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Punchinello, Vol.1, No. 4, April 23, 1870 by Various

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Vol. 1. No. 4.

PUNCHINELLO

SATURDAY, APRIL 23, 1870.

PUBLISHED BY THE

PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,

83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.

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| ORIGINAL ARTICLES, |
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| TERMS: |
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|ten cents. |
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|One copy, with the Riverside Magazine, or any other |
|magazine or paper, price $2.50, for 5.50 |
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|One copy, with any magazine or paper, price $4, for 7.00 |
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THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.

[Illustration:]

Booth's Theatre has become famous as the place where Mr. MOLLENHAUER
nightly leads his admirable orchestra, and plays with exquisite skill
and infinite tenderness his unrivalled violin solos.

Since this theatre opened, there have been several attempts to add
dramatic entertainments to the attractive concerts given by Mr.
MOLLENHAUER. Two great actors, Mr. JEFFERSON and Mr. BOOTH, have at
different times appeared at this house, and in _Rip Van Winkle_ and
_Hamlet_ have given us the most perfect specimens of dramatic monologue.
Lately, there was an attempt made to present _Macbeth_ during the
intermissions in the performance of the orchestra. Had an actor been
engaged who was capable of playing _Macbeth_, and had a company been
engaged to support him, the tragedy would doubtless have been well
played. There was really little else wanting to make it a meritorious
Shakespearean revival.

To visit this theatre is held to be a solemn duty by a large class of
respectable and serious people. They don't go for amusement--they are
far too sensible for that--but they go to support the legitimate drama,
to testify their respect for SHAKESPEARE and for Mr. BOOTH'S classic
brow. The Worldly-Minded Persons who attended the representations of
_Macbeth_, found themselves assisting at a scene compared with which a
funeral would have been jovial, and a hanging, a wild dissipation.

This is the sort of thing that presents itself to our memory as we
recall the first night of _Macbeth_.

A large and elderly audience enters the portals with subdued and
mournful mien. The ushers, who, in imitation of Mr. BOOTH, do a little
of the classic brow and curl business themselves, chew tobacco with an
air of resigned melancholy, and spit upon the carpet, as though
renouncing the pleasures of the world and the decencies of civilization.

At the first intermission of the orchestra, the curtain rises upon the
three Weird Sisters. Mr. HIND is a Weird Sister, and he improves the
opportunity to howl with a weirdness that draws an involuntary laugh
from an irreverent young lady.

_Respectable Father_. "Laughing in BOOTH'S, my dear! I am astonished at
you. Sh."

_Respectable Mother_. "Ellen, if you can't behave in ch--in the theatre,
you ought not to come." _Irreverent young lady becomes an object of
scornful pity to every one in the neighborhood. She never smiles again_.

The play proceeds. An inarticulate person is brought in on a litter, who
looks like a Tammany man whom some irate young Democrat has "put a head
on." He indulges in an inarticulate speech, which is warmly applauded by
the gallery. Then the Weird Sisters meet MACBETH and BANQUO on the
heath, and Mr. HIND howls at them until the Worldly-Minded auditor
blesses the memory of the Salem witch-burners. Then the King brevets
MACBETH. Then Lady MACBETH reads a letter from her husband with the
demonstrative energy of a Chicago Wild Woman reading the decree that
divorces her from a kind and honorable husband. Then the King arrives,
and MACBETH and his wife agree to kill him. Then the curtain falls, and
Mr. MOLLENHAUER repays the Worldly-Minded Person for having stayed
through the first act. Conversation is indulged in by the audience in
subdued whispers.

_All the Respectable Men in the house_. "Ah! there is nothing like
SHAKESPEARE, and there is no theatre like BOOTH'S. This is indeed an
intellectual feast."

_All the Middle-aged Ladies, wiping away the tear of sensibility_. "This
is something worth seeing! How can people be so frivolous as to go to
see comedies?"

_All the Young Ladies_. "Isn't BOOTH perfectly splendid? Isn't he
magnificent? You should have seen his CLAUDE MELNOTTE; it was so
perfectly lovely."

_All the Ushers, each to the other_. "Have another chew?"

_Worldly-Minded Person to Congenial Reprobate_. "Let's hear MOLLENHAUER
once more, and then go."

But MOLLENHAUER'S violin ceases to weep, and the curtain rises again.
The remainder of the play proceeds in due solemnity. MACBETH has the
usual fit of _delirium tremens_ at the banquet scene, where the nobility
of Scotland--one of whom wears low shoes, Oxford tie pattern--drink with
national ardor, and don't take the slightest interest in MACBETH'S
hallucinations. Lady MACBETH afterward enjoys her own little private
delirium in a gorgeous night-dress, and MACBETH is finally done for by
MACDUFF, who can outfight and outhowl him with perfect ease. The tragedy
being at last over, the audience disperses with solemn steps and slow;
the men and elderly ladies still whispering their stereotyped chorus of
praise, and the young ladies adding to their panegyrics of BOOTH
ecstatic admiration of Lady MACBETH'S night-dress.

And the Worldly-Minded Person, walking homeward, soliloquizes in some
such strain as this: "BOOTH can't play MACBETH; for he neither looks nor
understands the character. FANNY MORANT can't play LADY MACBETH as
perfectly as it should be played; but she tries to do her best, and is
quite respectable. Nobody else plays any part with common decency. But
then the scenery is good; the Scottish nobility look sufficiently hungry
and seedy, and MOLLENHAUER is superb."

"Didn't somebody say of WASHINGTON that "Providence made him childless,
that the nation might call him father?" Somebody ought to say of Lady
MACBETH that she was made childless, that no one might call her
mother-in-law. Neat thing that! Somebody ought to send it to
PUNCHINELLO. By Jove! what a mother-in-law that woman would have made.
Or what a landlady; with the Weird Sisters to prepare the morning hash!"

"Well! BOOTH can't do every thing; and we ought not to expect it. A man
who plays HAMLET as well as he does, can't possibly play MACBETH. As
well might we ask TENNYSON to turn Ward politician. We all owe him a
debt of gratitude for building MOLLENHAUER so splendid a theatre, and
for giving us the best IAGO and the best HAMLET that we have ever seen,
or ever shall see. And so, I for one am ready to forget and forgive when
be fails as MACBETH, and does not succeed as ROMEO."

--MATADOR.

* * * * *

Grant on Cuba.

The President is really in favor of the recognition of Cuba, with a view
of ultimate annexation. He wants to have his Havanas a home production.

* * * * *

Robbery at the Mines.

It is not strange that robberies are so frequent in the California
mining regions, a country in which the mountains are full of Pyrites.

* * * * *

A TEMPERANCE SONG.

Strained Verses Dedicated to Unstrained Water.

BY A. FILTERER.

Bring a glass of sparkling water,
Fill the goblet to the brim,
Let the microscopic critters
Take in it a harmless swim.

Here are meat and drink united,
_Life_, indeed, in this we see;
Who'd exchange so rich a fluid
For the baser _eau de vie_?

Give us, then, no ale nor porter,
Logwood wine, nor other drugs;
But a glass of sparkling water
Filled with sportive little bugs.

* * * * *

Musical and Mechanical.

The coopers of New-York City intend to start an organ. It will be
a hand-organ, of course, for hand-organs have been Barrel-organs from
time immemorial.

* * * * *

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.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "HO! HANGELINA, HANGELINA HADAMS, COME TO THE
HALLEY-WINDOW AND SEE A 'OSS WITH HIS 'OOFS TURNED UP!"]

* * * * *

OUR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE.
(BY ATLANTIC CABLE.)
DOWNING STREET, LONDON, April 10, A.M.

I have, as ordered, made extensive arrangements for a world-wide
correspondence for PUNCHINELLO. Knowing your want of confidence in the
party called, so truly and briefly, the "_Press Ass,_" who sends over
accounts of horse-races, etc., with an occasional item of news, I have
wires connecting this office with Paris, Madrid, Rome, and other places
of consequence. A special delegate of PUNCHINELLO has been already
admitted to a seat in the OEcumenical Council. Pope Pius remarked kindly
that he was the only person there who honestly told what he came for.
His Holiness enjoyed, also, a hearty laugh at his first interview; the
subject being the proper title and costume of our delegate. It was
concluded, as he was somewhat dark in complexion, to dub him Bishop of
'Ngami; which, you know, is one of those places that LIVINGSTONE (_is_
he living, though?) found out. When any body questioned him, the said
delegate was immediately to talk 'ngammon Latin; and His Holiness would
interpret it to the council, as being the African for infallibility.
It's wonderful how well this jolly dog gets on, with his dogmas and dog
Latin together.

Now for news. After all, the _most_ remarkable event has happened on
your side of the water; but as Philadelphia is further from New York
than New York is from Philadelphia, (the latter is _so_ slow,) I don't
believe you have heard it yet. There is a railroad, well known
thereabouts, going to _Germantown._ Well, the event is, that the board
of directors of that road have--will you believe it? I hardly
do--ordered a _new car_--a palace-car! The way it happened was that,
owing to the large use of cattle-cars on the Pacific Railroad, no more
second-hand cars could be got for a month or two, bad enough for the
directors to buy; and there wasn't a builder in the country willing to
make their kind of cars to order.

On this side of the "big pond" we have had nothing so laughable as the
MORDAUNT case. The charge of the presiding judge to the Prince of Wales
has not been correctly reported. I am told that he spoke thus: "Your
Royal Highness is advised that, on this occasion, it is not expected
that your Royal Highness should tell the truth, unless your Royal
Highness pleases; indeed, your Royal Highness is rather advised not to
tell the truth. Now, will your Royal Highness, acting under this advice,
please to say, whether he did, or did not, ever do any thing naughty?"
Some one said to me at the time--are there not _some_ mordants that will
dye beyond whitewashing? But I believe that Wales always was moral, is
moral, and always will he moral, (Balmoral!) Now, this last assertion I
call news! Is it reliable?

More about Yokohama. An English sailor, from Captain EYRE'S vessel, is
said to have murdered a Japanese, in cold blood, to rob his house. A
court sat upon the case; and, after trial, pronounced this decision: "We
regret to be obliged to find, that the man, CHAN-JUN, lost his life by
an incision of his throat; and that the knife which made the incision
was in the hand of the sailor called BILL BLINKS, of the Bombay. While,
therefore, it would have been, undoubtedly, much better if the man
CHAN-JUN, and his house, had been out of the way of the said BILL
BLINKS, who by their proximity was placed under a temptation, we are
unwillingly compelled to regret that BLINKS should have made an
unfortunate incision of this kind. We are therefore of the opinion that
the said WILLIAM BLINKS ought not to be allowed to have any grog for at
least six days." This very severe sentence was, we are told, afterward
remitted by request of Captain EYRE.

Our Roman delegate sends me word to-day, that, the Pope's gardener at
the Vatican setting out a variety of early spring plants, every one of
them came up a Hyacinth! One after another was sent to pot; but,
hydra-headed, still they come! By the way, it is said that two newly
noted people in the church are Frère JONQUIL and Soeur DAFFODIL; another
is a negro priest, black as two ravens, and he is called Father CROCUS.

ROCHEFORT, we learn, the other day refused to eat any thing, because his
prison food was at the cost of the Emperor's government. M. OLLIVIER
forthwith sent him a polite autograph note of congratulation; telling
him that this was the first act of his, public or private, of which he
approved; and in the result of which the government, people, and world
would take satisfaction. ROCHEFORT, after reading the note, twisted it
up to light a cigarette, and then told his jailer to bring in his
dinner! You _can't_ please that man.

M. CHASLES has just been appointed _Curator of Autographs_ at the
Bibliothèque Impériale at Paris, with VRAIN LUCAS as his secretary. This
gives general satisfaction.

Miss ANNE B----, of Philadelphia, who lives at Rome, has just written a
charming song, with music for the piano, entitled, "Liszt, O Liszt!"
The most famous _aria_, however, there now, is the malaria. Rome is
sick. The people are sick of the Pope and his priests; the Pope is sick
of the Council; the bishops are sick of each other; and travellers are
sick of fever. _Sic transit!_

Let me tell you of my experience, for one day, with the "Press Ass" of
the Cable. On getting here, finding him to be amicable, I tried him on.
He gave me, for news, to send over to PUNCHINELLO, the following:

GREAT BRITAIN.

The _Times_ has an article this morning upon the quality of Virginia
tobacco. It speaks with great respect of the authority of Ex-Governor
HENRY A. WISE upon that subject.

Mr. GLADSTONE was affected last night with a severe pain in his stomach.
On going to his place in the House, he was overheard to say, "It must
have been that cabbage." This morning he is better.

10 A.M. Mr. GLADSTONE did not say, "It was that cabbage;" but, "It was
those beans."

12 A.M. Right Hon. Mr. GLADSTONE is not any better. It is now doubtful
whether it was the beans or the cabbage.

2 P.M. The Right Hon. W.E. GLADSTONE is a little better, but ate only a
light dinner. Mr. BRIGHT thinks it was the beans.

Now, my dear PUNCHINELLO, by this time I began to think it _must be_ the
beans, and so I sent word to my despi-telegraphic correspondent that
_that would do_. And so it will, also, from your correspondent,

--PRIME.

* * * * *

Women's Rights, Again.

Denver is said to be all agog about a performer named ANNIE CORELLA, who
plays solos on the cornet. This is the latest manifestation of the
Women's Rights movement, brass instruments having hitherto been played
exclusively by masculine lips and lungs. "Blowing" through brass is very
characteristic of the advocates of Women's Emancipation; and the next
thing we shall hear, perhaps, is that the ladies of the _Revolution_
have organized themselves into a brass band, and taken to serenading
HORACE GREELEY.

* * * * *

Latest Fashionable Intelligence from the Plains,

INDIANS' war-(w)hoops.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE PNEUMATIC TUBE.
EX-PRESSURE OF THE FUTURE.

THEY SAY THE SPHERES MUST BE TIGHTLY PACKED, AND THIS HOW IT IS
GOING TO BE--WHEN THEY CARRY PASSENGERS.]

[Illustration: PROPHETIC VIEW OF THE INTERIOR.]

* * * * *

Our Future.

PUNCHINELLO believes in a future. He believes in it first for himself,
second for his country, and third for other people. He considers his own
future very good and gorgeous, of course. He considers that of his
country as very hopeful. It has room to grow, and grows. It has appetite
to eat by day and to sleep by night. It eats and sleeps. It rises in the
morning refreshed and lively. It washes its face in the Atlantic, and
its feet in the Pacific. It raises great eagles, great lakes and rivers,
and has a very large, and wise, and honest Congress. Its members of
Congress are all pure, unsullied men. Not a stain rests on their proud,
marble-like brows--not much. The future of PUNCHINELLO will be, to
borrow from the poet, a "big thing." Its genial, mellow, shining face
will continue to beam through uncounted ages--as long as beams can be
procured, at whatever cost. Its good things will be household words as
long as households are held. It will keep its temper very sweet, its age
very green, and its flavor very sparkling. It will help the country to
get on in its future, and be always glad to give government a good turn.
If government wants any money, it will be PUNCHINELLO'S pleasure and
privilege to launch it out. PUNCHINELLO has faith in countries and
governments, and thinks if such matters were not in existence, its own
prosperity would be affected. It therefore says to government, "Go
on--be good, and you'll be happy. Grow up in the way you are bent, and
when you get old, you'll be there." It sees a gigantic future for the
country. It sees the Polar sea running with warm water, the North Pole
maintaining a magnificent perpendicularity, and the Equinoctial Line
extended all around the earth, including Hoboken and Hull. It sees its
millions of people happy in their golden (greenback and currency)
prosperity, and also happy in a full supply of PUNCHINELLO to every
family. It sees its favorite Bird of Freedom spread its wings from Maine
to Oregon; from Alaska to the Gulf, and it trusts its wings will not be
hurt or lose a single feather in the spread. It sees
itself--PUNCHINELLO, not COLUMBIA--enter upon its thousandth volume as
youthful and pretty as a June rose, and as vigorous as a colt. It sees
the time when one Fourth of July will not go round the national family,
and from two to half a dozen will have to be provided.

* * * * *

Mind your P's and Q's.

Committees of State Legislatures are apt to use very slip-shod English
in drafting their bills. This should not be. How can they expect to
Parse a bill unless it is couched in grammatical language?

* * * * *

Taking a Senator's Measure.

Apropos of a recent debate in the Senate at Washington, a paragraph
states that "CARPENTER made SUMNER seem very small." The carpenter who
made SUMNER is not to blame for this. In the first place, Mr. SUMNER'S
Measures are very difficult to take. In the second place, the best
Cabinet-makers have failed to make Mr. SUMNER appear very large. In the
third and last place, Ebony, which is the only wood with which Mr.
SUMNER has any affinity, is a mighty hard material to work, even when
treated with the application of a Fifteenth Amendment.

* * * * *

The Maine Question in Massachusetts.

If New-York has had but little skating during the past winter,
Massachusetts just now displays a good deal of backsliding. Her
legislators have "gone back on" their liquor-bill, which they have
modified to suit their habits, and, should it become law, the druggists
of the Bay State will be at liberty to sell Bay and every other kind of
rum in quantities to suit purchasers. _Sic semper_ Massachusetts! the
English of which is, that Massachusetts will always keep Sick so long as
liquor is to be had for physic.

* * * * *

Trying to the Patients.

It is widely stated, though we cannot vouch for it as a fact, that the
poultices used in St. Luke's Hospital are supplied from the too
celebrated pavement of Fifth Avenue.

* * * * *

"Cometh up as a Flower."

It is stated that Père HYACINTHE is about to take a wife.

That's right--Pair, HYACINTHE.

* * * * *

THE EPISODE OF JACK HORNER.

Probably there is no choicer specimen of English literature than the
familiar stanza which we herewith reproduce:

"Little JACK HORNER sat in a corner,
Eating his Christmas-pie,
He put in his thumb, and pulled out a plum,
And said, 'What a good boy am I!'"

Although comprised in merely four lines, it contains more instructive
truths and rarer beauties than some volumes whose pages can be
enumerated by the hundred. The opening line is singularly beautiful:

"Little JACK HORNER sat in a corner."

Here we hare the subject gracefully introduced without unnecessary
palaver or reference to family antecedents--the simple name given
without a long rigmarole of dazzling titles or senseless adjectives. The
Muse is neither pathetically invoked nor anathematically abused, but the
author proceeds at once to describe his hero's present situation, which,
it strangely appears, is in "a corner." The indefiniteness of the
locality--_a_ corner--is not of the slightest moment; for it does not
concern the general reader to know in what corner little JACK was
stationed. Suffice it, as is apparent from the context, that it was not
a corner in Erie, nor in grain; but rather an angle formed by the
juxtaposition of two walls of an apartment or chamber.

Now, truly the subject of the poem must have been possessed either of an
extraordinary modicum of modesty or of a bitter misanthropy; or possibly
he had been guilty of a misdemeanor, and was cornered to expiate the
punishment justly due; yet conjecture is at once made certainty in the
second line, by which all doubts as to the reasons for his being in a
corner are immediately cleared up:

"Eating his Christmas-pie."

The occasion was indubitably the universal annual holiday, and his
object in going to the corner was manifestly to eat the pie. Perhaps the
object had an antecedent. Perhaps he _stole_ the pie, and therefore
wished to avoid observation; or, more possibly, supreme selfishness was
his ruling passion, and he wished to eat it all by himself. As to this,
however, we are left slightly in the fog.

In the third line, we are afforded an insight into the manner in which
he partook of the Christmas delicacy:

"He put in his thumb, and pulled out a plum."

Interesting scene! Here we have at least an inkling of the hero's powers
of discrimination, and his regard for the little niceties of life. We
have also a beautiful metaphorical allusion to the postulate that
"fingers were made before forks," an assertion respecting the truth of
which some antiquarians have expressed a doubt. We are not prepared to
decide as to the propriety of leaving the substantial of life and
employing sweets and frivolities to pamper the appetite--and there are
other questions that naturally arise from the interesting circumstance
noted above by the poet, but we will not dwell upon them here.

We proceed to the concluding verse.

The descriptive part of the narrative is ended, and we naturally expect
a catastrophe in the _denouement_. We may at least suppose that HORNER
made himself sick, if he did not actually choke to death from one of the
plums he was voraciously eating. By no means. We are spared so painful a
recital. All we know is, that he made a remark, evidently in soliloquy,

"And said, 'What a good boy am I!'"

This concluding line, pointless as it may appear, partially clears up
the mystery as to his being in a corner. He certainly was not there for
misdemeanor; for he was a "good boy," at least in his own estimation.
What a happy faculty it is, in this world, for a man to have a good
opinion of himself! It relieves life of much of its bitterness. We thus
perceive that, while JACK was tasting the sweets of a Christmas-pie, he
was also enjoying the sweets of self-contentment.

As we have seen, JACK HORNER is an historical personage; Christmas-pies
are historical; and dainties with plums are historical. JACK was an old
man, doubtless, when our great-grandmothers were very young--certainly
before the war. The world has had full opportunity to profit by his
virtuous example. Numberless little boys have been quieted to sleep by
the rhyme of JACK HORNER judiciously applied, and numberless little
ones, clamorous for more pudding and enlarged privileges at the
dinner-table, owe the success of their appeals to this same HORNER. The
moral, which runs all through the narrative, is one by which the world
may profit, and should. It la a good thing; but like a great many things
that are good, in the sense in which we use the word, not relished. We
much fear that the ancient, the historical JACK, is extinct. He was a
moderate JACK. He only put in his _thumb_, when he might as well have
put in his whole hand. The latter-day JACK is the representative of a
numerous class possessing larger capacity and a greater dynamic
capability. His pie is larger--has more and bigger plums. When we
contrast the present JACK with the past, we blush for the comparison.
When we encounter him in civic office or in the revenue service, we
tremble for the plums. He is grasping, remorseless, ambitious. The old
JACK was satisfied to sit in his corner and eat his pie; but this one
seeks a pie of dimensions so extravagant as to fill the remotest corners
of the globe; and, what is worse, he is--any thing but a Good Boy!

* * * * *

A Voice from "the Hub."

A GRATULATORY Bostonian writes us that PUNCHINELLO'S voice (a Great
Organ, truly) has reached the "Hub," and actually silenced the Great
Organ of that pleasant rural town. So far, good; but he adds that
Massachusetts takes umbrage at the first syllable of our name, on
account of its being at variance with the prohibitory law of that
pleasant but Puritanical State. Certainly, in a moral point of view, it
is better to be in a Puritanical State than in a State of Punch; but
Massachusetts, it is said, is very sly about the liquor business, and
takes her "nips," regularly, behind the door. This may account,
probably, for the "nipping air" by which so many of her denizens are
characterized. The Bostonian further states of the inhabitants of the
"Hub," that "liquor finds little favor in their eyes." Now, we are
acquainted with three thousand four hundred and seventy-three Bostonians
of the most solid "stripe," and we never yet knew one of them put liquor
in his _eye_, wherever else he might stow it. That the great Boston I
may be partially the result of liquor, is admissible; but then no true
Bostonian would call it liquor, you see--he would call it I water.

* * * * *

Why, Oh! Why?

Why has NAPOLEON III. a very salty taste just now? Because he prefers
his hash with THIERS and without GRÈVY.

* * * * *

An Established Fact.

The British Association have received £1055 toward a practical and
comprehensive inquiry into the utilization of sewage. Bless your British
associated hearts! The _Herald_ has demonstrated that long ago--made
editorials of it.

* * * * *

Rather Mixed.

The _Jersey City Journal_ of April 1st, (appropriate date,) contains the
following advertisement:

"A few gentlemen can be accommodated with good board, washing, and
ironing; or a gentleman and wife. Terms, $6 per week; or two single
ladies. Apply at --, corner of Newark avenue."

According to this advertisement, it appears that in Jersey a "gentleman
and wife" are legal substitutes for "board, washing, and ironing." Now,
it is bewildering to think how on earth a "gentleman and wife" could be
made available in lieu of washing and ironing; while, on the other hand,
the idea of serving up a "gentleman and wife" as "board," suggests the
horrible idea that cannibalism is practised in New-Jersey. With regard
to the terms, "$6 per week" seems to be reasonable enough, though how
"two single ladies" can be made legal tender for six dollars is
absolutely maddening to the mind, inasmuch as average spinsters are far
more apt to be tough than tender.

* * * * *

True.

The _World_ moves with the _Sun_.

* * * * *

Classic Grease.

A Paris grocer ornaments his shop-windows with a bust of ROCHEFORT, done
in lard, with prunes for eyes. After this, let us hear no more of the
sculptures of classic Greece. But why prunes? Why, to signify that after
the funeral of VICTOR NOIR he dried his eyes.

* * * * *

A Little Berlin Game.

Bismarck has sent Herr SILK to Pekin, to wind himself around the
Celestial emperor's heart, and also to make a cocoon for the Tycoon of
Japan, after worming himself into his affections. Perhaps, for being
such a darin' man, he may be made a mandarin!

* * * * *

A NOTARY'S PROTEST.

MR. PUNCHINELLO: I protest against certain annoyances to which a man in
my office is subjected. Whereby it must be understood that I refer to
myself and my official position, not to the nine by twelve apartment
where the wicked and perverse can always find my sign without much
seeking.

The drift of all this is, that I refer to Bores. It is not new, I know;
if it were, a New Sense might be shown by telling whether it came from
me originally. I believe that in all walks of life man's inhumanity to
man is mainly manifested by boring. Sometimes this is said to have been
done in past time, because the greatest "blower" known to the ancients
was called Old Bore as we know, and POLYPHEMUS complained of having been
bored by ULYSSES.

Let not the patient reader be alarmed now; for I am of a retiring
disposition, and am here indisposed to tire by dilating upon a class of
people who always Die Late enough of themselves. But I will say that the
worst bores with which a notary has to deal, are those who come to
swear, (and go out sworn,) and who either forget to pay or haven't the
change to pay right. Several such patronize me--changelessly. Singularly
enough, all hail from Boston, so that it is no wonder that I cry, All
hail, Boston! Here comes General X------, who swears and tenders me an
X, and asks for change. Then I swear myself, and say, with HAMLET, that
I will change that word with him; whereupon he puts the bill in his
pocket and goes _da mit,_ which conduct is both Germain to the
transaction and Dutch to me. Again, enters Mr, KOPPER, affably takes an
affidavit, and finds, to his grief and astonishment, that he has but
eleven cents in his pocket. Of course, he has coppered and won. But
why--tell me why, could he not have given me the sentiment, which I had
a right to expect from him? He bears the stamp of a bad Kopper; a
regular old Nick, and has done that unbecoming thing so often that it is
becoming monotonous And General X------ and Mr. K------ are types of a
large class who come before me to take acknowledgments and the like, for
whom I have no liking; who may as well acknowledge now, severally each
for himself, (the aforesaid Nick being for all of them,) that they do
take the same, and then, like men shunning fees, go without mentioning
fees once, which is surely misfeasance, in the eye of the law. The Dues
take them; why should men of means be so mean?

Then there is the man who stays; who is always the coming man, but never
the going one. And there is the beggar woman, who enters my office like
a ghost, and is a very great bore indeed. But of course beggars are
bores of which every office has plenty. Every body knows these
characters, however, and owes them too--one, at least, does. Well, it is
hard that because a man is bored dead at his boarding-house he can't
have peace in his office, and so I have made my protest against the
bores, as I said I would. --A NOTARY.

* * * * *

A War of Castes.

The Michigan University has been unsuccessful in its search for a
President, as it has not offered enough to induce acceptance on the part
of those to whom it has tendered the honor. It seems to be a case where
the Hire and Lore classes come in conflict.

* * * * *

An Old Story, even Here.

The papers tell of a dog-race which is to take place at San Francisco,
and some of them add that a dog-race is a common thing in England, but a
novelty here; as if the canine Race were something new in America!

* * * * *

Shock-ing Intelligence.

Another earthquake in San Francisco.

* * * * *

[Illustration: SUN-STRUCK.

SHOWING HOW PARSEE DANA WORSHIPS HIS LUMINARY.]

* * * * *

PUNCHINELLO ON THE JURY.

PUNCHINELLO has been summoned on the jury. He is asked to try a
murderer. PUNCHINELLO is kind-hearted. He wishes neither to put himself
in suspense in a jury-box, nor a murderer so in a sheriff's box that the
murderer shall finally be put in suspense. PUNCHINELLO is to be asked
whether he has formed or expressed an opinion upon the subject of the
guilt or the innocence of the murderer, or whether he feels any bias
against an accused. Such questions, in PUNCHINELLO'S opinion, are
nonsensical. Jurors nowadays are influenced more through their stomachs
than through their heads or their hearts. Let a juror, when he comes to
be challenged, be rather asked, "Had you a good or a bad breakfast?"
"Were you out late last night?" "Have you had the dyspepsia lately?"
"Are you bilious?" "Do you habitually eat fried bacon or Welsh rarebit?"
"Do you afflict yourself with reading the Tribune?" "Can you digest
stewed lobster or apple-dumpling?" so that whenever a juror shall be
found freed from dyspepsia, or to be a good sleeper, or a man who can
digest even the new Tariff or the Income Tax, it is PUNCHINELLO'S
opinion that such a juror will make a capital chap to listen
complacently to lawyers, keep patience with witnesses, respect the
judge, laugh at the crier, smile at the reporters, give "true
deliverances," and contribute something toward redeeming our boasted
Anglo-Saxon jury system.

* * * * *

The Difference.

Salt Lake City and Chicago represent the extreme ends of the social
scale. In one place you get as many wives as you like; in the other it
is quite as easy to get rid of them.

* * * * *

Boston out of the Clouds.

There is talk of reviving the old ordinance in Boston against smoking in
the streets. This will aim a blow at side stove-pipes as well as at
meerschaums; but, fortunately, it will not prevent the smoking of hams
or of perpendicular chimneys.

* * * * *

"THIERS IDLE THIERS."

A newspaper item conveys the interesting intelligence that THIERS, the
renowned statesman and historian, consumes snuff to the amount of a
quarter of a pound daily. That M. THIERS is thoroughly "up to snuff"
every body knows; but that he has so much idle time on his hands as to
be able to use a quarter of a pound of it daily, will be news to most
people. Let any one of our readers try it. Let him be ever so "good at a
pinch," he will find that to feed his proboscis from a quarter of a
pound of snuff until he has reached the last pinch, would take up, at a
moderate computation, no less than eight hours at a stretch, allowing
reasonable intervals for sneezing and blowing his nose. Evidently the
story is an idle one--more idle than M. THIERS ever could have been.
Perhaps it was "pinching" poverty in the way of items that drove the
itemizer to invent it. At any rate, he has made a "mull" of it.

* * * * *

Apropos of Susan B. Anthony.

"Was ever woman in this humor One?"

* * * * *

A Gale Brewing.

Boston is agitating a reproduction of the Coliseum, and GILMORE hints at
an orchestra of three thousand, with eighteen hundred _wind_
instruments. A gale far more disastrous than that memorable southeaster
of last autumn may therefore be expected.

* * * * *

[Illustration: WOMAN IN WALL STREET _Lady Broker, (to applicant for
stock.)_ "O DEAR, DEAR! HOW CAN I ATTEND TO BUSINESS WHEN I'VE THE BABY
TO MIND?"]

* * * * *

CHAT ABOUT RAILROADS.

PARTIES: _A Simpleton from the Wilderness, and a Misanthropic Traveller.

[The Simpleton asks for information.]_

"They say that railroads now an't safe.
Say, mister, how is that?"
It comes of "accidents," my friend--
Where cheap rails spread out flat,
Cheap axles break, cheap boilers burst,
Cheap trestle-work gives way:
No wonder, when you think of that,
They kill a man a day!

Well, folks must travel; must go fast;
Must take the cars--and risk;
They can't afford a Special Train,
Like VANDERBILT or FISK;
They know a curve that's pretty sharp,
A bank that's pretty steep,
Rocks that may roll upon the track,
"Sleepers" that never sleep;

Here was a "smash-up" not long since,
That killed about a score;
Two trains "collided" yesterday,
And maimed a dozen more.
But, go they must--by railroad, too,
And all its risks defy:
For no American believes
That _he_ will ever die!

_[The Simpleton, with open mouth, further questions the Traveller.]_

"In God's name, citizen, pray tell
How this can go on, so!"
You ask a simple thing, my friend,
As I will quickly show.
_Directors know their countrymen,_
And _that_ is why we bleed:
So long as nothing's done to them,
The slaughter will proceed.

It's so in coal-mines, so in mills;
It's so on steamboats, too;
We're killed by hundreds, every year:
But what's a man to do?
These harpies make our laws for us--
Or do so through their tools:
No doubt we seem to all the world
A wretched pack of fools!

We are so busy! We've _no time_
To see that all is right!
We'll give the danger all our thoughts--
The moment its in sight!
Cheap iron and cheap souls, my friend,
Have cursed us all along.
But what possesses you, good friend?
I'm sure there's nothing wrong!

_[The Simpleton from the Wilderness is terribly excited.]_

"I warn 'em not to serve _me_ so!
They'll rue it, if they do!
No axle, wheel, nor rail must break;
No bridge must let me through!
No other train must smash up ours;
No culvert fall away;
The scaly boiler mustn't burst;
And here cows mustn't stray!

"Conductors' watches _must_ keep time;
Switch-'tenders _must_ "know beans,"
And engineers keep wide awake
And know what duty means:
And (in particular) no fiend
Must take into his head
To throw my train off down a bank
For spite, or even bread!

"What! do these dreadful things go on
That companies may thrive?
Is _profit_ the sole living thing
They care to keep alive?
Then, fellow-citizen, rouse up!
For you and I are kings!
Let us decree-and straightway _have_
A different state of things!"

["Well, you 'decree' it; and when it's done, please let me know,"
remarks the _Misanthropic Traveller._]

* * * * *

Sugar-Cane.

The friends of WILLIAM TWEED, in presenting a cane to him the other
evening, desired to show the Young Democracy how many there are who
Stick to him.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE GREAT NATIONAL GAME.

OUR COLORED BROTHER. "HI YAH! STAN' BACK DAR;
IT'S DIS CHILE'S INNIN'S NOW."]

* * * * *

TUTTI TREMANDO!

Truant Bards! where are the Triumphal Odes and the Congratulatory Poems
which should have greeted Mr. PUNCHINELLO, who, after deserting his
beloved Italy, after a stormy voyage and unspeakable sea-sickness, has
arrived here with a view of settling and of becoming a citizen (having
already filed his first papers) of this magnificent Republic? Where are
the poets who should have greeted the venerable and illustrious voyager?
Imbeciles! See you not that your congratulatory work would have been
easy? That PUNCHINELLO rhymes to fellow (good) and to mellow,
(decidedly,) to say nothing of bellow, (a proper word for singers,) and
to yellow, (although into this and the sear leaf we most decidedly have
not fallen, in spite of our three or four hundred years.) Had we but
been a Prince, and called VICTORIA R. our mother, we should ere this
have been invited to balls enough to ruin our small legs, and dinners
enough to destroy our great digestion. Yet, if it should come to the
comparison of pedigrees, the Signor PUNCHINELLO feels that he could
knock these princelings into a cocked hat, (or shall we say a cocked
coronet?) Mr. PUNCHINELLO proudly knows that he is His Own Ancestor and
the Perpetual Renewer of his own Patent of Nobility.

Gentlemen poets, it is too late! We will not now have your melodious
ovations at any price! It would be a pretty piece of business indeed,
if, after sounding our own trumpet for ages, as we may say, we should
now succumb to an idiotic modesty. Do you not understand that we were
sonorously beating our own drum when the Onondaga Giant was a mere baby?
We shall continue to play upon both these private instruments. If we
consider ourselves to be wise above our fellow-creatures, witty to a
degree most extraordinary, more Senatorial by nature and experience than
most of the Potents and Graves in Washington; if we know ourselves (and
we hope we do) to be polished, polite, and profound, why should we go
hunting about for a bushel to put our light under? Away with modesty!
Can printer's ink blush? Who blames the _Tribunes_ and the _Heralds_ and
the _Worlds_ and the _Timeses_ for vaunting a circulation which seems to
defy mortal numeration? A pretty market we should have brought our fish
to, if we should now squeamishly decline to wind our own mellow horn!

If there be any poetical gentleman who desires to write an Epic (in not
less than twenty-four Books) on the Life and Adventures of PUNCHINELLO,
to be printed on vellum paper, with profuse illustrations, and bound in
morocco, this ambitious and worthy person has our full permission to go
ahead, and may he find (which we do not believe he will) a publisher
sensible enough to produce his work!

* * * * *

New-England versus New-York.

An item of literary news states that--

"William R. Cutter, Esq., of Woburn, Mass., is preparing a history of
the Cutter family of New-England."

This brings New-England directly into collision with New-York. The
"Cutter family" was never, perhaps, so fully represented anywhere as it
now is in this city. Cutters are continually cutting each other down
with knives. Other Cutters--of a less harmful kind--are contented with
cutting their own throats, not always to the loss of the world, indeed,
but invariably to the profit of the Coroner. Then there are shoals of
Cutters who cut and run with funds belonging to others, and of such is
Collector BAILEY. Unfortunately, there are very few Cutters in New-York
who "cut their coats according to their cloth;" but, to compensate for
this, the "diamond cut diamond" variety of Cutter is very common indeed.
Altogether it would take an ocean of ink and a promontory of paper to
write the history of the Cutter family of New-York.

* * * * *

RELIGIOUS AMUSEMENTS.

The amusement-seeker must be thought of, even on a Sunday. For life is a
most chillingly vaporous affair (reminding one of washing-day in
November) without a liberal sprinkling of liveliness. Recognizing this
truth, our religious brethren begin to impart zest to their Sunday
services by seizing on any passing incident of uncommon raciness, such
as a particularly enterprising murder or an exceptionably comprehensive
railroad accident, for the text of a sermon or the thrilling theme of an
evening lecture. Any thing to fill the house. Thus, we find that "The
late Terrible Calamity which befell BANGMAN DONELEY and Family" was
advertised as the current attraction in the "West ----th Street United
Presbyterian Church," a Sunday or two since. A fine theme! Full of
nicely harrowing details. It must have drawn well. We are not informed
whether the reverend sensationist had a "real house" made with which to
illustrate the overwhelming incident; and some "real people," including
children, to be (apparently) crushed when it got blown over, (the
blowing being done by himself;) but here was a nice chance for dramatic
effect.

And the same Sunday a rival attraction was advertised in the dedication
of a new Catholic Church, with "Music by a select choir and orchestra.
Admission, $1. Reserved seats, $1.50," Reduced admission fee to the
"Grand Dedication Vespers" in the evening. We do not know whether there
were opera-glasses on hire, but presume that the comfort of the audience
was carefully attended to.

Really, Sunday is not so stupid a day, after all!

* * * * *

Crispin's Last.

"About women's rights," says he, "there's a great deal of useless talk.
And then nobody says any thing about women's lefts. Now, it's my opinion
that lefts are as hard to fit as rights, especially with widows and
single women. And as for suffrage, women suffer most from having too
little sole, and too much heel. MILL, to be sure! He may be well enough
on the Floss, but he's not much on leather, believe that!"

* * * * *

A Western Boucicault.

The _Chicago Republican_, says a Dubuque author, has written a drama
called "The Ten Squaws." There should be much Indianuity in the plot of
such a play.

* * * * *

FABLE.

(BY OLD AESOP HIMSELF.)

Once there was a large city that had the same name as the State to which
it belonged. The people of the State made laws for the city, because
some of the citizens of the city had declared that life and property
were not safe unless they did so. But the majority of the citizens
disliked this kind of government so much that they began to find
themselves very discontented and unhappy. At length they decided to pray
to Fate (which meant the Voters of the State) to relieve them from the
burden under which they were groaning, and restore their power. Then
Fate heard their cries and lamentations, and was kind enough to come to
their relief. "Now, why don't you use your power?" she asked. "Oh!" said
the late unhappy, and indeed wretched majority, "we only wanted a chance
to quarrel a little among ourselves, and call each other hard names."
"Couldn't you have done that before?" asked Fate. "Why do you give me
all this trouble?" "To tell the truth," said the Majority, "when we
wash, we like to show our dirty linen; and we couldn't let enough people
see it without getting you to help us." "Well," said Fate, "in future
you'll get no assistance from me in washing your foul linen. If you like
to be known as dirty people, go on being dirty, and every body that has
nose and eyes will finally understand you."

* * * * *

Punchinello in Erie.

In the _Tribune's_ report of the arguments on the Erie case before the
Assembly Committee on Railroads, Mr. BURT is said to have stated his
belief that Mr, CROUCH is a contributor to PUNCHINELLO. Our best
thanks are due to Mr. BURT for his "first-rate notice," though, at the
same time, we wish to inform him that no contributor of the name of
CROUCH has hitherto made his appearance in these columns. To speak
plainly, PUNCHINELLO never Crouches. As he has no "slouch" about
him, so he has no Crouch.

* * * * *

[Illustration: PAT-RATIOCINATION.

_First Political Economist._ "AFTHER ALL, THE BIG MASS OF THE PEOPLE
MUST FORM THE GREAT BULK OF THE POPULATION."

_Second ditto._ "THRUE FOR YOU, BARRIN' THEY GET INTO THE MINORITY BY
THE OVER-WHELMIN' NUMBERS OF THE PRIVILEGED FEW."]

* * * * *

A Rather Flashy Idea.

With regard to heating the Hôtel Dieu Hospital, in Paris, by
electricity, a contemporary has remarked, "Of course, we know nothing of
the apparatus by which this result is accomplished in Paris; but we had
the opportunity of witnessing on Wednesday last, at the Winder building,
the experiments of Dr. LEIGH BURTON in applying electricity for warming
railroad cars, which were entirely successful and satisfactory." Of
course, _we_ know nothing about it either; but we hope the new method is
a great improvement on the old one, as we have several times witnessed
_from_ the Winder, buildings, barns especially, heated by electricity in
a very _un_satisfactory manner.

* * * * *

"On Two, Richmond!"

RICHARD III. fancied that there were "two RICHMONDS in the field."
Singularly coincidental with this, and well worth the attention of
Shakespearean scholars, is the fact that Richmond, Va., is now running
two mayors. Of course, Richmond, Va., cannot now be looked upon as a
"one-horse" town.

* * * * *

Ritualistic.

One of the latest allurements held out by the managers of a celebrated
"high" church in this city, is a "three hours' agony"--which is about
the most appropriate name for a long and tedious sermon we remember ever
to have heard.

* * * * *

BOYHOOD.

There can be no reason to doubt that METHUSELAH was blessed with a
tolerably vigorous constitution. The ordeal through which we pass to
maturity, at present, probably did not belong to the Antediluvian Epoch.
Whooping-cough, measles, scarlet fever, and croup are comparatively
modern inventions. They and the doctors came in after the flood; and the
gracious law of compensation, in its rigorous inflexibility, sets these
over against the superior civilization of our golden age. At a time when
the court-dress of our ancestors was composed of fig-leaves, or of
imperfectly dressed skins--nothing like the Astrachans of the nineteenth
century--it would certainly have been very inconvenient to coddle ailing
infantry through an attack of diphtheria, for example. So bountiful
Nature, then in the first blush of maidenhood, doubtless brought the
long-lived Patriarch through his nine hundred and sixty-nine years
without once calling in the family medical adviser. It is recorded,
however, that he was born and that he died, and he therefore certainly
passed through that stage of existence called Boyhood. And as he was
nearly two hundred years old at the birth of his first-born, it is
reasonable to suppose that the adolescent period was frightfully
prolonged in his case. Just imagine a youngster of a hundred and ten or
fifteen stealing apples or running to fires! The revelations of
ethnology, which is too youthful a science to reveal a great deal, do
not oppose the theory of all matured humanity, to wit, that the animal
boy is the same in all ages and in all races, an Ishmaelite, and Ara, an
Outlaw, hedged in and restrained by laws and customs, it may be, but
innately antagonistic to society.

The Philosophers who have traced humanity through all stages of its
development, from the Aphis creeping on the rose-leaf to the full-grown
specimen in the person of a Member of Congress, have wisely and
invariably omitted all notice of boyhood in their lists of gradations
and transitions. Any thing like a fair examination of this particular
development scatters their doctrines to the four winds. Because the
salient traits to the next higher development, could not part with their
own identity, or send these distinguishing characteristics, in one fell
swoop, through many stages, only to reappear at last in the upper type,
and only between infancy and manhood, and only in one sex. This argument
is overwhelming, and the present purpose is to elucidate it by more
particular examination.

It is proper, in the first place, to gather a blossom from the negative
side of the discussion. Boys are not girls. While dogs, and foxes,
pigeons and ducks, have each a generic term applicable to both sexes,
there is a tacit understanding in civilized localities that boys compose
a distinct genus. They are, in the eye of the law, considered human,
probably because they eventually pass from boyhood to humanity, There is
an old nursery rhyme which marks the distinguishing characteristics of
juvenile members of society with remarkable accuracy:

"What are little girls made of, made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice,
And every thing nice,
Such are little girls made of.

What are little boys made of, made of?
What are little boys made of?
Snaps and snails
And puppy-dog tails,
Such are little boys made of!"

There is so apparent an air of probability about this terse statement of
the case, that it has satisfied the insatiable curiosity of infantile
minds for long ages. Little girls never doubt it, and little boys never
contradict it. If Paterfamilias has any thoughts upon the subject, he
probably thinks this expenditure of snaps and snails was a great waste
of raw material. Girls may be romps and hoydens, vixens and scolds, but
the sugar and spice will always be detected, and, with all drawbacks
allowed, the little girl is still entitled to Mr. MANTALINI'S cognomen
of "demnition sweetness." At least, this is the universal verdict of
society. From the time when she dons her first _chignon,_ (which _never_
matches the native hair, by the by,) she is nearly angelic, with some
few exceptions, perhaps, _after_ marriage.

In the way of direct proof, to return to the muttons, it may be
observed that the next link to manhood, in the philosopher's chain, is
that highly attractive animal which M. DU CHAILLU has recently
introduced to the general public. The points of resemblance betwixt the
Gorilla and the Boy are numerous and striking. In most cases, the two
animals have an equally pleasing exterior. They both have the ability to
climb giddy heights, inaccessible to any other wingless biped. Their
language is not dissimilar, the same unintelligible chatter being
characteristic of both. As the argument proceeds, it will be seen that
distinctive traits belonging to lower classes of the animal kingdom are
totally extinct in the Gorilla, while they are emphatically visible in
his successor.

Thus, taking the Laughing Hyena as the next illustration, it will be
remembered by all students of GOLDSMITH'S _Animated Nature_, that this
amiable quadruped invariably exercises his risibles when he is crunching
the bones of some other less truculent quadruped. It is "solitary,
cruel, and untamable, digs its food out of graves," cachinnating the
while like a thousand or fifteen hundred of brick. There are other
ravenous beasts in the world; but this one is peculiar in that he laughs
over his work, which is also his pastime. Now, if you wish to hear a Boy
laugh--a horse-laugh, a giant-laugh--just put some other animal, human
or otherwise, through a course of torture. Twist a pig's tail until it
comes out; or, if you don't like the occupation, the Boy will cheerfully
do it--and will drown the squeal of the porker in his own uproarious
merriment. What do you suppose were the age and sex of the inventor of
the game called "Tying a tin kettle to a dog's tail?" And do you suppose
this inventor stood by, in silent gravity, to witness the success of the
experiment? The yelp of the astounded dog, and the clatter of the
kitchen utensil so strangely misplaced, were doubtless swallowed up in
the loud guffaws of the Laughing Hyena on two legs.

Another link is discovered in the person of the useful and ornamental
domestic animal who is popularly supposed to furnish the material for
sausages. The accidental discovery of a suspender-button, or the claw of
a kitten, in the sausage, gave rise to some doubt as to the composition
of this favorite edible; but statisticians usually admit that hogmeat
forms the staple. Doctor KANE speaks in glowing terms of the excellence
of rats when mixed with due proportions of walrus blubber, and cut out
in frozen chunks, probably with a cold-chisel. Why this fierce rodent
should make more savory meat than the innocent kitten, does not appear.
The latter is certainly much nicer to play with, in the ante-mortem
state. But this is a digression. Returning, therefore, not to the
mutton, but to the pork, consider the distinctive habits of both pig and
Boy at meal-time, and see how nearly identical they are. Watch the
innocent in bristles as he places his graceful right paw upon the ear of
corn, while he shells and masticates. Turn to the innocent in
broadcloth, and notice how he clutches the succulent turkey-leg, and how
rapidly he polishes the femoral bone. Throw a second ear of the cereal
in the trough, and observe how promptly the left paw secures it, lest it
should be transformed into lard through the agency of a companion pig.
Place the other turkey-leg, both wings, three slices of breast, the
side-bone and plenty of "stuffin'" within reach of the other embryo, and
notice the glare of his famished eye, if some other plate than his is
presented. You would fancy he had been exploring the route of another
ship-canal across the Isthmus of Darien, and had tasted no food for
twenty-two days.

Neither are the post-prandial habits of the two animals under
consideration dissimilar. The corn-cracker betakes himself to some sunny
spot, where there is abundance of mud, and aids digestion by wallowing.
So does the Boy, especially if he is in dinner costume. If the quadruped
can get into a garden and root up unreplaceable flowers and fruits,
before he retires to his lair, his bliss is perfect. So the Boy; if he
can manage to break two or three windows, tear his best clothes into
ribbons, chase the family cat up a tree with hound, whoop, and halloo,
and then stone her out of it, and, as she with thickened tail scampers
to some more secure retreat, follow her with hoots and missiles--he also
retires, conscious that the day has not been wasted. And, finally, upon
this parallelism betwixt Pig and _Puer_ one patent point of resemblance
may be mentioned. Rouse up a pig, any hour of the day or night, with his
maw full to the gullet, and offer him a little more, another ear of
corn, another bucket of swill, and you will be sure of his prompt
acceptance. And place before a boy, immediately after an astounding
dinner, if you choose, any thing edible, apples, cakes, pudding, or cold
potatoes, and if _his_ maw will not accommodate the additional stowage,
you send for the doctor, knowing that the dear child is ill, that the
symptoms are novel, and that the case is urgent.

The reference to the history of METHUSELAH with which this paper began
was not without a purpose. It was to suggest the inquiry whether or not
the _vim_ which prolonged his days would have sufficed to bring him
through _two_ courses of Boyhood. It is not unusual to hear grown people
talk of "living their youthful days over again;" but the examples of
those who have gone through this ordeal are very rare. The amount of
wear and tear, the expenditure of vital force, involved in the transit
from infancy to manhood cannot be estimated. The abrasions of later life
do not compare with the rubs of Boyhood, because none of the aids of
experience and philosophy are attainable by the tyro, who lives upon his
inherent _vis vitae_, as his kinsman in the frozen zone subsists upon
his own fat during long intervals of torpidity.

* * * * *

[Illustration: PERSONAL GOSSIP.
(From the daily press.)

"ONE OF OUR BEST POETS AND MAGAZINE WRITERS IS A
CLERK IN A GROCERY OF THIS CITY."]

* * * * *

THE FOUR SEASONS.

[An ancient Scottish ballad written in America in 1870, to show how much
may be said by the judicious and economical use of a very few words.]

Beneath the trees in sweet spring-time,
In sweet spring-time, in sweet spring-time,
Beneath the trees in sweet spring-time,
Vermonters turn the honest dime
By crystallizing sap.

Beneath the trees in summer-time,
In summer-time, in summer-time,
Beneath the trees in summer-time,
The poet cons the curious rhyme.
Or takes the tranquil nap.

Beneath the trees in autumn-tide,
In autumn-tide, in autumn-tide,
Beneath the trees in autumn-tide,
'Tis rather nice for two to ride
Where no one else is near.

Beneath the trees in winter wild,
In winter wild, in winter wild,
Beneath the trees in winter wild,
Ugh! Go home, you foolish child,
What are you doing here?

* * * * *

CONDENSED CONGRESS.

SENATE

Bland Mr. MORTON has been making one of his little jokes in the shape of
a petition from some more or less imaginary Quakers. These hypothetical
persons pretend to have converted to Christianity and soap some hundreds
of warriors of the wild and bounding Shawnee variety. Of course, for a
basis of evangelical operations on this scale, it is requisite to have
some land on which to erect buildings for moral quarantine. To disinfect
one Shawnee, you need to wash him in at least six waters--to inject his
veins, as it were, with Christian creosote. All this, as Mr. MORTON
justly observed, cannot be done without cost. But perhaps it was worth
it, considering the number of human scalps which were still available
for applications of sweet hair restorer, and balmy magnolia, and which
would by this time have been decorating the lower limbs of members of
the Shawnee profession, if these good Quakers had not turned them from
the improper pursuit of extraneous hair, and read them the commandment
which enjoins them from coveting their neighbor's scalp. Therefore, and
in consideration of the good done by these Quakers, they and Mr. MORTON
thought they ought to have a grant of land to enable them to continue
their lavatory labors.

Mr. MORRILL protested in behalf of the wig-makers of America. This
petition was an insidious blow at one of the most important of our
industries. How could wigs be made unless there were bald heads. And how
wrong it was to divert any class of persons, under the shallow pretence
of making them wiser and better, from the making of bald heads. There
would be the deuce _toupée_ if this kind of thing were to be encouraged,
and their tonsorial constituents would bring them to the Scratch on this
question. He was proud to say that he was an Old Wig. Others might hold
with the hair on this question. He would run with the Shampooers and the
Shawnees.

Mr. CARPENTER, who can see as clearly through a ladder as almost any
body in the Senate, suggested that there were no such Quakers, and that
he didn't believe there were any such Shawnees. It was an evident little
"land-grab," got up by some of Mr. MORTON'S constituents, and the
Quakers were hypothecated to promote it. He did not object to Quakers
occupying lands, but he did object to a Christianized Shawnee. He had
found that a converted Shawnee would steal considerably more than an
unregenerate one, and that he would steal various articles of the toilet
which the wild Shawnee had no use for.

Mr. CAMERON wanted some money for the Pennsylvania soldiers who had come
first to defend the capital. He thought these men ought to be rewarded.
A good many of them had been re-Warded in Philadelphia on election day,
in order to express their political views with more frequency. That was
partly the cause of his being in the Senate, and he wanted something
done.

Mr. THURMAN knew a man in Ohio who had enlisted before any
Pennsylvanian.

Mr. CAMERON did not mean any disrespect to the Senator from Ohio, but
that remark was a condemn lie.

Mr. THURMAN said Mr. CAMERON was another. His man enlisted for the
Mexican war, it was true, and not for the other war. But that slight
error didn't affect the argument.

Mr. SUMNER knew a colored boy who had been attacked with colic when
South-Carolina seceded, on account of his sorrow and shame. It was true
he had been eating green tomatoes, but patriotism was unquestionably the
cause of his colic. He was the first to martyr of the war, and he ought
to have a monument. He regretted to see the accursed spirit of Caste
which confined honors to whites.

Mr. CONKLING said he thought he could suggest a compromise, on a mulatto
from New-York who died in 1858.

Mr. SUMNER called the Eyes and Nose on Mr. CONKLING, and Mr. CONKLING
said his eyes were blue, but his nose was very flat.

Mr. SUMNER thought this would be satisfactory.

HOUSE.

Mr. BINGHAM made a speech ostensibly upon the Tariff, but really about
BUTLER. He said that BUTLER didn't take Fort Fisher. This is a favorite
joke of BINGHAM'S. As to Mr. BUTLER'S opinion of his treatment of Mrs.
SURRATT, he didn't care. He should continue to advocate protection to
home industry.

Mr. FERNANDO WOOD paid a beautiful tribute to General HOWARD. He said
that officer had been absorbing public money at a rate far exceeding any
thing even in the municipal annals of New-York. The gentle freedom might
need a bureau, but it certainly was not essential to his happiness to
have General HOWARD enriched by managing it. Mrs. HOWARD was not a
freedman. The idea was absurd. The other members of General HOWARD'S
family were not freedmen. Neither were General HOWARD'S staff. Neither
were any of the people who had benefited by this money.

Mr. BUTLER didn't see the why of this constant row about the misuse of
money. What was the use of a man's having an office if he couldn't make
money out of it? He was proud to say that he entered the army poor and
came out rich.

* * * * *

The "Day" we don't Celebrate.

The Philadelphia one.

* * * * *

"The Man who Laughs."

The man who reads PUNCHINELLO.

* * * * *

Wanted--A Sheriff.

The lovely city of Chicago, which needs about twenty sheriffs to keep it
in order, at the latest date had none at all; for the gentleman holding
that office by law, in sheer despair (and some debt) has absconded,
actually leaving a man to be hung, who was not hung, do you see, because
there was nobody to hang him. Plenty of rope there was, to be sure, and
a most beautiful gallows--but no sheriff! Of course, the thing came to a
stand--perhaps it would not be proper to say a Dead stand--and the
embarrassed Governor was obliged to commute the sentence! The creditors
of the missing officer made a great complaint, but the Man who Wasn't
Hung did not find the least fault. This shows the different views which
the human mind may take of the same transaction.

* * * * *

Municipal Competition.

Poor New-York! We thought that there were some things in which she could
not merely not be beaten, but in which also she was secure even from
competition. But the envious will never allow us to rest upon our
hardly-earned laurels. Will it be believed that they have actually
discovered and inaugurated a Wickedest Man in Cincinnati? He is called
COLLINS, and must be a descendant of the COLLINS who wrote an Ode on the
Passions; for all the bad ones this Cincinnati COLLINS has in great
perfection. His Rage especially is beautiful. First, he knocks down his
fellow-creatures. Secondly, when the police are sent to capture him, he
knocks down the police. He is in jail, however; and we would suggest a
Convention of the Wickedest Men in all parts of the country to take
measures for his release.

* * * * *

Origin of the Mississippi.

The contests for supremacy between Chicago and St. Louis have banished
every particle of modesty from both cities, and each now considers
itself to be the Centre of the Universe. Geographers may not heretofore
have understood the origin of the Mississippi River, but the St. Louis
_Democrat_ throws a great deal of light upon it. "We have been visited,"
says that sheet, "by heavy showers. The rain poured down heavily all
night, flooding the gutters and adding to the volume of the river." It
thus appears that this noble stream depends mainly for its water upon
the gutters of St. Louis. Will these not, however, be rather damp
resting-places for Members of Congress, should the Capital be removed to
St. Louis?

* * * * *

The Repeater's Idea of Voting by Ballot.

All Stuff.

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| |
+-----------------------------------------------------------+

[Illustration: CHEERFUL FOR JURIES.

_Cook_ "HO, HO! THIS HERE PAPER SAYS THE WOMEN OF WYOMING HAS TOOK TO
SITTIN' ON JURIES. LAW SAKES! MARY ANN, WOULDN'T I LIKE TO SIT ON A
JURY!"]

+-----------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| WALTHAM WATCHES |
| |
| 3-4 PLATE. |
| |
| 16 and 20 Sizes. |
| |
| To the manufacture of these fine Watches the Company have |
| devoted all the science and skill in the art at their |
| command, and confidently claim that, for fineness and |
| beauty, no less than for the greater excellences of |
| mechanical and scientific correctness of design and |
| execution, these watches are unsurpassed anywhere. |
| |
| In this country the manufacture of this fine grade of |
| Watches is not even attempted except at Waltham. |
| |
| FOR SALE BY ALL LEADING JEWELLERS. |
| |
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| Bowling Green Savings-Bank, |
| 33 BROADWAY, |
| |
| NEW-YORK. |
| |
| Open Every Day from 10 A.M. to 3 P.M. |
| |
| Deposits of any sum, from Ten Cents to Ten |
| Thousand Dollars, will be received. |
| |
| Six Per Cent Interest, Free of |
| Government Tax. |
| |
| INTEREST ON NEW DEPOSITS |
| Commences on the first of every month. |
| |
| HENRY SMITH, _President_. |
| REEVES E. SELMES, _Secretary_. |
| WALTER ROCHE, |
| EDWARD HOGAN, _Vice-Presidents_. |
| |
+-----------------------------------------------------------+

PUNCHINELLO:

TERMS TO CLUBS.

WE OFFER AS PREMIUMS FOR CLUBS

FIRST:

DANA BICKFORD'S PATENT FAMILY SPINNER,

The most complete and desirable machine ever yet introduced for spinning
purposes.

SECOND:

BICKFORD'S CROCHET AND FANCY WORK MACHINES.

These beautiful little machines are very fascinating, as well as useful;
and every lady should have one, as they can make every conceivable kind
of crochet or fancy work upon them.

THIRD:

BICKFORD'S AUTOMATIC FAMILY KNITTER.

This is the most perfect and complete machine in the world. It knits
every thing.

FOURTH:

AMERICAN BUTTONHOLE, OVERSEAMING, AND SEWING-MACHINE.

This great combination machine is the last and greatest improvement on
all former machines. No. 1, with finely finished Oiled Walnut Table and
Cover, complete, price, $75. No. 2, same machine without the buttonhole
parts, etc., price, $60.

WE WILL SEND THE

Family Spinner, price, $8, for 4 subscribers and $16.
No.1 Crochet, " 8, " 4 " " 16.
" 2 " " 15, " 6 " " 24.
" 1 Automatic Knitter, 72 needles, 30, " 12 " " 48.
" 2 " " 84 needles, 33, " 13 " " 52.
No.3 Automatic Knitter, 100 needles, 37, for 15 subscribers and $60.
" 4 " " 2 cylinders, 33, " 13 " " 52.
1 72 needles 40. " 16 " " 64.
1 100 needles

No. 1 American Buttonhole and Overseaming Machine,
price, $75, for 30 subscribers and $120.

No. 2 American Buttonhole and Overseaming Machine,
without buttonhole parts, etc., price, $60, for 25 subscribers and $100.

Descriptive Circulars

Of all these machines will be sent upon application to this office, and
full instructions for working them will be sent to purchasers.

Parties getting up Clubs preferring cash to premiums, may deduct
seventy-five cents upon each full subscription sent for four subscribers
and upward, and after the first remittance for four subscribers may send
single names as they obtain them, deducting the commission.

Remittances should be made in Post-Office Orders, Bank Checks, or Drafts
on New-York City; or if these can not be obtained, then by Registered
Letters, which any post-master will furnish.

Charges on money sent by express must be prepaid, or the net amount only
will be credited.

Directions for shipping machines must be full and explicit, to prevent
error. In sending subscriptions give address, with Town, County, and
State.

The postage on this paper will be twenty cents per year, payable
quarterly in advance, at the place where it is received. Subscribers in
the British Provinces will remit twenty cants in addition to
subscription.

All communications, remittances, etc., to be addressed to
P.O. Box 2783.

PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY

No. 83 Nassau Street,

NEW-YORK

* * * * *

S.W. GREEN, PRINTER, CORNER JACOB AND FRANKFORT STREETS.

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