Chapter 3

THE Collector of the Thirty-second District is charged with having committed larceny as Bailee.

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AN OLD BOY TO THE YOUNG ONES.

To-day I'm sixty-nine--an Old Boy. But, bless you! I was three times as old--I thought so then--when I entered on my nineteenth year. I tell you, boys--but perhaps you know it already--that the oldest figure we ever reach in this world, the point at which we can look over the head of METHUSELAH as easy as you can squint at the pretty girls, is at eighteen and nineteen. Every body else around about that time amounts to little, and less, and nothing at all. What's the "old man"--your father, at forty-five--but an old fogy who doesn't understand things at all? Of course not; how could he be expected to? He didn't have the modern advantages. He didn't go to school at five, the dancing academy at seven; nor did he give stunning birthday parties at nine--not he. He didn't wear Paris kid-gloves in the nursery, learn to swear at the tailor at ten, smoke and "swell" at twelve, and flirt at Long Branch, Newport, or Saratoga at thirteen. The truth is--you think so--the Old Man was brought up "slow." And, to tell the truth, you had much rather not be seen with him outside the house.

You are "one of the boys" now. I was, fifty years since. A long time ago, that; but I've lived long enough to see and know that I was a great fool then. You'll come to that, if you don't run to seed before. I see now that what I then thought was smartness, was mere smoke; and it was a great deal of smoke with the smallest quantity of fire. The people I thought amounted to nothing, and whom I symbolized with a cipher, were merely reflections of my own small, addled brain. I, too, thought the old man slow, _passé_, stupid. I took him for a muff. He must have known I was twice that. What does one of the boys at nineteen care for advice? _I_ didn't--_you_ don't. It went in at the right ear and out over the left shoulder. Old gent said he'd been there; I said I was going. I did go. So did his money. My talent--if that's what you call it--was centrifugal, not centripetal. I was a radical out-and-outer, as to funds. I made lots of friends--you should have seen them. They swarmed-- when there was any thing in my pocket. They left me alone in solitude at other times. At twenty-nine I got pretty well along in life. But I find I did not know so much as at nineteen. I had seen something of the world, and also something of myself. The more I saw and studied the latter individual, the less I thought of him. I began sincerely to believe he was a humbug. At thirty-nine, I knew he was; or rather had been. By that time he had begun to mend--had he? He had married, and there was call for mending, equally as to ways, means, and garments. From that hour I cultivated in different fields. My wild oats were all _raked_ in. I was getting away from nineteen very rapidly--happily receding from the boy of _that_ period. Mrs. BROWNGREEN beheld a man devoted to domestics and the dailies. The clubs I left behind me--twice a week. I was at home early--in the morning. I kept careful watch of my goings and comings--so did my curious neighbors. I had my family around me--also sheriffs and trades-people. I stood tolerably well in the community; for I was straight in those times even when in straits. But there was one stand I never did like to take--anywhere in sight of my tailors. They were ungrateful. I _gave_ them any amount of patronage, and they turned on me and wanted me to pay for it. That's the way of the world. It wants much, and it wants it long; and when its bills come in, it is found to be the latter dimensions with an emphasis.

Well, boys, when you get out of the nineteens, you will begin to learn something. First of all, that you don't know much of any thing. That's the beginning of wisdom, though twenty is pretty well on to begin at a good school. You will learn that frogs are not so large as elephants, and that a gas-bag is sure to end in a collapse. You will learn that the greatest fool is he who thinks he sees such in everybody else. You will learn that all women are _not_ angels, nor all people older than yourself "old fogies." You will see that humanity--or its best type--is not made of equal parts of assurance, twenty-five cent cigars, Otard punches, swallow-tail coats, and flash jewelry; and that the chances, in the proportion of nine to one, are that "one of the boys" at nineteen is one of the noodlest of noodles.

Truly,

JEREMIAH BROWNGREEN, _An Old Boy of Sixty-nine_.

* * * * *

THE INDIAN.

Indians were the first inhabitants of this country. "Lo!" was the first, only, and original aboriginal. His statue may be seen outside of almost any cigar-store. His descendants are still called "Low," though often over six feet in height. The Indian is generally red, but in time of war he becomes a "yeller." He lives in the forest, and is often "up a tree." Indians believe in ghosts, and when the Spirit moves them, they move the Spirits. (N.B. They have no excise law.) They have an objection to crooked paths, preferring to take every thing "straight." Although fond of rum, they do not possess the Spirit of the old Rum-uns. They are deficient in all metals except brass. This they have in large quantities. The Indian is very benevolent; and believing that "uneasy lies the head that wears a crown," he often scalps his friends to allow them to sleep better. This is touching in the extreme. He is also very hospitable, often treating his captives to a hot Stake. This is also touching--especially to the captive. He is very ingenious in inventing new modes of locomotion. Riding on a rail is one of these. This is done after dinner, in order to aid the digestion, although they often "settle your hash" in a different way. Indians are independent, and can "paddle their own canoes." It is very picturesque to see an Indian, who is a little elevated, in a Tight canoe when the water is High. (No allusion to LONGFELLOW'S "Higherwater" is intended.) Indians are pretty good shots, often shooting rapids. Their aim is correct; but as Miss CAPULET observes, "What's in an aim?" (Answer in our next.) They are also skilful with the long-bow. This does not, however, indicate that they take an arrow view of things. Not at all. Sometimes, when reduced by famine, they live on arrow-root. Sometimes they dip the points of their arrows in perfume, after which they (the arrows, not the Indians) are Scent. That this fact was known to Mr. SHAKESPEARE is shown by his line,

"Arrows by any other name would smell as wheat."

What is meant by the allusion to wheat is not quite clear; but it probably refers to old Rye. An Indian may be called the Bow ideal of a man. And then, again, he may not. It is a bad habit to call names. The Western people have given up the Bow, but still retain the Bowie. "Hang up the fiddle and the bow," (BYRON.) Perhaps it is arrowing to their feelings. Perhaps it is not. The Indian is different from the Girl of the Period. He has "two strings to his bow," while she has two beaux "on a string."

* * * * *

CAUSE AND EFFECT.

When the _Daily Trombone_ warns the POPE of Rome that his course is prejudicial to the interests of true Catholics, the venerable prelate doubtless adopts a new policy forthwith. When the _Evening Slasher_ informs NAPOLEON that unless he conciliates the people of France his dynasty will be overthrown, the Emperor doubtless at once confers with his Minister of State concerning the advice thus proffered. When the _Morning Pontoon_ warns VICTORIA that her persistent seclusion is damaging to the cause of the throne, Her Gracious Majesty, without doubt, changes her habits of life instanter. When the _Sunday Blowpipe_ sagely informs BISMARCK that he is a blunderer, the great diplomatist is probably thrown into convulsions by the appalling intelligence. When the _Weekly Gasmeter_ coolly accuses the Czar of Russia of insincerity and double-dealing, that potentate doubtless writes a private note to the editor, defending his honor and policy. When the _Gridiron_ advises VICTOR EMMANUEL to be less rigid in his diplomacy, or he will regret it, beyond question V.E., alarmed and chagrined, reverses his policy in accordance with the advice tendered. When the _Daily Pumpkin_ informs GRANT that the people are disappointed in him, he simply smokes.

* * * * *

Very Fishy!

An English exchange speaks of the Emperor of Russia as "a queer fish." Must we infer from this that he is a Czar-dine?

* * * * *

HIGH CHURCH AND LOW CHURCH.

We are frequently asked what is the difference between High Church and Low Church?

We inquired of a Low Churchman for his definition of a High Churchman.

Well, said he, a High Churchman is a----Well, he is a----Well, I should say he was a----Well, hang me, he is a----a High Old Pharisee.

We next inquired of a High Churchman what made a brother Low Churchman?

Well, he is a----Well, I say he is a----Well, some people call him a---- Yes, he is a----Well, he is a darned Low Pharisee.

We hope our efforts in getting at the truth are eminently satisfactory to all interested, as they are to us.

* * * * *

A Seasonable Hint.

One of the correspondents speaks of being ushered into the august presence of the President. April presence would have been the more appropriate expression--not to say First of April presence.

* * * * *

"The Long, Long, Weary Day."

The Philadelphia _Day_.

* * * * *

WEATHER PROPHECIES FOR MAY.

About the first of the month look out for squalls and damp weather. The sun's rays may be warm, but the beefsteak will be cold. There will be more or less cloudy days throughout the month--especially more. If the mornings are not foggy, they will be clear--that is, if the almanacs are not steeped to the covers in deceit. If we prophesy pleasant weather, and it should prove stormy and disagreeable, you can have redress by calling at the office of PUNCHINELLO.

* * * * *

GREELEY ON BAILEY.

The _Tribune_ extenuates the defalcations of Collector BAILEY, on the ground that "he fought the crowd" (other revenue defaulters) "zealously, effectively, persistently," etc. Suppose that Mr. GREELEY, while pursuing his wild career in the dire places of the city, should fall in with a gang of pickpockets, and get hustled. Suppose that a strong fellow came along and drove away the thieves. Suppose that the strong fellow then "went through" Mr. GREELEY, and eased him of his purse, watch, and magnificent diamond jewelry. Would Mr. GREELEY extenuate the outrage because the strong fellow had previously "fought the crowd zealously, effectively, persistently"?

* * * * *

California Bank Ring.

The California Bank went back on the greenbacks. Congress, being not so green, went back on the California Bank Ring. It was not a Ring of the true metal.

* * * * *

In Vino, etc.

Wine merchants should never advertise. "Good Wine needs no Push."

* * * * *

INTERESTING TO BONE-BOILERS.

Comparative osteology has ever been a favorite study with PUNCHINELLO in his lighter hours. He loves to compare a broiled bone with a devilled bone, and thinks them both good; but he fails to hit upon an adequate comparison for the boiled bones that poison the air of certain city localities with their concentrated stenches. Why don't the Health Inspectors make a descent upon the boilers of bones, and Bone their boilers?

* * * * *

"Jersey Lightning"

That most of the so-called foreign wines sold here are made in New-Jersey, is proved by the strong Bergen-dy flavor possessed by them.

* * * * *

Sutro the Dore(r).

Sutro, having bored Congress to grant him a royalty on all the ore taken out of the Comstock lode, now proposes to bore the Nevada mountains. He says there are loads of silver in that lode. The principal metal thus far shown by SUTRO is native brass. SUTRUO asks only the Letter of the law--the royal--T.

* * * * *

Query.

Does it follow that a FREAR charter will secure a Freer municipal election?

* * * * *

BOOK NOTICES.

A BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. Edited and published by GAIL HAMILTON.

New York: HURD & HOUGHTON.

A regular equinoctial Gail goes whirling and tearing through tin leaves of this smart book. Its aim is to riddle and rip up the system by which certain publishing houses crush authors, and defraud them of their proper dues. The book is written with spirit, and has been issued in a very attractive form by the Riverside Press.

HANS BRETTMANN IN CHURCH, WITH OTHER NEW BALLADS. By CHARLES G. LELAND. Philadelphia: T.B. PETERSON & BROTHERS.

Mr. LELAND, so well known as one of the most learned of our German scholars, has made a specialty of the character known in this country as a "Dutchman." The little volume under notice, which has been very tastefully set forth by Messrs. PETERSON, contains much amusing matter, couched in that queer compound of German and English in the manufacture of which Mr. LELAND excels.

* * * * *

We are indebted to Messrs. GURNEY & SON for a number of photographs of public characters, executed in the best manner of the art. The "mugs" issued by Messrs. GURNEY are quite equal, if not superior, to that most celebrated of all mugs, the "Holy Grail."

CONDENSED CONGRESS.

SENATE.

Action in Congress has not been very lively of late. It is Lent; and the exhilarating sort of entertainment provided by the "high requiem" of a SUMNER, or the wild warbling of a DRAKE, is considered to be unseasonable. The Senate is not a faster, though Senator SUMMER'S tongue goes faster than any body else's in it; nor yet a prayer, though Senator YATES is undeniably Prairie in his oratory; but it is a humiliation. As Lord ASHBURNHAM well remarked when he saw it in its fresh hey-day, we may repeat in its old salt-hay-day, "'Pon mee sole, uno, it is a pudding-headed lot of duffers."

PUNCHINELLO finds nothing to make his weekly abstract and brief chronicle of this asylum for elderly and uninteresting lunatics about without making it too weakly. In the language of Bishop POTTER, when asked by the Rev. Dr. DIX what he would do in the event of a heart turning up, "I'll pass" to--

THE HOUSE,

which never fails to amuse and instruct. Mr. COX has been making a shocking speech about the tariff. Mr. COX remarked that he once thought there was nothing like it. But I have been travelling about since, he said, with a summer-mote in my own buck eye in search of Winter Sunbeams in my Corsican brother's. I have been in Corsica, and of Corsican find a parallel of the latitude of this tariff in the leg ends of the robbers, by which I do not mean the ankles of the Forty Thieves, whom I had the pleasure of seeing in company with my "constituents of the Sixth Congressional District of the City of New-York." Well, then, there was a robber in Corsica of the name of PELEG HIGGINS, who found that his business in the Robbin Rednest line was suffering from the opposition of several other robbers in the neighbor and robbin' hood, who "went through" his victims, to use an expressive phrase common among my constituents, before he had his chance. PELEG thereupon went to the priest of the parish, who assessed the sins of the robbers of that vicinity, and offered him half the proceeds of his future crimes if he would increase his tariff of penances on the opposition firms. The priest drew up a schedule of the Whole Duties of Man. It was practically prohibitory on murders, and robberies were assessed from sixty to eighty per cent _ad valorem_. The other robbers remonstrated. The priest said he would protect his parishioners. PELEG is now very much respected, and owns an iron and log rolling establishment. The other robbers were driven out of the business. That, Mr. COX said, was the origin of the Protective Tariff.

Mr. KELLEY wished to know how much British Gold Mr. COX had received for his infamous harangue. As for him, he was bound to protect his constituents (Mr. COX, "Parishioners;" and laughter on the Democratic, or other, side of Mr. KELLEY'S mouth.) As to the charge that he was behind the age, it was absurd. Every Philadelphian knew that nobody could be behind the Age. He advocated the principle expressed by the Pennsylvanian bard,

You tickle me and I'll tickle you.

Mr. LOGAN said the army ought to be reduced; and he treated with scorn General SHERMAN'S intimation that it ought not to be reduced. General SHERMAN had once told him that there was a Major-General whom the army could spare. He (LOGAN) was a Major-General at the time. He did not know whom General SHERMAN meant. He did not see the use of the regular army, or of West-Point. In his State a man could get along just as well without knowing any thing; and what was the sense of teaching officers? The more they knew, the more they wanted to know. Give them an inch, and they would take an ell. He didn't know what an ell an ell was, and he didn't want to. He was willing to provide a staff, but not a crutch.

Mr. SLOCUM said he hoped it was not unparliamentary to observe that the gentleman who preceded him didn't know what he was talking about. The French staff is larger than our staff. So is the British United Service Club. So is the Irish shillelagh. If the reductions proposed were carried "out," the staff would stick at nothing. The arms of the service might get on without a staff, but how about the legs.

* * * * *

Allurements of the Period.

Novelty and nakedness are the elements to which modern managers of plays and shows chiefly look for success. A new song, the name if which it is unnecessary to give, has brought fresh fame and renewed fortune to the proprietors of a celebrated minstrel theatre. Legs have contributed their might to fill the coffers of some of our leading theatrical managers--legs of the feminine gender, with much display about them, but no drapery. Thus it will be seen that New Ditty in the one case, and Nudity in the other, have taken the great public by the forelock and led it to where the minstrels gesticulate, and the legs and footlights quiver. And now the "lower animals" are touched by the whim of the period, a leading attraction on the bills of the Circus being an equestrian performance with "four naked horses."

* * * * *

Sartorial.

A TAYLOR carried through the Mexican war; a DRAPER writes the history of the civil war. Drapers and Taylors such as these understand how to mend national Breaches.

* * * * *

A Fatal Technicality.

"Wimming" have their rights in Wyoming; but then Wyoming can never become "Woming" Territory. And what's to prevent it? Y, don't you see?--that letter won't let her.

* * * * *

BROADBRIM TO ABORIGINE.

Friend PIEGAN! with the war-paint on thy cheek, I am thy friend; pray listen, then, to me-- Nay, do not scalp me!--may a Friend not speak? Put up thy knife: I draw no knife on thee.

Friend PIEGAN! can thee count the forest leaves? For every leaf, thee counts a Pale Face too! Full many strokes the Red Man now receives: But, PIEGAN friend, what can the Red Man do?

The Small-Pox and the Fever strike him down; The White Man is his foe: he cannot live! For the Great Spirit tells him, with a frown, All men shall perish that will not forgive!

The Pale Face has been here? thy child is killed? But little scales are hanging to thy belt! Say, when thy father's heart with wrath was filled, Did not thee know how thy White Brother felt?

Now, PIEGAN friend! thee has enough of war! Bury the hatchet, and thy arrows break; Wait for the Happy Hunting Grounds afar-- A Reservation that they cannot take!

The Latest from Albany.

'All--O.K. till December.

* * * * *

Up and Down.

The almost universal cry, "Down with the taxes!" is inconsistent in one sense, because if taxes were Down, they would certainly be extremely light.

* * * * *

Running and Reid-in.

And now MAYNE REID is announced as having a lecture on BYRON. At this rate we shall soon have BYRON'S memory embalmed in Stowe-Reid greatness.

* * * * *

Good Roaming Catholics.

The Sisters of Charity.

A VISIT TO "SHERIDAN'S RIDE."

PHILADELPHIA, March 26, 1870.

DEAR PUNCHINELLO:

Taking my way along Chestnut Street a few days since, I found my progress arrested at Tenth Street by a great current of humanity, that swept with resistless force into the entrance to the Academy of Fine Arts.

I, too, entered, and, passing around the familiar group of the "Centaurs and Lapithæ," which stands beneath the dome, was hurried breathlessly onward by the throng, until I found myself face to face with that _chef-d'oeuvre_ of modern art, T. BUCHANAN READ'S painting of "SHERIDAN'S Ride."

Give the reins to your imagination, now, (a little horse-talk is appropriate here,) and behold one thousand men and women, of refined and cultivated tastes, doing tearful homage to the genius of the great Poetaster--pardon me, Mr. T.B.R., Poet-artist was what I meant to have said.

From these my critical orbs now wandered to the painting; from the painting to PUGH, (the astute "engineer" of the "show,") and then to the painting again. "What drawing!" remarked I. (PUGH smiled, and glanced approvingly at the audience.) "There is much freedom and boldness in it," continued I. "It is very broad, rich in color, and--" "In a word," interrupted a friend of mine, whose grandfather was a Frenchman, "full of _chic_!" (PUGH blushed.)

Admirable and truthful, indeed, is the expression imparted by the artist to the fleet General who suddenly became famous by being Twenty Miles away from the Post of Duty!

The flashing eye; the close-cut military style of the hair; the fierce moustache; the row of three buttons marking exalted grade; the vigorous yet graceful movement of the sword-arm, and the cap disappearing in the distance, indicative of the remarkable time making by the "horsenman"--all these are admirable points in the picture, and worthy of being closely studied by the student of Art.

As I gazed, a shock-headed young man, with a very red nose, whom I at once recognized as a student of the Life Class, sneeringly observed that the "flourish of the sword smelt a little of the foot-lights." (Artists are ever jealous.)