Doesticks, What He Says Part 15

ONE WEEK LATER.

What kind of a fellow is Burnham?

Is he a malicious, unscrupulous conspirator?

What can I have done to provoke his ire?

This voracious animal which he has given me is eating me out of house and home; my means are limited, my salary is small, corn is expensive, and at the present rate one of us must starve; he has eaten every thing I have given him, and (the poor brute being tortured by growing hunger) he has at last actually _devoured his own toes_.

Two small pigs and a litter of kittens have also mysteriously disappeared; one of the children last night was attacked by the monster and barely escaped with his life, but left his Sunday breeches in the unappeasable maw of the _pure_ bred biped, who has twice been observed to cast longing eyes upon the Irish kitchen girl--the cannibalic feathered Know Nothing.

Like the eastern prince, who, when he wants to ruin a man, makes him a present of an elephant, which court etiquette will allow him neither to give away, sell, or kill, and which he must keep and allow to devour his patrimony; so the vengeful Burnham, for some unmentioned injury which I have done him, has sent me this rapacious villain, who eats as if he was the result of a cross between the Anaconda and the Ostrich. I must get some one to kill him, or coax him into the rural districts, where they might use him for a breaking-up team, or some two or three counties club to keep him as a curiosity.

ONE HOUR LATER.

Our stable boy, half an hour ago, found the bird suffering an indigestion (consequent upon eating a bushel and a half of corn with the cobs in, a pyramid of oyster sh.e.l.ls, and a barrel of guano), and boldly attacking him with a revolver and broad-axe, has succeeded, after a prolonged struggle, in making an end of him. I ask B. if his fiendish and diabolical malice is sated.

THE VERY LATEST.

I have for sale half a ton of feathers, which would make capital bean poles, a side of tanned Rooster hide, and two Shanghae hams.

XXIX.

An Evening with the Spiritualists--Rampant Ghostology.

After the election excitement was over with, all ordinary means of amus.e.m.e.nt seemed "stale, flat, and unprofitable." I no longer took any interest in Theatres, b.a.l.l.s, or Darkey Minstrelism--and even a fire at midnight failed to rouse me from my bed, unless it was in the next block, visible from my window without getting up, and I could hear Hose 71 pitching into Engine 83 on the next corner.

A near relative of the ill.u.s.trious Damphool, who believed in the Spiritual performances, persuaded me to visit, with him and my inseparable friends, the habitation of a "Medium" who retailed communications from the other spheres at twenty-five cents an interview.

Being sated with the ordinary common-place things of every-day life, and having heard a great deal about the mysterious communications telegraphed to this, our ignorant sphere, by wise and benignant spirits of bliss, through the dignified medium of old chairs, wash-stands and card-tables, we three (who had met again) determined to put ourselves in communication with the next world, to find out, if possible, our chances of a favorable reception when business or pleasure calls us in that direction.

Up Broadway, till we came to an illuminated three-cornered transparency, (which made Bull Dogge smack his lips and say "oysters,") which informed us that within, a large a.s.sortment of spirits of every description were constantly in attendance, ready to answer inquiries, or to run on errands in the spirit world, and bring the ghosts of anybody's defunct relations or friends to that cla.s.sic spot, for conversational purposes, all for the moderate charge before mentioned.

Damphool, who had been there before, said that these "delicate Ariels"

were the spirits of departed newsboys, who are thrown out of their legitimate business, and strive to get an honest living by doing these eighteen-penny jobs.

Entered the room with _be_coming gravity, and _over_coming awe. Two old foozles in white neckcloths and no collars, a returned Californian in an Indian blanket, two peaked-nosed old maids, a good-looking widow, with a little boy, our own sacred trio, and the "medium," composed the whole of the a.s.sembled mult.i.tude.

The "medium" aforesaid, was a vinegar-complexioned woman, with a very ruby nose, mouth the exact shape of the sound-hole to a violin, who wore green spectacles, and robes of equivocal purity.

The furniture consisted of several chairs, a mirror, no carpet, a small stand, a large dining table, and in one corner of the room a bedstead, washstand, and bookcase, with writing desk on top. After some remarks by the medium, we formed the magic circle, by sitting close together, and putting our hands on the table. Bull Dogge, who, despite the Maine law, had a bottle in his pocket, took a big drink before he laid his ponderous fists by the side of the others.

After a short length of time the table began to shake its ricketty legs, to flap its leaves after the manner of wings, and to utter ominous squeaks from its crazy old joints.

Pretty soon "knock" under Damphool's hand; he trembled, and turned pale, but on the whole, stood his ground like a man. Knock, _knock_ in _my_ immediate vicinity--looked under the table, but couldn't see any body--knock, _knock_, KNOCK, KNOCK, directly under Bull Dogge's elbow.

He, frightened, jumped from his seat, and prepared to run, but, sensible to the last, he took a drink, felt better--reverently took off his hat, said "d--n it"--and resumed his seat.

Knocking became general--medium said the spirits were ready to answer questions--asked if any spirit would talk to me.

Yes.

Come along, I remarked--noisy spirit announced its advent by a series of knocks, which would have done honor to a dozen penny postmen "rolled into one."

Asked who it was--ghost of my uncle--(never had an uncle)--inquired if he was happy--tolerably.

What are you about?

Princ.i.p.al occupations are, hunting wild bees, catching cat-fish, chopping pine lumber, and making hickory whip stocks.

How's your wife?

_Sober_, just at present.

Do you have good liquor up there?

_Yes_ (very emphatically).

What is your comparative situation?

I am in the second sphere; hope soon to get promoted into the third, where they only work six hours a day, and have apple dumplings every day for dinner--good-bye--wife wants me to come and spank the baby.

One of the old foozles now wanted to talk spirit--was gratified by the remains of his maternal grandmother, who hammered out in a series of forcible raps, the gratifying intelligence, that she was very well contented, and spent the most of her time drinking green tea and singing Yankee Doodle.

Damphool now took courage, and sung out for his father to come and talk to him--(when the old gentleman was alive, he was "one of 'em")--on demand, the father came--interesting conversation--old man in trouble--lost all his money betting on a horse race, and had just p.a.w.ned his coat and a spare s.h.i.+rt to get money to set himself up in business again, as a pop-corn merchant.

(Damphool sunk down exhausted, and borrowed the brandy bottle.)

Disconsolate widow got a communication from her husband that he is a great deal happier now than formerly--don't want to come back to her--no thank you--would rather not.

Old maid inquires if husbands are plenty--to her great joy is informed that the prospect is good.

Little boy asks if when he gets into the other world he can have a long tail coat--mother tells him to shut up--small boy whimpers, and says that he always _has_ worn a short jacket, and he expects when he gets to Heaven, he'll be a bob-tail Angel.

Damphool's attention to the bottle has re-a.s.sured his spirits (he is easily affected by brandy--one gla.s.s makes him want to treat all his friends--when he has two b.u.mpers in him he owns a great deal of real estate, and gla.s.s No. 3 makes him rich enough to buy the Custom-House), and he now ventures another inquiry of his relative, who shuts him up, by telling him as soon as he gets sober enough to tell Maiden Lane from a light-house, to go home and go to bed.

Went at it myself; inquired all sorts of things from all kinds of spirits, "black spirits and white, red spirits and grey." Result as follows.

By means of thumps, knocks, raps, and spiritual kicks, I learned that Sampson and Hercules have gone into partners.h.i.+p in the millinery business. Julias Caesar is peddling apples and mola.s.ses candy. Tom Paine and Jack Sheppard keep a billiard table. Noah is running a ca.n.a.l boat.

Xerxes and Oth.e.l.lo are driving opposition stages. George III. has set up a caravan, and is waiting impatiently for Kossuth and Barnum to come and go halves. Dow, Junior, is boss of a Methodist camp meeting.--Napoleon spends most of his time playing penny "ante" with the three Graces.

Benedict Arnold has opened a Lager-bier saloon, and left a vacancy for S. A. Douglas (white man).

John Bunyan is a clown in a circus. John Calvin, Dr. Johnson, Syksey, Plutarch, Rob Roy, Davy Jones, Gen. Jackson, and Damphool's grandfather were about establis.h.i.+ng a travelling theatre; having borrowed the capital (two per cent. a month)--they open with "How to pay the Rent;"

Dr. Johnson in a fancy dance; to conclude with "The Widow's Victim," the princ.i.p.al part by Mr. Pickwick.