 | Life and sayings of Mrs. Partington and others
of the family |  |
PUNCH IN THE HEAD.
Old Sherry came home one night when it was so near
morning that the line dividing the night from the morning
was legitimately debatable, and having taken an extra
glass or two previous to leaving the company he had been
with, he was somewhat dull of apprehension, and the
houses seemed walking around him unaccountably, and
the streets, by some sort of undulatory motion that he
had never before noticed, seemed determined to throw
him down; but he got home safely.
So far, well; but he had lost his night-key, or it was
in the pocket of his other pants, in the wardrobe, within
ten feet of the spot where Mrs. Sherry was probably at
that time reposing; whose snore he even fancied he heard
jarring the latch of the outside door. It must be one or
the other, for he felt in his pockets for it in vain. He
did n't like to alarm the house, nor the people in it, for a
quarter of a century's experience of the quality of Mrs.
Sherry's temper led him to know that her welcome to
him, in his present plight, would be more warm than
agreeable, even if she consented to let him in at all.
It at last occurred to him that a window in the rear of
the house could be opened from the outside, and he at
once resolved to gain an entrance in this manner, then
creep up stairs to bed, and say nothing to anybody.
Accordingly, with this burglarious idea in his mind, he
went round to the back of the house. The window was
a little above his reach, but he found a barrel somewhere,
PUNCH IN THE HEAD.
[Description: 677EAF. Illustration page. Image of a man climbing in a window. Another man is standing ready to bash the intruder over the head with a stick.]
and elevated himself upon it. He tried to lift the sash,
and it slid up easily to the desired height, where he
secured it with a stick. Mr. Sherry congratulated himself
upon this triumphant achievement under difficulty.
The outposts were won — another step, and he would be
master of the citadel. Already was his foot raised to
take this last step; his head and shoulders were within
the window, when the treacherous barrel, losing its equipoise
in the exertion Mr. Sherry was making, fell over;
his luckless elbow touching the stick that sustained the
window, it fell with a crash upon Mr. Sherry's broad
shoulders, and he found himself in a trap from which he
could not escape.
Mr. Sherry's maiden sister, a romantic damsel of
thirty-five, had heard the noise, and as she awaked from
her slumber the idea of thieves flashed across her mind.
She had been dreaming of brigands and robbers, and
the noise occurred just where a heroine was forcibly carried
from her paternal home by ruffians in masks! Upon
the spur of the moment she darted into her nephew's
chamber, contiguous to hers, and told him, in a big whisper,
that robbers were breaking into the house, and
added the gratuitous and sanguinary information that
they would all be murdered in their beds!
While she went to impart this gratifying news to the
rest of the household, the young man arose, and, without
stopping to dress himself, seized a big stick and went
stealthily down stairs. He opened the door softly of the
room from which the noise proceeded, and, beholding the
supposed burglar in the window, the young Sherry gave
a cry from that suffering specimen of suspended animation
revealed to the young man who the victim was, and,
with the assistance of the rest of the family, who had
now assembled, the two hundred pounds of old Sherry
were soon housed.
Such a lecture as he received! Either the lecture, or
the debauch, or the cane, perhaps the whole combined,
gave him a severe headache the next morning, and he
was constrained to keep his bed. He summoned his son
to his bedside, and with an expression of grave authority
he asked the young man if he did n't think he was a
graceless rogue to be punchin' his parent's head in the
way he did — if he was n't really ashamed of himself!
The young Sherry made up a mouth, in which much fun
blended with considerable that was serious, and replied
that his respected sire would never have got any punch
in his head from him, had it not been for the punch he
had got in his head before he came home. The old
Sherry admitted the corn, turned over and slept on it.
| Life and sayings of Mrs. Partington and others
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