Chapter II: 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, bids him follow.

He follows, dizzy with the unlooked-for reception, and, in a bewildered state, is ushered into that sanctum of privacy from which he has been ignominiously debarred all day--his wife's room.

The revulsion of feeling was too much for the poor man. His head began to whirl, and his eyes were blinded. He had a faint perception of his wife speaking to him, and of his being shown something, he didn't know what; of being told to do something, he didn't know what; and standing dazed and helpless until forcibly led from the room, and bidden to "go get his supper and not act like a fool."

The familiar expression and natural manner completely restored his wavering consciousness, and he knowingly made his way to the kitchen and vigorously attacked a largo pork-pie, which he gloriously conquered and felt all the pride of a hero.

The next day, having regained in a measure his usual self-control, he was allowed once more, in consideration of the position he held in the family, to enter that _sanctum sanctorum_, and gaze upon its inmates. His acute mother-in-law, having extracted a promise of absence for the day, on condition of being allowed to look at his own child a moment, carefully deposits in his trembling hands a small woollen bundle with a tiny speck of a face peering therefrom.

Indescribable emotions rushed through his frame at the first touch of that soft warm roll of flannel, and a torrent of tumultuous joy bubbled up in his heart when he had so far mastered his emotions as to be able to touch with one nervous finger the little soft red cheek, lying so peacefully in his arms. The tiny hands doubled up, so brave looking yet so helpless now, giving promise of the future, brought tears of joy and pride to his eyes, and stooping over the wondrous future man, he pressed a kiss upon its unconscious face.

That kiss awoke the sleeping muse within him. Blissful visions of the future, and ambitious feelings for the present, started into being. His first thought was to do something to please the potent little fellow; but happening to glance at his "everlasting terror," he remembered his promise. A brilliant idea striking him at that moment, he apostrophized the infant in the touching words:--

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

One more kiss, and with a little sigh he lays the precious burden down, and departs to spend the day in the woods, according to promise, so as not to be bothering around under foot, and getting in everybody's way when he ain't wanted.

As he cannot entirely control circumstances, he is determined to make the best of them, and he mentally blesses the happy thought, or rather inspiration, that suggested the soft rabbit skin as a bed for the baby, and resolves that it alone shall be the object of his day's search.

* * * * *

POLISHING THE POLICE.

Doubtless there is much room for improvement in the deportment and speech of our very efficient Municipal Police. Citizens have frequently to apply to them for information, and it sometimes happens that the answer is couched in language that may be Polish, so far as the querist knows, though, in fact, there is no polish about it. It is more likely to be COPTIC, as the policeman of the period likes to call himself a "COP." If there is a street sensation in progress, and you ask a contemplative policeman the cause of it, matters are not made perfectly clear to you when he replies that it is "only a put-up job to screen a fence" or words to that affect. If you ask him to explain things more fully he will probably say, "Shoo! fly," or "you know how it is yourself," or recommend you to "scratch gravel." Such expressions as these are very embarrassing to strangers, and even to citizens whose pathways have not led them through the brambly tracts of police philology.

In view of these facts, the public have reason to be thankful to Justice DOWLING for the reproof administered by him, a few days since, to a policeman who made use of slang in addressing the bench. The reprehended officer of the law spoke about a prisoner being "turned over," when he should have said "discharged." This gave Mr. DOWLING occasion to pass some severe remarks with regard to the use of slang terms generally, by policemen, and to caution them against addressing persons in any such jargon. The lesson was a timely one, and we hope that it may prove effective, since we frequently hear perplexed inquirers complaining that their education has been neglected so far as slang is concerned, and lamenting that, when young, they had not devoted themselves rather to the study of the Thieves' Dictionary than to that of the polite but comparatively useless treatises on their native tongue.

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THREE LETTERS.

I was persuaded to send my son to Dr. STUFFEM'S boarding-school, in "the salubrious village of Whelpville" (I quote from the Doctor's circular), "where the moral training of the pupils is under the parental supervision of the Principal." Since the arrival of Master THEOPHILUS, I have just received weekly reports of his progress on printed forms, and I presume it is satisfactory, although I do not precisely understand these weekly missives, which are only a complex arrangement of figures. To-day, however, I am favored with three letters which came in a bulky envelope, and I append them, in the order of their perusal by myself. The first seems to be written by a schoolmate of my son's, and was probably placed in the envelope inadvertently by THEOPHILUS. I do not venture to make any alteration in the orthography of the first and second epistles, as I do not know what dictionary may be authoritative in Whelpville.

"Deer Thee its rainin like blaises and I cant get out since I came heer Ive had bully times and I hope Ill keep sik a good wile our doctur lets me eat donuts but sez I musnt play out in the rain wen its rainin farther told me Id beter rite to sum of my scholmaids and giv me this hole sheet of paper maibe Id get a leter rote before dinner but I cant tell you mutch wile its rainin Thee git sik and you can come heer to git wel our doctur is bully I havent took no stuf but sitrate of magneeshia and I don't mind that litel Billy Sims wot lives down by the postofis has got meesils and you can ketch them from him if he arnt ded and then old Stuffy can rite to your farther to let you come here and tel him weve got a bully doctor Thee if Billy Sims is ded or got wel you mite ketch somthin ells and its prime heer farthers got a gun and I no where the pouder is bring some pecushin caps with you Thee or well hav to tuch her off with a cole if old Beeswax wont let you come you mite send me some caps in a leter don't mash em Thee doctur sais I wil be wel in about a munth if I don't ketch cold but I can easy fall in the pond before the munth is out Thee its hoopincof time and you can easy ketch that you only hav to hold yur breth til you most bust our doctur is bully for hoopincof.

"Thee weve got a barn and theres lots of ha on 2 high plaises were we can clime up there arnt no steps nor lader and we hav to clime up poles its bully Thee theres four cats heer and one lets me nuss her the others is all wild and run under the barn we can hunt them wild ones Ive got 2 long poles to poke under the barn but I wont hunt the cats till you come. I get lots of aigs up on the ha when it arnt rainin I got four yesterda and sukt 2 and took 2 to mother the 2 I sukt was elegant but one of mothers had a litel chiking in it.

"Thee you hav to come heer on the ralerode farther brot me but yore farther needent bring you there arnt no plais for him to sleep but you can sleep with me theres a boy sels candy in the cars and theres penuts on a stand in the deepoe 5 sents gits a pocketful the candy is nasty but its in purty boxes its ten sents theres a old wommen keeps the penut stand but shes got a litel gurl and the gurl gives you most for 5 sents don't let the old wommen wate on you but just ask the prise and then sa sis give us 5 sents worth shes awful spry wen you git the penuts just come out of the big dore of the deepoe and keep strait down the rode til you come to our house you can tel it by the 4 cats if they arnt under the barn but you can ask somebody ware farther lives his name is Mister Gillander but these fools that lives about hear cal him Mr. Glander.

"Thee do come dinners reddy

"Yores afectionate DICK GILLANDER"

My son's letter, or rather the first draft of it, is not much more artistic in appearance than the foregoing. He is evidently in the same class in orthography with his friend, Master Gillander, and I do not doubt that, under careful culture, he may emulate the various virtues of his friend, and become, in time, an accomplished "aig" sucker. Here is his letter in the original:--

"DEER FARTHER:--As this is the da fur composition doctur STUFFEM sed I mite rite you a leter for my composition and I rite these fu lines to let you no that I am wel, but one of the boys is my roomait and is gone home sick but he is beter and has got a good doctur and be wants me to come down to his howse pleas sir send me a dolar it is on a ralerode and the fair is fourty 5 sents. I can go Satterda and come back Mundy and there is a meetin house clost by dicks howse and they go to meetin in a carrige and dick drives

"Yores respectful

"THEOPHILUS"

The third epistle was written on a clean sheet, the date being in the middle of the first page, and the entire production bearing the marks of herculean effort. I infer that this final letter was a "corrected, proof," and had to pass a severe examination. Probably, this was the only one intended for my eye, and I cannot account for the arrival of the three documents, except upon the hypothesis that my boy heedlessly and hurriedly thrust them in one enclosure, and forgot to remove the phonetic specimens before mail time. It ran thus:--

"MY DEAR FATHER: In lieu of the usual essay required of pupils on this day, my preceptor allows me to write a letter to you, which he hopes may serve to evince my progress in the art of composition, the improvement in my penmanship (to which he devotes special attention), and to inform you of my continued health. Indeed, in this delightful locality, nothing else could be expected, as Whelpville, being 796 feet above tide-water, is entirely free from those miasmatic influences which unfortunately affect the sanitary condition of those institutions of learning that are less favorably situated. The only case of sickness that has occurred since my arrival, and for a long time previously, was that of my room-mate and friend, Richard Gillander, whose father has recently purchased an estate in our neighborhood, principally on account of the salubrity of our climate. But Richard had doubtless contracted the disease, which was of an intermittent character, at his former school, which was the Riverbank Classical Academy, at Swamptown. Our kind preceptor allowed Richard to return to his father's house until his health should be entirely restored. He is now decidedly convalescent, and has written me an urgent invitation to visit him on Saturday next. As this invitation is corroborated by a letter from Mr. Gillander to our preceptor, I should be much pleased to accept it, with your approval. If you have no objection to this arrangement, therefore, I will thank you to enclose me one dollar by mail, as the railway fare to Richard's home amounts to nearly this sum.

"Hoping for a favorable reply, and promising myself the pleasure of writing you a full account of this visit one week hence,

"I remain,

My dear parent,

Your dutiful Son,

THEOPHILUS."

This letter breathed such an air of lofty morality that I was quite overcome. I enclosed the required dollar, of course, and wrote a line to Doctor STUFFEM complimenting him upon the manifest improvement in his pupil. I am looking with some anxiety for the promised letter recounting the incidents of the projected visit, and have some misgivings induced by Master DICK'S hints concerning the gun, powderhorn, and percussion-caps. I infer, however, from the last letter, that such a change has been wrought upon THEOPHILUS, that he will probably spend his holiday in reciting moral apothegms to his friend and "room-mait."

* * * * *

_Irascible old Gent (to garrulous barber)._ "SHOO! SHOO!--WHY DON'T YOU TREAT YOUR TALK AS YOU DO YOUR HAIR--CUT IT SHORT?"]

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SARSFIELD YOUNG'S PANORAMA.