Chapter 4

DEAR PUNCHINELLO: I am not mad, but to you, alone, I confide the secret of my sanity. Nevertheless I thirst for blood.

Feelings over which I have no control, render it imperative that I should shoot somebody. Precisely who may be the victim of this insatiable desire, fate alone can decide. I propose some day next week to commence a general fusilade from the windows of my office upon the passers-by. My sole security in this affair, is a maiden aunt now in the Lunatic Asylum. I look with confidence to her malady as my triumphant vindication. My object in writing to you is to ask whether, in your opinion, the fact is sufficient to _guarantee_ a verdict of "Not Guilty," in case I am prosecuted for murder, or whether an unscrupulous jury could sacrifice me to the unsettled condition of the popular mind on the subject of justifiable insanity. Yours sanguinarily,

--RABIES.

PUNCHINELLO expresses his opinion in reference to the above letter with great reluctance. He fears that if he gives his advice according to his real convictions, he may be overrun with similar applications, and if he gives advice that he doesn't feel, he will condemn "RABIES" to the mortification of the gallows. He therefore takes a middle course, and observes that the possession of an aunt in the Lunatic Asylum is certainly strong presumptive evidence that her nephew is no better than she is. Here in New-York, it would be difficult to upset such evidence, but elsewhere the result might be different. "RABIES" gives no clue to his whereabouts. PUNCHINELLO, therefore, presumes that he does not contemplate murder here. Very well, then, it would be unadvisable to kill any one, until at least two respectable physicians could testify that either before or after the act they had called upon "RABIES," fully interviewed him on the subject of the maiden aunt, and found that the slightest allusion to her was productive of any of the following phenomena:

1st. Sudden and violent twitching of the eyes.

2d. Discoloration of the veins of the nose, resulting in an appearance abnormally rubicund.

3d. Manifestations of extravagant thirst, which water could not satisfy.

4th. Tendency to reach for his boot-straps, as if with the view of lifting himself by the same.

5th. Rapid rise of the pulse from 50 to 500--say within the space of ten seconds.

6th. Shoo-fly! movement of the hand toward the cheek as if some thing had alighted there, and patient were trying to rub it off.

7th. The presence of a cicatrix on the left temple (This is a most irrefutable proof of insanity).

8th. Psychological developments indicative of "moral alienation."

9th. Gangrenous condition of the tongue, proceeding from a disordered liver, and mysteriously communicated to the brain.

10th. Any symptoms going to show that patient might mistake another man's wife for his own.

11th. Discovery at the last moment that patient's father suffered himself to be hung for murder.

PUNCHINELLO offers these as the accepted _data_ by which RABIES may measure his chances for life in case he executes his avowed purpose, but I would impress upon him the fact that these are necessary _outside_ of New-York only. Here proof of the lunacy of the maiden aunt would be sufficient.

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UNCLE SAMUEL

To His Lit-tle Lads in Con-gress.

[A LESSON IN EASY WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.]

My lads! I will be plain with, you: I am not pleased with all you do. I hate to scold, and yet I must; And you will take it well, I trust.

When first I saw you, nice and clean, It was a sight to show the Queen! I was an ass to like you so; But where we _wish_ to like, we do. I should have known it could not be; For luck, of late, is gone from me. No more I see the good old times When fools were fools, and crimes were crimes, And boys and men had work to do, And did not play till work was through. The times have changed; so have the boys! I know this, when I hear your noise, And note your slack work, day by day; Each lad must have his own small way, If it is but to loaf and loll, Or else, not to come in at all, Or not to care for what is done If so be it can yield no fun, Or else, to be as coarse and rough, As rash and rude, and grum and gruff, As though it were some bear that spoke, Whom all the world must long to choke.

For shame, my lads! I let you draw All I can spare to you by law; Each lad of you takes all he can, But not a soul acts like a man! What do you _do_, for such fine pay? What have you done these five months? Say! You know you ought to do some good; The friends that sent you, think you should. Have you no pride, no sense! In fine, Why do you waste their time and mine?

If it could move you, I'd tell how The boys that sat where you sit now Once _earned_ their pay, and got the name Of fine, brave lads! But you!--for shame! Boys, I could thrash you all, I fear!

It may be, times will change, this year-- Your friends all tire of you, I know, And what, if they should let you go! The school, through you, has such a name All good men feel a kind of shame; They feel the world must laugh, at last-- The world that could not scorn the past!

Oh, think of that, my lads! I see You do not mean to turn from me. From _me_, your best of friends? Oh, no! I may seem grave, and dull, and slow. But you and I, my lads, are one! Your fame, your blame, I can not shun. Much have I borne for you, of late; But you are small, and I am great!

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A Reflection for Recorder Hackett.

The GRAHAM bread bakers are useful members of the community, but the same can not be said of GRAHAM bred lawyers.

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A SONG OF THE NEW BABEL.

[_Dedicated with sentiments of the most inexpressible respect to the Members of the Forty-First Congress._]

I.

Oh! who, for any payment auriferous or argent, Would undertake to do the work that Mr. Speaker does-- With nobody to help him except the trembling Sergeant, While still begin and never end the shout and scream and buzz? Oh, never any where, save in desert groves Brazilian, Was ever heard such endless and aimless gabble yet. For there the tribes of monkeys to the number of a million, Screech and chatter without ceasing, from the sunrise to the set. Rap! rap! rap! To quell the rising clamor; Order! order! order! Hammer! hammer! hammer!

II.

O strength of tongue how awful! O power of lungs how mighty! Whence draw ye, honest gentlemen, your constant wind supply? Whence comes your inspiration, belligerent or flighty? Your common-place that grovels and your metaphors so high? Pray, why not try, for novelty, a kind of solo speaking? One man upon his legs--only one upon the floor? For eloquence,'tis possible, does not consist in shrieking, And really where's the argument in all this thundering roar? Rap! rap! rap! To quell the rising clamor; Order! order! order! Hammer! hammer! hammer!

III.

The country listens sadly to the racket most distressing, And wonders, in its bother, if e'er the time will come When the Fates and Constitution will vouchsafe to us the blessing Of a House of Representatives completely deaf and dumb; Or if, perhaps, in exile these noisy mischief-makers, The stream of elocution run most fortunately dry, In seats of legislation, rows of ruminating Quakers May shake their heads for "Nay" and may nod their heads for "Aye." Rap! rap! rap! To quell the rising clamor; Order! order! order! Hammer! hammer! hammer!

IV.

But if these mighty nuisances we cannot stop or flee 'em, If past all other remedy the sounding evil reaches, Oh, why not send for GILMORE of the Boston Coliseum, That he may drill the Members in a chorus to make speeches? Then shall stop the fierce _rencontre_--shall cease the idle rating; Then debates shall he no longer without a head or tail; And while the power of song every soul is demonstrating, Each member cherubimical will scorn to rant or rail. Rap! rap! rap! To quell the rising clamor; Order! order! order! Hammer! hammer! hammer!

V.

But if for solo speaking Members still feel an avidity; If they burn to make orations of most uncommon zest, Let them just take our precaution against intense stupidity! Let them study PUNCHINELLO and learn how to make a jest; But away with dreams chimerical and projects vain, though clever! The power of tongue's proportionate to wondrous length of ear; The beast that carried BALAAM is as garrulous as ever, And still the lobby listener must be content to hear Rap! rap! rap! To quell the rising clamor; Order! order! order! Hammer! hammer! hammer!

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* * * * *

CONDENSED CONGRESS.

SENATE.

Just as usual, WILSON had another little scheme on hand. There was no money in it--nothing but a little Massachusetts glory. It was to set apart a day to decorate the graves of the Union dead. Mr. WILSON remembered that it would have been more consonant to his own feelings to confine the ornamentations to the graves of colored men and the men of Massachusetts. But for the sake of peace and harmony he was willing to decorate all round.

Mr. GARRETT DAVIS suggested that it didn't make any difference whether they set apart a day or not. If people wished to decorate, they would decorate, and if they didn't, they wouldn't.

Mr. DRAKE said Mr. DAVIS'S hands were dripping with loyal gore.

Mr. DAVIS said he would reply to that insinuation the first leisure week he had. In the meantime he contented himself with hurling the foul slander back into Mr. DRAKE'S teeth, if Mr. DRAKE had any.

Lest Mr. DAVIS should execute his threat of making a speech, the Senate referred the subject.

Then there was a first-class wrangle about giving pensions to Mrs. LINCOLN and Mrs. RAWLINGS. It was represented that Mrs. LINCOLN was given up to riotous living upon pumpernickel and ganzebroost, at a German watering-place, and that there was a rumor afloat that unless Congress pensioned her at once, she might marry a German prince. Mr. SHERMAN, on behalf of the Finance Committee, represented that German princes were notoriously expensive and impecunious, and that it would be much cheaper to pension Mrs. LINCOLN alone than to pension her and a German prince together. He submitted some statements, showing what it had cost Great Britain to have German princes marrying into the Royal family. The Senate, therefore, incontinently passed the bill.

Mr. Morrill introduced a neat little swindle, which does equal credit to his hand and heart, providing that the United States should have the free use of all patents granted under it. He said this was to discourage that pernicious class of men, the inventors. In many branches of industry, such as arms, the Government was the only customer of the inventor. In those cases, the inventor's gray hairs would be brought immediately to the grave. And inasmuch as the Government had a finger in almost every body's pie, the future FULTONS and GOODYEARS would starve to death before the completion of their diabolical devices.

Some land-grabs were rushed through, when Mr. SAULSBURY objected. He said nobody made any thing out of this except the Western Senators. He called upon the men of the Eastern States to stand up for their share. He had a little game in the interest of his own constituents. It was no chimerical railway. It was a good, substantial, practical concern. He demanded six million acres in behalf of the Delaware Balloon Navigation Company. If this demand were not complied with, it would show that the Senate were actuated by the basest personal motives.

HOUSE.

The gentle JULIAN insisted upon proposing his sixteenth or seventeenth amendment. He said that he understood several women intended to vote, and he introduced this to preserve his domestic peace.

Mr. JENCKES, for the forty-fifth time, called up his Civil Service bill.

Mr. BUTLER, for the thirty-seventh time, introduced a bill to annex San Domingo.

Mr. KELLEY and Mr. SCHENCK raved a neat but not new duett, "Give us Tariff or give us Death."

Mr. LOGAN gave a fine rendering of his famous bass solo, "The Tariff be Hanged."

Mr. SCHENCK intimated that Mr. LOGAN was an insect. At first he said he was a pismire, but the Speaker said pismire was not parliamentary, and he modified it to grasshopper.

Mr. KELLEY said that he took his stand upon American pig-iron, for which our fathers fought and bled. Did they never hear of Valley Forge? Our fathers suffered in that forge for the sake of protecting their children in the right to smelt in other forges. He said that the man who could smelt two pigs of iron where only one was smelted before, was a public benefactor.

Mr. COX said he could not smelt a pig, but he thought he smelt a rat.

Mr. JENCKES said he thought his Civil Service bill would tend to diminish stealing.

Mr. PETERS said he would oppose it for that very reason. He wished to reward his friends. It was no reward for a man who stood by his country in her hour of peril, to be given an office in which he had to work for a living. What patriot would not be disgusted by the ingratitude of a country which dared to insult him like that? There was nothing in this bill to prevent a man dripping with loyal gore from holding office, if he was honest and intelligent; whereas, one of his, Mr. PETERS'S staunchest supporters might be refused an office, if he had the misfortune to be dishonest and dull. The notion of making "capacity and integrity" a qualification for office-holding was unprecedented, and was preposterous. If things went on in this way, even members of Congress would be compelled to do something for their pay. Now he preferred to administer the public service on the good old principle they all had practised, of "You tickle me and I'll tickle you."

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NOTES FROM CHICAGO.

The Garden City seems to be in a quiescent state at present. There is no startling divorce case on the _topis_, and the main portion of the Court House has not yet fallen in, and Mr. H.'s wife has not recently surprised him in any well-matured plan for putting a _quietus_ upon her existence. Domestic felicity is unusually prevalent. The scarlet-fever and measles have prevailed to a somewhat alarming extent; but the most contagious of all has been the _French_ fever. This malady seems to have spread amongst all classes; the fashionable and the unfashionable, the strong-minded and the frivolous. French teachers swarm like bees, here, there, and every where, and all speaking the purest Parisian French; even Mons. L'HARMONIQUE, who comes from that wee little town in Canada, where the Canucks "most do congregate." But he says "the Americans do love so much humbug," that he gives them their fill of that article.

We have had French parties, French plays, French lectures. We read French, speak French, sing French, and look French; and, if you are so barbarously ignorant as not to understand that language, why, you might just as well retire for an old fossil or petrifaction. You're obsolete, that's all; as much behind the times as RIP VAN WINKLE himself, after his memorable sleep. English is out of date here--a relic of the Dark Ages. Fashionable ladies return from Paris, bringing with them accomplished _bonnes_, and every one is prohibited from speaking a word of English to the children; but, in spite of every precaution, the vulgar little creatures will drop the musical foreign tongue, and speak their own native language. They are christened ADELE, MARIE, or CLAIRE; the SUSANS, MARYS, and ELLENS having ceased to exist.

Parisian fashions, of course, reign triumphant, and the pretty young girls in French frizzes and furbelows, shrug their fair white shoulders exactly as they see "that elegant Madame DE----" do, and gesticulate with what they imagine to be the true French grace and vivacity. They all have a charming young teacher, with whom they carry on a most romantic flirtation, that of course means nothing; and each one of these fair students, (who conscientiously puts a "g" to every termination possible, and who says _monseer_,) will tell you, with a complacent smile, that Professor ---- considers her pronunciation unusually excellent. They are all studying in the blissful anticipation of a trip to Paris, where they will be presented to the Empress in yellow satin gowns, and then, when they return, how eagerly will they be sought by the fashionable young snobs, who long will see upon their fair brows the reflection of imperial glory. That is, if the dark-eyed ROMEOS abroad allow them ever to return to their native country.

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* * * * *

COMIC ZOOLOGY,

Order-Reptilia.

SPECIES-BULLFROG.

Although the batrachian is of the genus _bufo_, he is by no means a _buffo_ genius. He may be styled the solemn organist of the swamp; slough music being his specialty. Like other out-door performers on wind instruments, he is chiefly heard in pleasant weather, and during the summer his organ is without stops. Being a Democrat, he appreciates the dignity of labor, and consequently is not ashamed to blow his own bellows.

Winter shuts the bull-frog up like a four-bladed jack-knife, and he does not open until the blades are started by the Spring. He seldom leaves his mud bivouac for active service before April, but a Forward March sometimes induces him to move earlier. As a rule, however, the smaller varieties of the species begin to ply their bog-pipes some weeks before he volunteers a voluntary.

Originally, this member of the Frog family had no surname, but about two thousand years ago, in consequence of his disastrous failure in an attempt to rival a male animal of the bovine species, the prefix "bull" was incorporated with his patronymic by a crooked little Greek. The name, however, more appropriately belongs to the Horned Frog of Sumatra.

The habits of the Bull-Frog are believed by observant naturalists to be strictly temperate, although there is a rumor afloat that he has been seen Over the Bay in New-Jersey. It is suspected, however, that the originators of the story were persons who visited that State to avoid the restrictions of the Sunday liquor-law, and consequently saw as through a glass darkly. Be that as it may, it is certain that this species of reptiles (unlike the "paragon of animals,") is never too drunk to navigate.

Mankind is deeply indebted to the Bull-Frog. We should never have known how to keep our heads above water but for their example, and, though Mr. CHASE may not be aware of the fact, their greenbacks were the first that ever issued from the Banks of America. Naturally, therefore, they are in advance of SALMON, and, long before he put our currency on its present footing, the hinder limb of a bull-frog was a legal tender.

The frog exists in most parts of the world, and at one time all the varieties of the species were Plaguily abundant in Egypt. They were introduced there to punish the people for their rascality, and appeared in such numbers among the Egyptian blacklegs that they stopped the game of PHARAOH. There is nothing poetic in the aspect of the frog. It is simply a tenaqueous bag of wind, yet it has occasionally given an impulse to the divine _afflatus_. We have it on the authority of the celebrated traveller Count SMORLTORK that the distinguished Mrs. LEO HUNTER, once wrote an "Ode to a Perspiring Frog."

The costume of a Bull-Frog consists of a green coat with yellow vest and brownish breeches, and when he requires a change of uniform, he pulls off the old one and swallows it. This fact has been doubted; but why should It be deemed incredible? Are there not parallel cases in the human family? GOLDSMITH tells us that he once lived for a fortnight on his coat and waistcoat; and every pawnbroker knows that a cast-off suit often furnishes the material for a family dinner. Why should not a frog sustain life with his Pants as well as a Christian?

Common brown frogs are good baits for FISH in most of the counties in this State; but when you go to HAMILTON try the greenbacks.

The unlicked cubs of the batrachian family are known (irrespective of sex) as Pollywogs, and are the meanest of all the reptile race except the radical Scaliwags. They are all heads and tails, and then, not the toss of a copper to choose between the two ends, as regards hideousness. The manner in which the tails are gradually developed into legs is very curious, but, as this is not a Caudal lecture, it is unnecessary to describe the process.

It has been metrically stated that the fast young batrachian goes a wooing in an Opera hat, irrespective of his mother's consent, but this assertion is not borne out by BUFFON or CUVIER, and maybe set down as a _lapsus lyrea_. Upon the whole the Bull-Frog, though harmless as a lamb, is nearly as stupid as a donkey, which accounts for his taking up his abode among Morasses, when he might dwell in the woods with the turtle and "feel like a bird." Furthermore, and finally, the subject is a slippery one and difficult to handle, and, therefore, with this remark we drop it.

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A Clerical Error.

A PRESBYTERIAN clergyman, the Rev. CHARLES B. SMYTHE, has been scandalizing a community in New-Jersey by putting gin in his milk, and that on a Sunday afternoon. From the rebuke administered to Rev. SMYTHE by the authorities of his church, it appears that his case must have been a very aggravated one. They admonished him to "walk more correctly in future;" the inference to be drawn from which is that the amount of milk-punch, outside of which Rev. SMYTHE had placed himself, was sufficient to impart a stagger to his gait.

* * * * *

Right to a T.

The employment of Chinese laborers to build railroads is very suggestive of a well-known product of the Celestial Empire, since railroad tracks are usually laid with T rails.

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"What's in a Name?"

Letters of the Alphabet.

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A Be-Knighted Set.

The Canadian Government.

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ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

_Anxious Inquirer_. Can you give me any clue to the whereabouts of Collector BAILEY? I have advertised repeatedly for information concerning him without the slightest success.

N.B. PUNCHINELLO begs to give notice that he doesn't keep a detective police agency, but the gentleman in question is said to be in _Esse_.

_Economist_. Is a gentleman who invites a lady to the theatre obliged to hire a carriage to take her in?