Chapter 3

The Am. Dram. Ass., they have engaged This pet of the P. R.; As Charles the Wrestler he's to be A bright, particular star. And when they put the programme out, Announce him thus they did: Orlando ... Mr. Romeo Jones; Charles ... Mr. T. H. Kid.

The night has come; the house is packed From pit to gallery, As those who through the curtain peep Quake inwardly to see. A squeak's heard in the orchestra, As the leader draws across Th' intestines of the agile cat The tail of the noble hoss.

All is at sea behind the scenes. Why do they fear and funk? Alas, alas, The Hunky Kid Is lamentably drunk! He's in that most unlovely stage Of half-intoxication When men resent the hint they're tight As a personal imputation!

"Ring up! ring up!" Orlando cried, "Or we must cut the scene; For Charles the Wrestler is imbued With poisonous benzine, And every moment gets more drunk Than he before has been."

The wrestling scene has come and Charles Is much disguised in drink; The stage to him's an inclined plane, The footlights make him blink, Still strives he to act well his part Where all the honour lies, Though Shakespeare would not in his lines His language recognise Instead of "Come, where is this young----?" This man of bone and brawn, He squares himself and bellows, "Time! Fetch your Orlandos on!"

"Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man," Fair Rosalind said she, As the two wrestlers in the ring Grapple right furiously; But Charles the Wrestler had no sense Of dramatic propriety.

He seized on Mr. Romeo Jones In Graeco-Roman style; He got what they call a grapevine lock On that leading juvenile; He flung him into the orchestra, And the man with the ophicleide, On whom he fell, he just said--well, No matter what--and died!

When once the tiger has tasted blood, And found that it is sweet, He has a habit of killing more Than he can possibly eat.

And thus it was with The Hunky Kid. In his homicidal blindness He lifted his hand against Rosalind, Not in the way of kindness. He chased poor Celia off at L., At R. U. E. Le Beau, And he put such a head upon Duke Fred, In fifteen seconds or so, That never one of the courtly train Might his haughty master know.

* * * * *

And that's precisely what came to pass Because the luckless carles Belonging to the Am. Dram. Ass. Cast The Hunky Kid for Charles!

THE PLUMBER'S REVENGE

A LEGEND OF MADISON AVENUE

_Canto I--The Death-Bed Oath_

It was some thirty years ago, An evening calm and red, When a gold-haired stripling stood beside His father's dying-bed. "Attend, my son," the sick man said, "Unto my dying tones, And swear eternal vengeance to The accursed race of Jones. For why? Just nineteen years ago A girl sat by my side, With cheek of rose and breast of snow, My peerless, promised bride. A viper by the name of Jones Came in between us twain; With honeyed words he stole away My loved Belinda Jane. For he was rich and I was poor, And poets all are stupid Who feign the god of Love is not Cupidity, but Cupid. Perchance 'tis well, for had I wed That maid of dark-brown curls, You had not been, or been, instead Of boy, a pair of girls. Now listen to me, Walter Smith; Hie to yon plumber bold, An thou would'st ease my dying pang, His 'prentice be enrolled. For Jones has houses many on The fashionable squares, And thou, perchance, may'st be called in To see to the repairs. Think on thy father's ravished love. Recall thy father's ills, Remember this, the death-bed oath, Then, make out Jones's bills."

_Canto II--The Young Avenger_

Young Walter's to the plumber gone. A boy with smut on nose, Furnace and carpet-sack in hand, With the journeyman he goes. Now grown a journeyman himself, In grimy hand he gripes A candle-end, and 'neath the sink Explores the frozen pipes. His furnace portable he lights With smoking wads of news- Papers, and smiles to see within The pot the solder fuse. He gives his fiat: "They are froze Down about sixteen feet; If you want water ere July You must dig up the street." "Practical Plumber" now is he, As witnesseth his sign, And ready now to undertake Repairs in any line. One day a housemaid, as he sat At the receipt of biz, Came crying, "Ho, Sir Smith, Sir Smith, Sir Jones's pipes is friz." He girt his apron round his loins, His tools took from the shelf, And to the journeyman he said, "_I'll see to this myself._"

"Would," said he, as he drew the bill, "My father were alive; Ten pounds of solder at ten cents, $1.75!"

_Canto III--The Traitor's Doom_

The Jones had houses many on The avenues and squares, And hired the young Avenger Smith To see to the repairs, And Smith put faucets in, and cocks, And meters, eke, and taps, Connections, T-joints, sewer pipes, Basins and water-traps; He tore the walls and ripped the floors To reach the pipes beyond, And excavations in the street And 'neath the side-walk yawned; And daily as he entered up The items in his book The plumber's face wore a serene And retrospective look. And Jones would wring his hands and cry, "Woe, woe, and utter woe! Ah me! that taxes should be so high And rents should be so low!" Then he would give the Smith the house As instalment on account Of its repairs, and notes of hand For the rest of the amount.

_Canto IV--Avenged at Last_

Now Smith had been for a dozen years In the practical plumbing line, And the bills of Smith did not grind slow, And they ground extremely fine. Terrace by terrace, house by house, The lands of Jones he took, And heavier still the balance was Writ in that fatal book. At last, no property nor cash Had he, so he did fail, And the avenging plumber locked Him up in Ludlow Jail. His heartless creditor he besought For mercy in his need. "Nay, nay, no mercy, lie and rot," Quoth he, "in jail, like Tweed. For I have sworn avenged to be On thee, thy kin and kith; Rememberest thou Belinda Jane? I am the son of Smith!!!"

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE

A Venetian Merchant who was lolling in the lap of luxury was accosted upon the Rialto by a friend who had not seen him for many months. "How is this?" cried the latter. "When I last saw you your gaberdine was out at elbows, and now you sail in your own gondola." "True," replied the Merchant, "but since then I have met with serious losses, and been obliged to compound with my creditors for ten cents on the dollar."

_Moral._--Composition is the life of trade.

THE UNFORTUNATE ELEPHANT

An Elephant had been endeavouring to rive the bole of a knotted oak with his trunk, but the tree closed upon that member, detaining it, and causing the hapless _Elphas Africanus_ intense pain. He shook the forest with his trumpeting, and all the beasts gathered around him. "Ah, ha, my friend," said a pert Chimpanzee, "you have got your trunk checked, I see." "My children," said a temperate Camel to her young, "let this awful example teach you to shun the bole." "Does it hurt much?" said a compassionate Gnu. "Ah, it does; it does; it must; I gnu it; I have been a mother myself." And while they were sympathising with him the unfortunate Elephant expired in great agony.

_Moral._--The moral of the above is so plain as to need explanation. Talk is cheap.

THE CORONER AND THE BANANA PEEL

As a Coroner was entering a saloon to see a man he beheld a careless boy, who was eating a Banana, cast the rind of the fruit upon the slippery stone sidewalk, but instead of chiding the urchin, smiled and passed on. As he was coming out of the saloon, having satisfied his thirst, he slipped on the peel of the Banana, and, falling, broke his neck; so that a rival coroner made the fees from the inquest.

_Moral._--It is rare sport to see the Coroner hoist with his own petard.

THE RHINOCEROS AND THE DROMEDARY

A thirsty Rhinoceros, having to his great joy encountered a Dromedary in the desert of Sahara, besought the latter animal of his mercy to give him a drink, but the Dromedary refused, stating that he was holding the fluid for an advance. "Why," said he to the Rhinoceros, "did you not imitate my forethought and prudence, and take some heed to the morrow?" The Rhinoceros acknowledged the justice of the rebuke. Some time afterwards he met in an oasis the Dromedary, who had realised at the turn of the market and was now trying to cover his shorts. "For Heaven's sake," he gasped to the Rhinoceros, who was wallowing in the midst of a refreshing pool, "trust me for a nip." "When I was thirsty," replied the Rhinoceros, "you declined to stand the drinks, but I will give you a horn." So saying, he let the grateful sunlight into the Dromedary's innards.

_Moral._--Virtue is its own reward.

THE HEN AND THE TAILOR

A Hen who had saved a Tailor from drowning in a marine disaster that had cost several of his less fortunate companions their lives asked him his opinion of the theory of evolution. The grateful Tailor replied that he was himself an instance of the survival of the fittest; and the philosophical Fowl, remarking that it was vulgar to pun, walked off with much dignity to resume her interrupted occupation of hatching out a china nest-egg.

_Moral._--Some people cannot take a joke.

THE GLOW-WORM AND THE FAMISHED NIGHTINGALE

A famished Nightingale, who had been singing to very thin houses, chanced to encounter a Glow-worm at eventide and prepared to make upon him a light repast. The unfortunate Lampyris Splendidula besought the Songster, in the sacred name of Art, not to quench his vital spark, and appealed to his magnanimity. "The Nightingale who needlessly sets claw upon a Glow-worm," he said, "is a being whom it were gross flattery to term a Luscinia Philomela." The Bird, however, turned a deaf beak to these appeals and was about to douse the glim, when the Glow-worm cried out, "Beware, lest I give you the heartburn; remember how Herod and Luther died of a diet of Glow-worms," and while the Nightingale (who was by no means a bad bird at stomach) was considering these propositions, escaped, hanging out false lights to baffle his enemy's pursuit.

_Moral._--Let the dead past bury its dead; act, act in the living present.

THE CENTIPEDE AND THE BARBARIC YAK

While a Centipede was painfully toiling over the Libyan Desert he was encountered by a barbaric Yak, who scornfully asked him how were his poor feet. The humble creature made no reply at the time, but some days later found the barbaric Yak taken in the nets of the hunter and almost devoured by insects, which fled at the approach of the Centipede. "Help, help, my good friend!" exclaimed the unfortunate beast. "I cannot move a muscle in these cruel toils, and the ravenous insects have devoured my delicate flesh." "Say you so?" responded the Centipede. "Can you really not defend yourself?" "Alas! how can I?" replied the Yak. "See you not how straitly I am bound?" "And is your flesh then so delicate?" "It is, though I say it who should not." "Then," said the Centipede, "I guess I'll take a bite myself."

_Moral._--The other man's extremity is often our opportunity.

THE HONEST NEWSBOY

A Newsboy was passing along the street, when he chanced to discover a purse of greenbacks. He was at first inclined to conceal it, but, repelling the unworthy suggestion, he asked a Venerable Man if it was his'n. The Venerable Man looked at it hurriedly, said it was, patted him on the head, gave him a quarter, and said he would yet be president. The Venerable Man then hastened away, but was arrested for having counterfeit bills in his possession, while the honest Newsboy played penny-ante with his humble quarter and ran it up to $2.62.

_Moral._--Honesty is sometimes the best policy.

THE VILLAGER AND THE SNAKE

A Villager one frosty day found under a hedge a Snake almost dead with cold. Moved with compassion, and having heard that snake oil was good for the rheumatiz, he took it home and placed it on the hearth, where it shortly began to wake and crawl. Meanwhile, the Villager having gone out to keep an engagement with a man 'round the corner, the Villager's son (who had not drawn a sober breath for a week) entered, and, beholding the Serpent unfolding its plain, unvarnished tail, with the cry, "I've got 'em again!" fled to the office of the nearest Justice of the Peace, swore off and became an apostle of Temperance at $700 a week. The beneficent Snake next bit the Villager's mother-in-law so severely that death soon ended her sufferings--and his; then silently stole away, leaving the Villager deeply and doubly in its debt.

_Moral._--A virtuous action is not always its only reward. A snake in the grass is worth two in the boot.

THE OSTRICH AND THE HEN

An Ostrich and a Hen chanced to occupy adjacent apartments, and the former complained loudly that her rest was disturbed by the cackling of her humble neighbour. "Why is it," she finally asked the Hen, "that you make such an intolerable noise?" The Hen replied, "Because I have laid an egg." "Oh no," said the Ostrich, with a superior smile, "it is because you are a Hen and don't know any better."

_Moral._--The moral of the foregoing is not very clear, but it contains some reference to the Agitation for Female Suffrage.

THE SENATOR'S LAUNDRY

Signora Mirandolina Rocca, who was the landlady of the house where the Club were lodging, was a widow, of about forty years of age, still fresh and blooming, with a merry dark eye, and much animation of features. Sitting usually in the small room which they passed on the way to their apartments, they had to stop to get their keys, or to leave them when they went out, and Buttons and Dick frequently stopped to have a little conversation. The rest, not being able to speak Italian, contented themselves with smiles; the Senator particularly, who gave the most beaming of smiles both on going and on returning. Sometimes he even tried to talk to her in his usual adaptation of broken English, spoken in loud tones to the benighted but fascinating foreigner. Her attention to Dick during his sickness increased the Senator's admiration, and he thought her one of the best, one of the most kind-hearted and sympathetic of beings.

One day, toward the close of their stay in Rome, the Senator was in a fix. He had not had any washing done since he came to the city. He had run through all his clean linen, and came to a dead stand. Before leaving for another place it was absolutely necessary to attend to this. But how? Buttons was off with the Spaniards; Dick had gone out on a drive. No one could help him, so he tried it himself. In fact, he had never lost confidence in his powers of making himself understood. It was still a fixed conviction of his that in cases of necessity any intelligent man could make his wants known to intelligent foreigners. If not, there is stupidity somewhere. Had he not done so in Paris and in other places?

So he rang and managed to make the servant understand that he wished to see the landlady. The landlady had always shown a great admiration for the manly, not to say gigantic charms of the Senator. Upon him she bestowed her brightest smile, and the quick flush on her face and heaving breast told that the Senator had made wild work with her too susceptible heart.

So now when she learned that the Senator wished to see her, she at once imagined the cause to be any thing and every thing except the real one. Why take that particular time, when all the rest were out? she thought. Evidently for some tender purpose. Why send for her? Why not come down to see her? Evidently because he did not like the publicity of her room at the Conciergerie.

She arrayed herself, therefore, in her brightest and her best charms; gave an additional flourish to her dark hair that hung wavingly and luxuriantly, and still without a trace of gray, over her forehead; looked at herself with her dark eyes in the glass to see if she appeared to the best advantage; and finally, in some agitation, but with great eagerness, she went to obey the summons.

Meantime the Senator had been deliberating how to begin. He felt that he could not show his bundle of clothes to so fair and fine a creature as this, whose manners were so soft and whose smile so pleasant. He would do anything first. He would try a roundabout way of making known his wishes, trusting to his own powers and the intelligence of the lady for a full and complete understanding. Just as he had come to this conclusion there was a timid knock at the door.

"Come in," said the Senator, who began to feel a little awkward already.

"_E permesso?_" said a soft, sweet voice, "_se puo entrare?_" and Signora Mirandolina Rocca advanced into the room, giving one look at the Senator, and then casting down her eyes.

"_Umilissima serva di Lei, Signore, mi commandi._"

But the Senator was in a quandary. What could he do? How begin? What gesture would be the most fitting for a beginning?

The pause began to be embarrassing. The lady, however, as yet was calm--calmer, in fact, than when she entered.

So she spoke once more.

"_Di che ha Ella bisogna, Illustrissimo?_"

The Senator was dreadfully embarrassed. The lady was so fair in his eyes. Was this a woman who could contemplate the fact of soiled linen? Never.

"Ehem!" said he.

Then he paused.

"_Serva devota_," said Signora Mirandolina. "_Che c'e, Signore._"

Then, looking up, she saw the face of the Senator, all rosy red, turned toward her with a strange confusion and embarrassment in his eye; yet it was a kind eye--a soft, kind eye.

"_Egli e forse innamorato di me_," murmured the lady, gathering new courage as she saw the timidity of the other. "_Che grandezza!_" she continued, loud enough for the Senator to hear, yet speaking as if to herself. "_Che bellezza! un galantuomo, certamente--e quest' e molto piacevole._"

She glanced at the manly figure of the Senator with a tender admiration in her eye, which she could not repress, and which was so intelligible to the Senator that he blushed more violently than ever, and looked helplessly around him.

"_E innamorato di me, senza dubio_," said the Signora, "_vergogna non vuol che si sapesse._"

The Senator at length found voice. Advancing toward the lady he looked at her very earnestly, and as she thought very piteously held out both his hands, then smiled, then spread his hands apart, then nodded and smiled again, and said:

"Me--me--want--ha--hum--ah! You know--me--gentleman--hum--me----Confound the luck!" he added, in profound vexation.

"_Signore_," said Mirandolina, "_la di Lei gentelezza me confonde._"

The Senator turned his eyes all around, everywhere, in a desperate, half-conscious search for escape from an embarrassing situation.

"_Signore noi ci siamo sole, nessuno ci senti_," remarked the Signora encouragingly.

"Me want to tell you this!" burst forth the Senator. "Clothes--you know--washy--washy." Whereupon he elevated his eyebrows, smiled, and brought the tips of his fingers together.

"_Io non so che cosa vuol dir mi, Illustrissimo_," said the Signora, in bewilderment.

"You--you--you know. Ah? Washy? Hey? No, no," shaking his head, "not washy, but _get_ washy."

The landlady smiled. The Senator, encouraged by this, came a step nearer.

"_Che cosa? Il cuor me palpita. Io tremo_," murmured La Rocca.

She retreated a step. Whereupon the Senator at once fell back again in great confusion.

"Washy, washy," he repeated mechanically, as his mind was utterly vague and distrait.

"_Uassi-Uassi?_" repeated the other interrogatively.

"Me----"

"_Tu_," said she, with tender emphasis.

"Wee, mounseer," said he, with utter desperation.

The Signora shook her head.

"_Non capisco. Ma quelle, balordaggini ed intormentimente, che sono si non segni manifesti d'amore?_"

"I don't understand, marm, a single word of that."

The Signora smiled. The Senator took courage again.

"The fact is this, marm," said he firmly, "I want to get my clothes washed somewhere. Of course you don't do it, but you can tell me, you know. Hm?"

"_Non capisco._"

"Madame," said he, feeling confident that she would understand that word at least, and thinking, too, that it might perhaps serve as a key to explain any other words which he might append to it, "my clothes--I want to get them washed--laundress--washy--soap and water--clean 'em all up--iron 'em--hang 'em out to dry. Ha?"

While saying this he indulged in an expressive pantomime. When alluding to his clothes he placed his hands against his chest, when mentioning the drying of them he waved them in the air. The landlady comprehended this. How not? When a gentleman places his hand on his heart, what is his meaning?

"_O sottigliezza d'amore!_" murmured she. "_Che cosa cerca_," she continued, looking up timidly but invitingly.

The Senator felt doubtful at this, and in fact a little frightened. Again he placed his hands on his chest to indicate his clothes; he struck that manly chest forcibly several times, looking at her all the time. Then he wrung his hands.

"_Ah, Signore_," said La Rocca, with a melting glance, "_non è d'uopo di desperazione._"

"Washy, washy----"

"_Eppure, se Ella vuol sposarmi, non ce difficoltà_," returned the other, with true Italian frankness.

"Soap and water----"

"_Non ho il coraggio di dir di no._"

The Senator had his arms outstretched to indicate the hanging-out process. Still, however, feeling doubtful if he were altogether understood, he thought he would try another form of pantomime. Suddenly he fell down on his knees, and began to imitate the action of a washer-woman over her tub, washing, wringing, pounding, rubbing.

"_O gran' cielo!_" cried the Signora, her pitying heart filled with tenderness at the sight of this noble being on his knees before her, and, as she thought, wringing his hands in despair. "_O gran' cielo! Egli è innamorato di me non puo parlar Italiano e cosi non puo dirmelo._"

Her warm heart prompted her, and she obeyed its impulse. What else could she do? She flung herself into his outstretched arms as he raised himself to hang out imaginary clothes on an invisible line.

The Senator was thunderstruck, confounded, bewildered, shattered, overcome, crushed, stupefied, blasted, overwhelmed, horror-stricken, wonder-smitten, annihilated, amazed, horrified, shocked, frightened, terrified, nonplussed, wilted, awe-struck, shivered, astounded, dumfounded. He did not even struggle. He was paralysed.

"_Ah, carissimo_," said a soft and tender voice in his ear, a low, sweet voice, "_se veramenta me ami, saro lo tua carissima sposa----_"

At that moment the door opened and Buttons walked in. In an instant he darted out. The Signora hurried away.

"_Addio, bellissima, carissima gioia!_" she sighed.

The Senator was still paralysed.

After a time he went with a pale and anxious face to see Buttons. That young man promised secrecy, and when the Senator was telling his story tried hard to look serious and sympathetic. In vain. The thought of that scene, and the cause of it, and the blunder that had been made overwhelmed him. Laughter convulsed him. At last the Senator got up indignantly and left the room.

But what was he to do now? The thing could not be explained. How could he get out of the house? He would have to pass her as she sat at the door.