Punchinello, Volume 1, No. 18, July 30, 1870 | Page 9

emerald depths; and thus, gamboling like an Infant Triton, he passed out beyond the breakers. It was very pleasant there. Being a little tired, he found the change from the surging waves to the gentle chuck and flop of the deep water, most delightful. Languidly, to rest himself, he threw his arm over a rock just peeping above the water. But the rock gave a start and a yawn.
It was a sleeping shark!
The startled fish opened his eyes to their roundest, and backed water.
So did Mr. P.
For an instant they gazed at each other in utter surprise. Then the shark began slowly to sink. Mr. P. knew what that meant. The monster was striving to get beneath him for the fatal snap!
Mr. P. sank with him!
With admirable presence of mind he kept exactly even with the fish.
[Illustration.]
At last they reached the bottom.
Mr. P. was nearly suffocated, but he determined that he would strangle rather than rise first. The shark endeavored to crawl under him, but Mr. P. clung to the bottom.
The fish then made a feint of rising, but, in an instant, Mr. P. had him around the waist!
The affrighted shark darted to the surface, and Mr. P. inhaled at least a gallon of fresh air. Never before had oxygen tasted so good!
On the surface the struggle was renewed, but Mr. P. always kept undermost.
At last they rested from the contest, and lay panting on the surface of the water, glaring at each other.
The shark, who was a master of finesse, swam out a little way, to where the water was deeper, and then slowly sank, intending, if Mr. P. followed him again to the bottom, to stay there long enough to drown the unfortunate man. But Mr. P. knew a trick worth two of that.
_He didn't follow him at all_! He swam towards shore as fast as he could, and when the shark looked around, to see if he was coming, he was safe within the line of surf.
Need it be said that when he reached dry laud, Mr. P. became a hero with the crowds who had witnessed this heroic struggle?
That evening, as Mr. P. sat upon the portico of his hotel, there came unto him, in the moonlight, a maiden of the latest fashion.
"Sir," she softly murmured "are you the noble hero who overcame the shark?"
Mr. P. looked up at her.
Her soft eyes were dimmed with irresponsible emotion.
"I am," said he.
The maiden stood motionless. Her whole frame was agitated by a secret struggle.
At length she spoke.
"Is there a Mrs. P.?" she softly said.
Mr. P. arose. He grasped the back of his chair with trembling hand. His manly form quivered with a secret struggle.
He looked upon her!
He gazed for a moment, with glowing, passionate eyes, upon that matchless form--upon that angelic face, and then--he clasped his brows in hopeless agony. Stepping back, he gave the maiden one glance of wildest love, followed by another of bitterest despair; and sank helpless into his chair.
[Illustration.]
The maiden leaned, pale and trembling, against a pillar; but hearing the approach of intruders, she recovered herself with an effort.
"Farewell," she whispered. "I know! I know! There is a Mrs. P.!"--and she was gone.
Mr. P. arose and slipped out into the night, shaken by a secret struggle. He laid upon the sand and kicked up his heels.
_There isn't any_ Mrs. P.!
Mr. P. does not wish to sweep his hand rudely o'er the tender chords of any heart, but he wants it known that he is neither to be snapped up by sharks in the sea, or by young women at watering places.
* * * * *
A DOG'S TALE.
Dogmatic.
I am only a dog, I admit; but do you suppose dogs have no feeling? I guess if you were kicked out of every door-way you ran into, and driven away from every meat stand or grocery you happened to smell around, you would think you had feelings.
When I see some dogs riding in carriages, looking so grandly out of the windows, or others walking along proudly by the side of their owners, I have a feeling of dislike for the very thought of liberty!
I sometimes go with the crowd to a lecture-room, and listen to the speeches about freedom and liberty, the hatred of bondage, and all that sort of thing. I get my tail up, and wish I could tell them what liberty really is. There is nothing worse in the world than this running around loose, with no one to look after you, and no one for you to look after; no one to notice you when you wag your tail, and to have no occasion for so doing. You go out and you come in, and nobody cares. If you never come back, no one troubles himself about you.
Every day I hear men reading