The Humors of Falconbridge Part 14

"It's the very stuff, thin, for me, so hould the light, and I'll take a swig at 'im," says Paddy number two. "_Agh!_" says he, putting down the demijohn in haste, "it's rale bhrandy--_agh-h!_"

"Branthy? Thin it's meself as'll have a wee bit uv a swig at 'em," and Paddy number three took hold, and down he rushed a good slew of it!

"Murther and turf! It's every divil ov us are pizened--o-o-och!

Murther-r-r!" and he raised such a hullaballoo, that the neighbors were awakened. They came rus.h.i.+ng in, and arrested Paddy number three. The others fled, with their bellies full of was.h.i.+ng fluid! The poor fellow had drank nearly a pint; being possessed with a gutta percha stomach, he stood the infliction without kicking the bucket, but he was bleached, in two days--white as a bolt of cotton cloth!

Pa.s.sing Around the Fodder!

A DINNER SKETCH.

A few weeks ago, during a pa.s.sage from Gotham to Boston, on the "_Empire State_," one of the most elegant and swift steamers that ever man's ingenuity put upon the waters, I met a well-known joker from the Quaker city, on his first trip "down East." After mutually examining and eulogising the external appearance and internal arrangements of the "Empire," winding up our investigation, of course, with a _look_ into a small corner cupboard in the barber's office, where a superb _smile_--as _is_ a smile--can be usually enjoyed by the _n.o.bbish_ investment of a York s.h.i.+lling; soon after pa.s.sing through "h.e.l.l Gate"--gliding by the beautiful villas, chateaux, and almost princely palaces of the business men of the great city of New York, we were soon out upon the broad, deep Sound, a glorious place for steam-boating. Soon after, the bells announced "supper ready"--a general stampede into the s.p.a.cious cabin took place, and though the tables strung along forty rods on each side of the great cabin, not over half the crowd got seats upon this interesting occasion. I was _about_ with my friend--in _time_, stuck our legs under the mahogany, and gazed upon the open prospect for a supper superb enough in all its details to tempt a jolly old friar from his devotions. We got along very nicely. An old chap who sat above us some seats, and whose rotund developments gave any ordinary observer reason to suppose his appet.i.te as unquenchable as the Maelstrom, kept reaching about, and when tempting vessels were too remote, he'd bawl "right eout"

for them.

"Halloo! I say you, Mister there, just hand along that saas; give us a chance, will ye, at that; notion on't, what d'ye call that stuff?"

"This?" says one, pa.s.sing along a dish.

"Pshaw, no, t'other there."

"Oh! ah! yes, _this_," says my facetious friend.

"Well, that ain't it, but no odds; fetch it along!" and down we sent the biggest dish of meat in our neighborhood.

"Now," says I, "my boy, I'll show you a 'dodge.' We'll see how it works."

Filling a plate full to the brim, with all and each of the various _heavy_ courses in our vicinity, I very politely pa.s.sed it over to my next neighbor with--

"Please to pa.s.s that up, sir?"

"Umph, eh?" says the gentleman, taking hold of the plate very gingerly; "pa.s.s it _up_?"

"Aye, yes, if you please," says I.

By this time he had fairly got the loaded plate in his fists, and began to look about him where to pa.s.s the plate _to_. n.o.body in particular seemed on the watch for a _spare_ plate. The gent looked back at me, but I was "cutting away" and watching from the extreme corner of my left eye the victim and his charge, while I pressed hard upon the corn pile of my friend's foot under the table.

At length, the victim thought he saw some one up the table waiting for the plate, and quickly he whispered to his next neighbor--

"Please, sir, to-to-a, _just pa.s.s this plate up!_"

The man took the plate, and being more of a practical operator than his neighbor, gave the plate over to _his_ next neighbor, with--

"Pa.s.s this plate up to that gentleman, if you please," dodging his head towards an old gent in specs, who sat near the head of the table, grinning a ghastly smile over the field of good things.

"It's _going!_"

"_What?_" says my friend.

"The plate; it's going the rounds; just you keep quiet, you'll see a good thing."

The plate, at length, got to the head of the table. It was given to the old gentleman in specs; he looked over the top of his specs very deliberately at the "fodder," then back at the thin, pale, student-looking youth who handed it to him, then up and down the table.

A raw-boned, gaunt and hollow-looking disciple caught the eye of the old gent; he must be the man who wanted the "load." His lips quacked as if in the act of--"pa.s.s this plate, sir,"--to his next neighbor; he was too far off for us to _hear_ his discourse. Well, the plate came booming along down the opposite side; the tall man declined it and gave it over to his next neighbor, who seemed a little tempted to take hold of the invoice, but just then it occurred to him, probably, that he was keeping _somebody_ (!) out of his grub, so he quickly turned to his neighbor and pa.s.sed the plate. One or two more moves brought the plate within our range, and there it liked to have _stuck_, for a fussy old Englishman, in whom politeness did not stick out very prominently, grunted--

"I don't want it, sir."

"Well, but, sir, please _pa.s.s it_," says the last victim, beseechingly holding out the plate.

"Pa.s.s it? Here, mister, 's your plate," says Bull, at length reluctantly seizing on the plate, and rus.h.i.+ng it on to his next neighbor, who started--

"Not mine, sir."

"Not yours! Who does it belong to? Pa.s.s it down to somebody."

Off went the plate again. Several ladies turned up their pretty eyes and noses while the gents _pa.s.sed it_ by them.

"Why, if there ain't that plate a going the rounds, that you gave me!"

says my next neighbor, to whom I had first given the "currency."

"That plate? Oh, yes, so it is; well," says I, with feigned astonishment, "this is the first time I ever saw a good supper so universally discarded!"

The plate was off again. It reached the foot of the table. An elderly lady looked up, looked around, removed a large sweet potato from the pile--then pa.s.sed it along. An old salty-looking captain, just then took a vacant seat, and the plate reached him just in the nick of time. He looked voracious--

"Ah," said he, with a savage growl, "that's your sort; thunder and oak.u.m, I'm as peckish as a shark, and here's the _duff for me!_"

That ended the peregrinations of the plate, and I and my friend--_yelled right out!_

A Hint to Soyer.

Magrundy says, in his work on _Grub_, that a Frenchman will "frigazee" a pair of old boots and make a respectable soup out of an ancient chapeau; but our friend Perriwinkle affirms that the French ain't "nowhere,"

after a feat he saw in the kitchen arrangement of a "cheap boarding house" in the North End:--the landlady made a chowder out of an old broom mixed with sinders, and after all the boarders had dined upon it scrumptiously, the remains made broth for the whole family, next day, besides plenty of fragments left for a poor family! That landlady is bound--_to make Rome howl!_

The Leg of Mutton.

I'm going to state to you the remarkable adventures of a very remarkable man, who went to market to get a leg of mutton for his Sunday dinner. I have heard, or read somewhere or other, almost similar stories; whether they were real or imaginary, I am unable to say; but I can vouch for the authenticity of my story, for I know the hero well.

In the year 1812, it will be recollected that we had some military disputes with England, which elicited some pretty tall fights by land and sea, and the land we live in was considerably excited upon the subject, and patriotism rose to many degrees above blood heat.

Philadelphia, about that time, like all other cities, I suppose, was the scene of drum-beating, marching and counter-marching, and volunteering of the patriotic people.