Chapter 3

"But sir," said Mr. P. "the war may cause a great exportation of grain from the West, and then your road will profit."

"Don't believe it," said the Commodore. "The war will stop exportation."

"It goes against the grain with him, any way you fix it," said Mr. FIELD, with a festive air. "He can't carry any messages."

"On a cabalistic cable," remarked Mr. P.

CYRUS smiled.

"No, air," said the Commodore, reverting to his grievances. "Never has such a loss happened to me, since I went into New York Centrals."

"Well, I tell you, VANDY," said Mr. FIELD, "if you and other grasping creatures had kept away from New York's entrails it would have been much better for the body corporate of the State."

"Look here!" cried the Commodore, in a rage.

Mr. FIELD looked there, but Mr. P. didn't. He thought it was time to go for his train, and he went.

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SEVERAL UNSAVORY RENDERINGS.

Why there should be such a thing as a New York Rendering Company is a puzzle to thoughtful minds. Persons resident in certain districts of the city, that border on the North River, though, are cognizant of that Company. The North River nose knows the Co., and would close itself to it, only that it is too close upon it to close effectually.

And what are the New York Rendering Company, and to whom do they render, and what? Lard bless you! sir, or madam, they comprise a thing that lives, if not by the sweat of its brow, at least by the suet of its boilers. The dead horses of the city car companies are the creature's normal food. Nor does it despise smaller venison, for it can batten upon dead kittens, too, and fatten upon asphyxiated pup. Carnivorous, decidedly, is the creature concreted by the New York Rendering Company, converting all that it touches into fat, and so, living literally upon the fat of the land. That the Company render other things besides fat, however, has been for some time past a subject of complaint against their management, and here are a few details of their renderings.

Once the atmosphere of the bays and rivers of New York was a source of health to the excursionists who, in summer time, seek relaxation by inexpensive voyages upon the waters adjacent to the city. By casting the refuse of their carrion into these waters, the New York Rendering Company have rendered foul and noxious the once healthful atmosphere of our aquarian outlets, rendering themselves a nuisance, at the same time.

Thus, anything like a "pleasure" excursion by water, in the neighborhood of New York, has been rendered impossible during the present season, by the New York Rendering Company.

Off all the shores of our bays Offal has accumulated, and that during the hottest summer on record for these latitudes. The waters have thus been rendered unfit for bathing in, as the air has been rendered pernicious to breathe--another rendering by the New York Rendering Company, whose manifest mission is to offalize the world.

It is pleasant to know, then, that the renderings of the New York Rendering Company are likely to be reactionary as well as suicidal, (perhaps suetcidal might be a better word here,) in their results. Their "offence is rank," and has reached the nose of authority, for we find it stated that "Mayor HALL has already made complaint against the New York Rendering Company, and that they will he indicted at the next sitting of the Grand Jury."

And when their boiling nuisances come to be seized, as we trust they will be, how jolly to see them "rendering to Seizer" all that has rendered them the nuisance they are! Then let them render up the ghost, and go out spluttering, like a dip candle from one of their own rancid renderings--and so an end of them.

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A CARD OF THANKS.

PUNCHINELLO is extremely indebted to _The Sun_ for the association of the names of several worthy gentlemen with the ownership of the only first-class Illustrated Humorous and Satirical paper published in America: (Subscription price, for one year, $4.00. Single copies 10 cents. Office, 83 Nassau St., New York.)

Well, it is something to be credited with having decent men about you; perhaps if _The Sun_ would try the experiment it would be found more purifying than even the sermons of O. DYER.

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WHY IT IS SO DRY.

We _thought_ it had something to do with a lack of moisture in the air; and now, along comes Monsieur PROU, another philosopher, and merely says what we had thought. He declares that there was so much ice last winter (come now, gentlemen of the Ice Companies, what have you to say to that?) it couldn't melt in time to evaporate in time to supply moisture in time for the necessary showers. (Somehow, there's an eternity of "time" in that sentence; but _n'importe: allons!_) We think PROU has proved his case. And, although we can't quite sympathise with his suggestion that detachments of sappers and miners be employed in the spring-time, in Arctic (and doubtless also Antarctic) regions, in blowing up icebergs and otherwise facilitating the operations of old Sol, we give the ingenious Frenchman credit for at least as much philosophic acumen as we ourselves possess: and Heaven only knows how superb a compliment we thus convey!

Couldn't our friend Capt. HALL be requested to watch the Pole a little next winter, and look into this idea of ours and PROU'S?

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OUR POLICE REPORT.

On Tuesday last a suspicious looking man was arrested by the police, and taken to the One Hundred and Fourth Precinct Station House, on several charges of disorderly acts perpetrated by him in various parts of the city. He gave his name as CHARLES A. DANA, and was locked up for the night.

Yesterday morning, prisoner was brought before Justice DOWNY, at the Jephson Market Police Court.

Officer LOCUST, being called to testify, stated that his attention was directed to the prisoner, on Tuesday afternoon last, by some boys in Fourteenth Street. Prisoner was standing on the side-walk, on the side of the street opposite Tammany Hall. He was armed with a small pewter squirt, with which he was trying to smear the front of that building by drawing up dirty water from the gutter. The range of the squirt did not appear to reach more than half-way across the street. The water used was very foul, leaving stains upon a dirt-cart that was passing. While witness was watching the prisoner, the Hon. WM. M. TWEED came down the steps from Tammany Hall, and, upon seeing him, prisoner ran away, but was seized by witness, before he could make his escape.

On being interrogated by the magistrate, prisoner said that he hardly knew what he was doing when arrested. The _Sun_ was in his eyes at the time. If it hadn't been so, he would not have missed his shot. He must do something for a living, and he thought that throwing dirty water was as good an occupation as any other. Had made money out of it by threatening respectable people with his pewter squirt, and they would give him money rather than have their clothes soiled. He would do anything to make money; and he didn't in the least mind dirtying his hands in the making of it.

To a question by the magistrate, as to whether he had had anything to do with casting offal into the bay, prisoner laughed in a wild manner, and said that he, for one, could never be accused of wasting good, honest dirt in that way. All the offal in the world, said prisoner, wasn't too much for him to use in bespattering the objects of his attention, friends as well as foes. He had heaved tons of offal, already, at Mr. A. OAKEY HALL, (whom he evidently imagined to be an Irishman, and called O'HALL,) He didn't care whom he hit, in fact, so long as he could make it pay.

A gentleman connected with the velocipede interest, whose name our reporter did not catch, here stated that he became acquainted with prisoner nearly two years ago, while the velocipede frenzy was at its height. He had constructed to order for the prisoner a peculiar velocipede called the _"Sun Squirt."_ It had a Dyer's tub attached to it, which was filled with bilge-water. On this machine, the prisoner, armed with a pewter squirt, used to practise for several hours a day, careering rapidly around the rink, and taking flying shots, as he went, at large posters attached to the wall, having portraits on them of General GRANT, Hon. H. GREELEY, Hon. WM. M. TWEED, The Mayor, Governor HOFFMAN, and several other citizens of admitted position and respectability. The bilge-water usually came back upon him, however, and he was generally a humiliating object on leaving the rink.

Prisoner, on being asked by the magistrate whether he had any references respecting character to give, replied in the negative, whereupon orders were issued to lock him up, pending the appearance of Mr. PUNCHINELLO, who will have some statements to make about him at a future day.

A reward of $5,000 has been offered for any information about the pewter squirt, and particularly as to when, and by whom it was made; and, as detectives are now engaged in working up the case, there can be but little doubt that the vile instrument will ere long be identified.

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DISTRESSING.

Some awful smasher of cherished notions is trying to make out that ROUGET DE LISLE was not the real author of the famous _Marseillaise_, but that he stole it from the Germans. It pains us to contemplate the possibility of the charge being true, but, should it prove to be so, we suggest that the name of the accepted author be changed from ROUGET to ROGUEY DE LISLE.

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HIRAM GREEN AMONG THE FAT MEN.

The "Last Gustive" attends the Annual Clam-Bake.

Empires may totter and Dienastys pass in their checks.

Politicians may steal the Goddess of Liberty poorer than JOB'S old Maskaline Gobbler.

J. FISK, Jr., may set the heel of his bute down onto the neck of Rail Rodes--Steambotes--ballet gals, and all that sort o' thing, and this mundane speer will jog along, as slick as a pin, and no questions asked.

But deprive a Fat man of his little clam-bake, and it would be full as pleasant as settin' down onto a Hornet's nest, when the Hornet family were all to home.

That's so.

Another cargo of clams has gone to that born whence no clam returns, onless you ram your finger down your throte, or take an Emetick.

In the words of Commodore PERRY, who is, alas! no more.

"The misfortenit bivalves meet the Fat man, and they're his'n."

Altho' I'me not much on the fat order myself, I received an invitation to attend the grate Clam-bake. Mrs. GREEN put me up a lunch to eat on the cars, and robin' myself in a cleen biled shirt, I sholdered my umbreller and left Skeensboro.

The seen at Union Park was sublime with plenty of Ham fat. If all flesh is grass, thought I, when old _tempus fugit_ comes along with his mowin' masheen to cut this crop of fat men, I reckon he will have to hire some of his nabor's barns, to help hold all of his hay.

Great mountins of hooman flesh were bobbin' about like kernals of corn on a red hot stove, remindin' me of a corn field full of punkins set up on clothes pins.

The little heads on top of the great sweating bodies, looked as if they were sleev buttons drove in the top of the Punkins.

When a fat man laffs, his little head sinks down into his shirt collar, and disappears in the fat, like a turtle's head when you tickle his nose with a sharp stick.

And then to see them eat clams. I've seen men punish clams by the bushel--by the barrel--but never did I see men shovel clams in by the cart load before.

"Gee-whitaker," said I, to a Reporter of a N.Y. Journal, "them critters must have a dredful elastic stomack."

"Yes," said he, "when Fat-men get clam hungry, the sea banks has to give up her clams, and the grocery keepers furnish the seasonin'."

"Wall," said I, "if the Sea has many such runs on her clam-banks as this, she will have to put on her shutters soon, and go into lickerdation."

"In which state," said he laffin', "it would be exceedin'ly _clam_-etous."

The members of the Fat Men's Club all went prepared for hot weather, dressed in a linnen soot and carryin' palm leaf fans.

I also notised large fassits onto the toes of their butes, so as to let out the grease occasionly, and keep there butes from sloppin' over.

President RANSOM told me, that a fat man's wife invented the fassets, so as to save sope grease.

"One fat man in hot weather," said Mister RANSOM, "will furnish grease enuff, in the summer time, to keep his family in soft sope the year around, besides supplyin' two or three daily papers with a lot."

Between you and me, Friend PUNCHINELLO, that greasy yarn seems rather too slipperry to swaller, but I guess it'll wash after all.

PETER REED, of New York, and Docter WHITBECK, of West Troy, danced the hiland fling for the championship and a barrel of clams.

"While PETE was cuttin' a pigin wing, and the Dr. was rakin' down a dubble shuffle, they made things rattle, and naborin' towns thought it was an airthquake, and began movin' out their feather beds.

"Go it, my fat friends," said I, to encourage 'em, "blood will tell, and exercise help to digest your clams."

They shook their feet ontil exhausted natur, from necessity, ceased to be virtous, when suddenly they both tumbled over onto their backs, and blowed like porpoises.

The weather bein' hot, a shovel full of cloride of lime was sprinkled onter them, to keep them from gettin' fly blode.

I was introjuced to a North River steembote pilot, whose corporosity looked like the Commissary department of a Prushion Regiment.

"How are you, Paunchy Pilate," said I, gettin' off a joak at his expense. "How many clams have you crucifide to-day?"

"Bully for you, ole man. Haw! haw! he! he! ho! ho!" roared half a dozen fat men at my faceshusness, and they laffed and shook their sides, ontil I thought they'd colaps a floo and spatter me.

One of them fat men approched me, and invited me to have a game of leep frog.

"Excuse me, Captin," said I, "when I get so I can sholder an elefant, I'le come around and accomodate you."

Some was playin' tag. Some was playin' blindman's-buff, while all was amusin' themselves, at some innocent pastime or other.

The day's performance was closed by chasin' a greased pig.

The hog was well greased and let loose, and the whole lot of fat men started pell-mell.

It was "Root hog, or die" with the odds in favor of the Hog.

All of a sudden, the hog turned back, and the fat men coulden't stop, when down they all fell on top of poor piggy, smashin' him flatter'n a pancake.

The bystanders were startin' for derricks and jack-screws to raise the fat men off from each other.

"Hold on," says I, "I know a trick worth 2 of that."

I rusht into the house, and ceasin' the dinner-bell, rung it as hard as I could.

It delited me, in my old age, to see them chaps scrabble when they heard that bell.

In 10 seconds time, only one member of the pile diden't git up, and rise, and that was the hog.

It was a cruel deception--but I believe the mean trick justifide the end, and saved the Bord of Helth a big bill of expense. For sure's you're borned, it would have been a meesely old job, cartin' of that big pile of corrupshun.

I had seen enuff for one day.

My fisikle and intelectooal capacity was gorged.

Foldin' my Filacteries, and pickin' up my bloo cotton parashoot, I fled the seen, hily tickled to think I wasen't a fat man.

Virtously of thee,

HIRAM GREEN, Esq.,

_Lait Gustise of the Peece._

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OUR FINANCIAL ARTICLE.

WALL STREET, August 9th, 1870.

SIR:--It is with feelings of indignation and scorn that I proceed once more to pollute my pen with the chronicles of a mercenary rabble. It _had_ been thought that the remonstrances of the pure and high-minded among your readers would have sufficed to overcome the resolution of an infatuated, but not Criminal Editor. There was a time when the claims of a _Certain Contributor_ were wont to be considered. But the passion for worldly greed has, alas! perverted a too simple nature, and where the Muses once found a congenial resting place, the demon Mammon now sits in GHASTLY TRIUMPH.

I will not here refer to my threat of resignation, nor to the shouts of diabolical laughter with which it was received by the conductor of a Comic Journal, whose name it would not become me to mention. Suffice it to say that those sentiments of loyalty and affection which have ever been my glory, and a keen appreciation of the difficulty of obtaining employment on the Press, have kept me attached to the staff of PUNCHINELLO. The anguish which Finance has cost an artistic soul no one may ever know. The silent tear may fall, but it shall be buried in my bosom. The spectacle of my hidden suffering shall stand as a reproach to one whom I once HONORED and now PITY.

Divesting myself of that part of my nature which is comprised in the good, the beautiful and true, I betook myself yesterday to Wall Street and the Gold Room. At the portals of the Financial Menagerie, a gentleman placed his hand upon my shoulder.

Was I a subscriber?

No, but I was a comic writer.

He said I looked as though I had seen misfortune. If I was not a subscriber, perhaps I had been in the Penitentiary, served out a sentence at Sing Sing, or procured a divorce from my wife?

I had done none of these things.

I was not a member of the Legislature?

No.

A brilliant idea struck him. Perhaps I had been an editor?

I pleaded guilty.

He thought that would do--I might go in.

I went in, and herewith submit to you the result of my investigations.

NINE O'CLOCK.--On opening this morning, a scarcity of money was perceptible in the market. It was especially perceptible in the case of your contributor. (This is _not_ a hint that a week's salary in advance would be acceptable.) Peanuts are much sought after. (They are excellent things to pelt a fellow with.) Apples were inquired after, but upon a rumor that they were unripe, they declined several per cent.

HALF PAST NINE.--The following telegram has just been received here.

"METZ, August 11th.

_"To His Serene Highness, the Prince of Erie, Duke of the Grand Opera House, Admiral of Narragansett, Commander of the Ninth, etc., etc., etc., Erie Palace, New York City._

"ROYAL BROTHER:--Louis has received his baptism of fire. McMAHON wept. He is training to dispute with Miss LOUISA MOORE, the proud title of the 'Champion Weepist.'

"Send me the Ninth, and the flower of _Opera Bouffe_--aye, even the great SCHNEIDER--shall be thine. 'Tis France that calls--be kind. Fraternally thine own,

NAP."

It was at first thought that H.S.H. would accede to the Emperor's request, his recent treaty with the Court of the _Grande Duchesse_ and his diplomatic relations with the Viennoise Ballet Troupe having rendered the event far from improbable. It was also considered that the hostility which he has openly displayed towards the British Erie Protection Committee would predispose him in favor of England's natural enemy. In view of the possible departure of the Ninth, and the consequent prolongation of the European war, gold rose several degrees above freezing point.

TEN O'CLOCK.--The Ninth, don't go to Europe after all. Several members of Company "K" were observed to shed tears of vexation--or joy! Here is Col. FISK'S reply.

"To NAPOLEON, _(not in Berlin.)_"

"EFFETE MONARCH:--Can't spare the b-hoys at any price. They're going into camp down at the 'Branch.' Besides, some of them haven't paid for their uniforms yet. With regards to Eugenie,"

"I am Right Royally Yours,"

JAS. FISK, JR.

"P.S.--If a large diamond, a team of six black and white horses, a Sound steamer, or a copy of the _Tribune_, would be of any use to you, command me. I might also spare you GOULD and some of my relations in case you were very short of men, and had _some very perilous positions_ to fill up. JAMES."

HALF PAST TEN.--Speculators in New York Central and Hudson River securities are much excited over a report that Commodore VANDERBILT had been seen to purchase a watering hose in the store of a well known manufacturer of gardening implements, on Broadway. He wrapped it in brown paper, placed it in his $1000 buggy, and drove away behind Dexter at the rate of 0:01-1/4 per minute. I have it on good authority that there is no truth in the rumor, circulated a few days ago, that the Commodore was engaged in negotiation with the Paid Fire Department for the use of their engines, etc., on some occasion not far distant.

ELEVEN O'CLOCK.--It is now officially announced that the watering hose referred to in my last is intended for gardening purposes only.

HALF PAST ELEVEN.--Great war between Erie and the _Tribune_. _Tribune_ interdicted on Erie Railway and Boston and Long Branch steamers. Desolation of the Hub in consequence. Panic amongst _Tribune_ stockholders.

TWELVE.--FISK says that the _Tribune_ is so _heavy_ that it _must_ far the future be paid for by _weight_, on his steamers. It is felt that this course, if adopted by Mr. GREELEY, would be financially ruinous to the interests of his paper.

HALF PAST TWELVE.--It is stated here that Mr. GREELEY, in the effectual disguise of a bran new hat and respectable boots, succeeded in smuggling a carpet bag filled with _Tribunes_ on board the _Plymouth Rock_. Much anxiety is felt here concerning his fate, in case the Admiral should discover his presence on board.

ONE O'CLOCK.--In a letter just received, Mr. GREELEY designates the above report as "a lie--a lie--false and malicious, and uttered with intent to malign and defame." I publish Mr. G's correction with pleasure.

HALT PAST ONE.--For some days past a steady decline has been noticeable in Government securities; a want of confidence in the Executive is said to be the cause. It is reported that several of our leading financiers have openly indicated their dissatisfaction with the policy of those in power at Washington.

Two O'CLOCK.--The leading financier referred to in my last I find to be JAMES FISK, JR.

HALF PAST TWO.--He indicated his dissatisfaction with the policy of the Government, to the President at Long Branch, thus: Having transferred all the jewels from his left hand to the right, and carefully adjusted them there, he raised the hand in question to his finely cut Roman nose, then, extending his fingers, he twirled them for several minutes without exhibiting any symptoms of fatigue. GRANT is said to have allowed a prime Partaga to drop from between his lips in his surprise.

THREE O'CLOCK.--It is now rumored that Fisk did not apply his fingers in the manner stated.

HALF PAST FOUR.--Market (at Delmonico's) gone frantic over a consignment of _Opera Bouffe_ sent by the Erie Protection Committee as a mark of confidence in the present Erie management. Eries said to be in good voice. Preferred stock will open in about a month with an extensive and carefully selected ballet. _Premiéres Danseuses_ (hic) strong, with extensive sales. Scenery (hic) quiet, (hic.) Appointments active (hic.)

GREENBAGS.

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Influence of Association.