OUR PORTFOLIO.
A few days ago PUNCHINELLO had occasion to call upon that most puissant chief of the tribe Tammany, known in the Indian vernacular as "Big Six." P. had a disagreeable presentiment that his path to the throne of this man's greatness would not be strewn with flowers. He had listened to the melancholy experience of others who went before and came away not only with blighted hopes, but soiled garments and abraded shins. Nevertheless, PUNCHINELLO felt that, as it was his duty, he would not be affrighted by the formidable character of the undertaking, but go and judge of the difficulties in the way for himself. Accordingly he went. Arriving within three hundred yards of the portal which conducted to the charmed circle where "Big Six" held court, he was not astonished at the spectacle of fourteen hundred Irishmen, twenty-seven Germans, and three boys, all crowding, in no little confusion, to get a glimpse of the space behind the door. The approach of PUNCHINELLO was announced by a portly policeman with a round red nose and a black eye, who hung upon the outskirts and occasionally cursed those Irishmen who seemed to forget the proprieties of the place by making such remarks as—
"Arrah, PADDY O'NEILL, will ye jist keep aff me toes, or be gorrah I'll giv' ye a clout in the shnoot."
"An' do ye take me for a fool, BARNEY RYAN, that I'd be afther lettin' ye do the like o' that?"
"Moind yersilves there!" "Howld yer tongues!" "May the divil ate yez! but the best of yez hashn't the manners of a pig!" Amid such pleasant ebullitions of Celtic amiability, PUNCHINELLO succeeded in carving his way to the door, when it suddenly opened, and a tall, lean, cadaverous man, who looked like the ghost of some Fenian leader, bawled at the top of his voice:
"Go an out o' this, all of yiz; Mr. TWADE won't see another of yiz this blissid day."
It seemed as though the crowd had only been waiting for this signal; for they gave one wild shout, and rushed through the open portal like a pent-up stream breaking its dam.
PUNCHINELLO felt himself lifted from his feet and whirled along with the current. Resistance was useless; but being in the van, he was the first to alight upon the middle of a table covered with papers, before which sat, in a large arm-chair, his eyes wide open with astonishment, and his face red with anger, the great Chief of Tammany.
PUNCHINELLO immediately extricated himself from this ridiculous situation by rolling on to the floor, with all the grace peculiar to him. Then, instantly rising, he grasped "Big Six" by the hand, exclaiming:
"Beg ten thousand pardons, sir, but it wasn't PUNCHINELLO'S motion that he should be laid upon the table."
"No, be Jabers," ejaculated an excited member of the throng; "but it's me, MOIKE FINNEY, that wud lay ye under it!"
"Will you hold your tongue!" shouted Big Six.
"I axes yer Honor's pardon, but be the sowl of me I couldn't help it, with that 'ere spalpeen sprawlin' ferninst me there among yer Honor's papers."
"Put these wretches out," said the Chief, with great dignity, to the officers in attendance.
"Mr. TWADE! Mr. TWADE! an' I have Altherman MOONEY'S wurd for it that ye had that job in the Parek fur me as shure as whiskey's whiskey, so I have," screamed a voice, growing louder as the officers obeyed the injunction of the Chief, and forced the crowd back.
"Och, murther! but I belave it's all a loi, now. I'll see MOONEY, so I will."
Perhaps a hundred such appeals, all at the same time, and all with more or less violence, were hurled at "Big Six," who grasped the back of his chair with the supreme indifference of a man accustomed to such experiences, and calmly surveyed the retreating horde until the last man disappeared across the threshold, and the doors were once again closed.
"I shall never forget this sight, sir," said PUNCHINELLO. "It's too much for good nature."
"Good nature!" exclaimed the Big Ingin, "why, my dear PUNCHINELLO, I haven't got any of it left. If I had, these cormorants would take me by violence every day in the week. No, no; good nature, indeed! We who sit for the distribution of the public patronage want brazen faces and cast-iron hearts. That's the only way a man can get along here, and if PUNCHINELLO should ever be so miserable as to go through with what I do, let him remember what I said about brazen faces and cast-iron hearts;" and then "Big Six," locking his arm in that of PUNCHINELLO, walked out of the office by a side door.