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قراءة كتاب Punchinello, Volume 1, No. 24, September 10, 1870

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Punchinello, Volume 1, No. 24, September 10, 1870

Punchinello, Volume 1, No. 24, September 10, 1870

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effort. I have carefully thought out this subject, and have reduced my reflections and observations to a series of rules, which, for the benefit of humanity, I propose to make public.

It must he premised that there are many varieties of great men. Daddy LAMBERT was a great man, so was the living skeleton, yet even a casual observer could perceive the difference in their greatness. The greatness of the fleshy world is one thing; the greatness of the no-fleshy world is another. Also, strange as it may seem, a man may be great and yet not be great. HOOD was a great General, so was NAP 3, but they tell me that Nashville and Saarbrucken are terrible commentaries on greatness. Also a man may be great and not know it. They say that, until he had made his grand success at Fort Fisher, you never could persuade BUTLER that he was a great General. TUPPER, I am informed, would never believe that he was the most remarkable poet ever produced by England. Also a man may be great and be perfectly aware of it. Acquaintances of GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN, Gen. O'NEILL, and Count JOANNES, assert that no one knows, better than these gentlemen, that they are great men. Also a man may die calmly in the consciousness that he is a distinguished individual, and yet, years afterwards, some magazine writer may cast historic doubts upon his greatness.

Of course there are several classes of great people. There is the little great man, (for example, NAP. 3,) the big great man, (BISMARCK,) the great little man, (NAP. 1,) and the great big man, (the Onondaga giant.) But the patient observer must perceive that general rules will cover all these cases.

It is to be hoped that no one, who shall become great by means of my rules, will turn upon me and revile me, when he finds himself interviewed incessantly, persecuted by unearthings of his early sins, by persistent beggars, by slanders of the envious, by libels of the press, and by the other concomitants of greatness. You must take the sour with the sweet. Even the sweetest orange may have an unpleasant rind.

RULES BY WHICH EVERY MAN CAN BECOME GREAT.

1. Always be sure to get what belongs to you, and make most vigorous grabs for everything that belongs to everybody else.

2. Take everything which is offered to you, if it be on a par with what you deem the standard of your worth.

This rule requires the exercise of much wisdom in its application. If, for example, you look upon the Custom House as the office which is adapted to you, don't, under any circumstances, take the appraiser's position. But you must never let the rule work the other way.

3. Always have a policy. Talk about it much and often, and be sure to call it "my policy."

The best of rules being liable to misconstruction, some Congressmen have acted as if this rule read, "Always have a policy shop."

4. Always have a theory. If a murder has been committed, appear to know all about the "dog," and to be familiar with its history from the time when it was a pup. Be sure to fix suspicion upon some person, even if you are compelled to eat your own words on the following day.

5. Talk much and often about protection, and give advice to farmers, even if you don't know anything about agriculture.

6. Fill your head with classical quotations, and trot them out on all occasions, whether discussing a bill for the diffusion of beans among the Indians, or the Alabama claims.

7. Smoke many costly Havana cigars.

This rule has been lately discovered.

8. Get some one to write a history of CAESAR for you, or an account of a tour in the Highlands, and then claim the work as your own.

There are one or two observations I would here make, which may be useful. If you are ambitious, you had better commence at the lower rounds of the ladder, in order that your ascent may be safe and rapid. If you would be, for instance, a great statesman, be first an alderman; if a great warrior, be first—well, say a tanner. Also, you should pay particular attention to the clothes which you inhabit. An old white hat and a slouchy old overcoat will insure you a nomination for the office of Governor.

If, by following these rules and heeding these observations, you cannot become a great man, you may rest assured that the fault is not in the rules, but in you. What is already perfect cannot be made more perfect. If you fail, after conscientiously following the above advice, (though I'm not sure that the fact will not be the same, if you succeed,) it's because you are already great—a great fool.




"THE COLORED TROOPS FOUGHT NOBLY."

So far as the Franco-Prussian war has gone, the blackest page of its history appears to be the employment of the Turcos, who are nearly as black as average Nubian "niggers." The expedient of mixing black troops with white was not very successful during our own little war. Raids upon hen-roosts were about the most prominent results of the experiment, though said raids were magnified by the Rads into grand victories over Confeds. The Turcos have done better, so far as mere fighting is concerned; but their brutal outrages exceed so greatly the hen-roost exploits of WENDELL PHILLIPS'S devoted darkies, that they are certainly entitled to be organized into battalions bearing the title of the NAPOLEON Black Guards.




"THE VOICE OF THE TURTLE."

According to a newspaper paragraph, turtles are growing used to being canned alive, now, on the Pacific Coast. On hearing of this atrocity, the Nine Muses repaired at once to the office of PUNCHINELLO, and here is the result of their visit:

'Tis the voice of the Turtle
That's heard in the land.
Crying, "Bother your care!
I don't want to be canned!


"Pack me whole in a tub,
Nor be stingy of ice,
What I want is a BERGH,
Nothing less will suffice."




ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

Black-eyed Susan asks us whether a Pitched battle can take place on land.
Answer.
—Certainly not. When we speak of a battle being Pitched we mean that it has been fought by Tars.

Fogbank.—"Is DANA, of The Sun, any relation to "Truthful JAMES," of whom the Overland Monthy has written?" Answer.—Distantly related, through intermarriage with the LONGBOWS.

Moses.—We do not suppose that the person referred to by you as a Dyer and Scourer is in any way related to OLIVER DYER, although the latter person scoured Water Street some time since, and very effectually, in pursuit of a "sensation." The word "Scourer," nevertheless, might be an allowable corruption of "Esquire," when applied to any of the proprietors of that mephitic daily, The Sun.

Pickerel.—Will Mr. GREELEY be obliged to dress in court costume if he accepts the mission to the Court of St. JAMES? Answer.—No. It would be contrary to Mr. GREELEY'S well-known principles to get on "tights."

Flagroot.—Is it correct to say the "balance" of an army, meaning the rest of it?
Answer.—Not always. When an army has turned the Scale of battle, however, the word Balance may be used.

Mary Jane.—I have embroidered a flag for the Prussian army, and am at a loss for a motto. How would "Bear and Forbear" do? Answer.—"Beer and for Beer" would be better.





"THERE!—I SHOULD LIKE TO SEE THE UNDERTOW THAT WOULD RUN AWAY WITH ME!"



A ROAR FROM NIAGARA.

DEAR PUNCHINELLO:—Having been reminded, by your recent notes on Niagara, that there is a cataract of that name, possessed of height and depth and breadth and volume and other well-known characteristics of a genuine Waterfall, I thought I would go and see it for myself. Not that I doubted your statements—which, indeed, are handsomely supported by familiar statistics,—but certainly there is a charm in treading the ground once trod by Greatness, breathing—well not the same air, I hope, but some of the same kind,—viewing the identical scenes, and being swindled by the self-same parties, that had just occasioned your animated comments.

I don't know a charm at all comparable with that of being swindled in the midst of fine scenery, when the funds and enthusiasm still hold out, and the sense of actually getting the worth of one's money is not yet so blunted by transactions calculated to awaken Thought, as to have lost the power of increasing one's felicity. That the intelligent lad who drove me was in league with every one of the parties who were stationed here and there with the sole apparent purpose of receiving fifty cents from visitors, I was loth to believe, though nothing could have been plainer, if one had happened to think of it from the start.

Is it not funny, the way they serve their Congress Water at the Cataract House? They put a big lump of ice in a tumbler, take a bottle from a shelf, pour the warm, stale fluid, (tasting like perspiration, as one might fancy,) into this glass, and expect you to wait till it has grown cool enough to be palatable. Well, if you wait, you lose what little life there is left in the stuff; and if you don't, you'll be sorry you hadn't done so.

One may say, "You needn't have ordered any Congress Water." Very well, but why not, provided I liked it? The clerk said they kept Vichy, also, but I learned they were "out." I wish they had been out of Congress too. "All right!" said I, "I shall enjoy my breakfast all the more, for I know that will make amends!" And it did. The "salmon trout" was dry, as usual, but that breakfast was a good thing. I enjoyed it, and my two niggers and my New York paper of day before, (for which I paid a cute looking boy in the hall ten cents, on my way to breakfast,) and was happy.

Not, my dear P., till I reached the "other side," and had been inveigled into the Museum Hotel, and persuaded into those vile wrappings of oil-cloth, with the ponderous rubbers over my thick boots, and had stood around for some time, awaiting the pleasure of the very leisurely guide, sweating at every pore, (or nearly every one, for there are several millions, I believe, and I so hate exaggeration,) and trying to evade the glances of the amused bystanders, did I begin to realize the enormity of the imposition that had been practised on me. Just fancy yourself, Mr PUNCHINELLO, in such a costume, taking a seemingly interminable walk in a hot sun, down ever so many steps, encased in those nasty articles of gear, in the company of several other helpless unfortunates, wishing with all your might yon were already there!"

"But the grandeur and glory of the adventure will console me!" I murmured. Grandeur be hanged! A fig for the "glory!" What! do you call this "going under the Falls,"—that renowned journey, so full of peril? Pooh! merely standing in a bath-tub and letting somebody pull the string! You don't get quite so wet; that's all. Where's the "danger," where's the "glory," of merely stepping under a little spirt from one end of the Falls, with plenty of room to stand, and no darkness, no mystery, no nothing. Nothing but an overwhelming sense of being a cussed fool, and a simpleton, and a stupid, and a dunce!

Oh, the going back, after that! in the same loathed costume, inwardly justifying the laughter of the knowing loungers as you ascend among them, and cursing yourself as the chief among ten thousand (ninnies,)—the one altogether idiotic.

Except for this enormous swindle, dear P., I should have enjoyed Niagara, and Niagara would doubtless have enjoyed me. But this preposterous, disgusting, outrageous, ridiculous, contemptible, disgraceful, unsurpassable swindle prevented anything like a mutual understanding. I saw green in the Falls, the Falls saw green in me. The Falls kept coming down; I had already come down, (with my dollars,) and, in fact, was perpetually descending, with sums varying from twenty-five cents to four dollars and a half.

My sole object, friend PUNCHINELLO, in addressing you on this subject, is to beg and beseech that you will warn the too-credulous and too-generous public against this unmatchably atrocious swindle of Going Under the Falls. It is too much for proud Humanity, Mr. P.! It is crushing! It is withering! It is annihilating! What! "Annex" this fraud? Never!—NEVER!

TUPMAN.




THE POSSIBLE "WHY?" OF IT.

The personal feeling against the French Emperor, so often displayed in the columns of the Tribune, has frequently been a subject of comment. Nevertheless it is easily accounted for. As Louis NAPOLEON is said to detest ham, ever since he was incarcerated in the fortress of that name, so does the Hon. HORACE GREELEY detest him, ever since he (H. G.) was arrested in France for some offence, real or imaginary, which we cannot now recall to mind, and thrown into prison at Clichy. And to this, also, may be traced the celebrated bon mot of Mr. GREELEY, who once remarked, on a festive occasion, that "Ham was afflicted with trichinosis when it had Louis NAPOLEON in it."




A HINT FOR EXCURSIONISTS.

On account of the present nauseating condition of New York Bay, owing to the offal nuisance, no prudent voyager should seek to stem its feculent tide unless provided with "something to take." An intelligent correspondent suggests that brandy would be about the thing, but that it should be labelled "Bay Bum."




A Military Opinion.

The "Prussian centre," of which we hear so much just now, ought to be permanently established at Cologne, which place has been, in feet, the Scenter of the world for generations past.




BOOK NOTICE.

LIFE OF CHARLES DICKENS.
By E. SHELTON MACKENZIE, LL.D, Philadelphia: T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS.

In this volume of 484 pages, Dr. MACKENZIE brings before his readers a very full and interesting compilation of facts relating to the career of the great novelist. Besides these, the volume contains a number of characteristic articles from the pen of DICKENS, published, originally, in All the Year Round, some of which are of recent date. The book is embellished with a portrait and autograph of DICKENS.



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