Puck — July 17, 1878 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK. 7 A “WANT” THAT SHOULD BE SUPPLIED. A AM a Gentleman. My ancestors came over with William the Conqueror; then they “came over” jim. He gave them lands and titles and things. One of us then came over to America in the ‘ Mayflower,” or some opposition boat, and settled in Boston. ‘That my grandfather, my father and myself were, all of us, born in Boston; that the doors and dinners of Beacon Hill have ever been free to us; that we have ever been members of Trinity Church (P. E.), is, 1 think, sufficient proof that I am a Gentleman—of Gentlemen. But in this material age, money does not al- ways walk hand-in-hand with gentility. I con- fess to a want of that which Congress fights about, financiers howl about, and on which Peter Cooper, good old soul, stood upon for a platform as a Presidential candidate—green- backs; or silver bricks, if you prefer the term; or nuggets of gold; in a word, I con- fess to a want of what Doesticks called briefly “ spondoolix.”” I read my daily papers over my chocolate. I see that “third hands on bread” are wanted; that “agents to sell teas” and “The Life of Pio Nono” are in demand; that the man who can “care for a cow, and milk,” is solicited from all quarters of the compass. If I were a “ floorman ” (whatever that is), various horse- shoers would gladly offer me such stipend as would be allowed by the U. S. H.S. & F. M. P. B. P, Ass.—which I suppose to mean the United States Horse-Shoers’ and Farriers’ Mu- tua! Protective Benevolent Parent Association. J also read of ‘Gentlemen wanted to introduce our ‘Salvation Soap’ into Nebraska;” and “gen- tlemen wanted to assist a chiropodist among the uncared-for toilers in the cotton-fields of the Sea Islands.” But, as I know nothing of soap or corns, I can accept neither. Why, O why, I ask, is there not an advertise- ment simply for a “Gentleman ” ?—“ Wanted, a Gentleman; salary liberal. Apply, with cre- dentials, to Goldbrick, Bullion Hotel.” Why, such an advertisement would put me on my legs at once. And, as for my credentials, I think, after hearing my little story (and investi- gating it, if you like), you could guarantee that am truly a Gentleman. T have a wife, dear old girl, and four chil- dren, dear loves! Of all my children I think I love Bella, the youngest, the child of my old age, the best. I wanted to call her Benjamin, but, unfortunately, the mistake her mother made in her sex prevented that. When the lark (we have no larks in New York, but it sounds more kindly to say the lark than to say the pigeon) sounds his sweet carol to the blushing morn, my little Bella, with basket on arm, and bag over shoulder, trips lightly down the stair, and inhales the invigorating breezes of the new-born day. She hies her to the freshly- swept and watered pavements of Fifth Avenue, and offers a morning salutation to the rosy Hebes of that very pleasant locality. Contri- butions of such tribute to worth and goodness as the buxom Hebe has to offer—donations of pickings of chicken, with custard; brown bread, stews, a stray pickle (generally, I am happy to say, Crosse & Blackwell), pie, old beef-bones, liver, a ham-bone, raw, with a tarry brown cord to hang it by, cold potatoes, rice- cakes, mush, and many other delicacies, are quickly, and without the ostentation of separa- thon, chucked into her bag and basket withsuch generous liberality that, I give you my word, the child has often been hardly able to reach home with her load, and has often been twenty minutes late; for which, remembering my Sol- omon’s Proverbs, like a righteous parent, I didn’t ‘spare the rod,” but I nearly “spoiled the child.” She is very clever, is my Bella, When I first taught her the advantages of early indus- try, she followed my directions, but with little success, To use her own words, ‘udder fel- lers 'n’ gals had been afore her, an’ she could’n git nawthin.” ‘Then—remark ‘her talent—she made an agreement with all the opposition fry, that a chalk-mark was to be placed on the area- gate of any house that had been ‘worked "" that morning. ‘Ihat showed talent and saved the early birds from the worm disappointment. But- and here note the organizing talent which ‘vould have made my Bella a great general, but for her mother’s reckless regard as to sexing her correctly—but- my Bella bethought her of a grander movement. She organized the Co- operative Confraternity of Codgers. She took the map of the city, a ‘Trow’s City Directory, and she made a fair and equable division of all the best houses in New York. These were carefully written out on slips of paper, put into a basket, and drawn out by lots. ‘There is now no confusion; every Codger has his, or her, own foraging-ground; and, I rejoice to say it, my Bella, who kept her own paper in her hand all the time of drawing lots, has the best and richest feeding-place of them all. See what it is to be the daughter of a Gentleman. My Bella feeds the whole family; and probably no table in the city sets forth the variety of viands that mine does. Of course I don’t partake of this. No, no! I am a Gentleman, and I cannot allow my little Bella’sexertions tosupport her father. She may provide for her mother and her brothers and sis- ters—but not for her father. No, thank you! You must remember I have a wife. She was a Beauty—and nothing else. Iwas a Gentleman, and she was glad to ma:ry me. I have never reproached her for having lost her beauty; that her hair is thin and gray; that her hands are horny with horrid toil; that her form is stale and flat; but I have taught ber the law of com- pensation. I married ner for her Beauty. She has lost it. She married me because I was a Gentleman. Am I not a Gentleman still? Clearly she has not kept her share of the bargain. ‘The only recompense she can make me is to supply me, in default of beauty, which adore, those material comforts which a Gen- tleman feels to be his second nature. So the dear old girl—how pretty she was when I first met her under the shadow of the White Moun- tains!—the willing old creature washes foul linen, and she scrubs the floors of tobacco- spattered offices, and she is the janitress of our house, which saves us rent. ‘Thanks to her energy, and the industrious habits I have taught her, I have never wanted an umelette with a fresh salad for my breakfast; my chocolate is guaranteed by Park & Tilford, and I never come home at 11.30 in the evening without finding my deviled kidney ready for me. Sweet angels, who watch over and protect the good souls on earth, bless and preserve my dear wife! How she does it I don’t know, but I never wanted a new coat; I never felt my trousers get- ting baggy at the knees that my poor old Popsy- Wopsy didn’t supply the want. She has never allowed me to owe a cent to my tailor. And as a laundress she out-rivals the Chinaman, Of course, when capitalists won’t advertise for and employ ‘ Gentleman,” a Gentleman is put to little inconveniences sometimes for the costlier delicacies for which his nature craves. But / never suffered thus. O, no! My second child, Guy, would never let his father want. Guy, poor boy, is a cripple. He wasa very healthy child when a baby, and essed of wonderful strength; so much so that he leaped from my arms when only two months old, and broke his thigh-bone. I wept for him. He remembers now how I wept! And in his gra- cious way he thanks his father daily. The bartender in the “ Magnet” saloon, after losing his wages and his ‘‘ knock-downs”” over night at faro, is really too exhausted to clean the bottles and glasses, to sweep and saw- dust the floor, and to do all those other little offices which are necessary to make the place bright and cheerful for the searcher for the early cocktail. My Guy—Guy, the cripple— does it for him. And he takes his pay in little pints of Bourbon, pretty packages of cigars, now and again a bottle of Bass, and sometimes, when he does extra duty for the bartender, he brings the father, who wept for him when he fell, a bottle of the Mumm’s champagne which belonged to the bartender’s employer. But, alas, my Guy will be Ganymede no longer for many years. As I stood in the rear of the Court of Special Sessions and saw him and the bartender of the “ Magnet” sent to Sing Sing for five years for theft, I wept. I wept; cigar- less, without Bourbon daily rations —I felt that, indeed, I was an object for the sympathy of the rich and fortunate of earth, As for my little amusements, I have two dear daughters, Melpomene and ‘Terpsichore—Mel- lie and Tuppie we call them at home—both well-employed at the theatres—in the ballet. Dear girls, the management provides them with such sweet and short dresses at the theatre that they care very little for the clothes they wear by day. I tell them to remember that their father is a Gentleman,” and they are too proud to see him dressed otherwise than be- comes him. “ Pretty as a picture” they would be; but somehow this climate makes them look worn and thin. It can’t be that they are not well fed. My Bella takes care of that, So here I am, a Gentleman—a Gentleman with a wife and four children, And I want work, I want to work like a Gentleman. I can speak French—to people who don’t understand that language. I could be a first-class corres- pondent— with some poor drone of a college- fellow for my assistant. But what I desire is to find a situation as a Gentleman—only that and nothing more. Where is Senator Jones, of Nevada? Doesn't he want a Gentleman? Where are Mr. Flood, of California, and Judge Hilton, of New York? They have millions— why don’t they spend some of them in having a Gentleman associated with them? If only for the novelty of the thing, it seems to me they could well afford to pay right royally to have a Gentleman sit in familiar converse with them. So here I am, a Gentleman. Ask my wife, dear old pussy, my girls, my boy in his hard stone-home up the river. ZAey have the hard lines of life hard upon them; but they have one ever-abiding consolation, which they hold closely to their hearts—their father is a Gen- tleman. And these are my credentials. I do not think, after making my case known to the immense American public, so full of common money-grubbers—dry-goods people, publishers, shoe people, auctioneers, bankers, steamboat and railroad fellows, brokers, hotel chaps, and the like—that when they know there’s a Gentleman among them they will not seize the chance to secure him. I see fat salaries in my mind's eye. I would like to see the scrubbing-brush fall forever from my wife's hand, and the dear girls sit in the stalls in front instead of showing the contour of their rounded thighs from behind the foot- lights, I would hire great lawyers to induce Governor Robinson to pardon my poor, little crippled Guy, for whom I have wept twice. I have noble aspirations, I want to do great things. I would like to be a public benefactor. And now, having told my story to the world, when the next sextuple edition of the Blather comes out, with seventy-seven columns of “Wants,” each one commencing— Wanted, a Gentleman, And ¢hen there may be some opportunity for A GENTLEMAN. | comicbooks.com