar, As the day grows faint--(te-hee-he-he!) Lonely and lovely a single--(now do-o-n't!) Lights the air with"--(sto-o-op! It tickles--)

Convulsively giggling and exclaiming, alternately, Miss POTTS abruptlyended her beautiful bronchial noise with violent distortion ofcountenance, as though there were a spider in her mouth, and sank upon achair in a condition almost hysterical. 

"Your playing has made SISSY nervous, JACK, " said EDWIN DROOD, hastilyconcealing his ball and coming forward. "I noticed, myself, that youplayed more than half the notes in the air, or on the music-rack, without touching the keys at all. "

"That is because I am not accustomed to playing upon two pianos atonce, " answered BUMSTEAD, who, at that very moment, was industriouslyplaying the rest of the air some inches from the nearest key. 

"He couldn't make _me_ nervous!" exclaimed Miss PENDRAGON, decidedly. 

They bore the excited Flowerpot, (who still tittered a little, and wasnervously feeling her throat, ) to the window, for air; and when theycame back Mr. BUMSTEAD was gone. "There, Sissy, " said EDWIN DROOD, "you've driven him away; and I'm half afraid he feels unpleasantlyconfused about it; for he's got out of the rear door of the house bymistake, and I can hear him trying to find his way home in theback-yard. "

The two young men escorted Miss CAROWTHERS and the two young ladies tothe door of the Alms-House, and there bade them good-night; but, at ayet later hour, FLORA POTTS and the new pupil still conversed in thechamber which they were to occupy conjointly. 

After discussing the fashions with great excitement; asking each otherjust exactly what each gave for every article she wore; and successivelypracticing male-discouraging, male-encouraging, and chronically-in-differentexpressions of face in the mirror (as all good young ladies always dopreparatory to their evening prayers, ) the lovely twain made solemnnightcap-oath of eternal friendship to each other, and then, of course, began picking the men to pieces. 

"Who is this Mr. BUMSTEAD?" asked MAGNOLIA, who was now looking muchlike a ghost. 

"He's that absurd EDDY'S ridiculous uncle, and my music-teacher, "answered the Flowerpot, also presenting an emaciated appearance. 

"You do not love him?" queried MAGNOLIA. 

"Now go 'wa-a-ay! How perfectly disgusting!" protested FLORA. 

"You know that he loves you!"

"Do-o-n't!" pleaded Miss POTTS, nervously. "You'll make me fidgettyagain, just thinking of to-night. It was too perfectly absurd. "

"What was?"

"Why, _he_ was, --Mr. BUMSTEAD. It gave me the funniest feeling! It wasas though some one was trying to see through you, you know. "

"My child!" exclaimed Miss PENDRAGON, dropping her cheek-distenders uponthe bureau, "you speak strangely. Has that man gained any power overyou?"

"No, dear, " returned FLORA, wiping off a part of her left eyebrow withcold cream. "But didn't you see? He was looking right down my throat allthe time I was singing, until it actually tickled me!"

"Does he always do so?"

"Oh, I don't know what he always does!" whimpered the nervous Flowerpot. "Oh, he's such an utterly ridiculous creature! Sometimes when we're incompany together, and I smell cloves, and look at him, I think that Isee the lid of his right eye drop over the ball and tremble at me in thestrangest manner. And sometimes his eyes seem fixed motionless in hishead, as they did to-night, and he'll appear to wander off into a kindof dream, and feel about in the air with his right arm as though hewanted to hug somebody. Oh! my throat begins to tickle again! Oh, staywith me, and be my absurdly ridiculous friend!"

The dark-featured Southern linen spectre leaned soothingly above theother linen spectre, with a bottle of camphor in her hand, near thebureau upon which the back-hair of both was piled; and in the flash ofher black eyes, and the defiant flirt of the kid-gloves dipped inglycerine which she was drawing on her hands, lurked death by lightningand other harsh usage for whomsoever of the male sex should ever becaught looking down in the mouth again. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

A DAGGERY TYPE OF FORTALKRAPHY. 

The two young gentlemen, having seen their blooming charges safelywithin the door of the Alms-House, and vainly endeavored to look throughthe keyhole at them going up-stairs, scuffle away together with thatsensation of blended imbecility and irascibility which is equallycharacteristic of callow youth and inexperienced Thomas Cats whenretiring together from the society of female friends who seem to bestill on the fence as regards their ultimate preferences. 

"Do you bore your friends here long, Mr. DROOD?" inquired MONTGOMERY; aswho should say: Maouiw-ow-ooo-sp't! sp't!

"Not this time, Secesh, " is the answer; as though it were observed, ooo-ooo-sp't! "I leave for New York again to-morrow; but shall be offand on again in Bumsteadville until midsummer, when I go to Egypt, Illinois, to be an engineer on a railroad. The stamps left me by myfather are all in the stock of that road, and the Mr. BUMSTEAD whom yousaw to-night is my uncle and guardian. "

"Mr. SIMPSON informs me that you are destined to assume the expenses ofMiss POTTS, when you're old enough, " remarks MONTGOMERY, his eyesshining quite greenly in the moonlight. 

"Well, perhaps you'd like to make something out of it, " says EDWIN, whose orbs have assumed a yellowish glitter. "Perhaps you SouthernConfederacies didn't get quite enough of it at Gettysburgh and FiveForks. "

"We had the exquisite pleasure of killing a few thousand Yankeefree-lovers, " intimates MONTGOMERY, with a hollow laugh. 

"Ah, yes, I remember--at Andersonville, " suggests EDWIN DROOD, beginningto roll back his sleeves. 

"This is your magnanimity to the conquered, is it!" exclaims MONTGOMERY, scornfully. "I don't pretend to have your advantages, Mr. DROOD, andI've scarcely had any more education than an American Humorist; butwhere I come from, if a carpet-bagger should talk as you do, the cost ofhis funeral would be but a trifle. "

"I can prepare you, at shortest notice, for something very neat andtasteful in the silver-trimmed rosewood line, with plated handles, dark-complexioned Ku-klux, " returns Mr. DROOD, preparing to pull off hiscoat. 

"Who would have believed, " soliloquizes MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON, "that evena scalawag Northern spoon-thief, like our scurrilous contemporary, wouldget so mad at being reminded that he must be married some day!"

"Whoever says that I'm mad, " is the answer, "lies deliberately wilfully, wickedly, with naked intent to defame and malign. "

But here a heavy hand suddenly smites EDWIN in the back, almost snappinghis head off, and there stands spectrally between them Mr. BUMSTEAD, whohas but recently found his way out of the back-yard in Gospeler's Gulch, by removing at least two yards of picket fence from the wrong place, andwears upon his head a gingham sun-bonnet, which, in his hurrieddeparture through the hall of the Gospeler's house, he has mistaken forhis own hat. Sustaining himself against the fierce evening breeze byholding firmly to both shoulders of his nephew, this striking apparitionregards the two young men with as much austerity as is consistent withthe flapping of the cape of his sun-bonnet. 

"Gentlelemons, " he says, with painful syllabic distinctness, "can Ibelieve my ears? Are you already making journalists of yourselves?"

They hang their heads in shame under the merciless but just accusation. "Here you are, " continues BUMSTEAD, "a quartette of young fellows whoshould all be friends. NEDS, NEDS! I am ashamed of you! MONTGOMERIES, you should not let your angry passions rise; for your little hands werenever made to bark and bite. " After this, Mr. BUMSTEAD seems lost for amoment, and reclines upon his nephew, with his eyes closed inmeditation. "But let's all five of us go up to my room, " he finallyadds, "and restore friendship with lemon tea. It is time for the Northand South to be reconciled over something hot. Come. "

Leaning upon both of them now, and pushing them into a walk, heexquisitely turns the refrain of the rejected National Hymn--

 "'Twas by a mistake that we lost Bull Bun, When we all skedaddled to Washington, And we'll all drink atone blind, Johnny fill up the bowl?"

Thus he artfully employs music to soothe their sectional animosities, and only skips into the air once as they walk, with a "Whoop! That wassomething _like_ a snake!"

Arriving in his room, the door of which he has had some trouble inopening, on account of the knob having wandered in his absence to thewrong side, Mr. BUMSTEAD indicates a bottle of lemon tea, with someglasses, on the table, accidentally places the lamp so that it shinesdirectly upon EDWIN'S triangular sketch of FLORA over the mantel, and, taking his umbrella under his arm, smiles horribly at his young guestsfrom out his sun-bonnet. 

"Do you recognize that picture, PENDRAGONS?" he asks, after the two havedrunk fierily at each other. "Do you notice its stereoscopic effect ofbeing double?"

"Ah, " says MONTGOMERY, critically, "a good deal in the style ofHENNESSY, or WINSLOW HOMER, I should say. Something in the school-slatemethod. "

"It's by EDWINS, there!" explains Mr. BUMSTEAD, triumphantly. "Just lookat him as he sits there both together, with all his happiness cut outfor him, and his dislike of Southerners his only fault. "

"If I could only draw Miss PENDRAGON, now, " says EDWIN DROOD, ratherflattered, "I might do better. A good sharp nose and Southern complexionhelp wonderfully in the expression of a picture. "

"Perhaps my sister would prefer to choose her own artist, " remarksMONTGOMERY, to whom Mr. BUMSTEAD has just poured out some more lemontea. 

"Say a Southern one, for instance, who might use some of the flyingcolors that were always warranted to run when our boys got after yoursin the late war, " responds EDWIN, to whom his attentive uncle has alsopoured out some more lemon tea for his cold. 

"For instance--at Fredericksburgh, " observes MONTGOMERY. 

"I was thinking of Fort Donelson, " returns EDWIN. 

The conservative BUMSTEAD strives anxiously to allay the irritation ofhis young guests by prodding first one and then the other with hisumbrella; and, in an attempt to hold both of them and the picture behindhim in one commanding glance under his sun-bonnet, presents a phase ofstrabismus seldom attained by human eyes. 

"If I only had you down where I come from, Mr. DROOD, " cries MONTGOMERY, tickled into ungovernable wrath by the ferule of the umbrella, I'd tarand feather you like a Yankee teacher, and then burn you like afreedman's church. "

"Oh!--if you only had me _there_, you'd do so, " cries EDWIN DROOD, springing to his feet as the umbrella tortures his ribs. "_If_, eh?Pooh, pooh, my young fellow, I perceive that you are a mere CincinnatiEditor. "

The degrading epithet goads PENDRAGON to fury, and, after throwing hisremaining lemon tea about equally upon EDWIN and the sun-bonnet, heextracts the sugar from the bottom of the glass with his fingers, anduses the goblet to ward off a last approach of the umbrella. 

"EDWINS! MONTGOMERIES!" exclaims Mr. BUMSTEAD, opening the umbrellabetween them so suddenly that each is grazed on the nose by a whalebonerib, "I command you to end this Congressional debate at once. I neversaw four such young men before! MONTGOMERIES, put up your penknifethizinstant!"

Pushing aside the barrier of alpaca and whalebone from under his chin, MONTGOMERY dashes wildly from the house, tears madly back to Gospeler'sGulch, and astounds the Gospeler by his appearance. 

"Oh, Mr. SIMPSON, " he cries, as he is conducted to the door of his ownroom, "I believe that I, too, inherit some tigerish qualities from thattiger my father is said to have fought so often. I've had a politicaldiscussion with Mr. DROOD in Mr. BUMSTEAD'S apartments, and, if I'dstayed there a moment longer, I reckon I should have murdered somebodyin a moment of Emotional Insanity. "

The Reverend OCTAVIUS SIMPSON makes him unclose his clenched fist, inwhich there appears to be one or two cloves, and then says: "I amshocked to hear this, Mr. PENDRAGON. As you have no political influence, and have never shot a _Tribune_ man, neither New York law nor societywould allow you to commit murder with impunity. I regret, too, to seethat you have been drinking, and would advise you to try a chapter fromone of Professor DE MILLE'S novels, as a mild emetic, before retiring. After that, two or three sentences from one of Mr. RICHARD GRANT WHITE'Sessays--will ensure sleep to you for the remainder of the night. "

Returning the unspeakably thankful pressure of the grateful young man'shand, the Gospeler goes thoughtfully down stairs, where he is just intime to answer the excited ring of Mr. BUMSTEAD. 

"Dear me, Mr. BUMSTEAD!" is his first exclamation, "what's that you'vegot on your head?"

"Perspiration, sir, " cries BUMSTEAD, who, in his agitation, is stillringing the bell. "We've nearly had a murder to-night, and I've comearound to offer you my umbrella for your own protection. "

"Umbrella!" echoes Mr. SIMPSON, "why, really, I don't see how--"

"Open it on him suddenly when he makes a pass at you, " interrupts Mr. BUMSTEAD, thrusting the alpaca weapon upon him. "I'll send for it in themorning. "

The Gospeler stands confounded in his own doorway, with the defence thusstrangely secured in his hand; and, looking up the moon-lighted road, sees Mr. BUMSTEAD, in the sun-bonnet, leaping high, at short intervals, over the numerous adders and cobras on his homeward way, like athoroughbred hurdle-racer. 

(_To be Continued_. )

 * * * * *

THE PLAYS AND SHOWS. 

[Illustration: 'M']

Many plays of various sorts have been explained and commented upon inthis column. Now for the first time a show claims attention. TheBEETHOVEN Centennial Festival has just ceased its multitudinous noise, and the several shows connected with it--such as GROVER'S blue coat, GILMORE'S light gymnastics on the conductor's stand, the electricartillery and the plenteous PAREPA, have vanished away. Time and spaceand patience would fail to tell the story of the ten successive showersof noise that inundated the Rink during last week. Let us then contentourselves with a reminiscence of the opening night. 

As the sun was understood to be descending the Western horizon (in somerural locality that possesses a horizon, ) last Monday afternoon, threehorsemen--who had doubtless left their horses at a convenientstable, --might have been seen descending from a Third Avenue car. Beforethem stood the Rink, glittering with rows of lamps--the last rows--notof summer--but of the American Institute Fair. Passing these lines ofRinkéd brightness long drawn out, (SHAKESPEARE) the three dismountedhorsemen entered the building and seated themselves. A mighty murmur ofapplause rose from the chorus, as BERGMANN stepped to the front andordered his orchestral army to advance upon BEETHOVEN'S Sympony in C. This what they heard and saw:

FIRST HORSEMAN. "What a noise they make tuning their fiddles When's thisthing going to begin?"

SECOND HORSEMAN. "Begin! Why, it has begun. This is BEETHOVEN'S Symphonyin C. "

THIRD HOUSEMAN. "Don't you know the Symphony at Sea? It represents astorm, you know. "

YOUNG LADY FROM BOSTON. "How divinely beautiful! It ought to be played, however, by GILMORE'S Band. They do not understand classical music inNew York. "

ACCOMPANYING FRIEND. "Hush. PAREPA is going to sing. "

There is a tremulous motion felt throughout the vast building. It is theapproach of PAREPA, who skips lightly--like the little hills mentionedby the Psalmist--across the stage. She curtseys, and her skirts expandin vast ripples like the waves of a placid sea when some hugeline-of-battle ship sinks suddenly from sight. She smiles a sweet andample smile. She flirts her elegant fan, and gallant little CARLROSA--who can lead an orchestra better than the weightiest German ofthem all--is swept swiftly away, whirling like a rose-leaf before thebreath of the gentle zephyr. Then she sings. 

What is the grand orchestra compared with the exhaustless volume of hermatchless voice! What the chorus of three thousand singers or themultitudinous pipes of the great organ! Far above chorus or orchestra ororgan soar her clear notes, full, rich, ringing. Her voice, like hermajestic presence, was made expressly for Boston Jubilees and BEETHOVENCentennials. The former can fill the largest building the continent hasever seen; the latter--well, the latter is perceptible at quite adistance. 

The "_Inflammatus_" is sung, and sung again, and then the programmesrustle, as the audience looks to see who has the rashness to followPAREPA the peerless. 

RURAL PERSON. "Now we're goin' to hear somethin' like. The New JerseyHarmonic Society is agoin' to sing 'When first I saw her face in 1616. 'I don't like none of your operas. That 'inflammation' may be a bigthing, ' but give me some old-fashioned toon. "

Accordingly the New Jersey Society sings, and sings extremely well. Thesimple melody sung by these gentle rustics pleases the people. Theydemand its repetition, and it is generally conceded that the nativeJerseyman has more music in what he regards as his soul, than the wilderaborigines who follow SPOTTED TAIL and SWIFT BEAR. 

YOUNG LADY FROM BOSTON. --"How sweet these old madrigals are. That piece, however, ought to have been played by GILMORE'S Band. These New Jerseypeople know nothing about any music that is above OFFENBACH'S melodies. "

And then everybody is seized with an impulse to whisper to everybodyelse, "Now we are to have the Star Spangled Banner. "

It is evident that the American nation hungers and thirsts aftersomething over which it may wax patriotic and loyal. It has no monarch, and the absurdity of becoming enthusiastic over GRANT'S cigar is onlytoo manifest. It is therefore obliged to content itself with simulatinga frantic admiration of the Flag. 

Now the flag is rather a pretty one, and to people north of MASON andDIXON'S line, possesses many interesting associations. But the doggerelwhich the late Mr. KEY attempted to celebrate it, is not altogetherabove reproach. Beginning with the Bowery interrogative "Sa-ay, " andending with a reference to the "land of the free and the home of thebrave, " which the late ELIJAH POGRAM, or the present NATHANIEL BANKSmight have written, it is simply the weakest of rhymed buncombe weddedto the cheapest of pinchbeck music. And yet we fancy ourselves inspiredwhen we hear it. 

Fortunately, as sung at the BEETHOVEN festival, the words are drowned bythe music, and the music by the artillery. It thus becomes aninarticulate patriotic "yawp, " of tremendous ear-splitting power. Butthe public likes it. 

They greet it with tremendous roars of applause. The artillery, discharged with uniform promptness several seconds in advance of time, renders them wild with delight. PAREPA'S voice, rising at intervalsabove even the combined din of instruments, voices, and cannon, ishardly heeded by them. Noise is what they want, and they have a surfeitof it. It is only after the performance is ended that the vision ofGILMORE'S ecstatic coat-tails, as they danced to the wild whirling ofhis maniacal baton, comes back to their memory. Then they smile and say, "Curious fellow that GILMORE. Knows how to make himself a pleasing andprominent feature. "

But the Boston young lady says in a serious tone, "GILMORE'S band shouldhave played that piece without any assistance. These New York people donot understand the potentialities of brass. "

Perhaps we don't. And then again perhaps we do. --Boston may have amonopoly of virtue, but it has hardly a monopoly of brass. 

After the patriotic noise comes the _Oberon_ overture, led by CARL ROSAso daintily that it is the best performance of the evening. By and byeverybody attempts to leave in advance of everybody else, with a view toa seat in the cars; and the first night of the Centennial is over. 

And nine-tenths of the people remark that it is "bully. "

And several of the remainder speak patronizingly of it. 

And the critics go up to the "Press Room" for another glass of--inshort, for a sandwich:

And the Boston young lady expresses her firm conviction, that GILMOREshould have managed the whole affair, without the interference of thoseuncultivated New-Yorkers. 

And the fat lady from the Fifth Avenue remarks that "nothing hasoccurred to mar the misanthropy of the occasion. "

And a wretch who does not consider Miss KELLOGG the "Nightingale ofAmerica, " smiles a fiendish smile as he thinks that her pretty littlevoice is to be heard by the conductor and the nearest chorus singers onthe following day. 

And the undersigned goes home to calm his mind by an hour's perusal ofDr. WATTS, and then to dream of star-spangled GILMORES and electricPAREPA batteries until morning. 

MATADOR. 

 * * * * *

[Illustration: GETTING--A FOOTHOLD IN CANADA. ]

JOTTINGS FROM WASHINGTON. 

WASHINGTON CITY, June 4, 1870. 

DEAR PUNCHINELLO: I have noticed with pleasure your bold and generouschampionship of Philadelphia. I have witnessed, with genuine delight, your expose of the designs of the Iron Legislature upon that mostunhappy of rectangular cities; and I have been emboldened thereby tohazard a petition to you to fly still higher in your philanthropicendeavors to do and dare still more for the oppressed of yourrace--to--to--in short, to attempt the defence of Washington and theWashingtonians!!

There! it is out! But that I know you of old; but that, knowing you, Iregretted with a great regret your former withdrawal from affairs ofState; but that I welcomed your return to the arena of which, in formeryears, you were the acknowledged victor; but that I knew your unlimitedcompassion, I would not, though a bold man, have dared to ask so much. 

Yet, I have reason for my request. For, if Philadelphia be rectangular, Washington has greater claims, seeing that she is scalene, crooked, trapezoidal, and, in general terms, catacornered. If Philadelphia belegislature-ridden, Washington is Congress-burdened. It Philadelphiasuffers under an infliction of horse-railroads and white woodenshutters, Washington groans under the pangs and pains of unmitigatedCHRONICLE!

This last is our greatest grievance. Fortunately for you, dear P. , youknow not what it is to be Congress-burdened, _but we do. _ Alas! toowell. It means mud and dust; it means unpaved streets pervaded byperambulating pigs and contemplative cows, and rendered still more ruralin its aspect by the gambolings of frolicsome kids around grave goats. It means an empty treasury, high rents, extraordinary taxes, and poorgrub. In short, it means WRETCHEDNESS. But to be "Chronicled"--

 "----_That_ way Madness lies"

In this connection, dear PUNCHINELLO, let me hasten to disclaim anyintention of abusing or "pitching into" the renowned "Editor of TwoNewspapers, Both Daily. " Everybody has been doing that for the past fiveor six years, and I do not wish to be vulgar. Besides, to do thegentleman justice, we do not think he is to blame for much of ourmisery; as he confines his editorial connection with our incubus towriting a weekly letter to the Press, and publishing it in both dailies. At the same time we do wish that he would, out of compassion for oursuffering souls, exercise a little supervision over the small boys whomhe employs to write the _Chronicle_, and thus spare us something of whatwe are now obliged to stand. 

Let me give you one or two instances of the course pursued by thistyrannous newspaper. 

It frightens timid citizens by its narratives of horrible outrages inthe South, especially in Georgia and Tennessee; and my wife, who hasrelatives in the former place, was in chronic hysterics until it wasdiscovered that the "outrages" were, to use a vulgar expression, "all inmy eye. " To this day she trembles at the word "loil, " (I believe I spellit correctly, ) knowing, as she does, that the dreaded and mysterioussyllables, Ku-Klux, will most assuredly follow it. 

Why, did we not have a great scare here a week or two ago, when it wasannounced that the mysterious chalk-marks on the pavements weresignificant of the presence of the awful K. K. In our midst--at our verydoors? Did we not sleep with revolvers under our pillows, and dream ofcross-bones and coffins? Did not Mayor BOWEN receive a dread missivewarning him to evacuate Washington, lest he be made a corpse of in lessthan no time? Had not several colored gentlemen and white men receivedsimilar missives? And does it repay us for our fright and alarm, when itis discovered that the mysterious marks are cunning devices of agentleman engaged in the oyster trade? By no means. We have suffered ourterrors, and no amount of oysters can alleviate them. To such straitshas the _Chronicle_ reduced the citizens of Washington. 

But we have other causes of complaint against this extraordinarynewspaper. Here is one:

It may not be unknown to you that the _Chronicle_ has a habit ofidentifying itself with the people and subjects which it discusses. Doesit put forth an article on naval matters--straightway it becomes salterthan Turk's Island, and talks of bobstays and main-top-bowlines andpoop-down-hauls in a manner that, to put it mildly, is confusing, andwould, if you read it, make you jump as if all your strings were pulledat once! Are financial matters under discussion--behold even JAMES FISK, Jr. , is not so keen and shrewd, nor Commodore VANDERBILT so full of"corners. " And only the other day, it discussed the Medical Conventionwhich lately met here, and lo! we are amazed by the amount of knowledgedisplayed by the omniscient journal! In a long article, after mildlyremonstrating with the doctors for refusing to admit their coloredbrethren of the District of Columbia to a share in their deliberations, it closes with this obscurely terrible remark:

"Better die of nostalgia in exile abroad, than remain at home to sufferfrom ossification of the pericardium--"

or words to that effect, as the lawyers say. 

On reading this, with what strength I had left I secured a dictionary, and found that "nostalgia" means homesickness;--a disease not known toWashingtonian exiles--but what "ossification of the pericardium" means Icannot discover. Not only have I searched every dictionary in theCongressional Library, but I have pervaded all the bookstores, and mademyself a nuisance to every medical man of my acquaintance--in vain!Nobody ever heard of such a disease, if disease it be. It may besomething more dreadful! And not only I, but those whom I havepersecuted with my inquiries, are on the verge of insanity; and for allthis the _Chronicle_ is responsible. 

Now, this can't be endured; and I have come to you for help. Either tellus what is the meaning of this terrible phrase, or else open yourbatteries on the malicious genius who pens those _Chronicle_ papers, and--squelch him!

As yet, "I am _not_ mad--but soon shall be!"

if you don't answer. 

Yours, in tribulation, ALONZO TARBOX. 

P. S. --Be sure and see that the printer spells my name rightly, anddon't transmogrify it into "TREEBOX, " as a beast of a Treasury Clerk didthe other day. "There _are_ chords--" you know. 

A. T. 

 * * * * *

THE EASTERN QUESTION. 

Egypt and Turkey--the Nile and the Bosphorus--seem coming to blows. Butif hostilities are happily averted, with what propriety can it be saidthat _Nihil fit_?

 * * * * *

THE EARTHLY PARADISE. 

I wish the Editor would put a little note in large letters right here, requesting readers not to run off and read Mr. MORRIS'S poem, aftergazing on the above title. My very respectable reader, you're smart, very smart indeed, but let me assure you that you haven't discoveredfrom the float which I have placed on the surface, which way my stringis drifting, so, if you get on a string don't complain. 

As, at this season of the year, everybody who is anybody either goesinto the country or else shuts up his front windows and lives in theback area, in order to create the impression that he is to be found inthe rural districts, PUNCHINELLO must of course follow the universalexample. His front windows, however, must never be shut, so he must fallto packing his trunks at once. But where shall he go? List! oh, list! Iwill give a list of spots present. 

They say the seas-on has commenced at Long Branch. This place is peopledby the foolish men of whom we have heard, who built their houses on thesand. The chief amusement of visitors is thus: you put on some oldclothes, which have evidently just retired from the coal-heavingbusiness, stand in the water up to your ankles, and grasp manfully, withboth hands, a rope; then a watery creature, named Surf, climbs upon youand gets down on the other side; you rush to a neighboring shanty, puton your store clothes, and feel twice as warm as you would have felt ifyou hadn't wrestled with Surf. The reports from Boston are that thePilgrim Fathers have ceased to enjoy their coffins and shrouds, sinceJubilee JIM has commenced to carry pleasure-seekers to the seaside onPlymouth Rock. 

Saratoga is still the place for SARA to patronize. The chief objectionto that place is that the water is so muddy that they call it CongressWater. However, you soon become infatuated with it. I once saw a verystout lady imbibe sixteen glasses of the water, and as I left the sceneof dissipation she was screaming for more. I concluded that she was asister-in-law to BOREAS. A young and tender Sixteenth Amendment, who wasa three-quarter orphan, (she had only a step-father, ) has been known todrink, unaided, thirty glasses of Saratoga water in twenty-four hours. Can Mr. WESTON beat that? I forgot to say that she survived. Thedifference between Long Branch and Saratoga is, that at the former youtake salt water externally, while at the latter you take salt and waterinternally. 

Newport is still appropriately situated on Rowed Island. None but theselect deserve Newport. However, they say Old Gin is the next bestthing. You can rent a cottage by the sea and see what you can. (I mayadd that you can also rent a cottage by the year, though I believe theview is not any finer on that account. ) Beware of the tow! This is not awarning against _blondes_, but against rolls. 

The proper thing to do at Newport is thus: A scented youth, with aperfumed damsel resting on his arm, wanders at eventide down to the seato hear the majestic waves roll upon the beach. Having selected asuitable spot, the pair sit down and then make night hideous with "Whatare the wild waves saying?"

Niagara is perched upon its Erie. To a man of a reflective mind this isan unpleasant place. As he gazes on the rushing flood he thinks of thewaste of raw material. Water being thrown away and no tax beingcollected. As a rule in this place cheat your carriage-driver, for ifyou don't, he'll cheat you for your negligence. 

Of course, as it is now June, no one will visit Cape May. The WhiteMountains, having received a new coat of paint, are ready for summervisitors. A few stock quotations, such as, "cloud-capped towers, " "peakof Teneriffe, " &c. , are very useful here. Also a large supply of breath. Lake Mahopac may be packed, of course, but any one of a romantic turn ofmind, who loves to float with fair women idly upon a summer sea, (in aboat, of course, ) 'mid crocuses and lilies, while the air is filled withthe melodious sounds from a bass-drum and that sort of thing, and isredolent with the perfume of a thousand flowers, will find solace here. (I flatter myself that period is well turned. )

All over the land you may find choice little spots, farm-houses, overwhich the woodbine and the honeysuckle clamber, while the surroundingwheat fields--(I have lost my volume of WHITMAN, and forget what thewheat fields do, poetically. ) Perhaps it is my duty to here introducesome remarks about farming, but, as the Self-made Man is struggling withthat subject, and as a certain innocent, who has been abroad, proposesto handle it, I refrain. 

I very nearly forgot Coney Island. This is the favorite resort of clamsand little jokers. Here you may daily fill your bread-basket withbivalves, and then observe the mysteries of that mystic game, now yousee it, now you don't. 

Of course I don't propose to state which of these places is the EarthlyParadise. You pays your money and you takes your choice. What hurts myfeelings is, that any one should have supposed that I intended to writea criticism of Mr. MORRIS'S poem. Do people imagine that my time isentirely valueless, and that I can afford to waste it in criticisingpoetry?

LOT. 

 * * * * *

PLUCKILY PATRIOTIC, STILL. 

A few years since the City of Portland, upon a certain Fourth of July, was nearly consumed by fire, the origin of which was the well-knownCracker. But Portland is undaunted, and proposes this year to have afiner Independence Day than ever. If Mr. PUNCHINELLO might advise, hewould recommend to the Portlanders, festivities of a decidedly aquaticcharacter--swimming-matches, going down in diving bells, the playing offountains, battles between little boys with squirt-guns, regattas, andfloating batteries. Mr. P. Himself intends to celebrate the comingFourth upon water--with something in it, of course, to kill the insects. The Maine Liquor Law being in full force in Portland, there will be nodifficulty in obtaining ardent spirits on the Fourth; and Mr. PUNCHINELLO therefore the more confidently recommends a full aqueousinfusion of the Down East toddies. 

 * * * * *

SHOCKING

In Tipton, Indiana, has originated the secret order, with rituals, signsand grips, called the "Earthquake. " Were its object not altogetherearthly, we might regard it as merely a new set of underground Quakers. The remarkable quiet of Friends' Burying-grounds is a guarantee againstall possible disturbance from Earth-Quakers, now that the UndergroundRailroad has ceased to run. 

 * * * * *

A TRIUMPH OF HOUSEKEEPING. 

All honor to the gentlewoman in Aroostook, Maine, who put out a fire theother day, first by pouring water on it, then all her milk and cream, and finally all the pickle in her meat-barrels. 'Twas only applyingwholesale an old woman's cure for burns; but the point of the matter wasthat she pickled a fire, and preserved her life. 

 * * * * *

COMPLICATIONS AHEAD. 

WHAT OUR CRIMINAL COURTS ARE COMING TO. 

_Extract from Speech of Counsel for Defence_. 

"Ladies of the Jury, I appeal to you; _should_ such whiskers be hung?True, he killed his wife; but, as you know, she was a horrid jealousthing, and led her poor husband _such_ a life. In _my_ opinion, killingwas too good for her. Ladies, be merciful; the prisoner hangs upon yourlips. Consider his eyes; consider his nose. Were I married to a womanwho called me an unprincipled wretch, wouldn't I kill her? Wouldn't I?Ladies, be generous. " And so forth. (Jury retire, but return immediatelywith a verdict of _Not Guilty_; Judge, Jury, Counsel, and all shed tearsand kiss indiscriminately. They take up a collection for the prisoner, who, next day, marries the Forewoman of the Jury, out of gratitude. )

[Illustration: PRISONER. ]

[Illustration: PRISONER'S COUNSEL. ]

 * * * * *

[Illustration: THE NEW PARASOL. 

A PROSPECTIVE GLIMPSE OF THE PLEASURES OF PROMENADING WHEN THE PARASOLSHALL HAVE ATTAINED TO A SIZE JUST A TRIFLE LARGER THAN IT NOW IS. ]

 * * * * *

A LETTER OF ADVICE. 

STANDISH FOUR CORNERS, June --, 18--

EDITOR OF PUNCHINELLO:

SIR: I wish to call your attention to certain defects in the journalconducted by you, and to make a few suggestions, which, if followed, will greatly improve it. I have talked with several eminent gentlemen onthe subject, among whom are the Rev. EZEKIEL DODGE, pastor of theSandemanian Church in our town, and also the Hon. PELEG SMITH, ourRepresentative in Congress. Both fully agree with me in the ideas whichI am about to lay before you. 

In the first place, I object to the name PUNCHINELLO. It is toofrivolous, and suggests no food to the thoughtful mind. You should havecalled your paper the _Banner of Progress_. This would have at onceenlisted the sympathy of all earnest men in your enterprise. Rev. Mr. DODGE says that he wrote to you some weeks ago, proposing that youchange the name to that of the _Friend of Truth, _ while Mr. SMITH thinksthat the _Pig Iron Review_ would be the best possible name. He is, however, a high tariff man, and his judgment may be influenced by thatfact. Either of these latter names would unquestionably be preferable toPUNCHINELLO, but the name which I have suggested is the one which youought to adopt. 

Then the shape of your paper is all wrong. Any one can see that if itwere only shorter and broader, it would closely resemble the shape of_Punch_. Now, sir, we Americans don't want anything that looks likeanything British or European. Our country is bigger, and consequentlybetter than any other. We have bigger rivers, bigger cataracts, biggersteamboats, and bigger jimfisks than any other people, and, therefore, our newspapers ought to be original in shape. You should make your paperoctagonal in form, otherwise everybody will justly accuse you ofimitating some effete and monarchical British journal. 

And I must strongly object to the spirit of levity which I find in yourpaper. This is an Earnest Age, sir, and we cannot afford to joke. TheRev. Mr. DODGE has been greatly grieved at the light way in which youhave treated such serious subjects as the Divorce Question. He willforward to you a sermon of his own on the topic of "The Jewish MarriageLaw compared with that of the Amalekites and the Jebusites, togetherwith Remarks on the construction of the Ark, including an Inquiry intothe origin of the Edomites, and a Dissertation upon the Levitical law ofTithes. " This sermon would occupy from four to six pages of your paperevery week, if published in weekly instalments, for a period of aboutten weeks, and would give a tone to PUNCHINELLO which it now lacks. Besides publishing this sermon, you would do well to print, every week, a speech of the Hon. Mr. DODGE, who is one of the most eloquent membersof the House, and whose views on finance are greatly respected by suchmen as Mr. KELLEY and Mr. CHANDLER. 

You ought also to have a definite purpose in view. At present you haveno Mission. The earnest men and women who look to you for aid andcounsel, find nothing in your paper bearing upon the great questions ofthe day. You should make your paper the organ of some influential party. There are the friends of Pig Iron, for example. Devote the greater partof your space to the advocacy of their lofty cause, and there is not aniron manufacturer in the United States who would not borrow PUNCHINELLOfrom some one of his acquaintance, and read everything in it relating tothe contest now going on between the fearless champions of freedom, andAmerican pig iron, against the bloated upholders of British interests. As it is, you appear to advocate no single practical measure whichconcerns the welfare of this country and the perpetuity of our gloriousUnion. PUNCHINELLO is the favorite paper of careless young men, depravedmiddle-aged men, who care nothing for Progress and Humanity, and younggirls who prefer dress and admiration to addressing their Earnestsisters from the platform of Reform meetings. The Rev. Mr. DODGE tellsme that all the young people of his congregation read it, and he fearsthat they prefer it to his sermons. A paper read by this class ofreaders must be radically wrong. You must change its character at once. 

One thing more. You must cease to publish pictures of the character ofthose which now appear in your paper. In their place you mightsubstitute drawings of practical value, such as the _Scientific Yankee_publishes. If you do this, in addition to making the other changes whichI have suggested, you will find that PUNCHINELLO will make a verydifferent impression from that which I fear it has already made. In thatcase I will become a subscriber, and will send you a few sound, earnestarticles of my own. I am, Yours, in behalf of Progress, AN EARNEST MAN. 

 * * * * *

[Illustration: "WHAT I KNOW ABOUT FARMING. "

_Fast Bear (to Officer from Fort. )_ "YOU TELL ME PLANT CORN IN THESPRING, THEN GO 'WAY HUNT AND COME BACK GATHER CORN IN THE FALL. UGH!--IPLANT CORN, AND WHEN I COME GATHER IT YOU SHOOT BULLET IN MY SIDE!"

(_Fact, related by one of the Brulé Sioux Chiefs at Washington. _)]

 * * * * *

[Illustration: FRUITLESS PERSEVERANCE. 

_Earnest Suitor, who has just received a final and flat refusal. _ "WOULDA TOWER IN YURRUP MAKE ANY DIFFERENCE?"

_Julia. _ "IT'S USELESS. I DON'T LIKE YOU, AND I WON'T MARRY YOU. "]

 * * * * *

THAT INDIAN TALK. 

 How, how, Great Father, how. Me Spotted Tail; me Rattling Cow; Me Red Cloud; whiskey time now? How, Great Father? How? How?

 Me Ogallala; me Brulé Sioux. How, Great Father, how do? Bed children come long way, ugh! Big Whiskey love. Great Father too?

 Poor Injun tired; peace Injun try. War-paint no good; no whiskey buy; Treaty no want; treaty all lie. Great Father's whiskey Injun no spy. 

 No whiskey give, no have pow-wow. Poor Injun dry; dry Injun row. When whiskey time? Whiskey time now? Father no tongue? How! How! How!

 * * * * *

INTERESTING TO THE P. R. 

A paragraph states that a "piece of Spar, seven feet long, and weighingtwo hundred pounds, has been taken from the great Spar Cave nearDubuque. " We were not previously aware that O'BALDWIN, the "IrishGiant, " was serving out his term of imprisonment, in the Spar Cave, butthe thing has a fitness about it. 

 * * * * *

A CON FOR COCKTAILERS. 

WHEN do topers like to make a raid upon the rural districts?

When the herbage is "lush. "

 * * * * *

REMARK BY A MARKSMAN. 

Moose, as well as other members of the cervine family, live mostly onthe shoots of trees, but they die mostly by the shoots of hunters. 

 * * * * *

OUR PORTFOLIO. 

PUNCHINELLO hears with sincere regret that the notorious Miss CRAIG, ofChicago, once more threatens the unhappy SPRAGUE with another suit forbreach of promise of marriage. We had thought that the forty thousanddollars awarded by the jury in the first trial were a plummet heavyenough to reach the lowest depths of "AMANDY'S" affections, and so infact they were; but "ELISHA'S" lawyers, utterly disregarding the claimsof true love, have interposed the absurd claims of what they call"justice to ELISHA, " and so the thing will have to be all done overagain. 

It seems a cruel exercise of power to compel this delicate and shrinkingfemale to stand once more in the pillory of the law; or, to put"ELISHA'S" orthography to a second test by a crucial and censoriouspublic. Whatever may be the result of all this indifference to thesanctity of private character and correct spelling, PUNCHINELLO wishesto put upon record his total disapproval and abhorrence of it. 

It is strange, yet nevertheless true, that a woman's glances are notalways her own property. The old proverb, that "a Cat may look at aKing, " goes a-begging when applied to a woman; and this enables us topresent to the Sorosis a subject for examination, at least asmetaphysical as the philosophy of the MCFARLAND verdict. 

Only last week a New York Judge committed an unsuspecting female becauseshe did not look at him, while giving her evidence. The considerationthat the unhappy creature was cross-eyed does not seem to have affectedin the least the judicial aspect of the matter, and although counselparticularly directed the Judge's attention to the fact that even if thewitness looked as straight as she could, her lines of vision would meetat an angle far short of the tip of his Honor's nose, still thispocket-edition of Lord Chief-Justice JEFFRIES "blinked" the point soughtto be made, and absolutely insisted that she should suffer the penaltyof her alleged disrespect. 

PUNCHINELLO has a heart which warms naturally toward the sex, but he hasalso a cat-o'-nine-tails, which longs to warm the back of such a Judge, and if he will come down from his woolsack he can both see and feel whatthat cat-o'-nine-tails is like. Whether she be blue-eyed, or black-eyed, or cross-eyed, makes no difference to PUNCHINELLO, for he is, under allcircumstances, the champion of the sex. 

 * * * * *

"Y. M. C. A. "

These much printed initials, which (as our intelligent readers areaware, ) belong to certain modern Associations that combine Religion andBusiness in a highly prosperous manner, have sometimes a kind ofsecondary meaning, which may vary according to circumstances. 

When, for example, the Young Men's C. A. Of Iowa City, after havingregularly engaged Miss OLIVE LOGAN in their lecture course, concluded toback out, the cabalistic letters seemed to read--

"Y-ou M-ust C-ancel A-rrangements. "

But when the spirited OLIVE--perceiving rather more of Business than ofReligion and Honor in this despatch--replied promptly that they mightexpect her without fail, according to programme, prudence suggested aquite different version of their initials, which now signified--

"Y-ou M-ay C-ome A-long!"

We forbear to comment on the dramatic and touching picture hereafforded. --We suggest still another reading of their abbreviation, --onethat may serve as a permanent interpretation for _that_ latitude atleast. --

"Y-outh M-ade C-onscientiously A-cute. "

 * * * * *

GREENISH-BLACK. 

Chicago boasts having sent a colored Fenian to Canada. But is he atrue-blue O'SAMBO or MCCUFFEE? Or is he recognized as colored only inrespect to his peculiar wearin' of the grin?

 * * * * *

AT THE WATERING PLACES. 

PUNCHINELLO'S VACATIONS

It need not be supposed that Mr. PUNCHINELLO intends to work himself todeath this summer. 

By no manner of means!

He guarantees that the paper shall come out regularly, and get riper andlovelier every week, but he will have his good little times, notwithstanding. 

Every week during the season he expects to slip off somewhere, for a dayor two, and hopes to have something worth telling when he comes back. Last week he ran down to Long Branch. It's early yet, but folks like Mr. P. ; CHILDS, of the Philadelphia _Ledger;_ THOMPSON, of the PennsylvaniaCentral; and other rich fellows always do go early. The big bugs alwaysfly the soonest. Mr. P. Went directly to the West End Hotel--the oldStetson House, you know. He went there because he always did like ahotel that had three men to keep it. What you can't get out of one ofthem is pretty certain to be screwed out of one of the others. "When Mr. P. Drove up, Messrs. PRESBURY, SYKES, and GARDNER, were all sitting outon the front piazza, smoking seventy-five-cent cigars. They arose inchorus, and assured Mr. P. That the house was not yet quite ready foroccupancy, "But, sir--" said Mr. PRESBURY, "the Girard House, my hotel inPhiladelphia, is always open. If you would like to go there--" And hereSYKES struck in. 

"But, sir, " said he, "my hotel, WILLARD'S, in Washington, is alwaysready for guests, and if you could go there for a while--"

But forward sprang GARDNER, and says he:

"But, sir--if you would like to run down to Cape May, you will find myhotel--the Stockton House--" And here Mr. P. Interrupted. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, "I would not have you quarrel, and you shan'tsplit on my rocks. Good evening to you all, " and he drove directly toGeneral GRANT'S thirty-two thousand dollar cottage in the Park. GRANTwas not there yet, but Mr. P. Did not expect that he was. There being abutler and some cooks on hand, Mr. P. Considered them sufficient, andhad his baggage taken right up to the second story back room. 

The butler looked a little astonished at first, but when Mr. P. Explained about the hotel, and how he didn't want to go about anymore--for from riding in the salt evening air he had already got alittle hoarse--the man brightened up immediately. 

"Oh, a little horse!" said he. "If that's what you come about you'll bewelcome here. The General isn't here yet, but till he comes the rooms isyours. "

And they were!

If any one feels inclined to follow Mr. P. 's example, he begs torecommend the President's "Old Yarns, "--the hind box on the top shelf ofthe library closet. 

The next morning, Mr. P. Wandered on the sands. Fond memories flockedaround him, as he stood gazing on the corruscating waves. 

But they were mostly memories of sheepsheads and flanneled bathers and'tis not for these that the poet gazes into the emerald depths whencethe pearly scum, like tears of mermaids--Ah! Mermaids! Mr. P. Had neverseen a mermaid. These were not among his memories He deeply woulded thathe could--and lo! he did! The creature came gliding to his very feet, and he had barely time to bound back before she reached the shore. Shaking the water from her spectacles, she came up, and stood beforehim. 

Twas SUSAN B. ANTHONY. 

"How do, PUNCHY?" said she; "I've left the _Revolution_. Yes, left itnow, and we've got a new editor, and she's beautiful and don't charge acent. "

"Why, that's like me!" said Mr. P. 

"Oh, PUNCHY!" said the gentle SUSAN, wringing the water out of herflannel skirts, "none of your joking here. Come, take my arm. "

Here Mr. P. Drew back in apprehension. 

"Why, what's the matter?" said SUSAN. "Are you afraid of a little water, and you a man, too? See me! I'm as wet as sop. Don't keep me waitinghere, now, or I'll feel like saying "Damn" again, and that sort of thingwon't do too often. I want you to come along with me up to LESTERWALLACE'S place--the 'Hut, ' you know. I'm stopping with him. It's two orthree hours yet before lunch-time, and we can have a good talk. "

Just at this minute Mr. PUNCHINELLO saw a sea-gull skimming past, and hesaid he would like to catch it and give it to LESTER for his menagerie. So he hurried after it. 

The next day, Mr. P. Went out fishing. He hired a boat, and a man tosail it, and while the man was getting ready to put off, Mr. P. Took hisseat in the bow and began to fix his lines. He always likes to sit inthe bow. The tiller don't knock him so often in the back, and the boomdon't bother his head so much. What he particularly wanted was to catcha devil-fish! He thought to himself what a splendid thing it would be tocatch one of the big, VICTOR HUGO kind, and to take it home with him toNassau street! Wouldn't all his editors jump, when they saw him comeinto the office with that! And he would get STEPHENS to draw it for thepaper. 

STEPHENS has drawn nearly everything on earth, but Mr. P. Did notbelieve that he ever drew a devil-fish. Not from life, anyway. 

As they sailed out to sea, Mr. P. 's heart beat faster, and his brainthrobbed with delight as he thought of his great possible triumph. 

He fished for two hours and never got a bite. There was too much talkingat the stern. Mr. P. Looked around, and there were three men there, beside the sailor-man! "Confound it!" thought Mr. P. ; "they must havegot on while I was fixing my lines, before we started. " After this wisereflection, he objurgated the sailor-man, but the latter wanted to knowif he wasn't to make any profit out of his stern and his mid-ships, aswell as his bow, and he objurgated back with such force that Mr. P. Gavehim no further attention, but, turning to the interlopers, he said:

"I'm not so much surprised to see you, Mr. DELANO, for if any man in thecountry pushes himself and his hirelings where neither he nor they arewanted, it's you; but why you, HORACE GREELEY, and you, JIMMY HAGGARTY, should be here, I'm sure I don't know. "

"Oh, we're all in the same boat, PUNCHY, said DELANO, knocking off hisashes to the windward of the Philosopher. 

"That's a lie, " remarked HORACE, rubbing the ashes deeper into his eyeswith his handkerchief. 

J. HAGGARTY grunted at this emphatic denial of such a self-evidentproposition, and DELANO went on to say, "Yes, we're all alike"--all'going through' our fellow-men. I with my assessors and collectors;HORACE with his protection schemes, and JIMMY, there, with his nimblefingers. "

"That's so, " said the good JAMES, and he shifted his quid. 

The sailor-man, who had been objurgating straight ahead all this time, now weighed anchor and put the boat in towards shore. Silence fell uponthe company. They seemed very shy of each other, and did not amalgamateat all. Mr. P. Went out to the extreme end of the bowsprit and gazeddown into the deep blue sea, wondering whether its color was really dueto excess of salt, or the presence of cuprate of ammonia. HORACE climbedto the top of the mast, where he sat sadly, observing the swindlingwaves, which came all the way from Europe, and didn't pay a cent of taxwhen they landed. Mr. HAGGARTY went to the stern, where he employed histime in cleaning out the sailor-man's pockets, while DELANO dived intothe hold, to see if he couldn't find an old worm-box, or a rope's-end, which had no revenue stamp upon them. 

That evening Mr. P. Strolled up to the Pavilion, and Governor MORRIStold him all the news. When he heard that the Prince ERIE, of the HeavyNinth, was coming down with his six-in-hand, (being only half his usualnumber of Temptations, ) Mr. P. Found that if he wished to shine at LongBranch, he had better keep away until he could come down with some ofhis pet seven-thirties in hand. So he picked up his $8. 00 valise; put onhis $9. 00 hat; buttoned up his $35. 00 coat; took his $12. 00 umbrellaunder his arm; stuck his $00. 00 free pass in his hatband, and went hometo Nassau street. 

 * * * * *

A MARINE MIXTURE. 

There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip. When the Bertonexcursionists were taken by the Californians to the Cliff House, Mr. RICE brought out a bottle. Of course the Californians were wide awakefor the drawing of the cork. "Whiskey, perhaps!" they murmured, "Brandy, possibly!" they sweetly sighed. "Rum, maybe!" they conjectured. "Schnapps, possibly, " they surmised. But when Mr. RICE had drawn thecork, it was discovered that there was nothing in the bottle except apint of salt water, taken from the Atlantic Ocean, which the bottleholder (as a rare joke) proceeded to empty into the Pacific Ocean, thusmaking (as he observed) "a literal blending of the waters. " Very pretty, indeed; but not the sort of witticism which a dry man would be likely toappreciate--and Californians are sometimes extremely dry!

 * * * * *

POLITICAL ECONOMY. 

Employing female clerks in the Treasury Department because they willwork for small wages. 

 * * * * *

A SIMPLE INQUIRY. 

May not a pretty actress, when playing a page part, appropriately becalled a "belle boy"?

 * * * * *

NINETY-NINE IN THE SHADE. 

A. MIDSUMMER ODE. 

 Oh for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers! Oh for an iceberg or two at control! Oh for a vale which at midday the dew cumbers! Oh for a pleasure-trip up to the Pole!

 Oh for a little one-story thermometer, With nothing but Zeros all ranged in a row! Oh for a big, double-barrelled hygrometer, To measure this moisture that rolls from my brow!

 Oh that this cold world were twenty times colder! (That's irony red hot it seemeth to me. ) Oh for a turn of its dreaded cold shoulder! Oh what a comfort an ague would be!

 Oh for a grotto to typify heaven, Scooped in the rock under cataract vast! Oh for a winter of discontent even! Oh for wet blankets judiciously cast!

 Oh for a soda-fount spouting up boldly From every hot lamp-post against the hot sky! Oh for proud maiden to look on me coldly, Freezing my soul with a glance of her eye!

 Then oh for a draught from a cup of "cold pizen!" And oh for a resting-place in the cold grave! With a bath in the Styx, where the thick shadow lies on And deepens the chill of its dark-running wave!

 * * * * *

BOW-WOW!

One may discern a new argument for the removal of the National Capitalto St. Louis, in the Capital style of doing things in that accomplishedcity. Supposing you have a business, we naturally admire you as abusiness man, in proportion to your ingenuity in developing thatbusiness, and your energy in prosecuting it. Now this genius forbusiness seems to characterize all grades of society in St. Louis, --evenso far down as to the "City Dog-Killer. " This talented functionary sodeveloped his art, that he is able to kill the same dog a great manytimes--at an average profit of twenty-five cents each execution. He hasa way of stunning the beast so that for all purposes of a canine natureit is apparently quite dead. By the next day, however, the late defuncthas revived sufficiently to be susceptible of another killing, which isaccordingly administered, and so on, we suppose, all through the season. 

The inferiority of the East, in matters of this kind, may be justly andsatisfactorily inferred from the fact that in Philadelphia, lately, theyattempted to execute their dogs with carbonic acid gas. When the box ortub was opened, the irrepressible spirits of the animals confinedtherein were perceived to be at the topmost heights of jollity, and thepolice were obliged to go back to first principles and shoot theexhilarated curs. 

 * * * * *

DRAINAGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 

It is generally known to the world that Chicago needs draining. In orderthat it may be drained, Mr. Sanitary Superintendent RAUCH has made areport which is extremely figurative and which quite bristles with thenine digits. Mr. PUNCHINELLO has read it until perfectly bewildered bythe intricacy of the computations; but what he does understand is thatif Chicago be not drained immediately, the amiable cholera may beexpected to put in an early appearance. Mr. Superintendent RAUCH printsan aggravating table to show, by multiplication, addition, subtraction, division, and the rule of three, that if you don't drain you will havecholera, while if you do drain you will escape it. Under thecircumstances, we should advise Chicago to drain. 

 * * * * *

"LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE. "

A resolution has been introduced into one of the Southern Legislatures, that any member sleeping during service hours shall forfeit his perdiem. The trouble with our fellows at Washington is that they keep toowide awake. 

 * * * * *

CONDENSED CONGRESS. 

SENATE. 

[Illustration: 'C']

Catching an idea, Mr. NYE objected to the bill which some wretch hadintroduced, to abridge the privileges of Senators under the Frankinglaws. He knew that it would be a fearful tax upon Senators to send the_harmless_ necessary editions of two or three hundred thousand copies ofthe _Congressional Globe_ to their constituents at their own expense, and of course the constituents could not be expected to pay. What wouldbe the result? The _Globes_ would accumulate in vast and useless numbersover all the land, to such an extent as to impede traffic, and theycould, in that condition, kindle neither patriotic enthusiasm norprivate fires. Somebody had suggested that these copies need not besent. They all saw the folly of such a suggestion. True, constituentsnever read their speeches, but it was natural for the constituents to begratified at having a representative thoughtful enough to tell hissecretary to make out a list of eminent idiots in his district, and sendthem a _Globe_ apiece. This secured the idiotic element, which, he wasproud to say, was the chief support of his political life. 

Mr. SUMNER said that a bookseller in Boston was getting out an editionof his speeches in thirty-seven volumes. He was, accordingly, quiteindifferent upon the Franking privilege, since it was certain that noconstituent who read one of the speeches in the book would ever yearn toread another in a newspaper, and since no constituent would ever survivethe reading of the entire series thus published. 

Mr. CHANDLER said he would be Frank. He always had been Frank. It washis Franking Privilege. He was in favor of declaring a war with everynation which would not allow matter franked by Senators of this gloriousRepublic to pass their post-offices. He had sent copies of all hisspeeches to the effete and loathsome monarchs of Europe, with his frankneatly lithographed in one corner. But he had since heard that theminions of tyranny in foreign post-offices had stopped those documents, upon the paltry pretence that the postage was not paid. Thus he had beenprevented from freezing the monarchical marrow and curdling the royalblood, since nobody could be expected to derive instruction oradmonition from a speech which was used to feed the fire, or stuff thewindow, of one of his petty tools. He called upon the Senate to do himjustice. 

Mr. CARPENTER observed that justice would never be done to Mr. CHANDLERuntil the occurrence of a public execution. But still he considered thatthe franking privilege ought to be retained. The party that he belongedto was the party of intelligence. Strange as this might seem, it wastrue, and it was also true that, in spite of their intelligence, theywould read his speeches. Let the Senate have pity upon these misguided, but not wilfully wicked men. 

HOUSE. 

Mr. BANKS said he would offer a few observations upon Cuba. 

The Speaker (who is coming out very strong as a comic presidingofficer, ) said he would rather see BANKS square a circle than a Cubaroot. (He meant a cigar. ) This sally was greeted with sickly smiles bythe members who wanted the floor. 

Mr. BANKS went on to say that our course towards Cuba was not what wasdue to her. 

The Speaker begged to correct Mr. BANKS. His nautical friends assuredhim that our course towards Cuba was due South to her. 

Mr. BUTLER. This is bosh. Let us annex San Domingo. Nobody does anythingfor another country without bonds--BANKS had Cuban bonds--he had thebonds of San Domingo. Annex San Domingo, or else give him San Domingo. 

The Comic Speaker said BUTLER ought to be put under bonds to keep thepeace. But perhaps it was superfluous, inasmuch as he always kept alarge piece anyhow. 

The House, at this, put crape on its left arm and adjourned. 

 * * * * *

COMIC ZOOLOGY. 

GENUS, FALCO. SPECIES, BIRDOFREEDOM. 

This magnificent American fowl, like the more domestic weathercock, mayoften be seen wheeling through the air on the approach of a storm, andexhibits unmistakable signs of exultation when it is going to thunder. It is not a bird of song, but is unsurpassed as a screamer. To thecommon Kite, a plebeian member of the genus, has been ascribed anattribute which in fact belongs exclusively to this Banner species. TheKite, according to Dr. FRANKLIN, draws the lightning from the clouds, but this, in reality, is the proud prerogative of the Great AmericanEagle, the noblest of the falcon tribe, which may often be seen with asheaf of flashes in its talons, rushing through the skies as a lightningexpress. It feeds on all the inferior birds, but its principal food isthe American Bunting, which it bears fluttering aloft in its powerfulmandibles. Strange to say, its feats with the electric fluid, and itsfondness for the Bunting, have not been noticed by any of the greatnaturalists; but as innumerable artists have depicted the bird in thevery act of scattering the one and carrying off the other, the omissionis not, practically, of the slightest consequence. 

The habitat of the Birdofreedom was originally limited to about twelvedegrees of latitude, but being like the Imperial Eagle of Italy (nowextinct, ) given to Roam, it has within the last fifty years greatlyenlarged the area of its feeding grounds. It is now found as far Northas the Border of the Arctic Sea, where it cultivates amicable relationswith the hyperborean humming-bird, and Professor GRANT is at presentattempting to naturalize it in Saint Domingo. The time is probably notfar distant when it will prune its morning wing on the upper pole, andgo to roost on the equator. It is, upon the whole, a grasping bird, andinspires the weaker tribes with terror; yet, notwithstanding itsfierceness, it perches familiarly on the Arms of the American people. 

Although the Birdofreedom makes a magnificent appearance at all seasons, it is in its fullest feather about the Fourth of July. Its truculentdisposition is then manifested by a threatening attitude toward theAnglo-Saxon Lion, (_Leo Britannicus, _) which it has twice worsted insingle combat, and to whose well-knit frame it is prepared at any momentto administer a third sockdologer. 

There are many varieties of the Eagle--as the Russian and Prussian, (which, singularly enough, have two heads, ) the bald Eagle, the Ospreyor Sea Eagle, the Golden Eagle, &c. The Golden species was formerlyquite common in the United States, but has now almost entirelydisappeared. Of the smaller species of the genus Falco, it is onlynecessary to say that, like the Eagle, they are inedible. In otherwords, though excellent for hawking, they are too tough for spitting. 

 * * * * *

CURRENT FABLES. 

THE CENTAUR. 

At one time the animals living on either side of a river which ranthrough the middle of a vast tract of land, supplied in profusion witheverything necessary to make their lives comfortable and happy, got intoa terrible conflict with each other, which was waged with greatbitterness for a long time, and caused the loss of a great many lives. At last an enormous Centaur appeared, and, putting himself at the headof the animals on the colder side of the river, led them in an attack ontheir opponents, which was so destructive that the latter were fain tosurrender and promise to live in peace under the dominion of theirstronger neighbors. Then the animals that had conquered were so pleasedthat they met together and agreed to make the Centaur ruler over thewhole land, and when he was made ruler he made a speech, and all theanimals thought they were going to have peace, and everybody was happy. 

But after the Centaur became ruler, and when it was too late to do anygood, his subjects repented of their choice, because he grew so fat thathe could hardly move himself, and became indifferent to everything buthis own amusement. He made the animals bring him presents of thechoicest products of the country, and those that brought presents hemade rulers under him, until there were so many idle rulers that theunhappy subjects could barely get enough to eat, and became so thin andweak that other animals, of whom they had before been the envy, nowpitied and despised them. 

_Moral by_ PUNCHINELLO. 

It is disastrous for both the employer and the employed to change anindividual's occupation from one for which he is adapted to anotherabout which he knows nothing. 

 * * * * *

A. T. Stewart & Co. 

Have largely replenished and greatly reduced theprices of the goods in all their various departments, Viz. :

MOZAMBIQUE POPLINS, 12-1/2 cts. Per yard. 

PRINTED ALPACA LUSTERS, 15 cts. Per yard. 

WIDE CHENE POPLINS, 25 cts. Per yard, and upward

BROCHE GRENADINES, 25 cts. Per yard, reduced from 40 cts. 

EXTRA FINE PRINTED JACONETS, only 20 cts. Per yard. 

EXTRA FINE PRINTED ORGANDIES, only 25 cts. Per yard. 

REAL INDIA BLACK AND SCARLET PLAINCENTER CAMELS' HAIR SHAWLS, WITH WIDEBORDERS, only $35 and $44, formerly $60 and $70. 

PARIS-MADE SILK CLOAKS AND SACKS, richlyembroidered. 

BREAKFAST JACKETS. 

BROADWAY, 4th Ave. , 9th and 10th. Sts. 

 * * * * *

A. T. STEWART & Co. 

OFFER

(In Order to Close, )

Extraordinary Bargains

IN

CHILDREN'S LINEN, LAWN, AND PIQUE SUITSTRIMMED OR BRAIDED, $1. 50 each upward. 

LADIES' LINEN AND CRETON SUITS, $5 each upward. 

LAWN WALKING AND EVENING DRESSES, ELEGANTLYTUCKED, PUFFED, FLOUNCED, &c. $8 each upward. 

LADIES' AND CHILDREN'S UNDERWEAR, WEDDINGTROUSSEAUX, INFANTS' WARDROBES, BATHING SUITS, BOYS' CLOTHING, LADIESPARIS AND DOMESTIC-MADE HATS ANDBONNETS, TRIMMED, $5 each upward. UNTRIMMED, $1. 25 each upward. 

Feathers, Flowers, &c. 

_Customers and the residents of the neighboringcities are respectfully invited to examine. _

BROADWAY, 4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets. 

 * * * * *

A. T. STEWART & CO

Have just received

_FOUR ADDITIONAL CASES_

Black Iron Grenadine Bareges, &c. , Completingthe Line of all the Various Widths. 

_Three Cases Llama Lace Shawls_. 

Three Cases Llama Lace Jackets, FORMING THE MOST ELEGANT ASSORTMENT YET OFFERED, and which, notwithstanding their scarcity, WILL BE OFFERED AT

REDUCED PRICES. 

BROADWAY, 4th Ave. , 9th and 10th Streets. 

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[Illustration: NO DANGER ON THAT HEAD. 

_Girl of the Period_. "O DOCTOR, THE NEWSPAPERS SAY THAT SINCELADIES HAVE ADOPTED THE PRESENT STYLE OF WEARING THEIR HAIR, THERE HASBEEN A GREAT INCREASE OF CEREBRAL FEVER. Is IT DANGEROUS?"

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