Puck — November 20, 1878 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK. FASHION'’S FOLLIES. MMEDIATE FUTURE. COSTUMES OF THE 1 A wa Rosette. Too sweet for anything. Tue Mumay. An old fashion revived. Dressed To Kitt (Mice). Beware of Man-traps. MUSIC AND BUSINESS. HE Junior Clerk in the office of Briggs Brothers & Co, came down to the office rather late on Monday morning. He said he had been ill; he had suffered from asunstroke when an infant, and any sudden shock was liable to bring it on again, ‘Therefore, when on Saturday evening he had heard of the death of his great-aunt, in Smithville, Iowa, he had been prostrated by the shock, and had passed the ensuing Sunday in a semi-comatose condi- tion. That the Junior Clerk prevaricated, it is scarcely necessary to remark. A Junior Clerk who would assign a probable—nay, even a pos- sible cause for tardiness in reporting for duty, would be a phenomenon in the commercial world, And Willian Jones sought no invidious | distinction above the race of Junior Clerks, He told his little fib in quite the conventional manner on every occasion that he happened to oversleep himself, and was duly disbelieved and:labored with by his employers. This time the trouble with the adolescent Jones was that he had been to an Opéra Bouffe on Saturday night, and that it had taken him all Sunday to recover from it. In fact, he | wasn’t fully recovered from it yet. Of this fact | the whole office was made aware by his indulg- ing in a brief but beautiful solo while engaged in emptying the large collection of waste- baskets owned by Messrs. Briggs & Co. An air of amazement and horror spread over the countenances of the entire clerical staff, and when Mr. Jones, having disposed of the waste- baskets, devoted his energies to the spittoons, keeping up the same airy musical accompani- ment, the clerks of Briggs & Co. looked as though they thought the millennium was within reaching distance. A Junior Clerk who made a specialty of caroling was something incon- | ceivable from a strictly business standpoint. It seemed to be the general impression that the young man was in a mild state of mental aber- ration, Charity forbid the idea that he was com- mitting the atrocity with deliberate intention. He was not." Mr. Jones was simply suffering from reminescént Opéra Bouffe on the brain. He had heard ‘la Belle Héléne’—heard it on a billboard ticket, and had caught one marked and melodious air, Perhaps it would be better to say that the air had caught him; for the personal identity of William Jones was wholly and utterly under the power of the said air. It was a simple air, one that might not have fitted with perfect precision the Wagner idea; but it was a first-rate tune to whistle, and lent itself readily to that exquisite and popular method of rendition known as humming. In the libretto of the opera it was known as “a1 Mont Ida,” and went to certain French words quite correct grammatically; but decidedly off- color from a moral point of view. Musically noted, the air ran thus, as Mr. Jones whistled it over the waste-baskets and hummed it above the well-nicotined cuspidors: adeflgatlgea (he led ladeftgatleatieded. If you can read music, you will see that this is a very catching air.” We have known one young man, with much wider possibilities of harmfulness than William Jones, to make him- self a nuisance to all his friends and enemies, simply by having caught this air and feeling himself called upon to render it, vocally, when- ever a chance offered. To be sure, there was this aggravating circumstance in the case of the young tnan we refer to that he was a youth who despised petty precision, and was perfectly satisfied if he came within three or four notes of the air—while his friends did not share his opinions on that subject. Bur even with William Jones, whose musical ear was unimpeachable, the tune proved pecu liarly full of cussedness, A diplomatic communication from the Head Bookkeeper induced Mr. Jones to finish wrest- ling with the spittoons in moody silence; but at | intervals during the morning he broke out again: and at 11 minutes past 12 M., the Entry | Clerk deemed it his duty to remonstrate with Mr. Jones. He was a quiet and methodical man, and he generally thought over what he had to say before saying it. On this occasion he selected his words with unusual care, and braced himself up to say | them. Somehow they didn’t seem to come, They hitched in his throat for a moment, and | then, as the Junior Clerk hummed: | ag retro ete etre ster “Tum-tuti-tetetatotetetato-tetetitetitu—" pout echestieese the Entry Clerk reprovingly warbled: “+ Just you shut'up that damn tune, will you, damn tune, will you, Vi-bil-yam Jones!"* mm And then all the other clerks in the office turned round and looked at him, and he sub- sided and made entries for fifteen minutes. We don’t attempt to explain the occult psy- chological reasons for it; we simply record the fact that within another half-hour that office blossomed out into song like a cow-pasture with Canada thistles. ‘The air for which Mr. Jones stood sponsor had been fermenting in the heads of the clerical staff ever since nine o'clock, and now it burst forth in several places, It was 22 minutes to 1 when the Porter came up-stairs and melodiously inquired of the Cashier: “Aa if ye plaze, sor, what's the combi-Nation for to open the safe?" aches And at 12:57 the Cashier called up that Porter and said to him: “Patrick, you crazy Irishman, stop whist- ling that infernal tune, and go out and get me one ham-sandwich, one ham-sandwich thundering quick!” But though the clerical crowd wore a certain look of uneasiness, as if it expected a visitation of yellow fever, or an all-round reduction of salaries, matters did not come to a crisis until 217%, when the Head Book-keeper himself, the Nestor of the office, went into the private apartment of the Senior Partner, and lifted up his voice in song, thus: “What shall I debit Schmidt & Murphy, Schmidt & Murphy, Li-hi-verpool °° , Then the Senior Partner shoved his spec- tacles up on his forehead, gazed at his employee in horror, as he replied: “Mr, Robinson, you have been in this house for thirty years; SE retheethesrerr ‘The Head Book-keeper broke out into in- dignant protest, to the same tune, and then retreated to his desk, followed by the Senior Partner, who found the outer office in a state of wild and anarchical confusion. ‘Ihe entire commercial staff, led by William Jones, danced wildly around the room, over desks and tables, in a mad and reckless carmagnole, chanting with the abandon of bacchanalian revelers: crazy with that damn tine, i-iam Jones— Casiiex tone Wietiam Jowes (rete) — Sexton VAKTxRR «bas “Soumce out of this, O Wi a And now the office of Briggs & Co. is closed for repairs, and William Jones is out of employ- ment and eagerly secking a situation as Junior Clerk in some first-rate Opéra Bouffe company. ® If you can’t, get some other fellow to read it for you. | It might be a goud excuse to call on the young person you worship, and ask her to play it for you. She needn't play it all the evening. ParaGrapit a la mode Anglaise: ‘T'aine has been made a French Academician because of his great at/ainments. comicbooks.com