Thank you! I will take another drink since you insist upon it. Here's luck! You'll agree with me that this is the best day's work I have ever done. Good-by. I'm off to Chicago."

Now, would not that be the way in which "ENOCH" would have acted had he been a practical business man? You see the play thus altered is eminently probable, not to say realistic. I have several more improved catastrophes, which, if substituted for the present ending of some of our more recent popular plays, would render them quite perfect. Hamlet especially needs changing in this respect. Some of these days I will show the readers of PUNCHINELLO how SHAKSPEARE should have ended that drama. I rather think they will agree with me, that SHAKSPEARE, clever as he doubtless was in certain respects, knew very little about writing plays that should be at once effective and probable.

MATADOR.

ON THE ROAD TO ROUEN.

The Prussians.

JOHN BULL DETECTS A BEAR-FACED INTRUDER UPON THE PRIVACY OF THE BLACK SEA.

"AB"

I.
Absinthe's a cunning word
Dram-drinkers to entice,
It comes from a Greek root which means
The opposite of nice.


II.

The wormwood shrub its gall
Essentially doth give
To "ab" by which so many die.
For which so many live.


III.

Its color is sea-green.
And should you enter where
The blissful stimulant is sold.
You'll see green people there.


IV.

King DEATH no longer drenches
With "coal-black wine" his throttle.
But slakes the drouth of his awful mouth
With pulls at the absinthe bottle.


V.

And why should we repine
At the poison that's in his cup,
Since the fools we can spare are everywhere
And "ab" will use them up?

VI.

Then heigh! for the wormwood shrub.
And ho! for the sea-green liquor
That softens the brain to sillybub
And turns the blood to ichor!

GRAIN ELEVATORS.

Rye cocktails.

ODD REQUEST.

Bishop Potter having forbidden the celebration of the Holy Communion privately at St. Sacrament Mission, when a priest is the only communicant, it seems that Father BEADLEY "has asked for the formation of thirty persons, one of whom shall commune with him each day."

When Father B.'s thirty communing persons are fully "formed," we should like to take a look at them. We should expect to find that a new race is started at last. This would be disagreeable news to Professor DARWIN, but there are plenty of other and rival Professors who would be delighted at the phenomenon. Twenty-nine at least of the newly-formed "persons" will always be "on view," as but one of the thirty can be engaged at a time. Doubtless they will be able to converse in the American language, and it will be so interesting to hear them talk! To tell how they feel, and what they think of things!

We should look for original and piquant views of everything and everybody. If they should appeal to Nature's Standard, and pronounce Mr. PUNCHINELLO the handsomest man in New York, who could wonder? They would simply confirm the opinions of connoisseurs.

We hope they will give us a call as soon as "formed." Give us but the opportunity, and we promise to make something of these unsophisticated "persons." If we can but succeed in impressing on their plastic young minds the principles which have hitherto guided us in our own glorious path, we shall have no idle fears of their future. They will be all right from the start. Just as the twig is bent, or rather straightened, the high old tree has got to shoot up.

We look with interest for news of this unique formation.

Rebottling his Wrath.

BOTTLED BUTLER talks fierce against poor JOHN BULL,
All the British he'd kill at one slap,
With their bones Bully BEN a canal would fill full—
The one that he dug at Dutch Gap.

Con by a Switch-tender.

Why is a railway accident like a dandy? Because it's death on the Ties.

BONED TURKEY.

John Bull. "WELL, NOW, THIS IS TOO BAD!—HERE'S THIS ROOSHAN FELLER BEEN AND GOBBLED UP ALL THE TURKEY!"

HIRAM GREEN'S FASHION REPORT.

The only Strictly Reliable Report on the Market.

A full-dressed girl of the Period, as she sails out for an afternoon airin, looks like somethin as I imagine the north pole would, with a 1/2 dozen rainbows rapt about it. She is a sorter of a flag-staff, from whose perpendicularity the ensines of all nations blows and flaps, and any man base enuff to haul down one solitary flag will be shot on the spot. A far dixy. Tellin the thing jest as it is, there's more flummy-diddles and mushroon attachments to a woman's toggery nowadays than there is honest men in Wall street.

Durin the past season, overskirts and p-an-ears have been looped up, makin the fair secks look as if she was gettin her garments in trim to leep over some frog-pond.

The only change in overskirts now, is that they have been let down a few pegs, giving the fair wearer an appearance of havin landed safe on tother side of the Pollywog Asilum, which she has been all summer waitin to jump over.

LONG TRAILLIN DRESSES are agin comin into fashin, to the great detriment of the legitimate okerpashon of street-sweepin.

I understand that MARK TWAIN endorses long traillin skirts, and compels his new infant to wear 'em. How schockin!

JET TRIMMINS are agin to have a run. The United States Sennit will probably Read in a few black orniments this winter.

SHAWL SOOTS are a pooty gay harniss, nowadays, to sling on. To make one, get an old shawl, ram your head through the middle of it, then draw it snug about the waist, with a cast-off nitecap string.

Yaller and red are becoming cullers for a broonet, says Harper's bazar. The 15th amendment ladies will please take notiss and cultivate yaller hair and red noses in the futer.

RED GLOVES are much worn, makin the fashinable bell's hands look like a washer-woman's thumb on a frosty mornin.

Some pooty desines have appeared in EAR RINGS, but the desines of a sertin strong-minded click of femails to ring the ears of their lords and masters hain't endorsed in this ere report.

HAIR-DRESSIN.

The more frizzled and stirred up a ladey's hair appears nowadays, the hire she stands in the eyes of the Bon tung. A waterfall which will go into a store door without the wearer stoopin over, hain't considered of suffishent altitood for a fashinable got-up femme de sham to tug around.

Thrashin masheens are now used to get just the rite angle on the hair.

The head is inserted in the masheen, which proceeds to give the copiliary attraction a wuss shampoonin than can be got in a Rale Rode smash up.

Where thrashin masheens hain't to be had, young gals sprinkle the hair with corn-meel, and then let the chickens scratch it out. This gets up a snarl which a Filadephy lawyer can't ontangle.

Chauced bolony sassiges are fashinable danglin from a ladey's back hair.

These are often worn dubble barrelled, remindin us of a yoke of oxen—takin a waggin view of it.

MEN'S HARNISS.

Trowsers are very narrer contracted about the walkin pins.

The only way a feller can get his calves into his bifurkates, is to fill his butes with milk and coax 'em through.

N.B.—The readers of this report musen't misunderstand me, and undertake to crawl head first through their garments, for I assure him or her, that I refer to the calves of their perambulaters.

Cotes are worn short waisted, short in the skirts, and short in the sleeves. I have known them short in the pocket, when the taler sent in his bill.

Neckties are worn large, what would usually be alowed for a silk dress is required now for a fashenable scarf.

With the 2 long ends, which hangs danglin down over a feller's buzzum, it doesent make a bit of difference if he wears a ragged shirt, dirty shirt, or no shirt at all.

Charity covers a multitood of sins, I'm told, and so does the new stile of scarfs cover a heep of dirt and old rags.

The new stile of silk hats, worn by a femail heart destroyer, is big enuff to hitch up dubble, with the shoo, in which the old lady and her children "hung out."

Altho the wimmen fokes have got off the steel trimmims, I notiss the Internal Revenoo Offisers are continerly gettin in stealin trim.

This strictly reliable report will be isshood as often as the undersined gets any new cloze.

Any person wishin to know how to dress, can obtain the required informashen by sendin a ten cent shinny to PUNCHINELLO Pub. Co.

A well-drest man is the noblest work of his taler, likewise is a full-rigged woman the noblest work of her taleress.

Which is the opinion of the compiler of this work.

Stilishly Ewers,

HIRAM GREEN, ESQ.,

Lait Gustise of the Peece.

THE DREAM OF A DINER-OUT.

But yesterday night I dreamed a dream—
I forget what I'd dined on, really,—
'Twas something heavy, and then I'd read
"What I Know of Farming," by GREELEY.

Many and strange were the sights I saw
As I turned on my restless pillow,
BISMARCK and BLUCHER pitching cents
For beer, 'neath a weeping willow.

JULIUS CAESAR was turning up trumps
In a nice little game at euchre,
With a Chinese coolie, GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN,
SATAN, and old JOE HOOKER.

EARL RUSSELL the small, to make himself tall,
Close by on his dignity stood,
While LITTLE JOHN sang the "Song of the Shirt"
'Till I thought he was ROBBIN' HOOD!

BRUTUS was taking a "whiskey straight,"
Which I didn't think orthodox;
While GRANT, with his usual zeal for sport,
Seemed busy with fighting Cox!

But I woke at last with a boisterous laugh
From a dream that was simply ridiculous,
For I knew (so did you) it couldn't be true
That France had succumbed to St. NICHOLAS.

RAILWAY TALK.

Old Lady. "SONNY, BE THEM EGGS FRESH OR STALE?"

Boy. "FRESH, 'M. I buys MY EGGS, I DOESN'T STALE 'EM!"

EGGS-ACTLY!

Mr. Benedick. "BY JOVE! WHAT AN AWFUL SMELL OF ASAFOETIDA THIS EGG HAS!"

Mrs. B. "O, HOW SHOCKING! NOW THAT I THINK OF IT, I DID THROW AWAY SOME ASAFOETIDA PILLS, AND I SUPPOSE THE HENS HAVE BEEN EATING THEM!"

POEMS OF THE CRADLE.

CANTO XIV.

By by, baby bunting,
Daddy's gone a-hunting,
To get a little rabbit skin
To wrap the baby bunting in.

At last there came a day when the husband was of no consequence in his own house. When numerous female visitors frowned upon and snubbed him. When his mother-in-law glared at him and entreated him despitefully if he ventured into her august and fearful presence; and even that wonderful and mysterious person, the hired nurse, unfeelingly ordered him out of the house, and bade him "begone about his business." The miserable and conscience-stricken wretch wandered disconsolately from room to room, only to meet with fresh humiliation and contumely, and at last, in sheer despair, betook himself off to a lonely and gloomsome spot in the dark wood, and there, in penitent humility, bewailed his misfortune in being that miserably and insignificant nonentity—a man.

Sorrowfully resting his head upon his hands, his eyes fixed upon the ground, his whole soul absorbed in self-reproach, he passes the long hours in gloomy abstraction, wishing, he hardly knew what, only that he was not, what he unfortunately happened to be at that moment, a man despised of women and hated by his mother-in-law. His sorrowful musings were broken in upon by his one faithful friend, the gentle companion of many a quiet hour, his affectionate and devoted pet, his beloved cat. Gently rubbing her head against his penitent knee, she awakens the absorbed poet to a realization of her presence, and to a feeling of pleasure that he is not deserted by all, but has one heart left that beats for him alone.

Fondly taking his feline friend in his arms, he softly strokes her back, and gazes lovingly into the soft green eyes that look responsively into his, and rebukes her not when, in impulsive love, she rubs her cold nose against his burning cheek, and wipes her eyes upon his frail moustache.

Night draws on apace. The dew begins to fall; the pangs of hunger to manifest themselves; and hesitatingly and timidly he and his cat turn their footsteps homeward. Loiter as he will, each moment brings him nearer to that abode where once he thought himself master; but to his astonishment he now finds himself an outcast and a reproach.

Slowly and quietly he creeps around to the back kitchen door, his cat held tightly in his arms, stealthily enters, and meekly drops into a chair, the image of a self-convicted burglar.

Presently he hears a sound of smothered laughter, a quick, light step, and mother-in-law and nurse enter, full of importance, and unnaturally friendly with each other. The unhappy man silently tries to shrink into nothingness, and thus escape being again driven out of doors; but the Argus eyes peer into the dark corner, and his intentions are frustrated.

Tremblingly he steps forth, into the light, prepared to meekly obey the harsh command, when, to his great surprise, his fearful mother-in-law smiles benignly upon him, and with a knowing look and gracious beckoning with the forefinger,