Chapter 2

"I forgot about my uncle, JACK BUMSTEAD," he said, uneasily. "It will be a dreadful blow for JACK: he's counted so much upon my having a wife for him to flirt with.--There he is, now!"

"_Where_?"

"Amongst those trees down there--Look!"

In a small grove, skirting the road some distance behind them, Mr. BUMSTEAD could indeed be seen, dodging wildly from one tree to another in an extraordinary manner, and occasionally leaping high in the air and slashing excitedly around him with his alpaca umbrella. A hoop from a barrel, possibly cast out upon the road by somebody, had, apparently, become entangled around the legs and in the coat-tails of the Ritualistic organist; and he, in his extreme nervous sensibility, precipitately mistaking it for one of his old enemies, the snakes, had evidently fled headlong with it as far as the grove, and was there engaging it in frantic single-combat.

"Oh, take me home, at once, please!" begged FLORA, alarmed at the remarkable sight.

"Poor dear old fellow!" exclaimed her companion, obediently hurrying onward with her, "I shall never have the heart to tell him of our separation, and must leave it to your guardian. He'll think he's been the cause of it, by stealing your heart from me.--Here he comes!"

They had barely time to conceal themselves in the Macassar porch, when, with umbrella in full play, and the barrel-hoop half-way up to his waist, Mr. BUMSTEAD came bounding along the turnpike with frenzied agility. "Shoo! 'S'cat, you viper! Get out!" cried he; and stopped, with an unearthly culminating scream of terror, immediately in front of the Alms-House, where the hoop suddenly fell at his feet. A moment he beat his fallen enemy with the umbrella, as though madly striving to actually hammer it into the earth; then, as suddenly, suspended his attack, stooped low to eye his victim more closely, and, with a fierce pounce, had it in his grasp. "Was it only thisss?" he hissed, holding it at arm's length: "Sold again: signed, J. BUMSTEAD." And, hanging it over his umbrella, he stalked moodily onward.

"What a struggle his whole lonely life is!" said EDWIN DROOD, coming out from the porch.

FLORA'S parting look, as she entered the door, was as though she had said, "Oh! don't you understand?" But the young man went away unconscious of its meaning.

(_To be Continued_.)

* * * * *

* * * * *

A SEASONABLE PARODY.

Three women went waddling out into the surf, Out into the surf at Newport town; Each wore a bath suit of the very best, Costing as much as a wedding-gown. For men must work, and women must lave, And what men earn their wives don't save, Though husbands they be moaning.

Three brokers sat up at three high desks, And balanced their books as the sun went down; Each "poring" o'er ledgers that wouldn't come straight, Each wrapped in a study disgustingly brown. For men must sweat, and women keep cool, And woman will ever be fashion's fool, Though husbands they be moaning.

Three names are struck from the Gold Board's books, Three brokers' sign-boards are taken down; Three men are busy "seeing their friends," Borrowing money to get out of town. For men must break if women must waste, And it costs a deal to be "people of taste," So good-bye to the fools and their moaning.

* * * * *

OUR PORTFOLIO.

DEAR PUNCHINELLO: You may have heard of a slight breeze recently stirring at the Custom House, consequent upon the removal of Mr. GRINNELL and the appointment of the Hon. THOMAS MURPHY. The savage feelings which this event aroused have sufficiently subsided to allow a plain statement of the causes which led to it. At the time, it was the opinion of many that our worthy Chief Magistrate, convinced that things were getting along too smoothly in this State, had determined to infuse new life into both men and measures here. He didn't find it such a hard job "infusing" the measures, but when he came to the men all the usual machinery failed, and he had to get out a new patent battering-ram to wake them up. Such, I say, at least, was the popular impression, confirmed by the subsequent appearance of the persons against whom its operations were directed; but the initiated knew better. A few months ago a private commission, whose expenses were defrayed out of the Secret Service Fund, was sent to California to explore the region thereabouts for any hitherto undiscovered connection of the GRANT genealogical tree. For a long time the search was in vain, but finally the commission unearthed a chap in the mining district, who hadn't heard of LEE'S surrender yet, but whose sister had married a nephew of Mrs. GRANT'S brother-in-law. The poor fellow was promptly captured, combed and curried, and shipped East via Pacific Railroad, with a label across his back inscribed,

"Care of HIS EXCELLENCY, U. S. GRANT,

C.O.D."

_Washington, D.C._

On his arrival the express charges were duly paid, and he was billeted at the White House, while orders were sent to the heads of the different departments to report what vacancies existed. Brief replies were returned from each, to the effect that another straw laid on the camel's back would break it, and, moved by a constitutional antipathy to breaking camel's backs, the President desisted from his efforts in those quarters. In this dilemma, the usual recourse was had to the New York Custom House, and Mr. GRINNELL was sounded as to what he could do for the last of the GRANTS. This is what he wrote:

"Not even standing-room left. I have more branches of your genealogical tree now than would serve to thatch the Capitol. The federal turkey at this port is stuffed to bursting. You may think that the old Exchange Building, which we now occupy, is a secure building, and so it is, but I don't think it could hold me if another 'connection' is coming. My blue book divides these family contributions to the service of the country into three orders, viz.: 'GRANT,' 'DENT,' and 'SHARPE.' Of the order 'GRANT' I have fifteen in the cellar, forty-seven on the first and second floors, and ten in the attic; of the order 'DENT, 'nineteen on the two floors, seven in the attic, and seventeen in the cellar, and of the order 'SHARPE,' so many that I have engaged the Lightning Calculator of the _World_ to compute them. Your Excellency will perceive that my situation is something like that of a commander who is troubled with too many officers, and if I should be attacked you will Grant that it would take some pretty Sharp practice to make even a Dent in the armor of my adversary.

"The best I can do is to request you to authorize the creation of a new office, such as Supervision of Custom House Cobwebs, Keeper of the Water Tanks, or Statistician of Distilled Spirits consumed by Revenue Officers during the ensuing fiscal year, and then, on condition that he will never show his face in my office again, I will appoint your California offering to the place.

Your disgusted friend and servant,

MOSES."

When the President read this epistle, he was so agitated that he put the lighted end of his segar in his mouth, but did not discover his mistake until Secretary FISH observed the ashes coming from his nose, and with an air of mock solicitude asked:

"Does your Excellency experience any internal symptoms of a volcanic character, for I perceive that the crater is working?" pointing to the Presidential olfactory, while the owner sneezed a fresh volley of ashes through it.

"It don't make any difference if I do," tartly responded ULYSSES, "but I tell you what it is, FISH, I'm going to build a little volcano under MOSE GRINNELL'S chair that'll 'hist' _somebody_ when it breaks out." Saying which he threw the late Collector's missive towards the piscatorial premier, and hurriedly left the room.

The above is a genuine narrative, collected from authoritative data, and may be relied upon when all other means of ascertaining the truth fail.

Yours, historically,

DICK TINTO.

* * * * *

THE WATERING PLACES.

PUNCHINELLO'S VACATIONS.

On the portico of the Mountain House, in the Catskills, Mr. PUNCHINELLO had the honor of being welcomed by Prof. AGASSIZ, Mr. P. had just arrived, and his valise was in his hand; but the Professor insisted on a little conversation with him.

"In spite of the crowds at these summer resorts," said this learned man, "one seldom meets with any one who takes an interest in science."

Mr. P. bowed, and mentally resolved to rub up his stock of polytechnology for the occasion.

"I am glad, Mr. PUNCHINELLO," continued the Professor, "that you have not neglected science in your excellent journal. You have had some admirable treatises on natural history. The country is your debtor, sir."

Mr. P. bowed again, and hoped, in his inmost heart, that the country would soon pay up.

"I must admit that I am disappointed here--in several ways. In the first place, I have not found a single glacier."

"No glaciers!" cried Mr. P., in surprise.

"No sir, not one, and I can find no sign of the Triassic period."

"Oh no!" said Mr. P. "Not now. That was several years ago, when GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN, COLORADO JEWETT, and DAN RICE's celebrated little donkey were here. They're all gone now."

The Professor looked up a little surprised at these remarks, but went on with his complaints. "And not a trace of cleavable pyroxene," said he.

"Pie rock!" said Mr. P. to himself. "I'm glad it isn't seen. Have these geologists got to that?"

"I hoped, too," continued the Professor, "to get a little scoria."

"Oh!" said Mr. P. "You wanted to run up a little score here. Well sir, I think, in your case, that might be done--in fact, I've no doubt of it."

"I fear you do not quite understand me," said the Professor. "I have not found here what I had expected. To be sure, I met with a little gneiss----"

"Ah! a little niece," said Mr. P., rubbing his hands. "Well, now, that must be pleasant I am very glad indeed to hear it. It will certainly make the place much more agreeable for you."

"Yes,--" said the Professor, "but it don't amount to much. I wanted particularly to find on these mountains some traces of their having once been a part of the shores of the ocean----"

"Oh!" cried Mr. P., "I can help you there. I can show you a fine BEACH,--if that is what you want."

"You can?" exclaimed the Professor. "With shells?"

"I don't know about that," said Mr. P., "but there he is, in the bar-room--he keeps the house--and you can ask him yourself about the shells."

Mr. P. now took occasion to hurry after the waiter to his room, but he heard the muttered thunder of a German-storm below him as he rapidly climbed the stairs. He had a very nice room in the extreme upper part of the house, and the view was charming.

To the East one could see the Hudson-"winding like a silver thread;" the distant Bay of Fundy; and the foggy shores of Newfoundland.

To the South were distinctly visible the blue Juniata; the bold arch of the Natural Bridge; and the long lines of shipping at New Orleans; while in the West, the setting sun could be seen glowing upon the walls of the Yo Semite, and gilding the tops of the big trees in the Mariposa valley.

After feasting his eyes on this magnificent prospect, Mr. P. came down-stairs to feast on something which owed its enchantment to a cooking-range, and not to a range of distance. He met the Professor at the bottom of the stairs, and hastened to pacify him by inquiries about some little bushes that he had just gathered.

"That is laurel," said the learned man, grumly.

"Indeed!" said Mr. P. "We make lard of that in New York."

"Lard?" cried the Professor. "I never heard of such a thing."

"Oh, yes, certainly!" said Mr. P.

"Have you never heard of the great LORILLARD manufacturing establishment?"

"Never;" said AGASSIZ, "and I'll go and see it the very day I reach the city."

The next day Mr. P. made the ascent of High Peak. Everybody does that; and so, with a small party, Mr. P. started out--gaily enough. On reaching the place where the heavy climbing begins, they met the New York Fat Men's Club coming down, and the peculiar appearance of the members deterred most of Mr. P.'s party from attempting the great feat. It was proposed that Mr. P. alone should make the ascent. He assented--and being thus, in a manner, ordered up--went it alone.

It was not an easy thing--that climbing of High Peak--as any one will be apt to conclude after attentively studying this picture of the ascent. But an indomitable will can conquer all obstacles that are not too much for it, and at last Mr. P. balanced himself on the extreme point of the Peak. The view was so glorious that he instantly hastened down to inform his companions that they too must not miss it upon any account. Several of them, JOHN BINGHAM, of Ohio; SIMON CAMERON, and HENRY WILSON, of Massachusetts, objected very strongly to the proposed climb, as they were never in the habit of occupying very high ground. But Mr. P. insisted that they would there obtain what they needed more than anything else in the world, and he begged their pardon if he referred to extended views. So at last they all went up, and when they reached the topmost point Mr. P. placed himself so as to cut off his companions' retreat, and then he delivered to them a discourse that they will not soon forget.

When from his remarks, and the practical illustration which lay beneath them, they had been made aware that it was a great country of varied interests, and not a few little sections, for which they should legislate, Mr. P. let them down.

The following morning, after testing an admirable specimen of horn-blending--offered him by Mr. BEACH, and not Prof. AGASSIZ, Mr. P. set out alone for the Kauterskill Falls. His trip was wonderful. He went in a wagon. The scene was sublime. At one place he came across a bevy of New York artists sketching the scenery, and their sensations when he suddenly cut off their north light must have been peculiar. But they regained their accustomed pallor as the old horse struggled manfully, and the danger passed away.

At last, after an exciting ride over roads that had perhaps never been trod before by human wheels, Mr. P. reached the great Kauterskill Falls--that lovely freak of nature which has been celebrated in all ages, and of which the poet says:

"The noble splash Niagara gives, In thee, fair Kauterskill, still lives; All but the mighty roar and size. And clamor of wild hackmen's cries."

This view of the Falls is from a sketch by Mr. P. himself.

(He will send a beautiful chromo of it--seventeen and a fourteenth by eighteen and thirteen fifteenths of an inch--life size,--and a copy of the paper for nine years, for thirty-four dollars and a quarter--postage paid.)

* * * * *

COMIC ZOOLOGY.

GENUS FELIS.--THE LION.

The Lion is a Cat, and has probably been a greater Scourge to humanity than any other of the feline race, with the exception of the nine-tailed variety, now almost extinct. He is known in Africa as the _Rad_, an Arabic word signifying thunder, and not, as the superficial philologist might suppose, a contraction of the name of a political party in this country that at present enjoys the Lion's share of the spoils. It is true that some of the American Rads are immense brutes, but in other respects they do not bear much resemblance to the "lord with a big head" which infests the African and Asiatic continents. Much has been said of the pluck and endurance of the Lion, but his heart often fails him in the hour of danger, and he sometimes Caves in without showing as much Bottom as is displayed by his counterfeit presentment on the stage. In short, like the Noble Savage of our own wilds, his moral attributes have been greatly exaggerated. He prowls through the woods at night in search of the herbivora which constitute his prey, but generally vanishes at the appearance of Aurora. The Rad also makes tremendous havoc among the stock in many parts of the East, but has never been known to molest the Bullock in Georgia.

Among the sports who have particularly distinguished themselves as assailants of the Lion, may be mentioned SAMSON, HERCULES, NIMROD, JULES GERARD, Captain CUMMING, Sir SAMUEL BAKER, VAN AMBURGH, and CHARLES SUMNER, of Massachusetts. The last named gentleman, who is not generally looked upon as an ardent votary of the Chase, some time ago attacked the British Lion (_Leo Britannicus_) with tremendous ferocity, injuring that somewhat superannuated beast as much as it was possible to do with a short range air-gun at the distance of three thousand miles. For a moment the shaggy monster looked angrily across the Main at Massachusetts, but was soon satisfied that his antagonist was feinting, whereupon he yawned, winked lazily at an adjacent Unicorn, and relapsed into his customary state of doze. He evidently regards American Lion-shooters as a Motley throng, from whom nothing serious is to be apprehended.

Several varieties of the Lion have been domesticated in this country, the principal of which is the Black African, mentioned by GERARD as the most formidable of the leonine tribe. Here, however, it is tolerably tame, and breeds faster than in Congo or Dahomey. There are two specimens (whelps) in the West Point Menagerie, and one of more venerable appearance, with a full mane (black and curly) in the Zoological Collection at the Capitol in Washington. Of this breed there are supposed to be about three millions in our Southern provinces. Some persons are of opinion that the Lion predestined to lie down with the snow-white lamb, in the millennium, is the Black African species, and from the fact that instances of this kind of union are even now of frequent occurrence, some people believe that the Reign of the Saints on Earth has already commenced. _Nous verrons._

* * * * *

URBS IN RURE.

Having been often importuned for advice, by inexperienced persons who are about to visit the country, Mr. PUNCHINELLO has concluded to make a full exposition of his ideas on the subject of rural summerings, as follows:

When you pack your wardrobes put a few spring-beds in your trunk. You will find them less depressing than the ordinary summer beds out of town. A hair mattress or two may be stowed in the odd corners of your travelling bag.

Arrange, if possible, for a regular supply of Croton. The ablutionary fluid is most difficult to be had in places where water is abundant. It is mostly reserved for scenic purposes, and for the promotion of "the mill-wheel's hum."

Smokers should not lumber their baggage with Partagas. Connecticut supplies all summer resorts with the finest Havana segars.

If you cannot live without Kissingen you had better take with you the necessary ingredients, and prepare your beverage yourself. Country dispensaries dispense with such drinks.

No gentleman should go out of town without half a dozen high hats, in separate packages. They are just the thing for summer rambles in the woods. But remember to touch your beaver where the hemlock boughs are low. White duck is recommended for travelling suits. If the weather should moderate unexpectedly you can procure caloric at the kitchen fire. The finest kid gloves are to be worn on fishing excursions.

Ladies should have with them as much jewelry as possible, borrowed or otherwise. A few five-thousand-dollar dresses will be appropriate when you go out to see the sun rise. The sun is quite fastidious about such things, and warmly approves an effective toilette.

It will not be necessary to carry with you opera librettos. Any well-regulated country tavern can furnish everything of that sort that you will require.

Have a few billiard-balls in your pocket, however. In cloudy weather you can improvise a game on the dining-room table. Travelling Chinamen will probably furnish you with queues.

If you should be invited to try the fruit of the oak tree, on the theory that it is the American filbert,--very superior,--you can take your friend's word for it, without eating.

Get up early in the morning and go out to shoot Welsh rabbits for breakfast. The exercise will improve your appetite.

Find out all the novelties you can. It is a good thing to watch the black cat fish. Feelin' weary of that sport, you can sit on the rocks and tell the servant to bring you the evening paper on a silver salver.

Observe carefully the auriferous sunsets among the mountains. You will thus be enabled to determine with sufficient accuracy how gold is "closing" in New York.

Finally, write occasional letters to the _Evening Babble_. If your name is JONES, sign yourself "SENOJ." This thin disguise will be very pretty and will deceive your most intimate friends. Say in your correspondence that the tables of the house where you stay are "loaded with all the luxuries of the season." If convenient, show your letters to the landlord, whisper to him, "JONES _fecit_," and explain the little joke about the signature. This courtesy may somewhat alleviate your board bill.

* * * * *

* * * * *

MY TURKISH BATH.

DEAR PUNCHINELLO: It happened to be eleven o'clock some time during yesterday forenoon.

I generally take something at that hour.

Yesterday I took a Turkish Bath.

I took a horse-car. (That, however, is neither here nor there: but it got within two blocks of there at 11.25.) I ran up the steps of the T.B. establishment, and wired the inmates. The door flew open, and an ideal voter, erst a chattel (I hope I am not obscure in this deeply interesting portion of the narrative) pointed his thumb over his shoulder, displayed a choice assortment of ivory, and chuckled with great natural ease. I supposed this to be a custom with the colored population of Turkey, and passed on.

Everything was Turkish. I was struck with the order of the bath: also the scimetary of the apartments. As I think I before remarked,--I passed on.

The M.D. proprietor shook hands with me very cordially. I also shook hands with him. I told him that I wanted no ceremony; but if agreeable to him, I would gird up my loins and go in. He intimated that the only ceremony was to fund a small portion of the contents of my pocket-book. I am a little hard of hearing,--and I passed on.

An assistant, in the light and airy costume which I have so often noticed in Central Africa, in midsummer, beckoned to me, after I had laid aside a quantity of goods, (belonging to my tailor, and other downtown business men,) and I followed him.

The room we entered was heated by what I took to be a successful furnace. I must have been mistaken, however, for I understood the assistant to apologise because, by reason of a defect in the flues, they had been able to get the temperature up only to about 475 degrees that morning. I was a little disappointed, but simply suggested that the thermometer was Fair in Height; but if I felt chilly I would send out for some blankets.

He laid me on a slatted conch.

I experienced a gentle glow.

Afterwards, (I don't know why, exactly, I have always attributed it to the temperature,) I felt hot--hotter--Hottentotter! It seemed as though the equator ran right along the line of my back-bone.

I didn't care.