Chapter 4

Now, it so happened, that during the whole of the preceding week I had worn a black hat and gray pantaloons; indeed, I had them on yet, and, to tell the truth, I had no others. Therefore, this part of the case was all clear enough. There was no reason why the gentleman inquired for should not be me. I had certainly ridden in a stage in the last week, and I remember very well that I passed up the fare for lady with blue eyes. I performed a similar service for several ladies; but one of them, I am sure, had blue eyes. As to the high-heeled boots I suppose she wore them, but how was I to know that? At all events it would be a piece of the most culpable indifference to my welfare to neglect this chance. Fortune! and through a lady, too! To think of it! The promised advantage might be great or small, but whatever it was, it would be most welcome. And the honor, too! A piece of positive advantage for an act of manly gallantry!

I immediately put on that black hat, and with those identical gray trowsers upon my legs, I strode down to 321 Dash street, and mounted instantly to the second floor. As there was but one entrance door from the stair-way on this floor, I felt certain that I had found the right place.

The business of Mr. A.R.R. was evidently a very profitable one, for his room was quite full of people. I inquired of a boy for the author of the notice I held in my hand, (I had carefully cut it from the paper,) and was informed that this was the right place, and that the gentleman would see me in a few moments. I took a seat and regarded the persons who were standing and sitting about the room. They were all men, and in a few minutes I discovered, to my great surprise, that they all wore black hats and gray pantaloons!

I must admit, that when I made this discovery, I experienced a very peculiar sensation, as if some one had suddenly dropped a little ice-water down my back. Was it possible that all these men were here in answer to that advertisement, which I considered addressed to me alone? There were all sorts of them; old gentlemen with heads grayer than their pants; young fellows who looked like clerks; and middle-aged men, who seemed like very respectable heads of families. Was it possible that each one of those individuals had, in the last week, passed up the fare of a blue-eyed lady with high-heeled boots? And did each one of them expect to enjoy that advantage for which I came here? One thing was certain; they did not announce to each other their business, but looked at their watches and tapped their boots, and knitted their brows as if each one of them had come on very particular business, which had nothing to do with the affairs of the general crowd. But all those gray trowsers! There was no concealing them.

A door, leading into an adjoining room, now opened quickly, and Mr. A.R.R. made his appearance. No one doubted that he was the man, for he bowed politely, and seemed to expect the company. He was a tall, thin, and well-dressed man, and held in his hand a small package. Instantly upon his appearance every man in the room stuck his thumb and forefinger into his vest pocket, and pulling out a little piece of printed paper, said, "Sir, I called--" A.R.R. waved his hand.

"Gentlemen," said he, "I know why you called, and you will allow me to remark--"

"But look here," said a tall man with a blue cravat. "I think that I am the person you want to see, and as I am in a hurry, I would like to see you for a few minutes in private."

Dozens of angry eyes were now directed upon this presumptuous individual, and dozens of angry voices were about to break forth when the benign A.R.R. again waved his hand.

"Gentlemen," said he, "I wish to see you all. No one more than another. I have reason to believe that every one of you is the person to whom that advertisement referred. I see you are all gentlemen, and you would not have made your appearance here had you not fulfilled the conditions mentioned in the paper."

Here was a smothered hum, which seemed to precede a general outbreak, but A.R.R., blandly smiling, continued:

"Gentlemen, do not become impatient. What I have to say is to the advantage of every one of you. You all move in good society--I can see that--and you therefore are well aware of some of the penalties of social pleasures and high living. Consequently, gentlemen," and now he spoke very fast, as if fearful of interruption, "you must have, all of you, experienced some of the evils of indigestion, and it is to relieve these that I have prepared my Binocular Barberry Bitters--"

A roar of rage here broke forth from every man of us, and a rush was made towards the smiling impostor, but he quickly slipped through the door behind him, and locked it in our faces. And then, before we could rush from the room where we had been so shamefully duped, the head of A.R.R. appeared at a little window in the partition-wall, and he called out:

"Gentlemen, this mixture is, as my initials declare, a Radical Relief, and retails at one dollar per bottle, I hope you will take some of my circulars home with you," and he threw among the crowd the package of circulars which he had held in his hand.

This, O friend PUNCHINELLO, was only one of my Glimpses of Fortune. I may yet see the jade more nearly. IMPECUNE.

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Query.

Under the conditions of the Fifteenth Amendment, should things continue to be put down in Black and White?

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THE INDIAN QUESTION.

[AS VIEWED IN THE WEST.]

This is _our_ business, understand! You Eastern folks, with tempers bland All get your views at second-hand.

We are the ones that take the brunt Of every lively Indian-hunt, So don't be angry if we're blunt.

If any body's scalped it's _us!_ So we've a well-earned right to cuss, And you've _no_ right to make a fuss.

Talk as you please about their "rights;" That don't include their coming nights, And cutting out our lungs and lights.

You get your wife and children shot! (Here it might happen, like us not,) You'll make your mind up on the spot.

"Humanity" 's played out for _you!_ You've got some active work to do; No doubt you'll see it well put through.

Until you've settled that small bill, (As honorable debtors will,) We fancy you will not keep still.

You will admit the tender plea Of "broken faith;" but when you see Your Red Skin, you won't let him be!

Just so with us. We don't go back Of _our_ affair! We were not slack In justice to this Devil's pack!

They settle with the wrong concern; And as they never, _never'll_ learn, We shoot 'em, and don't care a _dern!_

* * * * * [Illustration: EDITORIAL WASHING-DAY IN NEW-YORK.]

EDITORIAL WASHING-DAY.

Observe PUNCHINELLO'S Cartoon, in which you shall behold the editorial laundresses of New-York city having a washy time of it all around. There is a, shriek of objurgation in the air, and a flutter of soiled linen on the breeze. Granny MARBLE, to the extreme left of the picture, clenches her fists over the pungent suds, and looks fight at Granny JONES, of the _Times_. The beaming phiz of Granny GREELEY looms up between the two, like the sun in a fog. But the real _Sun_ in a fog is to be seen to the extreme right. There you behold Granny DANA, shaking her "brawny bunch of fives" in the face of Granny YOUNG, whose manner of wringing out the linen, you will observe, is up to the highest _Standard_ of that branch of art. Further away, Granny TILTON flutters her linen with spiteful flourish, nettled by the vituperation of Granny HASTINGS, who hangs up her _Commercial_ clothes on the line. The _tableau_ is an instructive one; and it is to be hoped that all the U-Lye soaps used by the washerwomen is used up by this time, and that they will replace it with some having a sweeter perfume.

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BOOK NOTICES.

MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. New-York: Charles Scribner & Company.

A very cleverly-written narrative, in smooth verse, detailing the experience of a bride who took to flirting early in her matrimonial career, but was saved from coming to grief by the decisive action of a stern husband. The book contains a capital lesson for the Girl of the Period, whose follies are satirized in it with a sharp pen.

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NOTICE.

The attention of the Public is requested to PUNCHINELLO No. 10, which will be issued upon Thursday, May 26th. It will be a very brilliant number, illustrated with flights of fancy by ten comic artists.

In PUNCHINELLO No. 11 will be commenced a new burlesque serial, "The Mystery of Mister E. Drood," written expressly for this paper by the celebrated humorist, ORPHEUS C. KERR.

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JUMBLES.

MR. PUNCHINELLO, do you know when a woman is perfection itself? "No." I do. It is when she is from sixteen to nineteen. Of course you take her judgment. At sixteen she is the coming flower that has come--the first Rose of Summer, and about the best that may be looked for. Her ideas may not be solid, but they are expansive. Her mind may not make a very great show, but her hair (real and otherwise) is sure to. She is very deep in love--with herself. The supremest divinity is seen when she looks in the mirror. Call her ARABELLA if you like. ARABELLA is mistress of that portion of the dictionary which includes the common-place compliments of society. In her mouth they have a common place, indeed. Some people call such utterances "stuff," "nonsense," "puerilities," but nobody is so prejudiced and unreliable as the above-named some people. They complacently think they know a thing or two, but that is all it amounts to. ARABELLA hasn't any doubt about her being perfection. Unfortunately there is a question about some matters in this world in politics, religion, morality and other kindred things, but on the doctrine of perfection, as applied to her individual self, ARABELLA is clear and settled. Did any body, she says _sotto voce_, to herself, ever put vision on such an ensemble countenance? Were eyes ever more sparkling? Were ever dimples dimpler? Had ever peach such artistic hue, and teeth such pearly pearliness, and lips such positive sweetness, and brow such loveliness? We suppose not. ARABELLA is eighteen, is of elastic notions, sees life as a romance, believes the ground on which she walks ought to be grateful for the honor, and wonders if every body who goes out don't go straightway to talking rapturously about her. ARABELLA is a type--the type of a class of perfectionists. ARABELLA is neither a worm nor a butterfly, but the bridge between. For all this ARABELLA believes herself to be the best of butterflies, with the capacity to fly in the highest manner. At twenty-five her wings will be clipped, her colors will modify, her notions renovate, and her eyes open. She will perceive that the doctrine of perfection is mythical, and angels upon earth only so in name.

Going to church is a good thing. All good people go, and from good motives, of course. Mrs. BROWN, says a wicked gossip, goes to show a bonnet; Mrs. JONES her shawl; Mrs. SMITH her silk; Mrs. JENKINS her gloves and fan. No sane person believes that these ladies go for any such purpose. The case isn't presumable. They are nice, high-toned people, sit in $800 pews, adore Rev. Dr. CANTWELL, and give very freely (of their husband's money) to the heathen in the uttermost corners of the earth. They prefer, good souls, to give to the heathen under the equator to those under their noses. It is _not_ true that ladies go to church for the display of dress. It _is_ true Mrs. JONES does not wish to be outdone by Mrs. JENKINS, and isn't if STEWART can help it, but she is a good pious woman of simple tastes, though Mr. J. thinks she tastes rather often. Going to church is a good thing for example's sake. It is so nice and strengthening to reflect that, as the minister preaches piety, and you practice poetry, (with a pencil in the prayer-book,) you set an example to the rising generation. One can never do too much for the rising generation, though it often rises too frequently and too high. Besides, it encourages the minister. Only think of talking to emptiness instead of fulness--to people instead of plush. How can the dear Rev. SPLURGE SPLUTTER have the heart or tongue to drop his pearls of eloquence to the swine of empty pews? And how dreadful for the gifted soprano, Miss SCREECH, to tune her melodious voice to earless aisles! And then it is so easy to "set" examples by sitting in soft pews, doing to church should be a matter of conscience. Every body not a dolt admits conscience to be a good thing, though a thing every body cannot boast of possessing. I like people of conscience--that is, I should like them if I knew any. It is such a nice thing to talk about--and how much nicer to have. Mrs. TODD often wishes "to conscience" she could reach mine. I am sorry to say that at times Mrs. T. is an irreverent woman. She doesn't perceive that some where under that hairless, proud dome of mine there must be a conscience--I may proudly say, an imposing conscience. I said to Mrs. T. one day, "I _have_ an imposing conscience," and she really thought so--adding the cruel expression that she didn't know of any thing about me but _was_ imposing, and that she first became aware of the sad fact when she married me.

TIMOTHY TODD.

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THE REIGN OF COUPS.

The situation of France is always striking. This is because its people are always being struck with a succession of Napoleonic ideas. They labor, for example, under a constant _coup d'etat_. Their Press is the victim of a regular _coup de main_; their Strikes are daily evidences of _coups de mains_; their Legislature suffers continually from _coup de théâtre_; and their Emperor is perpetually threatened with a _coup de grace_. The energies of Frenchmen are not imprisoned; no, they are only _couped_.

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ELEVATED STATESMANSHIP--INSOBRIETY THE BEST POLICY.

Sir JOHN MACDONALD, the Premier of Canada, though an eccentric leader, is a happy illustration of the most elevated statecraft. "He has been drunk," says the Toronto _Globe_, "for several days, and incapacitated for public affairs." Considering what Canadian affairs are (including Sir JOHN,) this does not follow. Evidently it is not his policy to keep sober. But Sir JOHN is often drunk, says the _Globe_; he was tight before Prince ARTHUR, and he rushes to the bottle whenever the Fenians give alarm. Now this strikes us as very good policy. It helps us to see how convenient it was for Sir JOHN to magnify a few O'BRIENS and O'SHAUGHNESSYS into an army with green banners, and how opportunely the Dominion became intoxicated with its fears.

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COMIC ZOOLOGY.

Order-Reptilia.

THE VIPER.

The supposition that this snake prefers a file to any other species of nourishment is a vulgar error, and belongs to the same mendacious category as the stories that ostriches are fond of ten-penny nails and soldiers of hard tack. It is true that old files are sometimes bitten by vipers in localities where these serpents abound, but in the lizard and hop-toad they usually find metal more attractive. The viper, when in a state of repose, is of an olive-brown color; but, if trodden upon, turns rusty. He is about twenty-four inches in length, as you may see by applying a two-foot rule to him, but it is a good rule to keep two feet away from him. As a bosom friend he is not to be trusted--a fact in natural history that was discovered many years ago by a green countryman, who got into a bad box by placing a viper on his chest. It is a peculiarity of this serpent, that when held suspended by his posterior extremity he can not raise his head to a level with his tail. In consequence of this provision in the economy of nature, he finds it as impossible to make both ends meet as if he were a human prodigal. In this respect he presents a marked contrast to the hoop-snake, which has no more back-bone than a timid politician, and can put its tail in its mouth, and roll in any direction with the utmost facility. The viper was at one time supposed to have an envenomed tongue, and although this error has been exploded, it is as well to avoid his jaw if possible, as, when irritated, he is very snappish.

This snake, according to some naturalists, is oviparous, and according to others viviparous; but all authorities agree that it is viperous in the extreme. Serpents are generated in various ways; the horse-runner, for instance, being derived from the fibres of horses' manes and tails, which probably receive the breath of life in a mare's nest. That such is the origin of the horse-runner the reader can verify for himself, by putting a few horse hairs in a basin of water and watching them till they begin to squirm. Possibly the shorter fibres from the _caput_ of an African might in like manner produce vipers. The experiment is worth trying. There are several varieties of the species in this country; the most malignant and treacherous being the Political Vipers--snakes in the grass--bred from the spawn of the Original Cockatrices, and a curse to the land we live in.

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WOMAN IN THE CENSUS.

A fresh blow has been struck at Woman's Rights! Gallant ladies, eager to cope with figures, have been compelled to yield to numbers--inferior numbers at that! Man, the minority, remains the popular tyrant of population. Women, the majority, don't count, can't count for any thing--even for women--at least in the sense of being Census-takers; for General WALKER has decided that Assistant Marshals LAVINIA PURLEAR and SARAH BURGOYNE (hear it, shades of NEY and BLUCHER!) are ineligible to such a warlike title. General WALKER is not firm in his mind that Marshals PURLEAR and BURGOYNE [would it be as well to say Marshal WALKER and Generals PURLEAR and BURGOYNE?] are feminine. "These appear to be the names of women," he says. Why might they not be the names of men? Is there no right or reason in these days of domestic revolution for men to name themselves LAVINIA and SARAH if they like it, and their wives like it? And suppose LAVINIA and SARAH that ought to be, or might have been, choose to call themselves MAHALALEEL and METHUSALEM--who's to prevent? Why should not the Rev. Mr.---- style himself Miss NANCY if he pleases? Why should not the Hon. Mr.---- rechristen himself BETTY if he has a mind to? H'm! A pretty pass we are coming to if these women folks who ask men's rights and take men's names won't lend us theirs! And alas, alas, ye lasses! What if some-day ye do indeed abstract our census, and marshal us into helpless minority. What if we have to disguise ourselves, and shave our beards, and change our names even to get on the police! Or will ye--ye bullying Syrens!--grow whiskers and wear pantaloons, and put us in station-houses, and clear us out of the Census altogether?

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A LETTER FROM A FRIEND.

Friend PUNCHINELLO: Thee has doubtless sorrowed, in spite of thy motley, with those bereft at Richmond. Circumstances made that disaster a calamity which we have all felt in common. But thee knows that "Blessings come often in disguise." Let us find what small comfort we can in this thought.

Circumstances, however, alter cases. How different the feeling--how thin the disguise would have been--had our Capitol fallen, at Harrisburg! Before another Session we trust the proper spirit will move some underpinning there, for the greater good of the Commonwealth. It was formerly said that "Law is law;" but not even a Philadelphia lawyer now knows what law is or what law is not--for "any thing" is law here abouts. Of one result we may boast, if that be not sinful, we are ahead of thy wicked city.. Thee had thy delinquent Tax Collector, _but thee has him not_. We sorrowed, for we had him not, but now we rejoice in one whose name is--not BAILEY--but HILL. We did not want him, but got him involuntarily, as thee might get the small-pox.

Doubtless he will make it more up-Hill work than ever with our taxes, but, if he would only shoulder them and be off, what a blessing? For, verily, it cannot be said, as of old, that a man "heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them."

But, perhaps, thee pays taxes also? If so, thee can affirm to the gatherer, as well as thy friend,

PHINEAS BRODBRIMME.

_Philadelphia, 5th month, 9th day, 1870._

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OLD IRON.

Somebody talks of the Iron Men of Congress. Does he mean the Cast-iron members or the Pig-iron members? For instance there are the rusty Heavy-weights, and then there are the fellows who are greedy about Tariff. Members of the scrap-iron and ten-penny nail order are, of course, not alluded to. All these are iron men, but, as every body knows, are not men of Iron. In view of its rusty legislation and legislators, we recommend Congress to hang out a sign--"Highest prices paid here for old iron."

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Bar That!

The Toronto _Globe_ is at present treating the Premier of the Dominion to a course of lectures, advising him not to get drunk so often as he does. Now this is too much to expect, since the gentleman referred to has, by virtue of his official position, the run of the Bar.

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CONDENSED CONGRESS.

SENATE.

MR. MORRILL expressed his views upon what he is pleased, for MORRILL is mirthful in his heavy way, to designate the reduction of taxes. He said that we had been for some time in a state of peace, and our expenses were not so large as they had been. Therefore he thought we might leave direct taxation alone. To be sure he was not prepared to suggest any specific reductions in direct taxation. But, doubtless, they would be made some day or other. In the meantime let us pile on the tariff. This was his notion of reducing taxation. Let the importers and the consumers who don't like it--

Learn how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.

Then the Senate betook itself to considering an appropriation for educating the colored infant. Mr. WILSON strongly approved it, not only on account of the colored infant, for whose education he did not in a general way feel any particular solicitude, inasmuch as the less educated he was, the likelier he would be to give his voice and vote to him, (Mr. WILSON,) and his like; but also because the appropriation would provide for a number of the supernumerary female school-teachers of Massachusetts, who had become a great trial to him, and particularly to his colleague, Mr. SUMNER.