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Updated: June 7, 2025
Our friend Blocque is garroted, and robbed of his 'honest earnings, at one fell swoop by a footpad! The worthy citizen is waylaid; his pockets rifled; his life desolated. All the proceeds of a life of virtuous industry have disappeared.
It can not explain now, and set itself right in the eyes of the people that would reveal military secrets to the enemy, you know. I tell my friends in the departments not to mind their assailants. Washington himself was maligned, but he preserved a dignified silence. All is well, colonel! I give you my word, we are all right! I know a thing or two !" and Mr. Blocque looked mysterious.
The lamp-light shone upon his face. It was the worthy Mr. Blocque Mr. Blocque, emitting howls of anguish! Mr. Blocque, shaking his clenched hands, and maligning all created things! Mr. Blocque, devoting, with loud curses and imprecations, the assembled wisdom of the "city fathers," and the entire police force of the Confederate capital, to the infernal deities!
Our present troubles and privations will soon come to an end we shall again be surrounded by the comforts and luxuries of life and generations now unborn will bless our names, and pity our sufferings in these days that try men's souls!" Mr. Blocque ceased, and smoothing down his snowy shirt bosom, pushed the wine. At the same moment, an alabaster clock on the marble mantelpiece struck seven.
Blocque, did not turn his head; Mr. Croker, Mr. Torpedo, and Colonel Desperade, were red in the face and oblivious. After that evening I knew where some of the public money went.
"Shall it be the theatre, gentlemen?" said Mr. Blocque, with winning smiles. "We can amuse ourselves with cards for an hour, as the curtain does not rise before eight." And he pointed to a silver basket on the centre table of carved walnut, surmounted by a slab of variegated marble. I looked, and saw the crowning wonder. The silver basket contained piles of gold coin and greenbacks!
He was clad more richly than before; smiled more sweetly than ever; seemed more prosperous, better satisfied, firmer in his conviction than ever that the President and the administration had never committed a fault that the world of December, 1864, was the best of all possible worlds. "My dear colonel!" exclaimed Mr. Pangloss-Trochilus, alias Mr. Blocque, "delighted to see you, I assure you!
"So late?" said Colonel Desperade. "I have an appointment at the war office!" Mr. Blocque drew out a magnificent gold watch. "The clock is fast," he said, "keep your seats, gentlemen, unless you fancy going to the theatre. My private box is at your disposal, and carriages will be ready in a few minutes."
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