The Wine Cellar near Cincinnati.
Bythe enduring perseverance of the lovers of cold water, laws have been passed in most of the Western States forbidding the sale of those beverages which make men rich, happy, dizzy, and drunk, all in the space of half an hour; so that now a good horn is not, as formerly, to be purchased at every corner grocery, and travellers are forced to carry a couple of "drunks" in a willow-covered flask in their overcoat pocket.
The usual "bitters" are not forthcoming in the morning, and old topers who have for years regularly paid their morning devotions to the decanter or the black bottle, must now perforce become votaries of the hydrant and the rain water barrel.
Not a few men have, within the last four months, drunk more water than for years before, to the great astonishment of their stomachs, which would, at first, almost rebel against the unusual visitor.
Many an habitual guzzler whose convivial habits have generally sent him to bed at five o'clock every afternoon, has been amazed to discover what a difference the new drink makes in the stability of the village constituents; and it will be a matter of wonder to find that at four in the afternoon the town is in comparatively the same situation it was in the morning; that the tavern sign isnotover the shoe-maker's shop, nor the horse-trough in the front-parlor; that the pump is in the street instead of the church belfry, the confectioner's shopnotin the livery stable, the livery horsesnotin the bakery, the bakerynota hardware store, the hardware storenotfull of shingles and building stuff; that the poplar-trees in front of the minister's house are right end up, and the flower-garden of the minister's wife is in a state of ordinary propriety, with no snow-balls growing on the strawberry vines, or strawberries on the lilacs; no blue-bells on the locust-trees, violets on the currant bushes, or lilies in the onion-beds; that there are no tulips on the pickets, and no moss-rose buds springing from the shed,—and that the boy who waters the stage-coach horses every afternoon as the clock strikes quarter to five, doesnotlead them tail first up the church lightning rod, and make them drink from the ridge-pole, as he had always thought.
In short he finds a serious and sudden change in the world around him, and that all the curious phenomena before mentioned and which formerly were always present in the afternoon to his confused vision, immediately after imbibing his seventeenth glass of rum and water, have ceased to occur, and that every thing is now right side up, and front end foremost to his ever before bewildered optics.
And not a few men who would be ashamed to own that they really care anything for the drop of spirits which they occasionally take for the "stomach's sake" will be seriously incommoded by this new stringency in temperance principles; and the deacon or elder who in the privacy of his closet kept a spiritual comforter of half pint dimension will miss, more seriously than he would like to own, even to himself, this pious dram.
Longer faces and sourer tempers will be the result, and many a young aspirant to church membership will be found deficient in necessary Christian graces, which the charitable eyes of his thirsty examiners might have found in abundance, had not the Maine Law interfered with the generosity of their judgment, and made their vision less clear than usual.
But these are things it will not do to speak of; only the gross appetites of the three cent drinker should be made matters of common conversation.
Travelling lately through the thirsty State of Ohio, I had many opportunities of observing how they get round and over the letter of the Law.
In that state the framers of the law, with a commendable regard for the commercial welfare of their constituents, many of whom are large vine-growers, inserted a special clause allowing the traffic in beer and native wine to remain unmolested.
Travellers will therefore find in this State now a greater variety of wine than is grown in any other one country in the world.
Liquors which he, in another place, would recognise as brandy, rum, or gin, are partially disguised under transparent cognomens as native wine.
Brandy-"smashes," rum-punches, gin-cock-tails, sherry-cobblers, mint-juleps, and every kind of desirable potable, are all manufactured from "Longworth's Sparkling"—old corn-whiskey is known as "Still Catawba"—and a vast deal of the "lager-beer" is put up in brandy casks, and tastes exceedingly like the genuine article.
Being in the vicinity of the Pork city (where they have a ham on the top of the tallest church spire in the place, pointing with the knuckle end to Heaven,) I had an opportunity to visit a large wine-cellar which belonged to Damphool's uncle, who was to accompany us, and had also from him permission to taste the different vintages.
Got to the place, went down cellar, boy gave each of us a long stick with a tallow candle on the end; got down; wine everywhere, in big casks, in long bottles, in small bottles, in tin dippers, in glass vials, and in little puddles on the floor.
Bottles ranged in regiments all wrong side up with cobwebs on the corks.
Every one had the year of the vintage painted on the bottom, as if it was a British baby and its age had to be registered by the parish.
One cask was big enough to float a scow-boat or hold a common-sized church if the steeple wasn't too tall.
Damphool senior wanted to get in and swim—was afraid he'd get corned and couldn't get out, wouldn't let him try.
He would insist on getting on top of the reservoir—had a glass pump in his hand—pumped up wine for every body—put the spout into his mouth, and pumped into himself for an hour,—first fifteen minutes made him rich; second quarter of an hour made him tearful; at the end of forty-five minutes he was helpless but happy; and when the hour was up he tumbled off the top of the machine and we stowed him away in a corner, where he lay until he revived sufficiently to be able to partake of some bread and butter which the Dutch housekeeper gave us, and which he insisted was lobster salad, and kept calling for boiled eggs, olive oil, and mustard to dress it with.
At last he was taken violently sick, and we took him out doors, set him on top of a basswood stump, when he looked like "Patience on a monument smiling"—although he tried to convince us that he was D. Webster, Esq., and insisted on making a speech to convince us that he "still lived."
Never before had I seen wine of such tremendous power. One of our party was addressing a number of pint bottles alternately as "Fellow citizens," "Gentlemen of the Jury," and "Ladies of the Committee."
Another had seated himself in a small puddle of Still Catawba on the brick floor, and was calling out for soap, towels, and a black boy to scrub his shoulders.
A third had emptied four bottles of "sparkling" into his vest-pockets to take home to the children, and put the fragments of the glass into his hat under the impression that they were hickory nuts, which he tried to crack with the carriage lamps, evidently supposing them to be nut-crackers.
My most intimate friend was trying to feed the horse some oats, by which appellation he called a three-cornered harrow and a breaking-up plough, and had filled the buggy with wild flowers, as he supposed, but which were, in reality, two year old grape vines, which he had pulled up by the roots.
Did not allow myself to become affected in like manner, as I had to spend the evening with the family of one of the "solid men" of Porkopolis, an ardent supporter of the Maine Law, who always keeps a large variety of liquors in his cellars, and insists, whenever his friends spend an evening with him, on making them pass their time drinking whiskey-punch, with seven whiskeys to one water. Passed a delightful evening, called the children by French names, mistook the piano for the hat-rack, hung my hat on the harp-pedal, and laid my gloves on the key-board. Met Damphool's uncle as I was going to the hotel; he had brought home the glass-pump, thinking it was our carriage-whip, but was otherwise sensible.
Is going to sell his vineyard, and turn teetotaler.
Ina street of the city, not more than four miles from the City Hall, in humble imitation of the magnificent temples of the Drama erected by ambitious managers in more pretentious portions of the town, the sable portion of our population have also built an appropriate mansion wherein is supposed to reside the dingy Genius of Ebony Theatricals.
A portrait of some sable Garrick adorns the drop curtain; a thick-lipped lady of dark complexion on one side of the proscenium represents the Goddess of Tragedy; and on the other a woolly-headed brunette in short skirts is supposed to stand for the Goddess of Comedy.
What though the portrait of the African Roscius in the drop centre, instead of Classic Roman robes, is attired in a swallow-tailed coat, with brass buttons and a red velvet collar? and what if the two ladies before mentioned are resplendent in sky-blue dresses and yellow turbans? perhaps their unusual garb is quite as appropriate to the atmosphere of the place, as the more elaborate, more classic, more costly, but considerably less gaudy wardrobe allotted to corresponding divinities in more fashionable Theatres.
The appointments generally at this place might not be considered very tasteful by the "white trash," who get their ideas of propriety from Wallack's or Burton's; but any impartial observer will admit that the scenery is more creditable than the dirty green and brick-red abomination of the Metropolitan, or the paint and canvas hash with Dutch metal seasoning, which has been for years a standing dish at the Broadway, and which is still served up nightly to a surfeited audience.
The female visitors who attend the delectable performances of the talented corps of this colored establishment, do not make themselves quite so ridiculous with their dress as their white competitors, but it is only because they have not the money to be as fashionable; the desire is probably fully as strong, but the cash don't hold out.
And as the white folks, in the construction of their pieces for dramatic representation, sometimes represent in a peculiar light the warmer blooded passions of their "dark complected" neighbors, in retaliation the colored dramatists reverse the order and make the white men in their drama wait upon the colored heroes, black their boots, groom their imaginary horses, brush their coats, and perform all the varied round of servile duties which in representatives of the same plays by white men are assigned to them.
The play of Othello is the single exception—they make the Venetian warrior a white man in a red roundabout, who makes fierce love to Desdemona, who is the molasses-colored child of a respectable darkey whitewasher.
Lorgnettes, Opera-hoods, and white kids are not exhibited here in such profusion as in some other places of amusement; on the contrary, green spectacles, sun-bonnets, and calico dresses are rather in the ascendant.
As a phase of city life which does not often turn its side to the public, and as a place to enjoy an unlimited amount of fun for a little money, the Church street colored Theatre is well worth visiting.
A grand Shakspearean festival was lately announced to come off here, on which occasion the tragedy of Macbeth was to be performed with "all the original music, new and gorgeous scenery, rich and elegant costumes, magnificent scenic appointments, &c.," according to the time-honored "gag" in such case made and provided.
The novelty of seeing a black Macbeth with the entire tragedy done in colors by the best artists, promised to be almost as good a burlesque as the bearded Indian exhibition made by the great American Tragedian at the Broadway; and so with a varied assortment of friends I started to witness the unusual spectacle of a Bowery darkey representing a Scotch king.
Paid the entrance fee all in dimes, as the door-keeper couldn't read the Counterfeit Detector, and wouldn't take bills for fear he would get stuck with bad money.
Orchestra consisted of a bass-drum, one violin, and a cornet-à-piston. Seats, new benches with coffee-sacks spread over those constituting the Dress Circle.
Orchestra essayed the Prima Donna Waltz, which gradually degenerated into "Wait for the Wagon," and concluded in "Few Days."
Great deal of whispering and shuffling about behind the scenes, a great deal of emphatic ordering about from the unseen prompter, who was trying, as nearly as I could judge, to have Macduff take his chew of tobacco out of his mouth, and at last the curtain rolled up.
Macbeth was a fat gentleman of jetty hue who might have been head-cook at Delmonico's for twenty years, and who would, had he been subjected to a melting process, have furnished soap and candles enough for a small chandlery business.
Whether heintendedto give the tragedy a gastronomical interpretation or not is uncertain, but it is a veritable fact that he dressed the character in a cook's apron, had a paper cap with a long turkey feather in it on his head, his steel by his side, a butcher-knife in his hand, and the cover of the soup-pot for a shield.
Macduff was attired more like a Lake Superior Indian than anything else, with a superfluity of red flannel fringe, and silver rings in his ears and nose.
Lady Macbeth rejoiced in a tin crown with seven points, each one with a crescent on top, brass-heeled gaiters, a dress with a purple waist, and a green baize train, two cameo bracelets, and lemon-colored kid gloves.
Old King Duncan was a young man who seemed to labor under the impression that to support his royal dignity it was only necessary to grin incessantly, and turn his toes in when he walked; his royal highness had on a high hat with a red feather, plaid pantaloons (being the only symptom of Scotch costume visible during the evening), and an embroidered vest, through which, as he wore no coat, the sleeves of his blue shirt appeared in agreeable contrast; he sported a silver watch, four seal rings, an opera glass, and a gold-headed cane.
All the other characters were dressed with equal regard to propriety and elegance of costume, and with equaldisregard to expense.
The warlike paraphernalia were on the same appropriate scale; instead of Scottish claymores and basket-hilted swords, muskets were introduced which had probably seen service in some target company, until too battered and damaged for further use; shields were dispensed with except in the single case of Macduff,—instead of daggers, many were provided with horse-pistols, and one aspiring individual had a sword-cane and a slung-shot.
Several of the "supes" were painted like Indians, and carried banners made of horse-blankets, nailed to barrel staves—the three witches had each a hoe and a stable-fork, and Hecate was equipped with a straw-hat and a pair of linen drawers put on hindside foremost.
The play commenced, and every thing proceeded in the greatest harmony until the caldron scene, when the apparitions, instead of rising through the trap into the caldron, deliberately crawled from the ring on their hands and knees, and stuck their heads through a hole in a board which was painted in admirable imitation of a dinnerpot, and delivered their prophetic speeches in a huge whisper to the anxious Thane.
The apparition of a "child's head crowned," as the stage direction reads, was done by a fat piccaninny, who was drawn on screaming and kicking in a willow basket by a hidden rope, and the speech was read by the prompter, who squatted down behind the basket, and held his hand over the baby's mouth in a vain effort to stop his noise.
During this scene Macbeth, who was too obese to stand for so long a time comfortably, seated himself composedly on a three-legged stool which did duty afterwards as a throne,—and in fact, whenever during the performance he found himself incommoded by the warmth, he would sit flat down on the most convenient resting-place.
His rendering of the dagger scene was peculiarly original—he took his butcher-knife, tied it by a tow string to a pitch-fork which he stuck in the middle of the stage, sat flat down on the floor before it, and proceeded to deliver the speech with great force and emotion; pausing occasionally to mop his forehead with a yellow bandana handkerchief, and refresh himself by long sips from a pewter mug of beer which he had bestowed in his original shield.
The rest of the company got along very well, managing the removal of Birnam wood in rather a unique manner—when the soldier spoke of a "moving wood" a back scene opened and discovered four darkies carrying pine kindling wood from a wagon with a jackass team, down cellar into a coal-hole.
Whenever an actor forgot his part the prompter would rush out from his hiding place, put the offending artist in the proper position, read his lines for him, and suddenly disappear, until some fresh delinquency called for another shirt-sleeve advent.
Matters progressed towards the close of the piece—Lady Macbeth had played the lighted candle scene (using a bed-lamp, a candle not being forthcoming)—had made her last exit, leaving the green baize train, which had come untied, in the middle of the stage, a sad memorial of her fate—the soldiers had met in a pitched battle (every "Supe" had insisted on dying a death of his own, in order to display his tragic genius), and had expired in various uncomfortable positions; one sitting up against the flat, with his leg through a trap-door, and his mouth open, and another with his head through a bushel basket which he had brought on to use as a shield—all the minor business of the piece was got along with, and it only remained for Macduff and the rotund Macbeth to have their fight, say their say, die their die, and finish the play.
They entered arm in arm, being evidently determined, like prize-fighters, to do their "bloody business" amicably, and as old friends ought.
Macduff remarked to the audience that they were going to "settle that little quarrel"—they then proceeded to strip for the contest.
Macduff retired to one corner and pulled off his boots and spectacles, Macbeth went to another and laid down his jacket and shield—then they met in the middle, shook hands—one flourished a long toasting-fork—the other wielded a rolling-pin—Macbeth made the last speech as follows—
"Come on!!! Macduff be damned!!!" both pitched in—first round, toasting-fork ahead, rolling-pin in the corner with his nose bloody—second round, toasting-fork knocks rolling-pin through a parlor scene and falls back exhausted—third round, both come to time with difficulty, toaster hits roller in the stomach, roller shies his weapon at toaster's head, toaster spears at roller's toes, and breaks his fork.
All their munitions of war being exhausted, they close in an expiring wrestle, and Macbeth eventually dies, having first in the terrific struggle suffered amputation of the pantaloons immediately above both knees.
Macduff recovers his rolling-pin, and stands over the conquered Macbeth in a grand saw-buck attitude of victory and triumph.
Thelate grand convention of precocious and pinguid children, created such a stir throughout the country, that the news, by some unknown conveyance, penetrated even to the obscure Wolverine hamlet wherein Damphool had for four months been content to vegetate. The infantile humbug promised something new in the way of sight-seeing, and as he desired to meet all his relatives and namesakes who would be certain to be present on that eventful occasion, and wished to improve this noble opportunity of contemplating the infant Damphools of the country, who were to be there exhibited by their stultified progenitors, he took the next train of cars and started for Gotham, to view this first congress of rudimentary "humans."
His immediate care, on reaching the city, was to repair to the establishment where I, his former friend, am generally to be found,—having discovered the object of his search, he had some considerable difficulty in convincing me of the utility of such a show, or the absolute necessity that existed of visiting such a promiscuous assemblage of everybody's brats; and paying twenty-five cents to hear a squalling chorus by the unregulated voices of the young ones, and to view the prolific women who had so increased the population of the country, in some cases by as many as four at a single litter.
I had some old fashioned notions that babies should be kept at home, and allowed to take their necessary allowance of nutriment, and soil theirun-necessary allowance of linen (a baby is always wrapped up in cloth enough to full-rig a topsail schooner, from the middle of which its insignificant head sticks out, like a lap-dog which has been rolled up by mistake in the parlor carpet), within the limits of the domestic circle; and not paraded before the public to perform these pleasing functions in the presence of an assemblage, composed in great part, of modest young men and bashful maidens, uninitiated as yet, in the mysteries of baby life.
After laboring for some time to convince me that adolescent and embryo human stock is as legitimate a subject of exhibition as any other animals, and that fecund mothers and high-blooded fathers should be as much brought into public notice as brood mares, or imported Durham cattle; and that public displays of fine children, and a discussion of the mode of rearing and training them, and an interchange of sentiments on these important points between those of most experience in the matter, would tend to the great physical improvement of the human race, I was so far satisfied that I agreed to go and witness the latest effort of the "Great American Showman" to get up a sensation.
Went to the entrance of the place of exhibition, took a look at the show-bills below, and the huge painting above, which represented in the most prominent rainbow hues the supposed appearance of the infant wonders—at the waxen boy in a scratch wig and full suit of Young America clothes, and the impossible girl of like material, whose Cereous head was covered with such a crop of hempen curls that if woven into a rope it would have been long enough to hang half the rogues in the city; which two infant prodigies were the contribution of some enterprising hair-dresser and wig-maker, and were most industriously revolving beneath two glass cases in the hall in front of the paying place, and whose striking beauty was presumed to be all-powerful to arrest the attention of the hurrying multitude and make them lay down their quarters and take a peep at the exhibition whether they would or no; having, I say, taken a bird's eye glance at all these, we laid down our money (Damphool paid for both) and entered.
Tremendous crowd—hurried in—got my toes annihilated, my hat smashed in, and my shirt collar reduced to the dimensions and appearance of a slimy dishcloth, in less than a minute.
Forced our way up to the platform. Saw a number of complacent mothers with movable fronts to their dresses, sitting side by side on an elevated plank, holding their babies in their laps (each one having a stock of baby linen handy, and a huge bucket of some liquid to me unknown, but which looked like starch, within reach, and which every now and then they poured into the faces of the specimen babies who lay with their wide mouths open like so many young robins) casting jealous glances at each other, tender glances on their young charges, and appealing glances at the crowd before them.
The youngest babies were dressed in unaccustomed clean clothes, in which, as they were unused to such style of garments, they looked ten times dirtier than ever—they had a profusion of green and blue ribbons on their frocks, which they kept in their mouths all the time—their faces were full of wrinkles, their eyes were watery and weak, and their pug-noses seemed to be living fountains.
Other babies under the required age (4 years), decked out in all sorts of colors, and with dresses made universally in most execrably bad taste, were standing on some of the other platforms, or running about amongst the crowd, daubing themselves and those indiscreet and enthusiastic persons who attempted to handle them, with half-dissolved candy, and sticky gingerbread. And occasionally getting up a fight among themselves—where little fists would unceremoniously visit little eyes, and little feet would indulge in a series of energetic little kicks, and little fingers would pull out little bunches of little curls, and little voices would give a course of most discordant screams (which werelittle, but——), and so the little Tom Hyers would amuse themselves until separated by some courageous individual who dared to touch the little monsters.
I stepped up to a lady to ask the age of a baby which she had in her maternal arms, when I found myself instantly a centre of baby attraction—babies seemed to pitch into me from all directions—a baby poked its fingers into my eye, a baby put sugar on my ruffled shirt, a baby daubed gruel on my white vest, a baby filled my kid glove with milk, a baby dropped something done up in a rag down my neck, and a baby of huge dimensions and unredeemed ugliness amused itself by filling my hat full of playthings which it appropriated from the weaker babies on either side. So that I found in that article of apparel a tin whistle, three dolls, a sugar house, a miniature Noah's Ark with all the animals, a rattle-box, a hair-brush, and two india-rubber balls.
Tried to get out of the muss, but a baby was pulling my coat-tails, and a four-year old baby stood upon each foot improving the pattern of my white pants by wiping their dirty hands thereon. I stepped back and knocked over a baby, I rushed forward and stepped on a baby, I leaped to one side and crushed a small baby in a pink dress, I sprung to the other and crushed a fat baby and its nurse against the wall. I tried to escape from the room but tumbled over a baby,—recovered my feet and started again, but babies got between my legs and tripped me down-stairs, where I landed in an exhausted condition, which was by no means improved by a careless woman dropping her baby directly on my head from the fourth-story.
Saw the distribution of prizes,—first prize given to an Irish baby with a stub nose; second, to a Dutch ditto, with eyes of different colors; and all the rest to the very babies who ought not to have had any, but deserved to be spanked and sent to bed until they should grow decent looking.
Not a good-looking baby got a prize, and the very ones who should have taken the premiums were sent home without having their expenses paid.
The $100 prize baby did not amount to much after all. Not a young couple who saw it but thought they could do better in less than a year; and the mothers of those babies who didn't get anything thought they could beat it on six months' notice.
Those industrious ladies who desired to rear a large family in the shortest time possible, and so had produced three or four children at a birth, were all rewarded by the Great Showman for their extra pains and labors, and all went home triumphant with a premium for fecundity, and money enough to buy flannel for all the brood.
Everybody said the baby show was a humbug—but everybody went to see it. Everybody said it was disgusting, but everybody paid his twenty-five cents to be disgusted, and everybodywasdisgusted to his heart's content.
No one was perfectly satisfied except the mothers of the lucky babies, and the proprietor of the entire concern, who made a small fortune by the operation.
The excitement is now over, the public have seen the sight, the press has had its say, the women have shown their babies, Damphool has gone back to the country, and the world is once more comparatively quiet.
No other so great excitement will agitate the world until next year, when the Great Showman intends to revive the subject, and show the world the modus operandi of baby birth, with illustrations by the mothers of the babies who took the prizes this year, and who in another twelve-month will probably have no shame at all in the matter, and will stick at nothing. Let us wait, and hope.
This Book contains an unlimited quantity of hits at every body, of which every one must good-naturedly take his share, to pay for the privilege of laughing at his neighbors.
EMBELLISHED WITH ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS,BY JOHN MCLENAN.
As a History of the Country, this book is invaluable, inasmuch as it notices a great many events not mentioned by Bancroft, Hildreth, or Prescott. As a Novel, it is unapproachable, for it contains several characters unknown to Cooper, Dickens, Marryatt, or Bulwer. As a Mythological Work, it should be immediately secured, as it makes mention of a number of gods and deified worthies hitherto unknown to old Jupiter himself. As a Poem, its claims to consideration can not be denied, as it comprises a great many beauties not discoverable in "The Song of Hiawatha," besides several Indian names which were therein omitted.
12mo, Muslin, Extra Gilt, price $1 00.LIVERMORE & RUDD,Publishers,
310 Broadway, New York.
The undersigned have the satisfaction of announcing to the Public and the Trade that they have in Press, and will Publish in April, an original fiction of unusual interest and merit, by an American writer, entitled,
The claims of this work to a high place in the front rank of our national literature will be admitted by every reader whose critical abilities enable him to appreciate authorial excellence.
It is written in the form of an autobiography, like the works ofMarryatt, and will favorably compare with the best of that popular writer's productions.
It is free from the hackneyed incidents which comprise the principal stock in trade of most of our modern novelists, and is emphatically
in the ripest sense of that much-abused term.
For its strength and naturalness of description, the reader will be reminded ofCooper; in the flowing style of its narrative, ofMarryat; in the earnestness of its thought and diction, ofCurrer Bell; and in the completeness of its characters, ofCharles Dickens.
The power and originality of the work will ensure it a wide sale, and secure a popularity for its author enjoyed by few.
Embellished with a beautiful Frontispiece.408 Pages, 12mo, Cloth, Price $1 25.
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HISTORY AND RECORDS OF THE ELEPHANT CLUB.With ILLUSTRATIONS By John McLenanNEW YORK
Among the numerous testimonials from the press in all sections of the country, we select the following, proving that the author's productions will be sought for and read by thousands of admirers.
"A humorist and a satirist of a very high order. His blows are aimed with severe accuracy against a vast number of the follies, frailties, and humbugs of the day."—Baltimore American, Md."He shows up many of the modern popular humbugs in a very strong light, and handles them most unmercifully."—Dayton (Ohio) Daily Empire."Doesticks is a wonder. The same happy spirit seems to pervade the author and the artist—the illustrations of the latter are quite up to anything Cruikshank ever achieved in the same line. If anybody can look at these spiritings of the pencil without a loud laugh, he is certainly out of our list of even grand fellows—but to enter fully into the pleasing features of the work—to laugh over the jokes, to enjoy the home-thrusts of wit and satire, our friends must buy the book itself."—Sunday Mercury, N. Y."Doesticks is one of the few immortal names that were not born to die. Doesticks will always be with us. We have only to step into our library, and behold there is the ubiquitous Doesticks! We take him by the hand—we listen to the thoughts that breathe—the quaint philosophy—the piquant illustration! Doesticks all over—Doesticks in every page—in every line! Do you wish to make the acquaintance of Doesticks? Every body does."—New York Railway Journal."The illustrations are in admirable keeping with the general tone of these 'unprecedented extravagances,' and will help to introduce Doesticks and his companions to a large circle of acquaintances."—McMakin's Philadelphia Saturday Courier."'Doesticks' is irresistibly funny."—P. T. Barnum's Letter to the N. Y. Tribune."Renown has made the euphonious name of 'Doesticks' familiar to the ear of all the reading public throughout the length and breadth of the land. Those who would eschew the blues, and drive dull care away, should read Doesticks—what he says."—Lansingburg Gazette, N. Y."The 'Doesticks' book is before us. Its inimitable fun sticks to us long after we have shut the book—its rollicking humor comes back to us in gusts."—Boston Chronicle."Doesticks is an original genius. His book is just the thing to pick up at odd moments, when time hangs heavy, and the mind seeks to be amused."—Gazette and Democrat, Reading, Pa."The essays of the rich, racy, humorous, and original Doesticks will be read by thousands."—New Orleans Bee."Doesticks' fun is not of the artificial, spasmodic order, it arises from a keen perception of the humorous side of things."—New York Tribune."His blows at humbug are trenchant, and his sympathies are ever with humanity."—Boston Evening Gazette."Doesticks comes to us like a full and sparkling goblet, overflowing with the rich and brilliant sayings of an original mind. If you would drive away the 'Blue Devils,' purchase Doesticks, and every sketch you read will be better than any pill for the indigestion."—The Uncle Samuel, Boston."What Cruikshanks, Leech, or Gavarni does with the pencil, he accomplishes with the pen."—The N. Y. Dutchman."The author is a humorist and a satirist of a very high order. His blows are aimed with severe accuracy against a vast number of the follies, frailties, and humbugs of the day."—American and Commercial Advertiser, Baltimore, Md.
"A humorist and a satirist of a very high order. His blows are aimed with severe accuracy against a vast number of the follies, frailties, and humbugs of the day."—Baltimore American, Md.
"He shows up many of the modern popular humbugs in a very strong light, and handles them most unmercifully."—Dayton (Ohio) Daily Empire.
"Doesticks is a wonder. The same happy spirit seems to pervade the author and the artist—the illustrations of the latter are quite up to anything Cruikshank ever achieved in the same line. If anybody can look at these spiritings of the pencil without a loud laugh, he is certainly out of our list of even grand fellows—but to enter fully into the pleasing features of the work—to laugh over the jokes, to enjoy the home-thrusts of wit and satire, our friends must buy the book itself."—Sunday Mercury, N. Y.
"Doesticks is one of the few immortal names that were not born to die. Doesticks will always be with us. We have only to step into our library, and behold there is the ubiquitous Doesticks! We take him by the hand—we listen to the thoughts that breathe—the quaint philosophy—the piquant illustration! Doesticks all over—Doesticks in every page—in every line! Do you wish to make the acquaintance of Doesticks? Every body does."—New York Railway Journal.
"The illustrations are in admirable keeping with the general tone of these 'unprecedented extravagances,' and will help to introduce Doesticks and his companions to a large circle of acquaintances."—McMakin's Philadelphia Saturday Courier.
"'Doesticks' is irresistibly funny."—P. T. Barnum's Letter to the N. Y. Tribune.
"Renown has made the euphonious name of 'Doesticks' familiar to the ear of all the reading public throughout the length and breadth of the land. Those who would eschew the blues, and drive dull care away, should read Doesticks—what he says."—Lansingburg Gazette, N. Y.
"The 'Doesticks' book is before us. Its inimitable fun sticks to us long after we have shut the book—its rollicking humor comes back to us in gusts."—Boston Chronicle.
"Doesticks is an original genius. His book is just the thing to pick up at odd moments, when time hangs heavy, and the mind seeks to be amused."—Gazette and Democrat, Reading, Pa.
"The essays of the rich, racy, humorous, and original Doesticks will be read by thousands."—New Orleans Bee.
"Doesticks' fun is not of the artificial, spasmodic order, it arises from a keen perception of the humorous side of things."—New York Tribune.
"His blows at humbug are trenchant, and his sympathies are ever with humanity."—Boston Evening Gazette.
"Doesticks comes to us like a full and sparkling goblet, overflowing with the rich and brilliant sayings of an original mind. If you would drive away the 'Blue Devils,' purchase Doesticks, and every sketch you read will be better than any pill for the indigestion."—The Uncle Samuel, Boston.
"What Cruikshanks, Leech, or Gavarni does with the pencil, he accomplishes with the pen."—The N. Y. Dutchman.
"The author is a humorist and a satirist of a very high order. His blows are aimed with severe accuracy against a vast number of the follies, frailties, and humbugs of the day."—American and Commercial Advertiser, Baltimore, Md.
LIVERMORE & RUDD,Publishers,
310 Broadway, New York.
A quaint title, dear reader, is it not? Yet one that will answer well to introduce to the public in book form a series of graphic delineations which have at irregular intervals enlivened the columns of one of the principal journals of the Queen City. They have attracted much attention not only there, but in all parts of the Union, for their genial humor and sprightliness, the faithfulness with which the writer has sketched the peculiarities of the "characters" with whom he has come in contact during his daily rambles, and also for the excellent moral tone which pervades them throughout. They convey many an earnest lesson in life, even while causing the reader to shake his sides at the ludicrousness of the picture drawn.
His happy manner of hitting off the foibles, holding up to contempt the vices, and enlisting the better feelings in favor of the often undeserved miseries of those in the lower walks of city life, have made "Invisible" hosts of friends in all parts of the country; and their number has been largely increased by the frequency with which his shorter sketches have "gone the rounds of the press."
To the lovers of true humor we can recommend this volume.
It will be extensively illustrated with cuts, from designs by McLenan, who is already favorably known to the public, especially in his inimitable illustrations of "Plu-ri-bus-tah."
LIVERMORE & RUDD,Publishers,
310 Broadway, New York.
UNCLE THOMAS'S STORIES
CHARLES'S JOURNEY TO FRANCE,ByMrs. Barbauld.STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS,ByUncle Thomas.POETICAL TALES,ByMary Howitt.STORIES OF THE MONTHS,ByMrs. Barbauld.PHEBE, THE BLACKBERRY GIRL,ByUncle Thomas.GRIMALKIN AND LITTLE FIDO,ByUncle Thomas.
CHARLES AND EMILY.FAITHFUL WALTER.ORPHAN BOY'S TRIALS.LITTLE DOG TRUSTY, &c., &c.TRUE BENEVOLENCE.THE CARRIER PIGEON.ANNA'S TRIALS.JOHN'S ADVENTURES.WENDELINE AND HER LADY-BUG.
LIVERMORE & RUDD,Publishers,
310 Broadway, New York.
Embracing the orders of Architecture, Modern and Practical Stair Building, Plans, Elevations, Grounds, etc., etc., of Cottages, Villas, and Farm Buildings, including Church Edifices.
Twenty-firstThousand—Large Quarto, bound in Leather,$3 50Do.Do. Bound in Morocco, marble edges,5 00
This is a book which every carpenter and house builder should own.
Mr.Livermore:Dear Sir,—I have deemed the "Carpenters Assistant and Rural Architect," by Messrs. Brown and Joy, published by you, as one of the most valuable guides and books of reference in my library, and take an early opportunity to congratulate you on the appearance of anew and improved editionof the work, which I have just purchased.The Lithographic Plates, comprising designs for church edifices, adds in my opinion a striking feature to the book, and I have no hesitation in averring that it will be sought for by every Architect, Builder, and Carpenter in our country, who wishes to possess the most concise and practical treatise published.Respectfully yours,SAMUEL PHILLIPS, Architect and Builder, Boston.
Mr.Livermore:
Dear Sir,—I have deemed the "Carpenters Assistant and Rural Architect," by Messrs. Brown and Joy, published by you, as one of the most valuable guides and books of reference in my library, and take an early opportunity to congratulate you on the appearance of anew and improved editionof the work, which I have just purchased.
The Lithographic Plates, comprising designs for church edifices, adds in my opinion a striking feature to the book, and I have no hesitation in averring that it will be sought for by every Architect, Builder, and Carpenter in our country, who wishes to possess the most concise and practical treatise published.
Respectfully yours,SAMUEL PHILLIPS, Architect and Builder, Boston.
From Practical Carpenters and Architects.
We, the undersigned citizens of Worcester, Mass., practical carpenters, are personally acquainted with William Brown, Esq., Architect, and author of a work, entitled the "Carpenter's Assistant and Rural Architect." We have examined that work with attention, and commend it to all who are interested in the study or practice of the art, as a valuable treatise on architecture, and it is eminently practical in its character. We cheerfully recommend it to the patronage of carpenters and the public.EDWARD LAMB,J. S. WOODWORTH,W. R. BIGELOW,FREEMAN UPHAM,M. H. MORSE,HORATIO N. TOWER.P. W. TAFT,S. D. HARDING,I have carefully examined the "Carpenter's Assistant and Rural Architect," and believe it to be a work well adapted to meet the wants of the practical workman, being practical in its character, and valuable for the perspicuity of its arrangement, clearness of its designs, and brevity of its explanations.I would most cheerfully recommend it to the patronage of carpenters and students.ELBRIDGE BOYDEN, Architect.
We, the undersigned citizens of Worcester, Mass., practical carpenters, are personally acquainted with William Brown, Esq., Architect, and author of a work, entitled the "Carpenter's Assistant and Rural Architect." We have examined that work with attention, and commend it to all who are interested in the study or practice of the art, as a valuable treatise on architecture, and it is eminently practical in its character. We cheerfully recommend it to the patronage of carpenters and the public.
EDWARD LAMB,J. S. WOODWORTH,W. R. BIGELOW,FREEMAN UPHAM,M. H. MORSE,HORATIO N. TOWER.P. W. TAFT,S. D. HARDING,
I have carefully examined the "Carpenter's Assistant and Rural Architect," and believe it to be a work well adapted to meet the wants of the practical workman, being practical in its character, and valuable for the perspicuity of its arrangement, clearness of its designs, and brevity of its explanations.
I would most cheerfully recommend it to the patronage of carpenters and students.
ELBRIDGE BOYDEN, Architect.
Mr.Brown:Sir,—I have examined your work on architecture, and feeling confident of its utility, from its extreme simplicity and singular adaptedness to meet the wants of the carpenters, I do cheerfully recommend it to the condition of every carpenter, especially the apprentice, who will find all the rudiments of architecture necessary, as well as designs for practice.A. L. BROOKS.
Mr.Brown:
Sir,—I have examined your work on architecture, and feeling confident of its utility, from its extreme simplicity and singular adaptedness to meet the wants of the carpenters, I do cheerfully recommend it to the condition of every carpenter, especially the apprentice, who will find all the rudiments of architecture necessary, as well as designs for practice.
A. L. BROOKS.
LIVERMORE & RUDD,Publishers,
310 Broadway, New York.