Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 39, December 24, 1870.Various
General
Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 39, December 24, 1870.
Various
American wit and humor -- Periodicals
When a man wants to look slick, he takes an old blackin brush and rubs
his domisil over with stove blackin, then goes over it with an old
broom, puttin a polish onto a bildin, which makes it shine like a bran
new cookstove. It is no onusual thing for the citezins of Pittsburg to
carry along with them a basin of water, sope, towels, &c.; and when a
person stops to shake hands with 'em, wash their faces, so as to be sure
they haint associatin with a reglar descendant of HAM.
This way is confined to the upper tendoms; but it is a singler fact that
it is neccessary to remove the _upper crust,_ so as to oncover the
superior man.
Never havin heerd anything about the smokey condition of Pittsburgh, I
was the victim of an adventoor which come mitey nigh puttin a quietuss,
for a permanent period, onto my terrestial egistance. Ide just arroven
into the city, from the northern part of the State. Thinkin Ide like to
look the city over a bit, I sholdered my bloo cotton umbreller and
carpet bag, and started on a tower of observashun.
I walkt along gaeopin rite and left at the bildins, which I could only
distingwish, as I got rite opposite of em.
Just as I stopped to rest myself a minnit, a man say's to me: "Git out
of the way, Cuffee."
I turned to impale him with my impenetratin gaze, when he disappeared in
the smoke.
Gropin my way along I suddenly was run into, by another man. As he
struck me vilently into the stomack, he hollered out: "You black raskil!
how dare you run into a respectable man?" My blood was gettin hot.
"Me, a black raskel," said I, makin a push to ceaze him by the throte,
"Ile larn you that you can't call them names to me with impunerty, not
by a darn site."
In the thick smoke which surronded me, I grabbed for Mister man, when to
my horror! my hand came in contact with a lot of curly hair, and by the
shriek which greeted my ear, I was conshus that I had made a misgo, and
was clutchin a womans water-fall.
Turnin full onto me (and Ketchin my cote sleeve), she says, "Oh! you
black villian, how dare you insult a lady?" Tearin myself from her
grasp, I rushed madly on. I could feel pedestrians glide by me.
There I was in a strange land. From all sides it was,
smoke--smoke--smoke, darkness--darkness--darkness. Ide read about the
Egipshun darkness, but Pittsburgh is ahead of that, for while I couldent
see in Pittsburgh, the blamed smoke was suffocatin me, and makin the
teers run down my cheeks, like the prodigal son, when he was mournin for
the deth of a rich unkle, who'd left him some cash, I made up my mind,
that I would try and enter a bildin somewhere, and implore the ade of a
pilot.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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