Chapter 3

The late Mr. WILLIAM COBBETT teaching his sons to shave with cold water.

ST. PATRICK emptying the snakes out of his boots.

TRUE LOVE never running smooth.

NO MAN acting _Hero_ to his _valet de chambre_.

ROBERT BONNER taking DEXTER by the forelock with one hand, and TIME with the other.

Subjects like these might be worked out to advantage. The field in which they are to be found is almost unlimited; and they possess abundantly the two grand essentials to success in art at the present time, as well as in literature--novelty and sensation.

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H.G. and Terpsichore.

AMONG the strange revelations about _Tribune_ people elicited during the MCFARLAND trial, was the bit of gossip about Mr. GREELEY going to Saratoga to "trip the light fantastic toe." That Mr. GREELEY'S toe is "fantastic," every body who has ever inspected his "Congress gaiters" must know, but as to its lightness we have our doubts. "What I know about dancing" would be a capital subject for H.G. to handle, and we hope that he will take Steps for doing it.

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Sweeny's New Charter.

How doth the busy Peter B., Improve each shining hour! From nettled young Democracy, He plucks the safety-flower.

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From Rome.

The POPE is said to be "out of Spirits." Why doesn't he come to New-York, where he can get plenty of the article, either in the sense of the Tap or in that of the Rap?

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"He who was Born to be Hanged," etc.

On one of the mornings of the MCFARLAND trial, a very importunate person attempted to force his way into the court-room, which, as he was told, was already crowded "to suffocation." To this he retorted that he "wasn't born to be suffocated." That's in substance what the late JACK REYNOLDS said, and _he_ was mistaken.

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The Difference.

Rice riots are reported as raging in all the ports of Japan. Rye was the principal mover in the famous conscription riots of New-York.

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A Celestial Idea.

No wonder the Chinese theatre in San Francisco is a success, considering how skilful the actors must be in catching the Cue.

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JUMBLES.

Did you ever hear of my friend BOOTSBY? "No." That's rather queer. I see--you've been out of town. BOOTSBY is a man of standing--of decided standing, I may say. He stands, in fact, a great deal. The heavy standing round he does is enormous when the limited capacity of a single mortal is taken in view. BOOTSBY stands round among every class of people, and especially of politicians and potationers. He stands round to talk, to hear, and especially to drink. The power of the man in this last matter is wonderful, and the puzzle is, that his standing (and perpendicularity) is not perceptibly affected. Of course there are times when BOOTSBY'S standing is not so good. In so slippery a place as Wall Street, it is found to be less certain; while in a crowd on Broadway, waiting for a bus, it cannot be said to maintain a very remarkable firmness. But as a whole, and as the world goes, BOOTSBY is a man of standing. In the altitude of six feet ten, he may be called a man of high standing. He feels proud of the fact. "Is it not better to be a mountain than a mole?" he often asks in a proudly sneering manner of his neighbor PUGGS, who is about as far up in the world as the top of a yard-stick. It is very true that size is not quality, and a seven-footer may be no better than a three-footer; but it is observed that a Short Man is rarely any thing else. His stature is his measure throughout. My own impression of myself is, that I don't care to be short; but if the alternative were forced upon me, I should choose that of person rather than of purse. BOOTSBY does not care much about money, and he carries very little. Some people are like BOOTSBY, but most people are not. The ladies, it is true, never, or rarely, want money. Like newspapers and club-houses, they are self-supporting. In fact they surround themselves with supporters which stay tightly. Mrs. TODD is peculiar in her wants pecuniary. She, good soul, never wants (or keeps) money long, but she doesn't want it _little_. She prefers it like onions, in a large bunch, and strong. The reason why most women do not want money is because they have no use for it. They never dress; they never wear jewelry; silks and satins have no charms in their eyes; laces, ribbons, shawls never tempt. To exist and walk upright in simpleness and quiet is the sum of their desires. Dear creatures! how is it that they never want?

My neighbor, Mr. DROWSE, desires to know where you get all your funny things for PUNCHINELLO? He knows they are there, does Mr. DROWSE; for he gets my copy of the penny postman, and he keeps it, too. It is the only good taste my neighbor has displayed of late years. I tell Mr. DROWSE that you make your fun. He further asks, Where? I tell him in the attic--up there where they keep the salt. He desires to know the size of attic. Of course he has never seen your noble, capacious, alabaster forehead, else he would perceive the source of those scintillations of light and warmth which radiate throughout the universe every Saturday for only ten cents. He is curious also to know about the salt, and doesn't comprehend how or where you use it. He used to use it when a boy in catching birds by putting the briny compound on the tails of the same, and _that_ he used to call "fun alive;" but he don't see it--the salt--about PUNCHINELLO. I suspect Mr. DROWSE doesn't see the sellers, (certainly he avoids them when PUNCHINELLO is offered, much to my mortification, and one dime to my cost,) and so is not likely to discern the source of the fun. I merely informed Mr. DROWSE that the editor was very tall, very handsome, with very black skin and rosy hair, (at which he opened his eyes with astonishment, and asked if I meant so; at which I said, "Yes, I guess so,") and that he laughed out of his nose, eyes, head, and hands, as well as his mouth. DROWSE wants to see the editor very much. He has seen men with black skins and hearts, (for he used to know lots of politicians;) but wants to put his vision on some "rosy hair"--and when he does, no doubt his gaze will be fixed. It is healthy sometimes to have the gaze fixed; and often, like sauce-pans and sermons, it has to be fixed. When Mr. DROWSE calls at 83, please show him in Parlor 6 with the Brussels, fresco-work, and lace curtains.

April is a model month. So serene, steady, clear, and balmy. Nothing but blue sky, gentle zephyrs, kissing breezes, genial suns by day and sparkling stars by night. PUNCHINELLO no doubt likes sparkling stars--stars of magnitude--stars that show what they are. PUNCHINELLO perhaps goes to NIBLO'S, and not only sees plenty stars, but plenty of them. But of April. It is called "fickle;" but that's a slander. "Every thing by turns and nothing long"--that is a libel on which a suit could be hung. The same vile falsehood is cruelly uttered of some women, when every body knows, or should know, that these same women are nothing of the sort. Who ever knew a fickle woman?

Where in history is there record of such an Impossibility? Fickle--that implies a change of mind. What woman ever changed her mind any more than her hands? Nonsense, avaunt!--banished be slander! April is _not_ fickle--woman is _not_ fickle. As one is evenly beautiful, divinely serene, bewitchingly winning, so is the other sunny, cerulean, balmy, paradisiacal. April for ever--after that the rest of the calendar.

Does PUNCHINELLO believe in the Woman Movement? TODD does. He believes woman should move as much as man; and he regards her movement in such numbers to the great West as full of hope (and husbands) for the sex. Mrs. TODD has not as yet been irresistibly seized by the movement; but if TIMOTHY knows himself, he longs for the day when the seizer may come. Although TODD--who is the writer of this epistle--says it, who perhaps shouldn't, lest the shaft of egotism be hurled mercilessly at him, he does unhesitatingly say that to aid this movement he would make the greatest of sacrifices. He is willing to sacrifice his wife and other female relations upon the sacred altar of the movement, and contribute liberally to the expense thereof. He is quite willing they should vote--early and often, if need be; but he wishes to see the movement go westward like the Star of Empire--westward _viâ_ cheerful Chicago. TODD trusts PUNCHINELLO will espouse this movement; for if it does, it--the movement, no less than PUNCHINELLO--will go straight onward and upward; but not by the route known as the Spout.

Mucilage is a good thing. It is now extensively used in Church, State, and Society. We use it largely at the Veneerfront Avenue Church, of which Rev. Dr. ALEXANDER PLASTERWELL is pastor. Of course, Mr. PUNCHINELLO, you know that distinguished church, and have no doubt often listened to the distinguished Dr. PLASTERWELL. He is a kind man, has a high forehead, a Roman (Burgundy) nose, and a sweet, soft head--I should say heart. He has--great and good man--the largest faith in mucilage. He often makes it a text, and he sticks to it, he does--does Dr. PLASTERWELL. Nothing like mucilage, PUNCHINELLO. It is the hope of the human race, and the salvation of woman. It is the Philosopher's Stone in solution; the essence and link which connects and cements all that is great, good, and lovely, in the past, present, and future. At least, such is the humble opinion of

TIMOTHY TODD.

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HINTS TO CAR CONDUCTORS.

When standing in Printing House Square, your destination being Grand Street Perry or Bleecker Street, if a stranger asks whether you are going to Harlem, nod, as it is considered improper to answer in the negative. If he finds out the mistake, you can plead deafness.

When called upon to stop, never attempt to comply. There are several reasons why you should not. In the first place, if you did stop, it would show that you have no will of your own, and since the passage of the Fifteenth Amendment, _all_ men are equal in this country.

You may stop about two blocks from the place named, just to please yourself and prove your independence; but take particular care to start the car when the passenger is half off the steps. If there is a young surgeon in the neighborhood, you can enter into an arrangement to break arms and legs in this way with impunity, have the maimed "carried into the surgery," and share the fees with the operator. Occasional cases of manslaughter may take place; but don't mind that, as coroners' juries in New-York will return verdicts of "death from natural causes." Besides this, remember that you have a vote, and that both coroners and judges are dependent upon the people. When a lame old gentleman hails you, beckon him furiously to come on, but be sure, at the same time, to urge the driver to greater speed.

It is no part of your business to have change, so never give any, but drive on: people should provide for and look after their own business and that is none of yours.

Always drive through the centre of a target company or funeral procession, never minding whether you kill one or more, and then abuse the captain or the undertaker for his stupidity.

By the adoption of these essential rules, and by adding a good deal of incivility, you will soon reach the top of the wheel of your profession and in due time have a testimonial presented to you by an admiring and grateful public.

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Out in the Cold.

Commissioner Tweed proposes a new outside Bureau of the Department of Public Works, for late-Commissioner MCLEAN. He is to be Superintendent of Refrigerators.

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TO CAPTAIN HALL.

(IN ANTICIPATION OF HIS TRIP TO THE POLE.)

HALL! HALL! D'ye hear our call? Or, do you fancy it to be A weather sign--merely the pre- Monition of a squall At sea! HALL!

You pay no heed at all. Nevertheless, O hardy mariner! (A Snow-Bird brings this with our kindest love,) We're sorry you prefer Those frigid walks (ever so far above The 80th parallel, we guess!) To stocks, and tariffs, and domestic bliss; Yes, yes, Captain, we're sorry it has come to this!

Why do you madly thirst For grog that's chopped up with a hatchet? say! And tell us of the first Strange thought which spurred you to go up that way! Was it the hope that on some icy coast (Frozen, yourself, almost!) You'd have the luck to meet poor FRANKLIN'S ghost?

And has it seemed, sometimes, That drowning might be pleasanter up there Among the icebergs, native to those climes, Than where The surf breaks gently on some coral-reef, And sirens sweetly soothe one's slow despair? Say, was that your belief?

And who is BENT?[*] Why was _he_ sent, With his Warm Currents wheeling round the Pole? A long, long race must his disciples run: No sun, No fun, No chance to toss a word to any one; And what a goal?

As hopefully you munch The flinty biscuit, watching whale or seal, Or listening, undaunted, to the crunch Of ice-floes at the keel, Say, Sir Intrepid! shall you really think You pioneer the navies of the world? Not while the chink Of well-housed dollars sounds so pleasantly, And safer tracks map out the treacherous sea! If that's your dream, oh! let your sails be furled.

But, no! It is not this! Your spirit, high and bold, Scorning all tamer joys, will have it so! No cold Can chill its ardor! Such a soul would sate Its deathless craving in some lofty flight, Some deed sublime, and read its shining fate By the Aurora's light! For fruitful fellowship, it seeks the wild, The frozen waste, Where the world's venturous heroes--reconciled To sunless, shuddering gloom-- To joyless solitude--with ardor taste Their dread delights! and so at last find room, 'Mid nodding icebergs, for their watery tomb!

For this, we spare you, O dauntless HALL! Once having breathed that air So pure, so fresh, so rare! And caught the wildness of the Esquimaux, We declare you Unfit to live where beans and lettuce grow! Leave delving to the little pitiful mole, Great soul! And now, then, for the Pole!

[Footnote *: Captain BENT, of Cincinnati, originator of the new theory of Polar Currents.]

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CONDENSED CONGRESS.

SENATE.

MR. SUMNER said he was the friend of the oppressed. That, as was well known, was his regular business. Unfortunately, the Fifteenth Amendment had rendered the colored man incapable of being hereafter regarded as an oppressed creature. He was sorry, but it could not be helped. He was therefore forced to go down the chromatic scale of creation and find another class of clients. He found them in cattle. HOMER had sung about the ox-eyed Juno, and WALTER WHITMAN about bob veal. COWPER had remarked that he would not number in his list of friends the man who needlessly set foot upon a cow. He mentioned these things merely to show that railway companies had no right to starve cattle. He proposed an amendment to the Constitution, to provide that a dinner of at least three courses should be given to cows daily. Mr. DRAKE was heartily in favor of the proposition. He had got his feet in a web, so to speak, by paddling in the political waters of Missouri, and some people had gone so far as to call him "quack." He demanded redress.

Mr. WILSON didn't see the use of all this legislation to protect animals. Animals had no votes, although he admitted a partial exception, in that every bull, it had its ballot. But he had something practical. Here was a jolly job, the Pacific Railway grant. There was a good deal more in it than they had made out of any other GRANT. Mr. THURMAN'S suggestion, that this land ought to be occupied by actual settlers, he scorned. "Actual settlers" were of a great deal more use to him in Massachusetts, where they could vote for him, than in the territories, where that boon would not be extended to them. It was much better that they should be occupied by imaginary settlers, who could pay and not vote. Actual "settlings" were the dregs of humanity.

The Georgia bill came up, as it does every day with much more regularity than luncheon. The Senate has succeeded in muddling it to that degree of unintelligibility that nobody has the slightest notion what it provides. It is, therefore, in a condition to give rise to infinite debate. After several senators had said enough for a foundation for thirty columns each in the _Globe,_ they let it go for the present. The present was the one promised by Senator WILSON in return for the Pacific Railway grab grant.

HOUSE.

The House is given over to the tariff. A very indelicate discussion has been had upon corsets. Mr. BROOKS was of opinion that the corset would tariff it were subjected to any more strain in the way of duties. Mr. MARSHALL remarked that the corset avoided a great deal of Waist. It was whalebone of his bone, or something of that sort. It was one of the main Stays of our social system.

Mr. SCHENCK made another speech. He ripped up the foreign corset in a truculent manner. He said that American corsets were far superior, only American women had not the sense to see it. The effect of taking off the duty on corsets would be to take off the corsets.

Mr. BROOKS called the hooks and ayes on the corsets. Mr. SCHENCK opposed the call. He had found a simple tape much preferable. He wished a coffer-dam might be put upon the roaring BROOKS.

Somebody at this point brought up a contested election case; but Mr. LOGAN objected to its being considered. What, he asked, was the use of wasting time? There was money in the tariff. There was no money at all in voting a Democrat out, and a Republican in. They could do that any day in five minutes. His friend Mr. BUTLER had recently remarked, one Democrat more or less made no difference. But Mr. BUTLER forgot that the larger the majority, the larger the divisor for spoils, and therefore the smaller the quotient and the "dividend." He did not know much about arithmetic. He had never been at West Point; but he believed that a million dollars, for instance, would go further and fare worse among two hundred men than among three. If the House were not careful, there would be a glut of Republicans in it, and the shares would be pitifully meagre. As for him, he had a great mind, (derisive cheers)--he repeated, that he had a great mind to vote for a Democrat next time.

In spite of Mr. LOGAN'S warning, the House voted in a couple or so of Republicans, and then resumed the duty on wool.

Mr. Cox thought this wool had been pulled over the eyes of the house often enough. It reminded him of an expedition, of which Mr. LOGAN had never heard, in search of a "Golden Fleece."

Mr. JENCKES, and Mr. SCHENCK, and Mr. KELLEY called him to order in behalf of their constituents, who were in the wool business, and said that "wool" in one form or another had always been the staple of their political career.

Mr. BUTLER said he had a little game worth two of that. He wanted to buy San Domingo. In this there were plenty of commissions, and hundreds of thousands of colored votes.

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FIFTEENTH AMENDMENT.

ALDERMANIC RECEPTION UP-TOWN.

CAESAR, walk in! Ah POMPEY! how d'e do? This way, CLEM! Gentlemen, please walk right through! GEORGE, how's your mother? Fine day, PETE--fine day! Well, how are things down there at Oyster Bay?

Ah AUNTIE! how's your rheumatiz, this spring? Well, Mr. JOHNSON, did you try that sling? Why, this is Uncle STEVE! How-do-you-do. Uncle? Sit down. What can I do for you?

Well, Mr. PRINCE! You must be busy, now. Whitewashing is the best thing done, I vow! Why, hel-lo! REGIS! From the Cape so soon? When do you open, this year--first of June?

Come, gentlemen--some wine? Now, don't refuse! What! temperate? teetotal? Well, that's news! And good news, too! Well, coffee, then. You see, My friends, the _sentiment's_ the thing with me.

The real Mocha, AUNTIE! Simon pure! Raised by free Arabs. For I can't endure A single thing that's flavored with a Wrong! Yes, AUNTIE, you are right, I've "come out strong!"

So have the Colored People, I may say! (One fact explains the other, up this way!) They've proved their strength! It's settled, sure as a gun, That every Colored Voter now counts One!

Now, gentlemen, you'll be surprised to find So many people with your turn of mind! But, sure as tricks! remember what I say-- You'll learn some things before Election Day!

POMPEY--'twon't take much time, (and you can spare it!) Try this old fiddle, picked up in the garret! Good? It's your fiddle! AUNTIE, here's a pound Of that same genuine Mocha, ready ground!

Say, Uncle STEVE, I've got a fish for you, Down at the market. Call again, PETE; do! I'll have a job for you and CAESAR soon: It's only waiting for a change of moon.

CLEM, how'd you like a chance to wait on table? Or, would you rather drive, and run my stable? GEORGE, in the kitchen there's a pan of souse! Going? All gone? Now, BRIDGET, air the house!

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Historic Parallel.

THE JACK CADE movement came near destroying London. The Ar-Cade movement threatens to destroy Broadway.

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BUSINESS.

A CHICAGO LAY.

I saw her sweet lip quiver, As he started for the store. Because he hadn't kissed her "Several" times or more.

She cried "This horrid business!" And then flew to her glass; "Oh! why his cold remissness? Have I grown plain, alas?"

But no, that truthful article Revealed her charms intact, She hadn't lost one particle, But had improved, in fact.

At nine the case was opened, At ten the case was o'er; The jury brought their virdict-- She was his wife no more.

That night the husband started, And--"_you_ bet"--he swore, To find his wife departed, And "_To Let_" on the door.

Next day he moved and married. And, that his bride might stay, He kissed her every morning Before he went away.

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Pot-umania.

A correspondent writes that a new mania has sprung up among the ladies of Edinburgh--a fancy for learning to cook. There is a much older mania in some parts of that country--a fancy for something to cook.

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About a Foot.

A BOOT when it's on.