Puck — July 10, 1878 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

2 fo) PUCK. FOURTH OF JULY FESTIVITIES. N unfortunate man, who said his name was Darius Guppy Montmorenci, came into the office last week and solicited an interview with us in relation to the celebra- tion of the next Fourth of July; he wanted the city government to n t only allow, but to pro- vide firecrackers to the children on Indepen- dence Day, 1879. ‘What,’ said he, ‘is a paternal government good for, if it isn’t pater- nal?” And then he proceeded to tell us _his story. He has a little Tommy—his son. ‘This youth being forbidden by the authorities to pop the bursting cracker or to dance in patriotic glee around the little brass cannon, insisted upon being taken down the bay on an excursion steamer. Darius Guppy Montmorenci con- sented, and Rockaway was the fortunate spot chosen. There, with patriotism and clams, the day might be fitly celebrated. On the morning of the Fourth little Tommy aroused his father before daylight with the festive notes of a consumptive drum, which, like Macbeth, “murdered sleep.” Father, mother and little one dressed, ate breakfast and packed their lunch-basket. It was a little early when they set out, to be sure, but paterfamilias thought it best to be on hand early so as to avoid the crowd and get good, eit breezy seats on the boat. They hurried down the pier where they were indeed first- comers, arriving there at about half-past seven o'clock. They thought there would be but a small crowd on board, for they sat alone and baked under the hot sun till nearly 10 o'clock, when a smail boy told them they were on the wrong pier. The boat was, at that moment, rounding in to the next pier, and if they wanted to catch it they must hurry up. Away they hurried, hot, perspiring, out of temper, up the wrong pier and down the right one, just in time sor get on board the boat, which was overcrowded. Mrs. M. found a camp- stool near the lager-beer bar; and had her dress nearly torn off her by the frantic strug- gles of the thirsty crowds to reach their beer. Darius G. M. himself was obliged to hold little Tommy in his arms as he leaned against a row of beer-kegs; and when they had turned Coney Island Point the boat got into a heavy sea, and D. G, M. didn’t know whether or not he was going to get pitched overboard—but he rather hoped he would. However, they at last reached the Neptune House without any loss except D. G.’ M.’s. watch—which has probably been pawned ere this by the obliging young man who helped him and little Tommy, through the crowd, over the gang-plank. They saved their lunch- basket —as wil be seen hereafter. They sat them down beside the wet sea-waves, and put their lunch under the shade of an umbrella to keep it cool. Then D. G. M. thought he would venture in the water; whence he was brought, in cramps, some twenty minutes later, rolled on a barrel to get the salt-water out of his stomach, and made half drunk on brandy— which he had to pay fur. Meantime a meeting had been held of all the dogs in Rockaway, who made a raid on the lunch-basket; and what they couldn't eat they demolished. Hunger drove D. G. M. to the floating clam, swimming in a bowl of broth and ab- surdly yclept chowder, which young Tom couldn't eat, and so proceeded to make him- self sick and pimply with pie; and then went to sleep with a sick headache. Mama got cross and quarreled with D. G. M., and it was a mercy that they got on board the boat at last. "Fhe boat did not leave them behind. No; the boat’s nose was stuck in the mud, and it wouldn’t float until midnight. So D. G. M. explained to Mrs. M. and she seemed to think it was Ais fault, poor man! At all events they had to take the cars, where Mrs. M. got a seat beside an extremely drunken gentleman, holding Tommy on her lap, while Darius stood in the aisle, and what little sense he had left was nearly shaken out of him as the train was yanked New Yorkwards. And so they reached home at last, fagged out and miserable. pel All this, D, G. M, thinks, is because his little boy couldn’t fire off his crackers in the city. Otherwise Darius would have remained at home under his own vine and fig-tree, sipping the soothing julep and regaling himself with lamb and peas. Can’t the next city government change all this for the better next year? Answers for the Aurious. Haseutine.—Drop her. Pererixe,— Peter out. SMILAX.—If life is dearto you, O nascent paragrapher, come to this office, and we will make Death so extraor- dinarily cheap that it will be worth your while not to re- fuse it. S. MANN.—You have the stamp of Fraud on your brow, The next time you try to rewrite old paragraphs, don’t select Burdette’s. You can’t improve on them to any great extent. J. K. M.—You are perfectly at liberty to “lap your- self in Lesbian roses,” if you cultivate that variety. We should like to have you do so. Lap yourself in any kind of roses you want to, and then blow out the gas. .—We can't decipher the picture which you have drawn at the end of your letter, and which you probably intend for a signature. We will merely re- mark, incidentally, that it is well for you that we can’t. ROBERT BOB—OUR BOY. HIS article may not be expressed in the finest English, because it is written by our 3d Assistant Artist, who is not used to the pen asa writer. He desires to immor- talize the Boy of the office. Were the present writer wealthy he would put an ad. in Puck, paying the usual rates, to the following effect: “Wantep: A Stout Horse anp Wacon, to cart off Robert to the Adirondacks.” Robert Bob has charge of the portfolio of the establishment. It is his duty to assort poli- tical, social, theatrical, and architectural draw- ings, and place them, each, sui generis, Instead thereof he puts a “nigger” show-cut in with-a drawing of the ‘‘ Woman’s Home;” he co-min- gles studies of sea-side views with cut-paper patterns from the fashion journals; and cut- throat assassinations he adds to his collection of “ Amusements.” ‘Asa mailer of letters he is certainly a colossal success; he has been known to meander over the entire metropolis with a letter in his pocket, touching all points except the post-office. ‘The reason of all this is that Robert, our Boy, is desirous of going to the Adirondacks, where he thinks the Indians hang out. It is the misfortune of Puck that his office is near the place of a most unfortunate old fellow who has a shooting-gallery. ‘There, when Rob- ert is sent on an errand, he can generally be found, popping away at a target, and killing imaginary Indians, !f you saw him plug away at that round board you would tremble for the aborigines who are twirling their scalps and flourishing their tomahawks among the Adiron- dacks. Robert spent last week's wages on a long bowie-knife, and the week previous he brought in to poor old Mr. Triplet, one of our contributors, a paper-bag full of cartridges—all of different sizes. It would take a large-sized armory to contain guns of the requisite variety of calibre to fit those cartridges. Robert is also after the game in the Adiron- dacks. He wrote, recently, to one of the land- lords of the fashionable hotels in that resort of fashion, as to the game he might expect to bag there; if he could have a few lions put in a trap like Bogardus's glass balls so they could be shot at a thirty yards’ rise; also if number 6 shot would do for an elephant on horse-back, We publish Robert's portrait out of kindness to the game and the Indians. When they see the ori- ginal /et them beware ! But still Robert, like Deacon Richard Smith, is truly good. He is always willing to go out and get a cigar for any of our artists or editors; and the little bribe of a glass of weiss that the saloon-keeper gives him for the custom he fetches to the sample-room, is no inducement to Robert Bob, our Boy. As the Educators and Warners of the Ame- rican people, we have thought it our duty to teach them about, and warn them against, Robert; although we confess that we think him only dangerous to game and Indians. eomliclooks com