MY TURKISH BATH.

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DEAR PUNCHINELLO: It happened to be eleven o'clock some time during yesterday forenoon.

I generally take something at that hour.

Yesterday I took a Turkish Bath.

I took a horse-car. (That, however, is neither here nor there: but it got within two blocks of there at 11.25.) I ran up the steps of the T.B. establishment, and wired the inmates. The door flew open, and an ideal voter, erst a chattel (I hope I am not obscure in this deeply interesting portion of the narrative) pointed his thumb over his shoulder, displayed a choice assortment of ivory, and chuckled with great natural ease. I supposed this to be a custom with the colored population of Turkey, and passed on.

Everything was Turkish. I was struck with the order of the bath: also the scimetary of the apartments. As I think I before remarked,--I passed on.

The M.D. proprietor shook hands with me very cordially. I also shook hands with him. I told him that I wanted no ceremony; but if agreeable to him, I would gird up my loins and go in. He intimated that the only ceremony was to fund a small portion of the contents of my pocket-book. I am a little hard of hearing,--and I passed on.

An assistant, in the light and airy costume which I have so often noticed in Central Africa, in midsummer, beckoned to me, after I had laid aside a quantity of goods, (belonging to my tailor, and other downtown business men,) and I followed him.

The room we entered was heated by what I took to be a successful furnace. I must have been mistaken, however, for I understood the assistant to apologise because, by reason of a defect in the flues, they had been able to get the temperature up only to about 475 degrees that morning. I was a little disappointed, but simply suggested that the thermometer was Fair in Height; but if I felt chilly I would send out for some blankets.

He laid me on a slatted conch.

I experienced a gentle glow.

Afterwards, (I don't know why, exactly, I have always attributed it to the temperature,) I felt hot--hotter--Hottentotter! It seemed as though the equator ran right along the line of my back-bone.

I didn't care.

I couldn't recollect whether my name was SHADRACH, MESHACH, or ABEDNEGO; but I was baking and sizzling just as furiously as though I had paid in advance. My pores were opening, and the perspiration was immense. A red bandanna handkerchief would have been swamped.

There was a bald-headed man next me. He said he had been lying there three weeks, and he was going home next Saturday if he didn't strike oil. I grappled with the allusion, and replied that that was a poor opening any way, and I didn't believe I could myself lie there so coolly.

Waiting till my identity was pretty much gone, I dropped into another marble hall. The assistant (to whom my warmest thanks are due) scooped up what was left of me and laid me on a slab.

The assistant said I needed him, but, to the best of my recollection, he kneaded me. He went all over me, taking up a collection, and did first-rate. I threw off all reserve--about half a pound, I should judge. He seemed to take a fancy to me. I never knew a man to get so intimate on short acquaintance.

We talked rationally on a good many subjects.

He said he barely got a living there. I was surprised. I supposed he managed to scrape together a good deal in the course of a year.

He said he wanted to go into some wholesale house. I ventured to predict that success awaited him in the rubber business. In fact, we kept up quite a stream of conversation, which he supplemented with a hose that played over me in a gentle, leisurely manner, as if I were fully insured.

He then shoved me into a deep-water tank where the "Rules for Restoring Persons apparently Drowned" whizzed through my mind, and I came very near forgetting that I didn't know how to swim. I managed, however, to fish myself out in season to observe the bald-headed ANANIAS, who murmured that he had been laid upon the table and should take a peel!

I came out to the drying-room, and made them think I was General GRANT, by calling for a cigar. I drank a cup of coffee. After a while I rattled into my clothes and felt better. So much so, that I did what I seldom do, walked clean home.

If I live to be ninety-eight years old, and am pensioned by Congress, the explanation which I shall give to the country at large is that it is due to that Turkish Bath. I can't tell you what I owe to it.

SARSFIELD YOUNG.

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SKEENSBORO, NYE ONTO VARMONT,July--18 Seventy.

FREND LEWIS:--How does the Emperor bizzness pay about these times?

Wouldn't you rather be door-keeper in some well payin' Circus, than rool on the Thrown of Frants about now?

Haint your present birth enuff to occashunly make a man forgit the 3rd Commandment, and use Congreshunal langwige freely?

I see, by the papers, you're up on your mussle, and are about to cave in Prushy's head, unless Prushy nocks you out of time.

You've got a very ingenious brain, my friend.

What you don't know, DANIEL WEBSTER never rote in his Dickshunary.

Feelin' bad about BENDITTY gettin' his smell-o-factory snubbed by King WILLIAM, haint what you got up this ere war for.

I can see through your little dodge, my Royal friend.

Things was gettin' too warm for your Imperial top-knot.

Them little jewels, which rested upon your brow, didn't set easy, and was makin' Corns on your figger head.

Your subjects was spilin' for a fite--and as sure as your borned, nothin' but a forrin war would keep you from follerin' in the footsteps of LEWIS the 16th, and keep the Boneypart Die-nasty on its pins.

A good chance turnin' up, you got up anastywar, so the Prints Imperial woulddieoff of the Thrown.

"Eh! how's that for Hi'?"

Yes, LEWIS, you are a bitter pill to swaller, and no mistake.

I, the Lait Gustise says so.

Us folks over here hain't so much on the war as we was. We've had our stomack full of war.

Nootrality is what ales us jist now, altho' I must confess we don't go quite so heavy on it as England did doorin' our family quarrel. England was so afrade she couldn't preserve her nootrality alone, that she fitted up the Alabarmy to help her. And some other folks I know of was so fast to perservehernootrality, that she came over to Mexico so as to be near bye to do it, but if this court hain't laborin' under a teckinal error a few Pea-crackers traded off their soger overcotes for white pine ones. And the rest of 'em scratched gravel pooty lively forlay bell France.

I'm afrade I can't jerk soft sawder when I git hold of a goose quil. Guess not.

When you kill off all your present army, you must git up a draft.

When we had our war here, a man who didn't stand his little draft didn't amount to shucks. Altho' we had more cripples and able-bodied loonatics here them times, than since. The enthusiasm got up to that pitch, that when an enrolling officer would pass down the streets, crowds would rush after him, and with tears in their eyes and a $300 bill in their hand, beg the enrolling officer to let them die for their blessed country--by sendin' a substitoot. Patriotism ran so high, that altho' a man hadn't a dollar to his back or a shirt in his pocket, he marched gallantly to the war meetins, and voted to assess his rich nabor to raise money for the purpose of buyin' substitoots with which to prosecute the war.

Them was the times as tride men's soles, and made the shoomakers laff, who done the toppin'.

Jumpin' bounties paid them times.

The bold patriot and able-bodied hero who couldn't jump his two bounties a week, beside his bord and washin', wasn't warmed by the fires of 1776.

Yes, sir; the self-sacrificing contractor, doorin' that eventful period, by cuttin' down the poor sewin' wimmen's wages, partriotically furnished the Government a superior lot of pastebord shoes for $27.00 a pair, and a nice cool shoddy overcote for $97.00 apiece.

Having received the reward of a gratefool country, he is resting from his patriotick labors at Saratogy or Long Branch.

Seein' that you have got a war on your hands, I hope it will pay better than your Plebiscotum, altho' I don't know whether that 'ere article resembles a bile or a brick meetin' house.

I understand you have mobolized your army.

My advice is to unmobilize 'em again, and get 'em in line.

I don't believe in mobs.

They are apt to get mixed, and popp off each other.

Millingtery disipline is a commander's best holt.

Little FILL SHERIDAN is comin' over to see you fite.

FILLIP is a plucky little cuss. He allers used to fite in the Calvary.

I don't believe he likes Infant-ry, for he remains onmarried.

If "Old 20 miles away" calls on you, tell him I've got a gal, smarter'n a 2 year colt, he can have by the askin'. She's a good cook, and can do up a shirtel commee faw, and you know what that is, better'n I do.

Don't appint your wife Re-gent. It will be a sorry day for you, if you do.

I appinted Mrs. G. in that position durin' the Honey moon of our wedded life, and the old gal has hung onto the Specter ever since, and she wields it with a cast-iron hand. As somebody says:

Give a woman an inch, and you'll get 'el.

Remember your grate uncle.

He was a able sojer, and could worry down hard tack and mule beef ekal to the best of 'em.

But Waterloo ukered the old man, and the "Head of the army" pegged out at Saint Heleny.

Look out that his nefew don't get served ditto.

As I've writ you considerable on public affairs, I will addres you a few lines on private ones.

Mrs. GREEN would like to borrow a new fashioned caliker dress pattern of UGEENY.

MARIAR bought a ticket in a church lottery, and drew a new fast collers caliker.

Would you have her make it up with a pancake attached to back of it, or would you put a pendelum on it?

She thought of having it scolloped, but in hot weather scollops are apt to spile unless cookt, and I think arooshof oyster shells would be rather moredistangue.

My wife makes all her own dresses; but I suppose, as you get good wages, like as not your woman has some one to do the fittin', while she runs up the seams on a sewin' machine.

Take good care of yourself.

Don't drink ice water this hot weather without temperin' it with brandy. When "this cruel war is over" come and see us, and believe me, my dear Imperial rooler--duke of the Empire--and master of the royal Household of Frog Eaters,

Ewers:

HIRAM GREEN, ESQ.,

Lait Gustise of the Peece.

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MR. PUNCHINELLO: I infer that you never visited Slunkville, Vermont. Still, it is not strange, for many very estimable people have not done so, and still they are happy.

It is a very quiet hamlet. More quiet, if possible, than BOOTH'S HAMLET.

I am sojourning here for the summer. Communing with Nature, I believe they call it. I can commune here for five dollars a week and no extra charge for retiring pensively to a babbling brook, and reading MILTON or BYRON, though when my poetic soul hankers most, I prefer Bacon.

I take it fried, about an inch thick, with plenty of ham fat.

I went to hear Parson SLOWBOY last Sunday, on the Coolie question. He handled it without gloves, and, it being very warm, without stockings also. It's a very exciting question just now, almost as exciting as the question, "What'll you take?" and I must say, that, even in the heat of argument, he talked Cool-ie.

The Parson is very zealous, but rather illiterate. During a fervent exhortation he prayed that, "all the undiscovered and uninhabited isles of the sea might become converted," and on another occasion he began with,--"Oh, Lord, thou art a merciful sinner."

But he means well, and that is everything. A man knocked me down once, and stamped on my head several times. But he meant well because he thought I was another fellow. He apologised so politely that I actually felt cheap because he hadn't done it a little more.

But I'm afraid we shall lose Parson SLOWBOY. He's had a call. He hates to go, but he says it's his duty; the call is so loud.

It is two hundred dollars louder than his present salary.

The Lyceum Committee held their annual meeting last week. They are in a flourishing condition, having recently embellished their front door-step with a new and elegant scraper of unique design; and purchased four superb spittoons for the use of the committee. The President announced, amid great cheering, that they would probably open the fall campaign with eleven dollars in the treasury. The course will open with a debate on the question: "Are sardines wholesome when ripened in the shade?"----

She who was among us one short year ago, with her winning smile and gentle simplicity of manner, is now no more. The grass grows green o'er her last resting place, while he who crushed her young life is far away among his dissolute companions.

LUCY JONES was indeed a lovely maiden. The tear rises unbidden to my eye, as I recall her in the artlessness of her maiden beauty, hanging her feet into the mill-pond, or chewing the strings of her sun-bonnet. And when the stagecoach came in she would stand with her apron full of horse-chestnuts, and heave 'em at the passengers.

But the tempter came, and from that time she began to droop.

She continued to droop till she couldn't get any drooper.

And, with the gentle breath of June wafting sweet perfume from a wealth of new-born roses, they laid her away.

And the undertaker's bill was seven dollars and forty-five cents.

Her old man's constitution was never robust, and this was too much.

"I don't complain at the seven dollars," said he, in a voice broken by emotion, "but ain't the forty-five cents rather crowding the mourners?"

This undertaker is an awful lazy man. The neighbors say he was born with his hands in his pockets, and they go so far as to say that 'twould have been a good thing for his wife and family if he'd been still born. But I think this is going too far.

I don't think he ever got over the death of his brother, about a year ago. It was very sudden. Without thinking what he was doing, he sat down on a keg of powder with a lighted pipe in his mouth, and we have no authentic information of his whereabouts since.

The neighbors heard him when he went off, and, amusements being scarce in that section, they proposed to regale themselves with an inquest.

Twenty active boys volunteered to scour the neighborhood in search of a piece of the unfortunate man. Nineteen came back empty-handed.

The twentieth brought a button-hole, and over this the inquest was held.

His brother never took on much, but I know he felt it, for he always calculated to have that pipe when JOHN died. Itwasrather rough, if you examine it critically.

P.S. What'll you charge to publish a little editorial in your paper, saying that I am as genial and polished a gentleman as you ever met, and 'twould be perfectly safe to lend me any amount? I want it for circulation among new acquaintances.

MR. PUNCHINELLO: Having the most unbounded respect for your Gudgment i wanto know whether you think ther is rely gonto be mutch fiting between the french and the Prooshuns. It will be a important question to me this Year, as i hev Raised over 100 bushel of weat and i think it wood make a differns of over $20 to me, and i think if NAPOLIN gives up without fiting he isen't mutch of a man eny how.

AN AMERICAN FARMER.

[Our correspondent will understand that the question of the continuance of the war depends altogether on the comparative merits of the needle gun and the Chassepot. Possibly our correspondent has not a supply of either of these weapons at hand, but he can test them as follows: Arm yourself with a sewing-machine as a representative of the needle gun; then let one of your neighbors arm himself with achasse caféto represent the Chassepot, and then fight it out on that line until the best weapon wins.--ED. PUNCHINELLO.]

Perusal of the last Annual Report of the Mercantile Library Association--the forty ninth annual, by the way,--convinces PUNCHINELLO that matters are all serene in that favorite resort of his. The only "burst" about it appears, according to the report, to arise from a plethora of books, which are bursting each other off from the shelves for want of room. There is something funny in this statement when we read, elsewhere, that 250 copies of "Little Women" have been added to the shelves. Little women are notoriously pugnacious, and, as a matter of 250 copies of the "Old-fashioned Girl" have also found lodgings on the library shelves, no wonder that there was a "muss" on the premises.

So far as the Reading-room is concerned, PUNCHINELLO is glad to know that the reserve with which magazines were kept behind the desk for a year or two past, has given place to a new and better arrangement. One can take up his magazine, now, from a table appropriated to periodicals, just as if he were in his own house--only more so, as there are not many private mansions that can boast of a supply of 174 magazines, which is just the number taken in at the Reading-room. The only objection to this arrangement, according to PUNCHINELLO'S way of thinking, is that it debars a fellow from the opportunity of addressing himself to one of the fascinating ladies in charge of the room, and having a private lark with her under the pretext of obtaining a magazine.

The Report states that the magazine thief, and the cutter and maimer of newspapers, are characters not as yet altogether unknown to the pleasant acre or two of room appropriated to the readers of such literature. Not unfrequently has PUNCHINELLO, when tumbling about copies of magazines exposed for sale on street tables, detected copies bearing the mark of the Association. Hence it appears that certain mean miscreants keep themselves in tobacco and other cheap luxuries by filching single magazines from the room, and disposing of them in bulk, when they have accumulated as many of them as will fetch fifteen or twenty cents at reduced prices. Meaner, if possible, than said miscreant, is the one who cuts from a paper such paragraph as may be most valuable to him for some inscrutable purpose--a paragraph containing important news, perhaps, from the knowledge of which the next reader is consequently debarred. A roll upon the first layer of a patent pitch pavement, and a subsequent plunge into the show-case of a feather-dealer, would be merely a sportive hint to these reading-room malefactors that their room would be nicer than their company.

PUNCHINELLO is glad that the Directory of the Association have paused on the question of opening the Reading-room on Sundays. The matter with most city people is that their eyes have too much paper and printer's ink forced upon them during the six days of the week. Give the eyes a holiday on Sunday, by all means. Let them rest themselves upon the blue skies and the green meadows; upon the birds, and flowers, and butterflies, in Central Park, and upon everything else that is lovely, including the muslins and sweet things in ribbons of the period.

In conclusion, PUNCHINELLO delights in whiling away an hour or two in the Reading-room of the Mercantile Library Association. There he feels perfectly at home; and if he has a word or two of information to obtain from the dark-eyed young lady in charge of the room, he is always certain to find himself prettily Posted.

A gentleman of this city is in possession of a very curious and elaborate watch-guard made of the Hairs of ANNEKE JANS.

The two-fold plan which contemplates, 1st, Making Ice out of Water; 2nd, Making Money out of Ice, has some features which, we should say, will be of interest to the various Metropolitan Ice Companies. As it can be "no joke" to them, perhaps it should be no joke to us: though, on reflection, we are not so very like. No, no, indeed! As for ourselves, we are liberal. You will never find us taking advantage of the necessities of the public.

The "cream" of the joke, as we see it, is that, owing to the abundance and cheapness of this machine-made ice, the Ice Cream of the future--by containing rather less farina and skim-milk (very good, indeed, in a pudding,)--may be rather more worthy its title, at present so idealistic and humorously preposterous. ("Cream," indeed! Ha! ha!)

Success to the new Process. We "freeze to it" instantaneously, and find that we have left the celebrated Zero at least forty degrees behind.

The Yankee who invented everything else has now invented the "Wringer Man's Monitor!" In spite of its name, the Monitor is a machine for the use (and, we suppose, benefit,) of washer-women. "It is so constructed----soas to allow the rollers to separateequally alikeat both ends," observes the tautological inventor. We hope he has been more economical in the expenditure of wringing power than he seems to be in the use of the English language; otherwise, we fear the poor laundresses will find the Monitor a trifle too heavily plated.

What we want (and we here beg the attention of inventive Yankees,) is a machine that will, if possible, wring the truth from current Cable news, and stop just as the lies begin to be squeezed out. Perhaps the stuff won't wash! Then let the main pressure be felt by its inventors and publishers.

At the Grand Opera, in Paris, the great excitement is the singing of the "Marseillaise," by Madame SASS. Not many months ago theSans-culottesmade the streets ring with this famous air, which was then a revolutionary one, but, since the declaration of war, has flushed up with the deepest dye of imperial purple. On the principle that "What is Sass for the goose is Sass for the gander," Madame S. certainly should not decline to sing the air on "t'other tack," when the time arrives for theSans-culottesto demand it of her.

On Wednesday of last week a rumor prevailed in the city that most of the waiters in the hotels and restaurants were on a strike. Investigation proved, however, that the rumor arose from the immense number of Waiters congregated at Sandy Hook, waiting for the arrival of the winning yacht.

Just when the weather was at its hottest, a newspaper item kindly stated that "yesterday, the sun's rays were tempered by a strong breeze."

Perhaps so; but they were very ill-tempered.

There is in this city a rag-picker so wealthy that he can afford to drink wine every day. It is needless to say that Sack is the wine preferred by him.

A man having his head shorn in hot weather, in order that he may be able to continue his mad career of mixed drinks with diminished danger.

THE WAR SPIRIT IN FRANCE.--Cognac.

THE WAR SPIRIT IN PRUSSIA.--Kornschnapps.

There has been much obloquy heaped upon the Chinaman ever since he has become an article of importation. He has been morally pilloried on account of the alleged immorality of his character. Some call him a thief; others impute unto him a kind of sub-cannibalism, inasmuch as he bringeth unto his fleshpots that sagacious canine creature known for ages as the friend and companion of man. There be those who proclaim him liar, thief, counterfeiter, and apt practitioner, generally, in all the branches of infamy and crime. That some of these allegations may be true is more than probable, seeing that the city of New York, alone, not to mention the rest of the world, contains not a few individuals known to be liars, thieves, counterfeiters, and apt practitioners, generally, in all the branches of infamy and crime, and who yet belong to races supposed to be far superior to the Mongolian.

None of the depreciators of the Chinaman, however, have yet impeached him of a fondness for intoxicating liquors. That he smokes opium is neither here nor there, seeing that smoking is not drinking. He stupefies himself to some extent with the drug, it is true, but the stupidity resulting from it is of an amiable and passive kind, quite unlike that of our native or imported rough, whose fiery potations, (word evidently derived from Irish potato,) impel him to imbrue his brass knuckles in blood, if only simply for amusement and to "keep his hand," (with the brass knuckles,) "in." And so, at present, WHANG-HI seems to be a far better citizen than HI! HI! of our low places, nor is there any prospect that he will turn over a new tea-leaf, and forsake his national beverage for the "fire-water" of the Western hemisphere.

Perhaps, in time, our great cities may profit by the presence of JOHN Chinaman among us as a pattern. O happy day! that on which the pug-nosed, bull-necked, brass-knuckled, beetle-browed, ugly New York rough discards whiskey and takes to opium instead. Ere long the use of the comatose drug would effect such a change in the characteristics of our dangerous classes, that the maintenance of so large a police force as we have at present would no longer be necessary. That they would use the drug to excess there can be no doubt, and that is the main point.

Eventually, the brutes might become absolute Mongolians, and develop tails. That would be a blessed illustration of the gradual development theory! With our roughs all turned to Coolies, happily would glide the swift hours away. Let the government take this view of the matter, with which Mr. PUNCHINELLO has here the pleasure of presenting them. If they cannot abolish whiskey, let them increase the tax upon it, at least, and let them take the duty off opium just so soon as our American Chinaman shall have outgrown the use of that fatal narcotic, and introduced it to the favorable notice of our American rough.

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With admirable skill, the painter has depicted the heroic maiden as she uttered those memorable words--"Persevere in this measure, and you will lose the confidence of your squaw constituents!" the ladies having pronounced the Captain "perfectly splendid."

In the foreground is seen a wretched widower, clasping with affection an urn, supposed to contain the ashes of his dear departed, who was slain at the polls.

MR. PUNCHINELLO: On very high authority, (that of the Emperor of France and the King of Prussia,) Providence is on the side of both parties in the present contest. As this is uniformly the case, according to the affirmations of both parties in the war, are we to infer that killing is a laudable pursuit, and that it is only in cases where one side happens to have "heavier artillery" than the other, that Providence actually chooses sides?

Two things I know--the weather is uncommonly warm, and this is an uncommonly tough question; so you may answer at your leisure (indeed, I suppose you would do that any way,)--or not at all: which, I observe, you sometimes do, when the question before you is a littletootough.

PARADOX.

It is gratifying to know that PUNCHINELLO is fast becoming an object of interest to all intelligent citizens of this enlightened country. The recent large additions to our subscription list prove how highly we are appreciated. Would it be considered unreasonable of us, however, to ask that something less than twenty per cent, of our new subscriptions should be spared to us by certain parties not wholly unconnected with country post-offices? Not long since, of forty-two subscriptions received from Whitehall, N.Y., in one week, nine copies of PUNCHINELLO No. 16 mysteriously disappeared between that place and New York city. Had the gentlemen who appropriated these papers, in their enthusiasm for PUNCHINELLO, kindly allowed them to go to their destination, instead, and written to us, pleading their inability to purchase copies of the paper, we might, perhaps, have sent them some in consideration of their indigent circumstances. If the abstraction of the papers was intended as a joke--the point of which we do not see, by the bye--we are willing to overlook the offence "just once." Should it be repeated, however, we shall have some reference to make to the proper quarter that will be pertinent to the subject.

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