Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 37, December 10, 1870

Chapter II: Part 2

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Raisin children is a bizziniss which haint every mans best holt, and as long as you've got into the bizziness, excoose me for givin you a little wisdom, which you as a parent must swaller without makin up a face.

If your child, in its infantile days, is given to squallin nites, obtain a beverige, called soothin sirup, and just before you pull off your butes nites, give the little cuss about 3 tablespoons full, and he will sleep so sound that you can use him for a piller. Should he kick & squall, and refuse to take it, lay him down onto the floor, set on him, then takin hold of his nose, pour the stuff down his throte, and you've got him, ekal to Jo JEFFERSON'S Rip Van Winkle 20 yeers snooze.

To amoose him--If your wife is too bizzy durin the day, doin the cookin, washin, &c. 4th, to amoose the child, give him an ink bottle, and set him down on the parler carpet. If he has any idee of geografy, when you come home nites you will find a good helthy map of the black sea, which Rooshy will insist on bein added to your war map.

Another way of amusin him, is to give him a raiser, and let him play learn to shave. If he should cut his nose off, it would make the little _shaver smart_.

If you expect to bring your boy up to hold offis,' let him cultivate cheek. This is done by tyin his grandmother in her rockin cheer, and lettin him pelt the old lady with snow balls in the winter time. In the summer time get him a bow and arrer, and let him see how neer he come to the venerable lady's nose without breakin her spectorcals. If this don't make him cheeky enuff to hold offis, let him pour a lot of benzine onto his little cuzzin, then push her onto a red hot cole stove. If he can do this and think it a joak, he will do for a cabinet offiser.

If he tries to jump over parental authority, fill him with shot, same as _your_ man did his jumpin frog, only pour it into him with a mustick.

If you've got any regard for our nashnal caracter, don't let your son rite comic copy for the noosepapers, after which, be so rash as to rite a book, and have English crickets set up their darn singin, when they catch your little _innocent abroad_.

JOHN BULL don't tickle easy, remember that. I actually believe you couldent stir him with a hul bag full of laffin gas.

As your boy has entered the Lecture field, I shouldent be surprised if he got up quite a _breeze_ on the roast-rum. In fact, when he opens his mouth before an audience, look out for _squalls_.

When your offspring is big enuff to enjoy chastisin, remember the "good little boy," and examine your son's garments to see if the lad has been roostin onto any nitro-gleserine cans, lest the parental hand, when brought in contact with the youth's _habeas corpus_, mite necessitate the sweepin up of father and son's scattered remnants.

Let your son reed the works on good morril men's lives.

By the time he gets old enuff to read, I will have my life out in pamphlet form, and you can draw onto me for a copy. Beware of works of fiction. Don't let your boy have a great deal to do with such readin as HOYLE on Games, TOM PAINE on Infidelity, nor HORRIS GREELY on farmin. Such works are bringin more ruin onto the country, than the numerous jewrys of twelve talented men, who allow murderers to come the loonatic dodge over 'em.

I don't believe in spoilin the rod and sparin the child, but I think it is well enuff to keep a rod hung up in the barn, where your child can occasionally look at it, to see what he will come to, if he undertakes to kick over the traces.

Children are a good deal like wimmen. If you don't set _your_ foot down when you first get married your wimmen will raise _their_ foot up, and afore you realize any pain, your gentle form will be histed out into the street.

With boys you must begin talkin _turkey_, when they are young _goblins_, ef you don't, when they get old enuff, they will "strike for their sires," and _gobble_ up the old man's scalp.

Teach your son to honor his pa and ma, and decline the English mission, when it comes his turn.

Between you and I, aspirants for the honor of bordin with St. JIMMY are on the _decline_, Pitty it haint a gin-cocktail. I shouldent be surprised, if some big criminal was sentenced to go there yet, which minds me of a konundrum. Why is the English mission like lager beer?

Give 'er up?

Because it ruins any _minister's_ reputation, who goes for it.

Hopin that when you shovel off your mortil coil, that your mantle may not pass out of the family, and as time flies on with greased wings, you may make the family name _sound_ by bein able to Mark Twain in your family record, I drop the goose feather.

Ewers, parentally,

HIRAM GREEN, ESQ.,

Lait Gustise of the Peece.

* * * * *

A SURE WAY OF DOING IT.

Seekers after notoriety must often be at their wits' end for some new sensation with which to advertise themselves. Mr. TWAIN, for instance, having gone through Fenianism and France, seems to have collapsed for the present; and here now comes Mr. WEMYSS JOBSON, who subsided into oblivion years ago, but has just emerged again into the light of _The Sun_. The efforts of both these gentlemen to keep themselves prominently before the public, however, are very inadequate and feeble. They should suffer more and be stronger. Let TRAIN do a bold stroke of business by declaring himself the perpetrator of the latest mysterious murder, and it might be the making of the exhumed JOBSON to revive a fossilized memory, and confess himself to be the criminal who delivered the fatal blow to the late Mr. WILLIAM PATTERSON.

* * * * *

True to his Colors.

A Bostonian visiting New York, not long since, and reading in the papers that there was to be a celebration of Mass in an up-town church, decided to remain over Sunday for it, thinking, Bostonially, that Mass meant Massachusetts and nothing else.

* * * * *

SUITABLE INSCRIPTION FOR A BOATMAN'S RACE-PRIZE. "The noblest Row-man of them all."

* * * * *

_Jack._ "NOW, I'LL BE PAPA, GOING TO FIX THE FURNACE."

_Sallie_. "OH, YES!--AND I'LL BE THE NEW NURSE, AND YOU MUST KISS ME BEHIND THE CELLAR DOOR!"]

* * * * *

EXPLANATORY OF MR. JOHN BULL'S VIEWS.]

* * * * *

POEMS OF THE CRADLE.

CANTO XIII.

When I was a bachelor I lived by myself;
All the bread and cheese I had, I laid upon the shelf.
But the rats and the mice they made such a strife,
I was forced to go to London to buy myself a wife.
The roads were so bad, and the lanes were so narrow,
I had to bring my wife home in a wheelbarrow.
The wheelbarrow broke. My wife had a fall;
Deuce take the wheelbarrow, my wife, and all.

The above lines were written when the author was quite advanced in years; when he had solved, in his humble way, the great problem of life, and discovered the futility of mundane things generally, and t undesirableness of an unsuccessful or unfortunate existence; when he could look back through a long vista of years, and see the follies of his youth and the mistakes of his manhood. It should have been placed at the end of his book, with only the word Finis after it; but somehow, either by mistake of the author or of the publisher, it was placed among the records of the simple events of the village, and thus loses half its force. However, let the history, placed as it is, be a warning to rash young men who contemplate matrimony; and let them give heed to it, lest they also have cause to repent of their doings and exclaim with the poet:--

"The deuce take it."

Observe how pathetic and touching his reminiscence of his lost youth and the priceless boon of liberty. He commences in a quiet descriptive way, leaving one at a loss to know whether it is to be a joyful lyric a dirge he intends singing.

"When I was a bachelor I lived by myself;
All the bread and cheese I had I laid upon the shelf."

Here we have him alone, at peace with himself and the world; happy in the contemplation of his beloved muse; jotting down, now and then, the brilliant ideas that flash through his teeming brain; and munching in solitude his homely meal of bread and cheese. In telling us he laid his bread and cheese upon the shelf, he at once shows he had left his parental abode, and the ministering and watchful care of his maternal parent.

There must, of course, have been a cause for such a step. Some reason why the gentle being should have been wrought up to that pitch, when he daringly throws off all restraint, and steps into the world to act and think for himself. It may have been the want of sympathy that drove him to the act. They were plain folks, and didn't appreciate his peculiar turn of mind, and so only laughed at him, and ridiculed his pretensions. That there was a quarrel there is no manner of doubt, and it was probably caused by the mortifying act of his mother in fainting when he read her the poetry he had written at her request. That, in itself, was enough to break all ties between them. She was horrified and overwhelmed with dismay that a child of hers could be guilty of such atrocious rhymes; and he, in turn, was disgusted that a mother of his should be so unappreciative and earthly. And so, by mutual consent, they separated.

That accounts for his bachelor habit of laying his bread and cheese on the shelf that he might have it handy, and not forget where he had placed it. But as

"The rats and mice made such a strife,"

he found that would never do. Something else must be thought of; and being an inventive genius, he tried putting it in his trunk, but it scented his Sunday jacket and trousers, and the girls all turned up their noses at the odd perfume. So, driven to extremity, he in an evil hour decided, as many another has since done, that the remedy for his ills was matrimony, and that it was not well for man to live alone.

A Prophet is without honor in his own country, and so ofttimes is a Poet. To his bashful supplication of "Wilt thou?" the young maidens if his village unhesitatingly refused to wilt, and thus it was that circumstances forced him

"To go to London to buy himself a wife."

How fortunate that he should give us, inadvertently as it were, the information so necessary to the unlucky young men of this later day, the best place to go shopping for wives! No man after reading the above need say "he doesn't marry because he cannot, as no one will have him." He need not stop for that hereafter, but just go to London, pick out one to suit, pay the price, and bag the article. It can all be done in a day, and save time wonderfully.

He bought his wife--a cheap one undoubtedly--and gave his promise to pay; then started homeward, feeling his importance as a married man, and chuckling over the idea of the astonishment and dismay of the rats and mice when he should set his wife after them, and thereby deprive them of their daily rations. But while musing thus, he discovers his wile shows signs of fatigue, as

"The roads were bad, and the lanes were narrow,"

and not wishing to have her exhausted before commencing business, he gallantly determined to give her a ride, well knowing she would need all her strength for the battle he intended she should win.

So borrowing a wheelbarrow of a trusting neighbor, he seated her therein, and amid great rejoicing at his extraordinary "luck" he set forward. But now comes the sad part of the story:

"The wheelbarrow broke--my wife had a fall."

And what a fall was there, my countrymen! Words are inadequate. The scene was indescribable, and we leave a blank that each may picture it to suit themselves.

After the excitement occasioned by the catastrophe was somewhat abated, he picked up the pieces and tried to put the wheelbarrow together again. But it was too far gone; it was un-put-togetherable, and so he, more in sorrow than anger, stood gazing at the wreck, while his wife, being a woman, could not resist the impulse to cry exultingly, "I told you so; I knew it." That on top of all the rest of his trouble was a little too much; and after fumbling over the pieces a while, "I told you so" ringing in his ears, he completely lost his temper, and vented his passion in the words:--

"The deuce take the wheelbarrow."--

and then in a low voice, cautiously turning his head aside, he added:--

"My wife and all."

Together they trudged homeward. Fearful misgivings as to the wisdom of his step came swooping down upon him, and he almost wished he had not tried to mend matters, but had patiently borne with the rats, when suddenly--the vision of a _cat_ swept athwart his mind, and he groaned aloud in bitterness of spirit.

Not even the ever after clean hearth-stone, with the dead bodies of his enemies, the rats, piled thereon, could make him forget that one moment of agonizing consciousness, when he realized for the first time that he had burdened himself with a wife when a cat would have answered as well.

* * * * *

HURLY-BURLY.

No wonder that the folks turn pale
And preachers talk of doom,
Since by each telegram and mail
Come words of awful gloom:

Explosions of N. glycerine;
Expulsion of the Pope;
Earthquakes along the Eastern line
And THE PACIFIC SLOPE.

Surely the world is upside down,
Its framework out of joint;
At coming change all things of town
And country seem to point:

The very sea some day may try
To climb the mountain side,
And hill-folks yet be staggered by
THE MOANING OF THE TIED.

* * * * *

OUR PORTFOLIO.

By Diligence from Paris to Versailles--Fastest Time on Record--Happy Travelling Companions--Mud, Misery, and Malignity--Life on the Road.

NEAR ST. CLOUD, NINTH WEEK OF THE REPUBLIC, 1870.

It would have done you good to see us getting over that muddy, jagged, rutty old turnpike that leads off from the south of the Bois de Boulogne toward St. Cloud and Versailles. Since writing my last, I had been to Paris _par ballon monté,_ and was now returning in the _diligence_ that took five American ladies and a couple of war correspondents, all friends of WASHBURNE, away from the temptation of eating horse-flesh in the beleaguered city, to such edibles as the rapacity of the German appetite had left undevoured in the neighborhood of the old "stamping grounds" of Louis XVI. We were not a jolly party. It rained in torrents, and our little driver perched upon the box in front smoked the most infernal tobacco I ever smelt. Moreover, the horses were not lively steeds. They were rather safe than otherwise, and not given to running away. Although the driver addressed himself to their flanks, between each puff of smoke, with a pointed stick, they didn't rear and plunge so as to frighten the ladies, and that was a point gained, albeit we had leisure to count the pickets in the fences as we dragged toward our destination. One of our lady passengers came from Connecticut, and she talked with a nutmeg dialect that made her garrulity oftentimes quite spicy. We two sat back to back, and when the vehicle lurched heavily her chignon took me "amidships" (if I may be permitted the expression) with a concussion that felt like the impact of a muffled ball from a six-pound field howitzer. "Goodness gracious, dew git eout of the way and give me some room, man!" she would exclaim as our wagon plunged into a three-foot "gore" and the coachee plied his pointed ramrod with increased vigor to the attenuated haunches of the insensible beasts.

"My dear madam, you will perceive that I cannot 'git' any further without climbing upon the back of my companion in front." Lord knows I would have given a hundred francs to be out of her reach; but we had been all ticketed and labelled through under the same "pass," and there was no such thing as dissolving partnership _now._

"Ugh!" she muttered, putting her handkerchief to her nose, "and that horrid smoke too!" But the imperturbable director of our flight took no heed, and drew away at his clay idol with unabated satisfaction. 'Twas thus we jogged on for five weary hours, "OLD CONNECTICUT" charging head foremost at my spinal column with a frequency and momentum that made me believe, finally, she did it on purpose. Three miles out from St. Cloud we found the road completely blocked up with artillery wagons, and saw large masses of troops moving through the fields on either side. It still rained incessantly, and the forlornness of the situation was no wise relieved by the distant booming of guns, and the sucking sound of the wheels in the mud.

"Oh, my!" sail a thin, squeaky voice on the back seat. "I believe they are coming this way. Do let us get out, SARAH. I would rather die on the road than be murdered in such a sepulchre as this."

She referred to a battalion of the Landwehr that had just denied into the road, not a hundred yards in front of us.

"Stop your sniffling back there!" peevishly exclaimed "OLD CONNECTICUT." "It would serve you right if they bayonetted you;" and she added emphasis to her expostulation by planting her chignon between my shoulder-blades with terrific force.

I felt at once that either my back or my gallantry would have to give way; so I took a bond of fate, and sacrificed the latter on the spot.

"That'll do--that'll do," I remonstrated. "No more of that; if you want to knock the brains out of that haystack on the back of your head, why, knock away; but spare my bones, if you please."

I looked around, and she looked around with such suddenness as to bring her nose in contact with the brim of my hat, and force the tears from her eyes. She started to her feet, and I verily believe would not have postponed hostilities a moment, had not the door of the _diligence_ just then been opened, and a Prussian officer demanded to see our papers. I paraded the "documents," and he said they were "good;" but he also said that we must make up our minds to halt here until the following morning, as there was a movement of the troops, and no vehicles would be permitted to pass this point.

_Gaudeamus!_ I could have sworn, but my wrath sailed away when I saw what a volcano was working in the bosom of "OLD CONNECTICUT." She didn't strike the officer, or utter a single complaint in his hearing, but sat down as if she had been a spile driven through the top of the coach, and let the vinegar run out of her eyes in pure impotency of speechless rage.

"SARAH'S" companion on the back seat broke forth afresh, and again wanted to know as to the probability of our being charged upon and put to the sword. I couldn't hear "SARAH'S" answers to these harrowing questions, but it seemed to me as if she were trying to throttle her timid friend into a perfect sense of security. Whatever she did had the desired effect, and I heard no more from the "back seat."

It was nightfall ere the several members of our little colony composed themselves to await in such tranquillity as they could command, the ordeal of sleeping, sitting bolt upright in a French _diligence,_ upon a dark, tempestuous night, and surrounded on all sides by the dreadful presence of "red-handed war." The last thing I remember ere the drowsy god "MURPHY" sent his fairies to weave their cobwebs about my eyelids, was "OLD CONNECTICUT." She didn't look like the battering-ram that she was. She had taken that chignon for a pillow, and fastened it to the back of the seat. Her head was thrown back; her chin had fallen, and at the extreme tip of her thin red nose a solitary tear glistened like a dew-drop on a beet. Once, about midnight, she awoke me by her snoring, but I gave the old gal's chignon a hitch, and it was all right again.

Yours, somniferously,

DICK TINTO.

* * * * *

_Celia (just arrived from the country)._ "JUST THINK, JANE, COUSIN JOHN IS TO BE MY ESCORT TO THE FRENCH BAZAAR AND THE NILSSON CONCERTS, AND BOOTH'S AND WALLACE'S, AND THE OPERA BOUFFÉ, AND LOTS OF OTHER FIRST-CLASS SHOWS!"]

* * * * *

FACTS ABOUT THE ENGLISH MISSION.

It is not true that I ever accepted the English Mission; and if any man says I did, I now deliberately brand him as a Liar and Villain.

I am not going to deny that the place was offered me, but I do unhesitatingly, say that I never absolutely consented to take it.

Gen. GRANT may have construed my note on the subject as an unqualified acceptance, but that was owing entirely to his devouring desire to get the thing off his hands, and not to any ambiguity in my language.

"No, Mr. PRESIDENT," I said in the note, "far be it from me to stand between my friend, Mr. GREELEY, and the gratification of his noble desire to wear military things at receptions abroad. Moreover your Excellency, I would not for the world deprive our cousins and other relations in England of an opportunity to cultivate the grand old art of swearing under the instruction of so eminent a professor as HORACE."

This is the sort of language I used, and I don't see how any man except Gen. GRANT could get hold of it the wrong way.

Of course I had some reasons besides those stated in my note for declining the Mission, but I did not want to hurt the President's feelings by going over the whole ground.

It was not unknown to me that the situation had been offered to about five thousand persons before it came round to my turn, or that the English Mission had fallen into a general decline. I knew all about that just as well as Gen. GRANT, but it would not have done any good to parade my knowledge on the subject.

There was the Hon. THOS. JENKINS who refused to take it, because his wife had a prejudice against Bulls ever since she was scared by one that chased her five miles for no other reason than that she was what might be called a red woman--well-read in the exciting house-wife literature of the day. JENKINS positively declined.

Then it was offered to Col. CANNONAYDE, who declined it because his mother-in-law declared that she would go along too, if he went, and he thought it would be better not to let her have a change of air, as she was in a fair way to wind up pretty soon by remaining near those swamps. CANNONAYDE wanted the place kept open till after the funeral, but this was not granted.

The next offer was made to Gen. BRAYLEIGH; but _he_ refused it on the ground that he had made arrangements for going into the coal trade, and he could not be sure of holding the place more than a few weeks. Anyway, he thought it would not pay to give up the coalition he had entered into with another party. In fact, old BRAYLEIGH treated the whole matter very coldly.

It was next tendered to the Hon. THEOPHILUS SKINNER, but peremptorily declined because SKINNER'S district had become Democratic since he was elected, and he knew that if he resigned an infamous cannibal copperhead would be sent to Congress in his stead. SKINNER consulted all the leaders of his party, and they unanimously agreed that it would be better to let every court in Europe be without an American representative than risk the loss of that district.

Everybody knows why the Rev. Dr. BANGWELL, of Chicago, did not accept it. The Doctor expected his divorce case to come on in a few days, and could not neglect that; and besides, he had made all the arrangements for his other marriage, and sent out the invitations. If the President had just made some inquiries before appointing Dr. BANGWELL, he could have found out that the Doctor's engagements would not permit him to leave Chicago on any account.

The offer that was made to Col. KAMPSTUHL was declined solely because the Colonel had an old score to settle with Gen. GRANT for something in the way of a court-martial that happened near Tricksburg. He swore that he would get square with the author of that business sometime, and when the mission was offered to him (by accident, for Gen GRANT had forgotten all about the court-martial), he got up a sepulchral voice, and said, "Ha, ha! R-e-e-e-vendge at last!" and then wrote a bitter letter to Washington on the subject.

After that it was peddled all round the country in a promiscuous way, and offered in succession to a blacksmith who used to shoe horses for Gen. GRANT, a conductor who refused to take fare from a well-known Presidential excursion party, a dealer in hides who had conferred some high obligations when a certain official was in the tanning business, a grocery-keeper, a family shoemaker, a manufacturer of matches, and such a multitude of people, in fact, that it finally got to be looked upon as the greatest missionary undertaking of modern times.

The only really prominent man that the place was not tendered to is GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN; but I wouldn't say that it won't get around to him somewhere in Asia before the circle is completed.

All these things were very well known to me before the office was placed at my disposal, but I did not care to wound the fine sensibilities of the President by saying anything about them in my note.

My reason for declining in favor of Mr. GREELEY has been stated--I put the whole matter frankly to Gen. GRANT--but I can't say whether the suggestion I offered has been acted upon or not. The only thing I am certain about on this point is, that if the offer should be made to HORACE, it won't get around to GEORGE FRANCIS afterwards.

There has been so much talk about this business, that I have considered it a sacred duty to state the facts and let some floods of light shine upon the whole thing. The duty is now conscientiously, discharged.

DARBY DODD.

* * * * *

The Truth In a Nut-shell

CHANCELLOR CROSBY, in his inaugural address, has, we may say, bored right to the root of the whole vexed question of education, and extracted it, as will be seen from this extract: "It need hardly be urged," says the new Chancellor, and we hope, all the discontented will take the full force of the remark, "It need hardly be urged that the didaskalos should be didaktitos, and yet perhaps emphasis on so plain a truth may be sometimes necessary." Let us thank the Chancellor for forever removing this necessity.

_Ambitious Foreigner._ "AH! MEECE BULLION, BECAUSE I AM POOR YOU SCORN MY HAND; BUT REMEMBER HOW ZE POET HE TELL YOU ZE MAN'S ZE GOLD."

_Miss B._ "GO DOWN TO PAR, THEN--_I_ HAVE NOTHING MORE TO SAY ON THE SUBJECT."]

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Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 37, December 10, 1870Chapter II: Part 2

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