Punchinello, Vol. 1, No. 6, May 7, 1870 by Various
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Various >> Punchinello, Vol. 1, No. 6, May 7, 1870
Now, also, is the time when friend gives much advice to friend on the
subject of the "gentle art." (A trout's opinion on this branch of art,
by the by, would be worth having. Perhaps he might not consider it so
gentle.)
One student of the angle will say to another, "Always fish up the
stream. Fish lie with their heads to the current and their tails in the
opposite direction: therefore, by casting up-stream, you run the less
chance of being seen by them."
Another says, "Be sure you make your casts down-stream; your bob-flies
like it better, as you can see by the way they dance on the ripples."
Quoth another, "Always soak your casting-lines with water before you
start for the river-side;" while a fourth instructs you never to
straighten your lines with water, but by passing them through a piece of
India rubber doubled between the finger and thumb.
_Our_ advice is, Never cast against the wind. In fact, you can't do it;
and if you try it, you run the risk of getting _strabismus_--that is,
the Cast in your eye. Artificial flies, like artificial flowers, never
should follow nature. Manufacturers of both articles perfectly
understand this; and hence the superiority of their productions to the
mere realities that flutter and bloom for their brief hour, and then
die. There is nothing in entomology so beautiful as a well-busked trout
or salmon fly. And then it is comparatively indestructible. Take a
natural May Fly and squeeze it in your hand. It is reduced to a pulp.
Try the same experiment with an artificial one, and its plumage remains
unruffled--which is more than you do, since the chance is that you will
have to employ a surgeon to extract the hook from the ball of your
thumb.
[Illustration: "SHOO! FLY."]
We are assured by a broker, who, in Spring-time, always becomes a
brooker, that by far the surest lure for a large trout is the Greenback
Fly. He is acquainted with a man who, whenever he goes a-fishing, always
has a four-pound trout to pack in ice and send up to a friend in the
city. By post, a letter is dispatched to the same quarter, containing a
warm description of the playing and landing of that noble fish. The
sender usually states that he captured it with the famous fly known to
anglers as the Green Drake. Facts are against him, though; and it is
well understood by his friends that the fish was first taken by some
poaching rascal with a scoop-net, and subsequently hooked by the angler
with a five-dollar Greenback Fly.
Nothing in life is more beautiful than a five-dollar Greenback
Fly--except, of course, a ten-dollar one, or one of indefinitely larger
denomination.
Provided with this most charming and effective of lures, the angler is
always sure to fill his creel. He incurs no fatigue in doing so,
either, for all the boys of the village become his humble servants to
command; and if there be a four-pound trout in the miller's pond, he is
sure to hook it with the Greenback Fly, while the boys generally "hook
it" also, lest the miller should catch them at their tricks.
_How to make the Greenback Fly_--Give it to your wife. Much has been
said concerning the efficacy of the Water Fly as a lure. For our own
part, we have not tried it. We know rather less about it than we do
about the Water Cure; but we cheerfully print the following directions
on the subject, taken from the fly-leaf of an old book.
_How to make the Water Fly_: Fall into it.
* * * * *
HALL AND HAYES.
The friends of Dr. HAYKS and those of Captain HALL are engaged in a
heated discussion as to which of the two ought to be sent by Congress in
search of the North Pole. As the public does not know who is right and
who is wrong, we present our readers with the arguments of each party;
so that they can decide which explorer is the man for the post--we
should say, pole.
WHAT THE HAYES PARTY SAYS.
1. The Pole being surrounded by water, must be reached by boats. HAYES
is a sailor and HALL is not. Therefore HAYES is the man to sail to the
Pole.
2. HAYES is a Bostonian; HALL is a Western man. Bostonians are famed for
their skill in prying into every thing; while Western men stupidly mind
their own business. Therefore HAYES is naturally fitted to become an
explorer.
3. HALL spent his time while in the Arctic Region in the society of
Esquimaux. HAYES attended to his ship, and lived on pork and beef
like a Christian. Therefore HAYES is the better man.
4. HAYES understands the use of instruments, and can take observations
of the temperature of hot springs, if any are found. HALL knows nothing
about instruments, and could not tell the time by a barometer if his
life depended upon it. Therefore HAYES should be the Congressional
favorite.
5. HALL is hot-tempered and once killed one of his crew. HAYES is a cool
man and never killed any body, except as a medical practitioner. Cool
men are at home in the Arctic Region. Therefore send HAYES.
WHAT THE HALL PARTY SAYS.
1. If the Pole is surrounded by water, it must be a visible point of
land. HALL is a landsman, and therefore the proper man to send in search
of land. To send a sailor like HAYES in quest of land would be absurd.
Therefore HALL is the right man.
2. HALL is a steady, hardworking, energetic Western man. HAYES is a
meddling Yankee. Of course HALL is the better man for carrying out a
difficult enterprise.
3. HALL has lived in the Arctic land as the Arctic people do; while
HAYES knows nothing of the people of that region. Therefore HALL is by
far the best man to send.
4. HAYES can have no use for his instruments in a place where there is
nothing but ice. HAYES would, therefore, only add to the cost of the
expedition. HALL can take all necessary observations with his eyes, which
cost Congress nothing and are easily carried. Therefore HALL is by all
odds the man for the expedition.
5. If HALL is hot-tempered, so much the better. He will keep warm with
less consumption of fuel. That he killed a mutineer is proof of his
resolute adherence to discipline. HAYES would never enforce discipline
if he dared to inflict no more punishment for mutiny than a draught of
Epsom salts. Therefore HALL is plainly the man to command an exploring
party.
Here we have the arguments which both sides advance, and our readers can
easily make up their minds. As for ourselves, the true course for
Congress to pursue seems so plainly evident that if we were asked which
is the best man, the Doctor or the Captain, we should unhesitatingly
answer in the negative.
* * * * *
[Illustration: CINCINNATUS SWEENY.]
CINCINNATUS SWEENY
(Adapted from AUTHOR'S Classical Dictionary, p. 351.)
"CINCINNATUS had retired to his patrimony, aloof from popular tumults.
The successes of the Equi, (young Democracy,) however, rendered the
appointment of a Dictator necessary, and CINCINNATUS was chosen to that
high office. He laid aside his rural habiliments, assumed the ensigns of
absolute power, levied a new army, marched all night to bring the
necessary succor to the Consul MINCIUS, (W. M. TWEED,) who was
surrounded by the enemy and blockaded in his camp, (Albany,) and before
morning surrounded the enemy's army, and reduced it to a condition
exactly similar to that in which the Romans had been placed. The baffled
Equi were glad to submit to the victor's terms, and CINCINNATUS,
returning in, triumph to Rome, (New-York,) laid down his dictatorial
power after having held it only fourteen days, and returned to his farm"
(Central Park.)
* * * * *
SPRING FEVER,
In such a joyous way?
If it were as you say,
Wouldn't _I_ know it, who know every thing!
"Ethereal mildness!" Pshaw! what nonsense, man!
Pooh! "Gentle spring," indeed!
It makes my liver bleed
To hear you talk as only idiots can.
But you're no idiot, THOMSON; _that_ I'll say!
I'll yield another bit:
I'm ready to admit
The Seasons may have altered since your day.
At any rate, JAMES, in the windy West
(Which wasn't in your eye--
At least, not frequently)
Your boasted Spring is _not_ a gentle guest.
My patience, no! She's the reverse of that!
Ah! hear her savage roar;
(So often heard before!)
And there (confound it!) goes my new Spring hat.
Alas! what means this stupid somnolence?
Why do my pulses go
So "melancholy slow"?
Why can't I think? why always "on the fence"?
O dews and fogs! O rain and snow and slush!
O various other things!
My soul! what need of wings:
Yes, "Spring's delights" are coming with a rush!
But stay, friend THOMSON--what you say is true:
Here _is_ a nice warm day!
The breezes softly play--
Then why, oh! _why_ then, do I feel so blue?
One "would not die in Spring-time," certainly--
Nor any other season,
For the same reason--
But if one can't eat dinner, why _not_ die?
Is there no panacea for such ills?
Oh! yes, a jolly one:
I find it in the dun!
In landlords', butchers', grocers', tailors' bills!
* * * * *
The Difference.
GOLDEN calves were worshipped by men of old. Modern men prefer to
worship saw-dust calves.
* * * * *
Dramatic Query.
Is Canada to be the Theatre of a Fenian War? It seems that the Canadian
Volunteers think so; and, to do justice to the performance, they have
taken possession of the whole Front-tier.
* * * * *
The Original Bow.
The EL-bow.
* * * * *
Not the Chimney for a Studio.
ONE that won't Draw.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE SICK EAGLE.
COLUMBIA. "DO LET THE POOR BIRD OUT, MR. B.; HE DROOPS SADLY."
Mr. BOOTWELL. "REALLY I DON'T SEE ANY THING THE MATTER WITH HIM, MA'AM.
HIS CAGE IS ALL GOLD, AND HE SURELY OUGHT TO BE CONTENTED."]
* * * * *
AN EXCELLENT OLD SONG MADE NEW.
BY A DEFAULTER.
Is there for his dishonesty
Who hangs his head, and a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,
And dare to steal for a' that.
For a' that and a' that,
Our grabs and games, and a' that,
Our business is to make a pile
And swindle SAM, and a' that.
What though the people curse and swear
At losing gold, and a' that?
Their fiercest wrath we'll proudly bear,
And cash is cash for a' that.
For a' that and a' that,
Their lawyers, courts, and a' that.
The lucky rogue who wins his pile
Is king of men for a' that.
The President knows how to beat
In battle, siege, and a' that;
But we're the lads for swift retreat,
Although he growl, and a' that.
For a' that and a' that,
Our bonds and oaths and a' that,
A bouncing swag's the better thing
For gentlemen, and a' that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it shall for a' that,
That plundering gents may keep the sway,
And help themselves, and a' that.
For a' that and a' that.
Leg bail's the thing, and a' that;
For travelling improves the mind,
The body saves, and a' that.
* * * * *
THE THIRTEENTH MAN IN THE OMNIBUS.
The New-York omnibus was constructed to seat and carry twelve persons;
certainly not more. Indeed, when twelve men, of nominal size, sit
squarely on the seats and do not clownishly cross their legs, one may
ride in an omnibus with comfort. Nay, with these conditions, he _may_
generally escape having his toes crushed, his shins kicked, his shoes
soiled, or his trowsers daubed with mud by his neighbor. But alas! how
often is this paradisiacal state disturbed by the intrusion of "the
thirteenth man in the omnibus."
Shall I attempt to portray the creature? He is pretty well known, and
perhaps the picture will be recognized. Sometimes he may be seen
standing at the corner of the street lying in wait for the "bus." He is
never known to walk toward its starting-place, lest he might be
confounded with the "twelve" by getting inside before the seats are
filled. No; he is "nothing if not" odd. His very hat never sits squarely
upon his head like the hat of a gentleman. It is either elevated in
front like a sophomore's, or depressed on one side, as if he had just
come from a cheap spree in the Bowery, or was troubled with some
obtrusive "bump" that kept his hat awry. If by chance he gets a seat
inside the omnibus, (as "accidents will happen," etc.,) he must cross
his legs and wipe the mud from his ill-shod feet upon your trowsers or
your wife's dress.
Indeed, methinks it was he who invented sitting cross-legged in a public
vehicle. Do savages ever sit thus when in close company? I have never
been able to imagine what special human sin this ingenious mode of
annoyance was meant to punish. It has been suggested that it might be
the man's pantomimic protest against sitting at all. But the saddest
commentary upon this vice of our hero is, that by some mysterious
magnetism of awkwardness and ill-breeding, he has betrayed into
imitation of it men whose early education has been less neglected than
his own.
Sometimes, as he gets into the "'bus," he carries in his hand or mouth
the stump of a half-burned, extinct cigar, which fills the atmosphere
with a rank and sickening odor. More frequently he is dressed in
well-worn black, and his clothes reek with noisome exhalations of stale
tobacco-smoke. Shall I finish his picture? I verily believe he is the
original Loafer.
Methinks I see him in my mind's eye. I am riding in a Broadway ominibus.
I have just handed up my fare, and, taking my seat, have surrendered
myself to a sweet half-hour of reverie. I disdain to spoil my eyes or
waste my time by newspaper-reading. I dream, and save my time for better
things, as I conceive.
The stage is full. "Twelve inside." The driver does not seem to get
along. He is constantly stopping or turning his horses to the sidewalk,
right or left. You wonder what is the matter. You begin to think the
whole town is striving to get a ride down with you in that particular
"'bus." At every street-corner we linger or stop. Suddenly the door is
pulled open with a jerk and our enemy leaps in. He sees the seats are
filled, but he does not hesitate. There is always room for him. Indeed,
his "spirit rises with the occasion." He becomes pertinacious as he is
offensive. He tramples upon more than one pair of feet in his struggle
to reach the middle of the omnibus. The passengers patiently submit to
the intrusion with that quiet good nature with which Americans usually
suffer imposition invasive of good manners, or petty social rights. They
seem to feel they can "stand it" if he can.
His mode of paying his fare evolves a climax of unconscious
impertinence. In order to have free use of one hand to pass up his
money, he grasps cane or umbrella with the other hand, by which he holds
the pendent strap. By this means he loses control of the lower end of
his stick, which thereby becomes an automatic instrument of torture,
menacing your face and eyes in quite a savage way. Indeed, his apparent
unconsciousness that he is a nuisance, and ought to be kicked out,
really approaches the sublime.
He is a pet of the driver, of course. Some innocent people wonder that
the drivers of omnibuses or cars should feel so very charitably disposed
toward the human family in general, as to take up extra passengers when
all seats are filled. Short-sighted mortals! Do you not see it! The more
passengers, beyond the complement of the "'bus," the more perquisites
for an ill-requited profession.
To return to our black sheep. Look where he stands. As he grows weary,
he grasps the straps on either side to steady him. His attitude is a
cunningly devised mode of tormenting his fellow-passengers. Either elbow
of our nondescript just reaches the hat of your opposite neighbor or
yourself. With each jolt of the stage, by a little dexterity of
movement, or want of it, he can knock the hats over the eyes of two
persons at a time, and by a little shifting of his position he can
frequently bring down four by a single spasmodic lunge. When he is
fresher, as in the morning, and can hold his own weight, he falls in his
more natural posture. Would you know what that may be? Did you ever
observe one of the descendants of the Lost Tribes who inhabit Chatham
street dreamily waiting for a passing rustic? He is apparently in a
comatose state. His abdomen is drawn in; his body is bent like a section
of a hoop; his eyes are cast down; while both his hands are thrust
deeply into his trowser's pockets.
But I grow weary of the subject, and stop by commending the Thirteenth
Man in the Omnibus to curiosity-hunters as a fungus growth of humanity
nursed by over-virtuous forbearance.
* * * * *
Hyperborean.
The hyperbole of bores it is, to bore Congress for a hundred thousand
dollars to go to the Pole! If Captain HALL wants adventure, let him
travel to the Halls of the MONTEZUMAS. If he wishes only to be left out
in the cold, let him go to Chili; or else up in a balloon; or let him
make himself Republican candidate for something in New York. We believe
the North Pole would rather be let alone. The whole subject is, at all
events, too HAYES-y just now to be comprehended. There is a sort of
KANE-ine madness, which shows itself not in fear of water but in an
insane disposition to do big things on ice. Haul off, Captain HALL!
* * * * *
Meteorological Query.
Is a temperance lecture synonymous with a Water Spout?
* * * * *
THE SPIRIT OF THE NAVY.
ITS PORTER. ITS SAILS.
_Impressions of an Outsider_.
MR. PUNCHINELLO: According to your instructions, your correspondent
proceeded to Washington, and there interviewed our present efficient
Secretary of the Navy, Admiral PORTER. I found him in his office,
surrounded by bills-of-sale of main-tops, carronades, iron-clads,
bo'sen's whistles, navy-yards, and other naval articles, the proceeds of
which were needed for the future experiments of the Department. These
papers were being bound up into bundles and stowed away by his
assistant, ROBESON.
After the ordinary greetings had passed between the admiral and your
correspondent, the following conversation ensued:
_Cor_. Admiral, what do you think of the Fifteenth Amendment?
_Ad_. All right. When Americans want votes, I say, give 'em to 'em.
_Cor_, (_A little apprehensively._) Votes are different from boats, then,
admiral?
_Ad_. Certainly. What do the negroes want with boats?
_Cor_. How are you satisfied, Mr. Secretary, with the plan of always
providing you with a civilian as an assistant?
_Ad_. I don't like it. Can't help it, though. This one, however,
(_pointing his thumb over his shoulder at_ ROBESON,) don't give me much
trouble. Quiet man.
_Cor_. What do you think of the condition of Cuba,
_Ad_. Very nice indeed! Got Admiral POOR out there, cruising around.
Just like a picnic, you know.
_Cor_. Are you in favor of the recognition of Cuban Independence?
_Ad_. No, sir! What's the good? POOR might have to come home, then.
_Cor_. You think, then, that recognition would not be a Poor policy?
_Ad_. Yes--no! No--yes! Doormat! You know what I mean.
_Cor_.(_quickly_.) Oh! yes. Certainly, sir! But what is your opinion upon
the woman question?
_Ad_. Don't care a snap. Let 'em vote. Won't make a difference 'board
ship.
_Cor_. You think, then that women will never be sailors, Admiral?
_Ad_. Nothing they could do. Except to trim the boats; look out for the
mizen sheets or somethg o' that kind. Couldn't expect 'em, even in a
calm, to be brisk in manning the yards, much less martingales.
_Cor_. What is your opinion, Admiral, of SHERIDAN'S work among the
Piegans?
_Ad_. (_laughing_). Neat job. How was that for Lo?
_Cor_. Good. Do you believe the Pope's infallible, Admiral?
_Ad_. The Pope's what?
_Cor_. Do you think that there is no such word as fail with PIO Nono?
_Ad_. No, no!
_Cor_. The Empress EUGENIE, Admiral, and Queen VICTORIA--which do you
think is the prettiest of these women?
_Ad_. Never saw 'em swimmin'. Can't say.
_Cor_. What is your opinion about McFARLAND? Was he justifiable, think
you?
_Ad_. No! Poor shot.
_Cor_. Have you seen _Frou Frou_, Admiral?
_Ad_. Yes. In New-York.
Cor. How did you like it, sir?
_Ad_. Not much. Do for folks whose taste for that sort of thing is DAILY
bred.
_Cor_. What do you think of oar new City Charter?
_Ad_. Is it a ship?
_Cor_. Yes, sir. It is a sort of hardship for New-York.
_Ad_. Well, the city must be used to that. Will take in its ale pretty
much as usual, I reckon.
_Cor_. What, sir, do you think of Chicago?
_Ad_. Ah! go way.
_Cor_. (_oblivious of hint_.) Where do you buy your pantaloon stuff, Mr.
Secretary?
_Ad_. (_sharply_.) Where the woodbine twineth.
_Cor_. Admiral, have you any children?
_Ad_. (_loudly_.) ROBESON!
_Cor_. My dear sir, you surprise me! Is he your son?
_Ad_. (_to assistant_.) ROBESON! Did you see MIKE HAINES?
_Cor_. One moment. Admiral! Let me ask of you, in which, if any, of our
New-York companies is your life insured; and do you wear the patent
perforated buckskin?--
Here the interview terminated. Your correspondent suddenly discovered
that he would have barely time to catch the N. Y. Express, and he took
leave with a renewed respect for the spirit of our Navy and its head.
SNIQUE.
* * * * *
[Illustration: COME, GENTLE SPRING.
SPRING has come. Now is the time to ask your friends for seed and roots,
and to tell somebody they ought to see about the garden. Turn your
chickens into your neighbors' grounds, and the cow too, if you think she
would like to go there. Now also is the time for house-cleaning, as well
as for settling up one's affairs generally; so, after you have called in
all the money due you, and paid out as little as possible, perhaps you
had better go out West for a week or so.]
* * * * *
The sort of Liquor most apt to Tell upon a Man.
PEACH Brandy.
* * * * *
Opinions of the Press.
The _Sun_ thinks that the World's end would be a god-send.
It also thinks that the Tribune is a try weakly and unique daily,
besides being a four centenary.
It thinks that the fact of the _Times_ being out of Joint is the reason
it is getting the cold Shoulder from its subscribers.
It thinks that the _Herald_ is not the leading paper, though it may have
Ben-it.
It thinks that the _Sun_ is awful shiny.
* * * * *
The Politician's Half-and-Half.
DEMAGOGUE and Demijohn.
* * * * *
CONDENSED CONGRESS.
SENATE.
LOFTY Mr. SUMNER wished to know what Mr. CARPENTER meant by pursuing
him. He was used to being blackguarded by the enemies of his country,
but now he was hounded in the house of his friends. He had looked
through the whole Congressional Library and failed to find a precedent
for the course of the carping CARPENTER, except in the case of the
classic chap who had warmed a viper which had turned again and rent him.
He did not mean to say that Mr. CARPENTER was a viper, but he thought
nobody but an Adder would put this and that together as Mr. CARPENTER
had done.
Mr. CARPENTER said that the passion of his friend from Boston for
maundering about himself amounted to a mild mania. All he had done was
to suggest that SUMNER had upheld States Rights twenty years ago, and
now pretended that he was never any such person.
Mr. SUMNER said that twenty years ago the States Rights boot was upon
the other leg. AENEAS SILVIUS had well observed that it made a heap of
difference whose ox was gored, and HORACE had pointed out the difference
between tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee. Unless his reading of the
Cyclopedia had failed to inform him, he believed that there was a game
known as "Heads I win, tails you lose." That was his little game. When
Massachusetts States Rights were invoked to aid the colored man, States
Rights were good. When Southern States Rights were invoked to crush the
colored man, States Rights were bad. As for him, give him liberty or
give him rats.
Mr. HARLAN wished to know why the Pacific Railway grant should be
passed. No officer of that railway had been to see him about it. He did
not believe in legislation of this kind. If a thing were worth having,
it was certainly worth asking for. He had no objection to breaking old
"ties," but he was averse to paying for new ones, unless he had some
personal reason for it. He wished he were altogether in the same
position as some of his colleagues, including these "bonds."
WILSON, and CASSERLY, and THURMAN, and THAYER said that HARLAN was of no
account, and that was the reason why he had not been "seen." As long as
a majority was prepared, it was wasting money to conciliate any body
else.
Mr. DRAKE said he had a better thing than the Pacific Railway. It was a
bill to provide that the Army and Navy of the United States might be put
on a war-footing on the application of any three colored persons. This
did not seem to be profitable, but it was. The profit in it was a JOB,
but much subtler than in the Pacific Railway. He hoped Senators would
see the illimitable vistas of patronage opened by the bill.