Puck — September 3, 1879 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK. 407 THE GAS-BURNER FIEND. WING to a material reduction in the rice of gas, some months ago, Mr. iddlebox's gas-bill for the last quarter was much larger than usual. As paradoxical as it may seem, a reduction in the price of always results in larger gas-bills. Mr. Middle- box had just settled his bill under protest, when the gas-burner fiend entered his office with an easy confident air, and a patent “electric con- cave burner,” which he warranted to effect a saving of twenty-five per cent in gas, and to give ten per cent. more light than any other burner in the market. Middlebox listened to an enumeration of the merits of the article with a willing ear. If the vender had called a day earlier, the probabilities are that his reception would have been as frigid as Charles Francis Adams, and as brief as a poor man’s last will and testament, The burners were “only twenty-five cents a piece,” and MiddleboxPer: mitted the fiend to remove the old tips and re- place them with the “ electric concave” con- cerns, Middlebox smiled a triumphant sort of smile when he lit the gas that evening, but it weakened somewhat when the “ten per cent more light” failed to put in an appearance. The next day another vender of burners visited Mr. Middlebox. No, 2 had the “ Me- , teoric-Magnetic Burner,” warranted to save not only twenty-five per cent more gas than any other burner ever introduced, but to give ten per cent. more light. When the fiend declared that he was not a Louisiana politician, Middlebox invested some faith in his assertion and some cash in his burners, The ‘‘ Electric Concaves”’ were taken off and the ‘“ Meteoric Magnetics” substituted. The twenty-five per cent more light than the old burners furnished was not perceptible, but no doubt it was there, Next morning an individual with a red head and a green box greeted the vision of Middle- box. He was agent for the ‘Triple-Power Silver-Tube Gas-Burner,” warranted to save twenty-five per cent in gas and give ten per cent more’ light than any other burner ever invented. “ I have already sold a gross in your beautiful town,” he said, with a persuasive smile, “and"—taking an inventory of the chandelier—‘ have only four more left. You can have 'em for seventy-five cents—cheap at one dollar and a half.” Middlebox took the burners without any further inaugural cere- monies, If his arithmetic was not at fault, he was warranted more light for twenty-five cents’ worth of gas than he formerly received for one dollar. “Why,” he mused, ‘if every consumer in town invests in these burners the Gas Company will soon become bankrupt; and I wish it would! It is nothing but a grinding monopoly, anyhow, and I'll lend my aid to crush it.” When he lit the gas in the evening he was obliged to draw his chair a little closer than usual, in order to read his paper. He thought something ailed his eyes. It never struck him that the fiend might have slightly exaggerated the light-producing ability of the burners, It was evidently a good week for gas-burner fiends, for the very next day an oily-tongued individual Stopped in Middlesex’s office with a reservoir of yolubility and the greatest invention of a gas-burner that was ever evolved from the brain of man, It was called the ‘‘ Magic-Corona Reversible Burner,” and if it wouldn’t save twenty-five per cent more gas and give ten per cent more light than any other burner offered for sale since the discovery of gas as an illuminating agent, the money would be cheer- fully refunded and the disappointed purchaser be presented with ten dollars in gold. And the pice was only nis, cents apiece, Middle- x’s mind reverted to the exorbitant gas-bill = he had just liquidated, and the ‘“‘Magic-Corona- Reversibles” superseded the. ‘‘ Triple-Power Silver-Tubes.” “ By Jiminy!” exclaimed the delighted Mid- dlebox, after the departure of Fiend No. 4. “Just think of a saving of one hundred per cent in gas! Why, at the end of the present quarter I shall not owe the company over fifty cents!” And his felicity was so great that he went around the corner to get a clove to flavor his breath. = He returned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “ad at his office-door he was accosted by a male person who immediately began expatiating on the wonderful advan- tages of the ‘ Mastodon-Concentric-Solar Gas- Burner.” He had sold many different burners during his eventful career, but the “‘Mastodon” was vastly superior to anything ever designed for the purpose; and he would stake his reputa- tion as a truthful, Christian gentleman that it would save twenty-five per cent more gas, and at the same time give ten per cent more light than any other burner in use. Middlebox never anticipated anything so glorious as this, Here was a saving of 125 per cent over the burners he employed less than a week ago, to say nothing of fifty per cent more light. If figures didn’t lie—(it never occurred to him that the “ fiends” might do that very thing)—the gas company would owe him seve- ral dollars at the end of the quarter, instead of his owing the company. And so the ‘“ Masto- dons” took the place of the “ age Coronas.” Middlebox now calmly awaited the expira- tion of the three months, and the advent of the gas company’s collector. He couldn't re- strain an audible chuckle when he fancied he saw the gas-clerk footing up the bill, and scratching his head in a puzzled manner, to discover how the company was in his (Middle- box’s) debt, instead of he owing the company, At last the collector called, and Middlebox, instead of telling him to “come around next week,') greeted him with a pleasant smile, and indifferently asked: “Well, how much do you want this time?” The collector deftly flirted over a handful of bills, and threw one down with the remark: “‘ Here you are—sixteen dollars and thirty- eight cents.” Middlebox was almost paralyzed. You might have read his amazement and surprise from'the expression of his eyes, as—Hamlet, is it not ? —remarks, : “A—a—ain't—isn’t there some mistake about this?” he gasped, holding the bill with trem- bling fingers. “No,” replied the collector, with exaspe- rating coolness; “the bill is all right. We never make a mistake. Gas-metres can’t lie.” The amount exceeded that of the previous quarter by just three dollars and fourteen cents, and as Middlebox paid the bill, he made an observation that almost lifted the collector's hat off his head. Then he went out and re- turned in five minutes with a shot-gun. The next move was to take off the Mastodon burn- ers and restore the old ones. During this per- formance his language was frightful. His dog clapped his tail between his legs, scooted out of the office, and never returned. He was mad —Middlebox, not the dog. A few days later a fellow with a closely- cropped head waltzed into Middlebox’s office and asked if he didn’t want to buy the best gas-burner out—the “ Radiating-Iris-Full-Jew- eled—warranted to save” — “ Will you please give me your name and ad- dress ?” interrupted Middlebox, taking up and cocking his new shot-gun. “Ts it—is it material that you should know?” asked the fiend, backing towards the door and keeping his eye on the gun. “Oh, no; not particularly so,” replied Mid- dlebox, placing a cap on the nipple; “I thought perhaps it would afford your parents some satisfaction to know how you died, and to have your body forwarded "— But the fiend backed out of the door as they do in novels—“ as if by magic "—and dodged around the corner as if his life depended upon his making a mile in three minutes. And it did! Ww. IS THIS 10 BE TOLERATED ANY LONGER IN CIVILIZED SOCIETY? = : Cannot the steamboat cespenis be forced to furnish planks sufficiently strong to bear the weight of their passengers comicbooks.com