Puck — June 19, 1878 — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

12 PUCK. could suffer. Before the close of the holidays, Reginald Fitzgerald stumbled up-stairs into his wife's orderly little room, drunk. He was dressed now in the very unbecoming undress uniform of the London Militia. His boots were very blucher; his jacket was beer-stained and dirty; and his cap was tilted on the back of his head instead of the side, which is the natural position of the military headdress, “T wish you would not live so high up, Mary,” he said, in a tone of mild rebuke. “ These stairs are very inconvenient to a mili- tary man when he’s been —been—been —feast- ing.” “ What do you want, Reginald?” “There now, that’s so like you women—al- ways so good-natured and kind. Come to the point at once, without any ‘diclous beating about the bush. Since you wish to know what I want, I will tell you—can refuse a female no- thing. I want you, if you'll be so good, to lend me fourpence. A 'ticklar friend of mine ad- vanced me small sum to buy a little refresh- ment, and now hewants it back again for same purpose. Debt of honor, Mrs. Fitzgeld, which 1 should like to discharge at once, as m! friend’s a heavy man. Avoid bloodshed if pos- sible, is my principle as military man.” ‘ou promised to come here no more.” “I did Mrs, Fitzgeld; but necessifas non habet deges—oh, I know Latin. I'm a gen'Iman and a scholar, though I am compelled by adverse circumstances to accept her Majesty’s kit and bounty, and risk my life in the service of my country for a ‘diculously small remuneration.” “What have you done with the notes?” “ Lost ’em, every blessed one. Imprudently taking little refreshment with a friend unwor- thy of the name, I partially lost consciousness under social influences, and my friend took ad- vantage of the c’mstances and the bank-notes at the same time. If I meet him again and recognize his features, he shall restore them.” “What is that noise?” asked Mary, in allu- sion toa noise on the stairs, similar to that which had preceded Fitzgerald’s entrance. “Daresay it’s my friend—friend that ad- vanced me fourpence.”” “He shall not come in here.” “Course he sha'n’t.”” Fitzgerald rose, and opening the door cried: “Ts that you, Thomas?” “Yes, it is me—number 39, and I want my joey.” “Go down. This isa lady’s apartment, and she says you must not come in here. Go down, Tom, there's a good man.” “Can't go down back’ards,” remonstrated Thomas. ‘ Must come up and turn round.” A Turn round sideways,” suggested Fitzger- ald. “« Take this sixpence and show him the way,” said Mary eagerly. “Anything to oblige a lady. I haven't any change.” “ Never mind.” “Oh, this is indeed kind! Never trouble you again, 'ponmyword. Stop where you are, Thomas, What a thing ignorance is! Poor uneducated man, let me show you how to turn round sideways.” George Montey told Mary she should not have given money to her husband. He would certainly come again when he was drunk and wanting money. “Send for me next time he applies to you. When he finds it useless to make demands, he will cease to trouble you.” It was not long after that the landlady’s daughter summoned George to Mrs. Fitzger- ald’s assistance. He arrived to find her hus- band and his friend both in Mary's apartment, the latter lying speechless on the floor. Fitz- gerald resented interference, swore he had a right to remain, and refused to go. A police- man was sent for, and friend Thomas was with difficulty removed. Reginald Fitzgerald was in that state of in- toxication when the disposition fluctuates be- tween maudlin good-humor and savage ferocity. At one moment he declared he would go quietly and return no more; in the next he swore he would stay and not move for a hundred police- men. He had fought for freedom of will with every race under the sun, and he would truckle to none now. Had he shot Mexican bullies to be frightened by black-coated English gentle- men? He had killed representatives of many nations, and he failed to see why England should not contribute her share of victims to his hand. As he talked of violence his excitement grew. He staggered about the room, and all the evil passions of his nature appeared in his face. When the tread of the returning policeman was heard upon the stairs he hastily unbuckled his belt and strode towards the door. Mary | screamed with terror. George Montey stepped quickly forward, and catching Fitzgerald by the waist threw him upon his back; but the man, possessed with the abnormal strength of a maniac, disengaged himself from Montey’s arms, got upon his feet, and caught up a chair and dashed it at Montey, It was light, and George, fending his head with his arm, was not greatly injured; but the missile turned aside, fell upon Mary’s chiffonier, scattering the little gimcracks there. The sound of the smashing furniture was a suggestion to the in- furiated Fitzgerald, and dashing his fist through the glazed door of the bookcase, he wrenched it open and tore down the shelves. But now Montey and the policeman grappled with him, and presently carried him away. It was left to the policeman to charge the men with being drunk and disorderly,and both were locked up in default of paying the fine. A messenger took a note from Fitzgerald to his wife, in which he told her that he was peni- tent; that all he wanted in this world was her forgiveness and five shillings to save him from the infamy of imprisonment. Once more the wife was perplexed, and halted between the prompting of instinct and the dictate of rea- son. George was not there to bid her be wise, so she sent the required five shillings. The next morning quite early—she had not finished her breakfast—there was a tap upon her door. She rose trembling with fear, and opening the door perceived her husband stand- ing outside, his cap in one hand and a carpen- ter’s bag of tools in the other. ‘I am ashamed to look you in the face,” he said abjectly. “I’m regular cut up, with that glass door for one thing and remorse for another.” He held up his hand, which was swathed in rag. ‘‘ Serves me right.”” “If you are sorry for what you have done, you will have the grace to leave me now,” said Mary. «Vl go away if you tell me to, Mary. But I came to do what I could in reparation of the injury I have done; just to show you that I have a little goodness in me, that I’m not alto- gether a right out-and-out bad lot. Didn't I say that I always have respected women? I never lifted my hand against you, drunk as I was, And this last act of yours, this fetching me out of prison when I was at my worst, has got hold of me wonderfully. 1 think it was that as much as this d—(beg your pardon) blessed pain in my hand that kept me awake through the night, Ido, I shall be so glad if you will just let me show what I can do.” (To be concluded.) Is it Webber or Weber? Two b’s or not two b’s?—that is the question. —Rewey in New Haven Register, Ferchanges. HIS FIRST LOVE, 1 remember Meeting you In September Sixty-two, We were eating, Both of us; And the meeting Happened thus: Accidental, On the road, (Sentimental Episode.) I was gushing, You were shy; You were blushing— So was I: I was smitten, So were you; (All that’s written Here is true.) Any money? Not a bit. Rather funny, Wasn't it? Vows we plighted — Happy pair! How delighted People were! But your father— ‘To be sure— ‘Thought it rather Premature; And your mother— Strange to say— Was another In the way. What a heaven Vanished then— (You were seven, I was ten.) That was many Years ago— Don’t let any- Body know. —Baltimore Every Saturday. ‘TRuTH squashed to earth will get up again!” —Boston Fost. A Biro in the hand is worth two in the shell. — Whitehall Times, Uitton’s convent is now known as the Park Avenue Hotel.— Boston Post. Swimaunc is useful in so far as it trains a boy to keep his mouth shut.— Ficayune. Tue kind word which turneth away wrath won’t turn away a book-agent.— Oats, Dom Pepro, having a few minutes to spare, is going to the Paris Exposition.—Danbury News. Tue Pope has expressed his earnest regrets that an unsuccessful attempt has been made upon the life of the Emperor William.— Graphic. “I witt give the world one hundred years to go to Hell together in a heap.—. W. Beecher. Hayes observed the other day that he had a great affection for Pennsylvania. There are grave doubts if it is reciprocated.— Derrick. ———— comicbooks.com