You ought also to have a definite purpose in view. At present you have no Mission. The earnest men and women who look to you for aid and counsel, find nothing in your paper bearing upon the great questions of the day. You should make your paper the organ of some influential party. There are the friends of Pig Iron, for example. Devote the greater part of your space to the advocacy of their lofty cause, and there is not an iron manufacturer in the United States who would not borrow PUNCHINELLO from some one of his acquaintance, and read everything in it relating to the contest now going on between the fearless champions of freedom, and American pig iron, against the bloated upholders of British interests. As it is, you appear to advocate no single practical measure which concerns the welfare of this country and the perpetuity of our glorious Union. PUNCHINELLO is the favorite paper of careless young men, depraved middle-aged men, who care nothing for Progress and Humanity, and young girls who prefer dress and admiration to addressing their Earnest sisters from the platform of Reform meetings. The Rev. Mr. DODGE tells me that all the young people of his congregation read it, and he fears that they prefer it to his sermons. A paper read by this class of readers must be radically wrong. You must change its character at once.
One thing more. You must cease to publish pictures of the character of those which now appear in your paper. In their place you might substitute drawings of practical value, such as the Scientific Yankee publishes. If you do this, in addition to making the other changes which I have suggested, you will find that PUNCHINELLO will make a very different impression from that which I fear it has already made. In that case I will become a subscriber, and will send you a few sound, earnest articles of my own. I am, Yours, in behalf of Progress,
AN EARNEST MAN.
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THAT INDIAN TALK.
How, how, Great Father, how. Me Spotted Tail; me Rattling Cow; Me Red Cloud; whiskey time now? How, Great Father? How? How? Me Ogallala; me Brulé Sioux. How, Great Father, how do? Bed children come long way, ugh! Big Whiskey love. Great Father too? Poor Injun tired; peace Injun try. War-paint no good; no whiskey buy; Treaty no want; treaty all lie. Great Father's whiskey Injun no spy. No whiskey give, no have pow-wow. Poor Injun dry; dry Injun row. When whiskey time? Whiskey time now? Father no tongue? How! How! How! |