MICK FARREL'S SERENADE. RECORDER BALDWIN was liberally patronised on Sunday and yesterday. Among the victims was Mick Farrell. Mick took it into his head to get "high" on Saturday night, and being in liquor and in love, he also took it into his head to saranade Bridget Donahoe, his soul's idol, who officiates as Ude in a gentleman's mansion in Carondelet street. Mick having taken his last toddy, tottled on to where Bridget acted as principal cook, determined to soften her obdurate heart with his syren voice, and if he did not succeed, to commit "infanticide," as he called it, by drowning himself in the Mississippi. In fact, he had made up his mind It was the night That was to make him or undo him quite !" Having arrived at the house that held all his hopes, he looked into the basement apartment, vulgarly called the kitchen. He saw a light but did not see his beloved Bridget. He at once commenced singing his song or serenade. It depicted the beauty of Bridget in the most glowing and poetical colours, and represented his own sufferings as "intolerable." Bridget's eyes were like "diamonds bright," her cheeks were like "the rose," her teeth (which, to speeak the truth, were none of the whitest) were by Mick likened unto ivory, and her neck, to which the sun and the fire had imparted a glow resembling a parboiled beefsteak, he imaginatively compared to alabaster! He spoke of his own heart bleeding, of burning with love, of suffering divers other torments, and wound up by saying of Bridget"She seems like a goddess or some young divine, That came as a torment to torture makind!" "Are you there, Bridget darlin' ?" said Mick, when he finished his 66 song, or don't ye hear me spakin' to ye? Git up there and come down here, cushlamachree, or I'll lose me sinses intirely. I've lost me appetite alriddy: I've thried sassaprilla pills, and they wont cure me. Oh, Bridget dear, if ye don't say ye love me right off, widout goin' round the bush about it, I'll sartinly go cracked and commit infanticide!" "Is that Mick?" said Bridget, putting her head out of an attic window. "Throth, thin it's me own self, acushla," said Mick; "all o' me that's in it. I'm wasted away like a withered praty stalk, thinkin' of yer purty face, sleepin' and wakin,' night, noon and mornin'!" "Mick!" said Bridget. "What's that, a colleen?" says Mick. "You're an ass, Mick!" said Bridget, very composedly. "O mille-o'-murdher! fire! robbery! I'm kilt!" roared Mick, and he commenced cutting up fantastic tricks like one actually beside himself. The simple monosyllable ass applied to him by Bridget seemed to have in a moment quenched the light of reason in him. Fortunately the watchman came up as he was in the height of his vagaries, and took him to the watchhouse. On Sunday morning, when called on by the Recorder to account for his strange conduct, he said it was "all owin' to the dhrop o' dhrink and a sort of a tindher regard" he had for Bridget Donahoe. The Recorder told him he should let him go on paying jail fees, but if he should be ever caught again annoying the quiet of the city, he would be sent down; it would matter not whether the cause was love or liquor. Mick made his best bow and departed. A MUSICAL MELEE. THE Recorder recently received a visit from a customer who looked as though he had been roughly used in more ways than one. His coat appeared to have been rudely handled, and bore strong evidence that some other hand than that of Time had been at work upon it. His eyes had variegated borders about them, and the balls themselves had evidently been operated upon for strabismus on the Kentucky system. His nose was twisted about "every which way," as the saying is, and his forehead had more bumps upon it than can be found on any phrenological chart in Christendom. In short, his whole visage looked as though some young beginner had been scratching the notes of the more difficult passages of the Battle of Prague upon it. Walking up to the Recorder with a mincing, sliding, shuffling gait, and politely removing his hat, which also bore evident marks of having been "out" with him in some recent hard skrimmage, he began withQ "Monsieur le President, sare, you see I be killed vid one d-n salt and batter, and I calls for you to hang all de d-n rascal in de vorld vera quick.” "Who are you?" said the Recorder. "I am de first fiddle, sare." "And can discourse most eloquent music, no doubt," continued the Recorder. "Oui, very much," retorted the first fiddle, with an air of ludicrous importance. "And who blacked your eyes?” “D—n, by gar, it was de rascal double bass did black my two eye." "I didn't suppose him to be so base, so low a character," Isaid the Recorder. "Solo! by gar it was one quartette, sare.— -De double bass he blacky my eye, ad de trombone did put in vat you call de big licks in my-vat you call dis?" placing his hand on his forehead. "And those hieroglyphics on your face-let us hear who else was in the row," continued the Recorder. "I will explain de whole affair, sare, in two minit. You see, dat while de big fiddle was black my two eye and de trombone was develop dese bumps, de French horn and de clarionet was playin' at my face and nose, and—” 66 Why the whole orchestra was performing away on you at the same time.” "Yes, sare, and very much out ob de tune, at dat. I feel so very much provoke dat I could tear my shirt in forty piece. D-n, dey knock me into de middle of nex week.” "Were you in liquor at the time?" said the Recorder. "Wat you call in liquor, eh?" "Were you drunk, to speak plainly ?" "Entre deux vins," said the first fiddle, with an assenting shrug of the shoulders; "I was leetle drunk, leetle how come you to be so, dat's a fac." "Well, sir," you call again when I am not so busy, and I will take your affidavit against every instrument in the orchestra that was engaged in the affray, for they evidently played upon you to some purpose. It was certainly a most inharmonious proceeding." The first fiddle bowed and left the office, threatening to blow the French horn sky high, cram the trombone down its owner's throat and kick the big fiddle into perfect fits. |