# LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.! # # I UNITED STATES OP AMEEICA. | POPULAR BOOKS BY "BniCK POMEnOY." -ca»- I. — SICNSK. 11. — NONSKNSH. III. — HATUUDAY NIOTITS. IV. — QOIjD-DUST. V. — BttlOK DUST. -••»- "ThoroTsntlHtyof poninn oxhibitoil by this nnthor has won for him IV worUl-wido ro[int;il:iou sis a fact>tii>U!> and a strong writvr. One mouunit ioi>U>tii with tho most toiiohiiit: pathos, and tho next full of fun, frolic, and sarcasm." All published unifonn with this volnino, at ^1.50, nnd sent by mall, free qf postage, on receipt of price, BY G. W. CAUIiETON «fc CO., Publishers, NoiF York* •' I went home with her. She told me all. I could no more. She was a feminine Yankee. She wanted stamps."— ^t-e mqe 24. ^^ "^^ /^- BRICK-DUST: A REMEDY FOR THE BLUES, AND A SOME- THING FOR PEOPLE TO TALK ABOUT. M. M. POMEROY, [" BRICK* POMEROY,"] AITTHOR OP "SENSE," "NONSENSE," SATURDAY NIGHTS," " GOIiD-DUST," BTO. NEW YORK: G. W. Carleton ^ Co., Publishers. LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO. M.DCCO.LXXI. CONTENTS. -C^73- CHAPTEB, PAGE I. — Out *risr the Garden BOiLma Soap . . 13 II. — The Goat— a Composition on Him . 21 III. — "Bkick" and His Penninah! . . . 23 IV.— Cat Lykics 30 V. — Riding a Velocipede . . . .33 VI. — Sailors' Dance-House .... 40 VII.— A War Tale 53 VIII. — Race on the Prairie • ... 57 IX. — Reminiscence op Roxelia . . .69 X— Ku-Klux! 77 XI.— Going to the Circus . . . .91 XII. — Among the Astrologists ... 93 XIII. — The Result op My Courtship . . 102 XIV.— The Confiding Widow .... 112 XV. — To a Bright-Eyed Maiden . . . 119 viii Contents. CHAPTER PAGE XVI.— EXPEREETTGE IN BOSTON AT THE 1*EACS Banjoree 121 XVII. — My Widow in the Park . . . .133 XVIII.— "Paris Club KooMs" .... 141 XIX.— My First Night at Sparking . . . 163 XX.— The Girls 173 XXI. — Struck by the Divine Afflatus . . 174 XXII.— As A Base Ballist 183 XXIII.— The Toiler by the Sea . . . .191 XXIV. — Kissing in Dreams ....". 199 XXV.— Lake Ross Sewing-Circle . . . 200 XXVI.— Pretty Waiter-Girl Saloons . . 211 XXVII.— To A Pretty Little Maid . . .227 XXVIII. — Puriville Benevolence , . . 229 XXIX. — ^WHAT I KNOW ABOUT FARMING . . 236 XXX— "Who's bin Here since Ish bin Gone?" 245 XXXI. — A Jersey Atonement . . ... 249 PREFACE. IHIS is the cause of it. Brick-dust is good to polish— to scour knives, and sharpen things. It is either " light " or " reddy," as the case may be. So will be this book. If you do not like it, do not read it. If you think you will not like it, do not read it. If you feel that any of your neighbors will think the less of you for reading the random, X Preface, ad-cap-tandem ideas, thoughts, surmises, sar- casms, hints, suggestions, conchisions, observa- tions, thinkings, may-bes, or may-not-bes, to be found in the following pages, |^ Shun danger, and fly, Lest brick-dust io your eye, or the eye of your neighbor, give you trouble. Some will like this book. Some will not. So of all books — all men — all women — all places — all children. There is much in the pages of this book peo- ple will not understand. Much others would not have written. Much we shall never ^\Tite again ! Just as all of us, in life, at some time, do ^hat we would do over or again. Some will not like this book because it is per- Bonal. Preface. xi Some will like it for the same reason. Those who have written better books will pity us. Those who have written worse ones, we pity ! So, between the two, our "brick" is ground to dust, and somebody will be the gainer. Any kind of a book is better than talking about your neighbors, when people talk the most about those they know the least of. For further particulars, inquire within, where will be found pictures of every-day life as they come to Yours industriously, "BEICK" POMEROY. Sanctum, IS'Zl. BRICK-DUST. CHAPTEE I. OUT IN THE GARDEN BOILING SOAP. HE good old time for boiling soap has come again. The robins tell ns so. They know all about the matter ; and when they tune up with their playful notes from tree-tops and fence-stakes, then is the time — the golden soap-boiling days — when boys or men drive the stakes and fix the kettle, set the leach-tub, and prepare the kind- ling-wood. " Good morning, Mrs. Dinkelson. I told Peter to put our soap-kettle out here near yourn, so 1-1 Out ill the Garden Boiling Soajp, 'twould be handy in case of accident. How's yer lye this morning, Mrs. Dinkelson % " " Oh, pui'ty well. I'm glad you fixed yer ket- tle over here ; it's more sociabeller - — at least, it 'pears to me so. How's yer grease \ " " My grease is fii'st-rate — better nor the lye, I 'spect. Did you ever put lime in the bottom of your leach ? I told Peter to, but he hadn't got no lime, so he just chucked in some sticks and straw and old rags and a few egg-shells, all smashed up. How much grease you got this spring % " "Well, I don't 'zactly know, Mrs. Spiker ; there is about as much as we allers has — and 1 don't know as there is, nuther." " I wish you'd jest ster mine, if I don't get back in time. I must go and tell Jane not to wipe them dishes with the new wipin' cloth ; that's for company dishes, and Jane persists in doin' it with that are cloth, just because it's new. I'm mighty 'feared Jane '11 never be like her mother ! " * Out in the Garden Boiling Soap. 15 " I'll stir it ; but hurry back." " Well, how was it ? " " Oh, she was usin' it, just as I 'spected. Now I'll stir while you fix the fire. Ain't it nice to have our kettles clus together, so one fire '11 bile both on 'era. It saves wood, and we can get around out of the smoke more easier." " I allers thought it was a great convenience, 'specially when one has got good neighbors, as we have." " So do I. Do yoii put ham-rines in your grease, Mrs. Dinkelson ? Peter 'n' I both think it don't come so quick when there's rines in it. Peter's sort of scientific, and 'lows it's the smoke or the saltpetre ; but I don't know." " I allers keeps the rines, Mrs. Spiker. There's so much good grease the other side the rines, it ' '^JQ to keep 'em. And our folks is such hogs for -ham ! Mrs. Skypey keeps everything, and she has nice soap, too." " Well, I don't care for the Skj^peys ; I knowed 10 Out in the Garden Boiling Soap. 'em when they borrered soap, and never paid it, nnther. She's mighty stuck-np now, since her husband's bought a horse and buggy. It's a good thing everybody ain't proud." " That's so, Mrs. Spiker. Now, there's Jinldns. lie ain't worth more'n iny old man, but he makes b'leve he's got more'n ten tliousand dollars. An' I can't bear his wife — nasty stuck-up thing, with a boughten petticoat ! " " That is so, Mrs. Dinlvelson. An' if there is any one thing above another that is despisin', it's a boughten petticoat. Better save the money ; she'll want it some day." " Indeed she will. But Mrs. Boggles just knocks Mrs. Jinkins ! She's the most extrava- gantest woman I ever did see. Me and Jede- diar has often noticed her doin's. Any woman that's too good to bile soap is just a nasty stuck- up thing ; and you know how it is yerseK, Mrs. Spiker. I wouldn't miss soap-bilin' for nothin'. It's so sociable to have a real good visit, with no- Out in the Garden Boiling Soap. 17 body to bother us and listen to what we say ! And, oh ! have you heard of Deldn Jonesby, and what he did to Sally Smiggles ? " " La, me ! no. The nasty man ! I allers sus- pected it of him. I never knowed any good of them Jonesbys, and I know it. What did he do ? " " Oh, dear ! it's too awful to tell. But I'll just tell you ! You see, Sally Smiggles went there to do the spring sowin', and one day Mrs. Jonesby was down-town, gaddin' about just as she allers is, when the Dekin cum hum. He let on he didn't know his wife was out ; but I know bet- ter, and so do you ! I jist 'spected what was up, BO I run in to borrer a little sal'ratus, all in a hurry, and they was both in the clothes-press! I rushed right in on 'em, but I was a little too soon ; they went to fumblin' in the rag-bag. ^ Oh ! ' said I. * Hello ! ' said he. ' I just run in for some sal'ratus,' sez I. ^ It's in the butt'ry,' said he. ' What yer doin' in here % ' sez 1. 18 Out in the Garden Boiling Soap, ' nmitin' some linin for Miss Smiggles,' said he. Huntiri) linen ! Yes, I guess it was ! An' lie looked jest as innercent — ^the deceivin' wretch ! I'm so glad I don't b'long to that church ! I'd be afraid of him — the wretch ! " " And Sally Smiggles was in there with him, was she ? I allers mistrusted it in her eye ! " " Yes, indeed she was ; and she'd her work in her hand, just on purpose to fool me ; but I've just been a girl myself, and they can't fool me. I'll tell her mother next Sunday, if I see her." "Well, the gu4 cum honestly by it. Her father used to act just so keerless with me, even for a year arter I married Peter. But I knowed him. lie used to set on his o^vn door-step every night a whittlin', and when I'd go by he'd look as sweet, and say, ' Good evenin', Mrs. Spiker ; won't you call ? ' and I used to go by every night, just to see if he'd do it ! " " Oh, goodness ! it's all runnin' over ! Stir it, quick ! " Out in the Garden Boiling Soap. 19 " It's that lime ! Skim it ! " " Oh, there goes Dr. Buzley ! " " Goin' down to see Mrs. Spriggers ag'in. It ain't all sickness, and I Imow it. A man never stays as long with a sick woman as with a well one. He don't stay lomg when he comes to see me ! And he hadn't better. I hate these doc- tors, who are always makin' examinations of good-lookin' women." " So do I ; and it's good enough for 'em ! " " Have yon and Mrs. Brown made up yet ? " "!N"o, we hain't, and I ain't goin' to. It's a pity if onr cat can't go over there nights to see their cat, without Brown's shootin' a two-barrelled gun at him ! Better keep their cat in the house ! " " That's just what I told Mrs. Kigby." " What did she say to that ? " " Oh, she acted like a fool, as usual — said 'twas a pity all the cats wa'n't killed. Just be- 20 . Out in the Garden Boiling Soap. cause she ain't got no husband, she's awful techy about these things." " Hello, it's bilin' over ag'in ! " " It's them ar rines — that's what's the mat- ter ! " " Them rines, is it ? Then all I've got to say is jest this — ^Dern the hogs ! " " ' Dern the hogs ! ' is it ? — 'ludin' to me, I 'spose ! Then you can jest bile yer own soap; and h'ist yer kittle out'n here to oust I " CHAPTER II. THE GOAT. A COMPOSITION ON HIM. GOAT is stronger than a pig, and gives milk. He looks at you. So does the doctor ; but a goat has four legs. My goat butted Deacon Tillinghast in a bad place, and a little calf wouldn't do so. A boy without a father is an orphan, and if he hain't got no mother he is two oi-phans. The goat don't give so much millc as a cow, but more than an ox. I saw an ox at a fair one day, and we went in on a family ticket. Mother picks geese in the summer, and the goat eats grass and jumps on a box. Some folks don't like goats, but as for me, give me a mule with a 22 The Goat. A Comj^osition on Him. paint-brusli tail. The goat is a useful animal, but don't smell as sweet as nice bear's-oil for the hair. If I had too much hair, I would wear a wig, as old Captain Peters does. I will sell my goat for three dollars, and go to the circus to see the elephant, which is larger than five goats. Thomas Shine» CHAPTER JII. " BEICK " AKD HIS PENINNAH ! H^^HE couldn't help it ! Nor could I ! It rained all day, all night, all the next day, and all the day be- fore — three days ! I was walking from planta- tion to town, near Macon, District of Loyalty. I think it rained, as usual. I saw her gliding from cabin to cabin, from negro house to abode of negro, like a baby duck, much on the waddle. She carried a little cadias in her one hand, and in her other she held high toward the cerulean her skirts, and all sich. She was tall — loveli- ness on stilts ! I saw her fi^om the afterwards — 24 ''jBriGh'^'* and his Peniiinah! she had black stockings, wide, blue garters, and moved like a doctor on a visit to his first patient. I hasteaed to overtake her. I slid my um- brella over her head. I asked her to excuse me, which she did, and we hitched crooks at once. I was in my element and mud. The woman was white. She was a blushing daughter of New England. She was a gay damsel of many sea- sons. She was a polisher of Hams. She knew much about Hams. She was a sylph-like edu- cator of niggeroons. She taught education to the ivoryites. She had left the white regions and friends of New England, to come South and tickle the Hams — the little Hams by day and the big Hams by night, as she continued her teaching by light-wood fires in dark wood- cabins. I went home with her. She told me all. I could no more. She was a feminine Yankee. She wanted stamps. Home was nothing ; she was on the make. She had not character suffix ^^Brich''^ aiid his Peninnah! 25 cient to teach school in N^ew England. She was not handsome enough to go to l^ew Orleans by sea, and ride to happiness on an Evening Star, so she became a negro schoolist. As a beauty, she was not above par, nor much else. As a scholarist, she was not brilliant. Smoked glass was not needed. As a lover of Hams, she was not severe ; but when it came to stamps, she wore her prettys all the time. She told me that her father's name was Stone. Her name was Penin- nah — Peninnah Stone. It was a Bible name ; it meant precious Stone. Being from home, I was not accountable, so I made love to her, and went with her to school. She moved among the Hams lilvo a silver tliimble in a dripping-pan full of breeches-buttons. She wasn't much of a catch, but better than no catch. She was one of the stout-minded. Her early years were spent in chewing gum, weeding onions, pounding stone, and such little amuse- ments, incidental to ISTew England, coupled with 3 26 ^^Brick^^ and his Peninnah! psalm-singing and praying for damnation to rest npon all who were sinners. Peninnah was a sprightly sylph. She could harness an ox, split rails, stick a hog, and do all manner of snch music. "We loved. It was a matter of profit. Being a New Englander, she had no heart. Simply a Stone. Harder than a Brick. We wall^ed about among the cabins of her lambs. She was chief engineer of a nigger-teaching shop, and boss of a mammoth carpet-bag. We meandered under the black-jacks and honeysuckles. First she'd sling her arms about my neck and kiss me, then she'd kiss the little lambs — dear little Hams ! Said I : "Peninnah, sweet one, why kissest thou the little he-thopians ? " Then she bent her eyes into me, and said : " The more we kiss 'em, the more hair-oil, brass rings, photographs, and playthings we sell 'em ! " Ah, I see, (^harming Peninnah ! Kiss 'em — kiss 'em all around, from cabin to cabin, from ^^BAgTc''^ and his Peninnah ! 27 Ham to Ham, from infancy te old age, and sell 'em gewgaws — for of such is the kingdom of ISTew England, and he-thopians are the profit. And we sat on a mossy banl?:, watching the lit- tle Hams basking in the snn as they wallowed in the warmth, and thus braided our love together. Said my sweet Peninnah : "Oh, Brick, it's nice! Let us wed and be happy. I'll support you. I'm a Yankee school- ist, not handsome enough to be ornamental, or I'd gone farther South. But I'm several on the make. I'll make mutton of these lambs, in time. There is no need of us at home, so I came here to make money. I kiss the little Hams ; I pets 'em and I caress 'em ; I tell 'em that the good Abrum was their saviour ; that he sent me here on pm^ose ; that I love 'em so dearly ; that they are — oh ! so sweet to me, and that, in a few years, each of 'em, male and female, shall be in Congress from Massachusetts. And I pats their little heads, and I kiss their little lips, and I sell 28 ^'Brich'*'^ aiid his Peninnah! 'em primers and readers at ^yq hmidred per cent, profit, and I sell 'em ' pm-ty things,' and I fines 'em for not learning their lessons, and I sells each of 'em my photograph for a dollar, and I sells each of 'em hlue clay greased for half a dollar a box, and I manage to hoax the little Hams out of all their stamps, and to make teachin' a big business. Ain't I a nice girl, dear, dear, gentle Brick ? " And she kissed me again and again, till I had a link of wool left on my lips, when with a smile she pillowed my agile head on her spiral indi- cators, and went on : " Oh, it's nice to be a he-thopian schoolist ! We are from home. "We are on the make. There are some teachers here who are good, but not sharp. They don't speculate, as we do ; they simply teach for their salaries. But they are not full Yanlvces — only half-breeds. I can make enough here in a year, off and on, to buy a plan- tation ; then we'll set up for nabobs ! Let us ^'Brich " and his Peninnah I 29 wed ! I'll tea'cli 'em ; you soap 'em. "We'll wed. Tou go North as a Sonthem loyalist; I'll go IN'orth as an injured female. We'll do the dar- keys, then do the soft ones in the North. This is a big, business. I'm from ISTew England — on the make. Let's unite, and be happy 1 " I'm to wed Peninnah. She is a most desirable darling. So sweet, so kind, so financial in her affections, such a devoted Christian, that I know we shall be happy. And we'll be rich. While I whine injured loyalty up North, Peninnah will skin the Uams here. We'll soon be bond-holders, exempt from taxation, and regular New England aristocrats. Bring me a little nigger — sweet lit- tle Ham ; let us kiss him once for Peninnah ! CIIAPTEE lY. CAT LYEICS. ONFOUND the yowling cats ! Why don't they hunt for rats ? Or keep as still as bats Or moles, out on the flats ? At dead of night They yowl and fight — Till one would think they were a match For the father of cats — the old scratch They steal all our cream ! They burst on our dream, As with spitter and sputter With yowl and with mutter — As out by the gate One stops with his mate To give us the devil — a cat serenade ! To waken us up when in bed we are laid. Cat Lyrics, 31 What are they fit for, the noisy things ? How we wish they were drown-ded Or into jell pounded — Or all of them turned into new fiddle-strings ! For the mice and the rats, And some neighbor's brats And the bricks in our hats And the child scaring bats Are not half the bother of night-yowling cats ! As with sca-t-t-tr-r and y-e-ow ! They cause us to vow If we get out of bed Each cat will be dead That has mounted the shed And forced us to swear At all the cats there 1 But when the lamp it is lit and we start with a gun We can't catch the devils, no matter if we run ! You may sing little ditties To cats and their kitties — May possibly be able with cats to agree : But we prefer rats To the best of your cats, Be it a pet cat — a he or a she. Their holes you can fill The rats you can kill — Bury all in a heap Then quietly sleep, ^<^. Cat Lyi'ios, But the devil^s companions in nmnerons numbers Have so often and oft woke us from oui slumbers, That we prefer brats, Muskeeters or rats, To your treacherous, yowling-, sputtering cats, That ought to be plunged in hot-water vats I 1 ^^^ SP^^g @^^ ^ 1 ^^^ iJSMfVft, ^^^ 1^^^ 9nHnv"?w ^ ^ MF^j^i^Kg nijpit^^BIH ^nn i 1^^^ i^^ ^ CIIAPTEE Y. EIDINO A VELOCIPEDE. IF course we have been on it. Show us any infernal machine constructed through the ingenuity of man for the breaking of bones, ripping open of cuticle, damage of eyes, warping of backbones, perpetrating of contusions on head, or anything of that sort, that we have not been on or dare not try. Velocipede is a good thing, if you don't have too much of it ; and you can't have too much of it unless you get more than you want. Everybody rides velocipedes nowadays. The ladies ride them. The men ride them. The boys ride them. Men ride them for fun and ride 3* 34 Riding a Yelom{pede. them in earnest. And the confoundedest, stand- iip-f all-down-ingest thing a man, woman, or child ever saw, is a velocipede. They are erected on two wheels ; one wheel being immediately in front of the other wheel, and the other wheel being immediately behind t'other wheel. This makes it more binding on the part of the operator. There are no axle-trees, no yard-arms, bolster, lobster, or other parapher- nalia pertaining to ox-carts, wagons, bob-sleds, railroad cars, steamboats, balloons, or any other inventions for locomotion yet discovered. There is a little thing runs through one wheel on which it revolves. It comes straight up like the na- tional tax, then slants back four perches, five links, and six degrees ; then jabs downward to the little thing in the huid wheel, and thus ends the first chapter, and likewise the next. At the front end, when it is not going backward, there is a contrivance resembling an auger, by which the ambitious goest turns, returns, upturns, over- Riding a Velocipede. 35 turns, and turns out of the way. Because of the auger in front, no one should consider the veloci- pede a perfect bore. Instead, it is a perfect goer ; for many a man, in learning to go on it, has start- ed his gore in more places than lightning ever struck a one-eyed pilot. The concern has a spine, or backbone, which is used as a roof for the two wheels. The wheels are three-quarters of an inch wide. The backbone, or roof, is an inch and a quarter wide. On this backbone is affixed a cast- iron pad resembling in shape the fi'ontispiece of some Dutch target company's parade-cap, except that the points of the pad are so arranged as to hurt you while mounted on this aforesaid inven- tion of agony. As a horsebackist, we have been called a success. Once we rode a mule. On another occasion we rode a brindle cow home from the fair — not to add to our comfort, but to pay the aforesaid bovine for i^ot drawing the premium. On another occasion we undertook to ride a speckled steer, but for some reason or o6 Hiding a Velocipede, other his finis department had a sudden inclina- tion to elevate itself into the air, and we dis- mounted over his head, simply because the mane of the beast did not amount to much for hanging- on purposes. On another occasion we rode a saw-mill saw for half an hour, but we never tried it again. But we did try the velocipede. We got astride of it and started. Immediately after, a gentle- man was discovered lying on the ground, to the merriment of lookers-on. Once more we mounted the breach, if by these words a cast-iron pad may be called, and midertook to propel the invention. Just then a gentleman struck his head with ex- treme violence against the curb-stone. More merriment. Another attempt, and just then a gentleman was discovered sprawling upon the ground, with his left ear full of mud. More merriment, but not on the part of the \dctim. Again we got well imder way, by the aid of two men to push and a small boy to steer, while we *• If there's some fellow you have a spite against, coax him to try a velo- cipede." — See page 39. Riding a Yelocijpede. 37 were getting used to the contrivance ; but at such an hour as we knew not, our assistants departed from us. "We made two hmges ahead, and, while endeavoring to turn out for a young lady, cramped the wrong way, collided, took her on the inven- tion in front of us, and we both went off together, to the damage of a $10 hat and a $23 Grecian bend. The glory of that hat and that bend de- parted with much quickness, never more to return. As for the lady, we pray the Lord to pardon her for the feelings she entertains toward us, for really we could not help it ! Well, we tried it again. Undertook to cross the street, and accidentally ran plumb against the hind end of a charcoal wagon. We got off, while the industrious velocipede took a scoot to the left, landing in the gutter. Such a nice place to put your feet ! Good deal like sitting on a grind- stone, turning it with your toes. Aside from the delightful sensation experienced, it strains the muscle, and is more wearing upon garments. 38 Hiding a Veloci/pede. Hiding a two-story Indiana hog just turned loose to fat on beacli-nuts, would be sweet cream in comparison with this invention. Sliding down- hill on a hand-saw tooth-side up, would be two degrees more comfortable than experimenting on one of these contrivances ; but then, it is fashion- able ! If any of our readers have a suit of clothes they wish to spoil, seven or eight pair of legs they would lame for seven weeks, a high-&iishcd and moral back they don't care for, fifteen or sixteen yards of court-plaster, a dozen or more new hats, several pairs of boots, and the Lord only knows how many coat-tails to spoil, let them buy a ve- locipede, and commence practice at once. To purchase one of the confounded things recpiires but a small fortune — say twice as much as is necessary to purchase a hand-cart, which is by far the most comfortable to ride on ; Avhile a few dollars extra would last about four horn's for in- surance against accidents. Go and try it. Buy one. But first, employ a physician by the month. Biding a Velocipede. 39 to doctor you for all bruises, contusions, sprains, rheumatism, compound vulgar and improper fractions, and every ailment under the sun, when you may be happy yet. We have tried it. The next day the velocipede went off as smoothly as usual, but as to its rider, that's altogether another matter. We have not been able to walk up and down stairs without the aid of a cane for a week — have hardly spoken a good-natured word for a fortnight. Our best pants are at the tailor's ; and not less than ninety-three bottles of liniment stand grinning at us from every room we occupy during the day. If there is some fellow you have a spite against, coax him to try a veloci- pede ; when, in all probabilities, he will bring an action against you for ^vilful mtent to mm-der, or, at least, assault and battery — and make his action stick. CHAPTER YI. SATLOES' DANCE-HOUSE. IF a man has the bhies and is dissatis- fied with life, let him come with ns to-night and to-morrow night, then let him go with ns the next day afternoon on a visit to the poor of !N'ew York. Out on God's green fields, surrounded with the fi'ee air and growing vegetation, beneath the crimson sunsets of the West, we know not what it is to half Iwe^ or how our fellows do. And 'tis well we do not from experience. Down on Water street, in the great city of New York, and on other streets also, are to be found sailors' boarding-houses, sailors' homes, Sailors^ Dance-House. 41 sailors' clothing-stores, and sailors' dancing-rooms. The latter we have visited, and there learned a lesson. At twelve o'clock we passed along the street, east from the Battery. Over the open door of a two-story wooden building hung a glass gas-lamp, on which was painted an anchor and two danc- ing-girls. Passing in at the door, we were in a small bar-room, the floor neatly sanded, a few lithographs on the walls, a few chairs standing around, a round table on which was a backgam- mon-board and some well-fumbled newspapers; some tissue-paper cut in fancy shapes and pat- terns ornamented the ceiling ; a screen, or sta- tionary blind, stood in one corner of the room ; a bar well filled with nicely-polished, partly-filled glass decanters, presided over by a hawk-eyed man, and, with the exception of two strangers sipping a claret punch, the room is inventoried. Bowing to the bar-tender, who winks in return, we pass behind the screen, open a still-shutting 42 Sailors^ Dance-Ilouse, door, and the bright gas-light shows the way down a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, inside the door, sits a man who takes from you two shillings, and in return gives back a dirty card. At the foot of the stairs you find another man, who takes the card and admits you into a room, in which, if you choose, you may safely leave your hat or coat, receiving therefor a check till you see fit to return. Then through a side- door, down a second flight of stairs, and into a well-lighted but not well-ventilated room about fifty feet by seventy. This is the place ; let us look around a wee bit. At the right is a bar extending clear across the room. In front is a narrow but high stage, on which are ^^q musicians. Hard seats are ranged around all sides of the room, on which are sit- ting men, principally sailors, eager for fun, and women who could gain admittance here without exhibiting a marriage certificate. There are one or two black women and a few black men, but Sailors' Dance-House, 43 they do not seem to confine their attention to those of their own color. Fashion had little to do with dress here — tawdry finery, draggled silk dresses full short above, gay tinselled head-dresses, cheap jewelry, and paint. "Wrecks of humanity I Forms once loved, oh, how well ! Hopes once so bright, now turned to ashes. God pity theml Here they can drown their sorrow, and nightly reach an- other mile-stone on the road to hell. In they came till the room was full, and soon the danc- ing began. No one waited for an introduction, but each one sailed in on his own hook, dancing and drinking, joking and laughing. The room was close and hot. Two stories under ground, it could not well be otherwise, when a hundred half-intoxicated men and women, both black and white, were singing and dancing and sweating down there like crazy devils. The plain but heavy oak bar across the far end of the room was covered with slops and 44: Sailors^ Dance-House. thick, heavy glasses, which would serve as sliing- shots for a week without being broken or cracked. By one o'clock the fun was lively. The space in front of the bar was crowded, and a constant stream of " blue rum " went sizzling down the throats of the sailors and their partners. The six bar-tenders, with short hair, round heads, thick, short lips, red shirts, and arms bared, sweat like a man cradling, as they flew around fiom bottle to bottle, making change for this party, swearing at that one, and ordering back those If who had just drank. The music struck up for a waltz. A tall, cor- pulent sailor, who would weigh at least two hun- dred and thirty pounds, with a half-dnmlven woman nearly his equal in size, jumped for the lead, and away they, went — around and around ! In twenty seconds fifty couple were whirling and twirling, till it seemed to us as if the room was a large chiurn, and the inmates were so many sticks rattling and jolting together as it went flying Sailors^ Dance-House, 45 around. Hot! A hay-field was nothing to it. Away they went circling around, black and white ; here a big black fellow hugging a once beautiful white girl in close embrace ; there a red-nosed American, two-thirds drunk, with the head of a black, greasy-looking wench lovingly reclining on his shoulder, his coarse, meaty hand half -imbedded in the thick fat of her sides ; yon- der a short-legged German and a slim-waisted girl whirling like a top, till it made one dizzy to look at them. In five minutes all were tired out, and had marched to the bar, except the big couple and the American with the fat wench. Around the large room they went, keeping step to the music. Others turned to watch them, when one fellow with a sailor-jacket on sang out : " Heave ahead, old merchantman ! " And he did "heave ahead," the little chap close behind. " I'll go the grog on the slaver I " sang out a 46 Sailors' Dance-House. jolly-looking chap who was fanning himself with his tarpaulin. " Ole V'ginny neber tiah ! " lisped the wench, as she passed the corner where our party stood, her black, greasy face looking with Ethiopian fondness into the face of her partner, and her mnsk-nlar bosom heaving and tossing like a bum- boat at anchor in a storm 1 " C-o-rn-e i-n ! " sang out old corpulence, as he whirled past, panting for breath. The crowd was excited, and even forgot to drink, so anxious were they to see who would tire out first ; and their remarks were in earnest, if not fashionably expressed : " Heave up, my hearty ! " " Go in, little 'uns — a black sky and a white ! " " Two to one on the whales ! " " That's a go for the grog ! " " Rijp ! my sweet Creole ! If you beats ^ Top- light Bill,' I wants a piece of you ! " Sailors^ Dance-Hoiise. 47 On they went, panting, sweating, and waltzing, with " Toplight Bill " and the " Creole " ahead. The big couple were good dancers, but in a strife of this kind the lighter couple had the ad- vantage, and in ten minutes from the time the trial began, " Toplight Bill " and his sunburnt partner had the floor ! Twice around the room they went, after the other couple had given out, then marched to the bar, blowing and puffing like a horse with the heaves. Drinking over for a few moments, and while the crowd were waiting for the music to wet up. " Give us a song, Shorty ! " sang out a very free-and-easy sailor, who evidently did not care whether school kept or not. " A song — a song — a song — ^yes, a song — a jolly good 'un ! " sang out a score of voices, when a fancy-looking little fellow, about five feet no inches, in sailor-dress, stepped out on the floor, and in a fine alto voice began : ♦ 48 * Sailors' Dance-House, Jack's alive and merry, boys, When he's got the rhiners ; Heh ! for rattle fun and noise, Hang all grumbling whiners. Then drinlc, and call for what you please, Until you've had your whack, boys ; We think no more of raging seas, Now we have come back, boys. CiioKUS, in which about twenty voices joined, keeping time by slapping their hands on their legs: Rip, Skip ! spoodledy whang, Skip galore, scatter a wee ; Rip Skip ! jig it again Grog galore and off to sea ! " Bravo ! bravo ! " "Don't stop, little one," as the singer was about to step back. Jack's alive, and full of fun ; At sea or shore he's jolly, With a helping hand for every one And a sailor's heart for Polly. Then drink, and call for what you please. Until you've had your whack, boys ; We think no more of raging seas For Polly has brought us back, boys I Cnoiius, &c. Sailors^ DaThce-House. 49 " Partners for a hornpipe ! " rang out a square- shouldered, muscular man, the " boss " of the concern. He was dressed in style, with check pants, squai-e-toed boots for picking, red under and white ever shirt, both unbuttoned at the col- lar, sleeves rolled up, and hat removed from a close-cropped head. He was about five feet eight inches high, square frame, looking like a tough nut to crack, as he was. His eye was all over the room, and we noticed that, whenever he went up to a noisy fellow and told him kindly to " go slow," the noisy individual thought it good ad- vice, and gave heed. We never saw the sailors' hornpipe danced till we saw it here, and the exhibition of agility was worth a day's journey. One might as well try to keep track of a flea by moonlight, as to try to tell whose bodies the hundred legs on the floor be- longed to. This dance over, another rush to the bar, another hoisting in of bottled death, and an- 3 50 Sailors^ Dance-House, other song by a black-whiskered boatswain's mate : Steer clear from the musty old lubbers Who tell us to fast and to think, And patient fall in with life's rubbers With nothing but water to dnnk /" Chorus, as before, but sung in a slow strain : But water ? Cold water ! Fresh water ! Weak water ! Thin water ! With nothing — but water — to drink ! " Come on, my hearties ! let's splice the main again ; then for the Barbadoes jig ! " While the crowd was surging up toward the bar, we stood and carefully scanned the motley assemblage. Most of them were from twenty- one to middle age, although among the men were a few old salts whose hair was turning gray. Most of them were sailors, intent on fun and spending their hard-earned money; and, what Sailors^ Dance-House. 61 between poor whiskey and other pleasures, they were in a fair way to soon be ready for another cruise. With a few exceptions, there was noth- ing ngly about the countenances of the motley crowd assembled there. Good nature, careless- ness, love of fun, and a sort of jolly indepen- dence, were the chief traits discernible. They — the sailors — ^had long been absent from shore- scenes and pleasures, and were evidently bound to have a good time ; and their partners, who fre- quent such places, and literally " freeze " to the poor tar soon as he returns fi'om a cruise, till his money be spent, were as attentive and loving as a poor sailor could wish. Here, in this and kindred saloons, night after night, commencing about midnight, does the fun — song and dance — have full sway. Here is the sailor robbed, and, with empty purse and dis- ease renewed, soon fitted for another voyage ! When the song is loudest, the passer-by on the street would not dream that under his feet was so 52 Sailors' Dance-House, much noise, or that, in through that nicel3^-sancl- ed bar-room, behind that green shade, was a door leading down two flights of stairs — so far down that the horn of Gabriel would fail to arouse passers-by ; yet such is the case. The keepers of these places make money, and not a few of them are owned by up-town mer- chants, who employ a trusty man as overseer. The small admittance-fee of twenty-five cents more than pays the music and rent; while the profits from the sale of doctored liquors and vile cigars cannot be short of a hundred dollars a night. CHAPTER VII A War Tale. CHAPTER THE ONE. T was night — the hub of it ! CHAPTER THE SECOND. "And now, daughter, go to your retiracy ! Muchly as I love you, and zephyr-like as your frail body is to me, I tell you, nymph, thou shalt never marry Theophilus. He is poor. You are rich. The noble house of Squiggers shall never be dishonored by menial blood." 54 A War Talc, CnAPTER TWO-AND-ONE. " Tlieopliilns Iloneybalm, go licnce ! How dare you, a hired man in the employ of your Me- hitable's father, look upon my child to woo ? Begone I You have no position. My nymph- like child shall never wed and bear children to any man who is not noble." CHAPTER THE AND-SO-FOUKTH. " Come to the window, child ! " It was June. " Why art so cast down, wasted beauty % " She had gro^vn thin of meat. " I will find for thee a mate, sweet bird of song I " Mehitable sang a little while washing dishes. " Wliat ho, without I " Somebody was knock- ing on the door. CHAPTER FIVE. " Il-a-a-a-a-a-lt I " spake in gentle tones the in- truder. It was General Theophilus lloneybahn ! A War Tale, 55 "Tis h-e-e-e-e-e-e I " That's what Mehitablo gave utterance to. " Yes, 'tis he I I come ! Stand back, old man ! To the rear ! Ten paces backward MARCH ! " Old Squiggers retrograded, 'cause Theopliilus had a whang-striker in both hands, red with — rust. " N"ow, old man " — so said the Greneral — " I come to claim my bride ; I am a B. G. — a Brig.-Gen. Three long months have flewded. I am now a great man. Seest thou this pile of gold ? I have a million ! I have houses and lands. I have position. I have honor. I wrote a puff for my General ! I was given a nigger regiment. For fifty dollars' worth of mules I bribed the telegraph to record my daring deeds. I came out for the brunette part of this Govern- ment ! The President rewarded me. I am a General of Ethiopianos ! " Then whispered the sire : 50 A War Tale, " Gonenil, aro you honest ? " " Ai-o I honest ? Do the world exist \ T aro. It do ! Else I were not a General." " Then take her. I am satistied. The coun- try is saio. Vi\ child, bo happy 1 " And he took her. This ends a histoiy of lovo and loyalty. CHAPTEE YIII. EACE ON THE PKAIEIE. ILEYEN o'clock ! Sharp to the second struck the belL " All aboard ! " shouted the con- ductor, as we reached up for the iron hand-help and sprang to the floor of Engine No. 199, just starting from Chicago eastward for New York. A more beautiful, life-giving morning we never knew. Saturday morning in that great city of the West — that eighth wonder of the world ! An appointment made by telegraph, to be at our office at sharp seven o'clock Sunday evening. We were in a hurry — like a pendu- 58 liace on the Prairie, lum vibrating between impoi*tant intei*ests, mark- ing time and events for otliers. So we asked for the quickest i-oute ; and a good friend gave proof tliat his route over the Alleghany Mountains was the quickest, easiest, and the best. And so wo hastened to the depot, quickly as whirling car- riage-wheels and fast horses could take us, just in time for the bell — and the "All aboard r' Ever by choice at the front — out of the dust and into the danger ; for, in case of a collision, it would be glorious to rush into eternity and tell them : " The rest of the mangled delegation will bo here in a minute I " Hiding on the engine ! How clear and bright I Everything in perfect order. The polished steel, ii-on, and brass mirrored faces, forms, and scenery. The sharp-eyed, cool- brained, steady-nerved, temperate engineer, knows his busmess, fi-om the lightest puff of steam to Race on the Prairie. 59 the handling of that mighty mass of machinery, as a mother would the babe dandled on her knees. The fireman rang the engine-bell, and fed the glowing mouth of the tamed fiend we were on. Out from Chicago — slowly, steadily out from the cross-streets, store-houses, homes of workers, crossing lines of raiboads, huge granaries and mammoth elevators, where wheat is lifted and stored for market. - Out from the wide-spreading, wonderful city — past little houses and big ones — past the grimy- looking men with little signal-flags at road-cross- ings — past the halted processions of drays, carts, wagons, milk pogies, carriages, and business life ; out into the broad, beautiful prairie country, where God's mighty thunder has rolled all in- equalities of elevation to a level ! Out from the city at last. Out from municipal regulation as to speed of train. At liberty now to begin our journey as the storm-clouds travel. 60 Hace on the Prairie. The fireman lets loose from the bell-rope, swings open the furnace-door, and with wood tickles the palate of the devil's baby we are rid- ing on, till it inner-whistles, chuckles with de- light, throws out its mesmerism, of power, trem- bles with created emotion, and seems ready to leave the smooth, silver-topped steel rails, and fly through the air. But the little man with eye like that of an eagle — with skull-cap drawn tight over his head — ^with look close upon and far-reaching the rails before him — with mind intent only on his duties and responsibilities, rests his hand on that little steel pulse-bar ; the powerful pet he so masters by a touch loses its nervousness, as does a woman when the strong arm of a fearless man is thrown between her and danger. Faster — i2i'&iQv— faster— faster ! Out and away! Twenty, twenty-five, thirty miles an hour. Only playing with distance as yet! We are only picking up the mile-posts Hace on the Prairie. 61 slowly now, looking at them and throwing them down 1 Ha^ ha ! A rival on the road I Once more at your old tricks I Right ahead of us, as the arrow flies to its rest, rmis om* line of track, miles away. And to our left, not more than a pistol-shot distant, is another track, and, like the one we are on, straight ahead for miles, till, following the mark- ing of the builders, the road bears away to the left and the northward. And on that track, out from Chicago, comes a light, rakish-looking train— the lightning-ex- press ; four long, light passenger-cars. But there is grace of motion for you 1 The cloud of black smoke miscegenating with the white steam lifts itself up into air for the rushing train to pass under. The red driving-wheels of the beautiful engine reach into the distance with their connecting-bar arm, short, quick, snappish, and the train rushes by. The engineer over 62 Hace on the Prairie, there nods at us fi-om his cab-window ; the fire- man loolvs at us with frvratino: thumb to his nose ; the brakemen on that living train shake hands at us, as if to say, " Gooil-bve ; if you are in a hiu-- ry, send along with us ; " the passengei*s at the windows wave their handkei*chiefs, and motion for us to " come on ! " Keallv, that is vei*v nice — when we are in haste, and those on that train are travelling East, as we are ! And, in less time than we have con- sumed in wi'itmg the two preceding paragraphs, the rival ti*ain is half a mile ahead of us, flying like a devil-kite over the flat-land. Smile? Xot a bit. We looked at the engi- neer, who seemed to know his business ! He looked at us once ; there was a noil — it was enough. Then he looked at om- young fi-iend, master of transportation, with us on the engine. Another answering nod. Business, now ! The fii-eman jerked open the fiu-nace-door, and into the livid throat of om- jRaoe on the Prairie. 63 devil-pet went the wooden lunch, to be fire-gra- vied and devoured. The engineer pulled that BkuU-cap a little closer over his eyes, and opened the window before him ; then his left foot reached down to the brace, as if to say some- thing to the network of mechanism ! Then he leaned forward just a little, like a jockey win- ning the Derby, took bold of the lever, and pulled so slowly and firmly that it seemed as if he was in love with his engine. Thank you I A little more steam — and the engine whistled its thanks and laughed in a tremor of delight ! Another slow pull on that lever-bar, a steady hand held there, and see how beautifully our prairie-chaser settles to the work ! Faster ! Faster ! ^ Faster ! Thirty-five miles an hour! — forty miles an hour! — forty-five miles an hour! — fifty miles an hour ! And still faster I We are after that 64: Ea-post8 fairly dtuice, to "bo thivwu, as it wore, without a notice, a niik> to our rear ! The en- gine lias no time to trenibk^ now ; there is work being done I It seems as if we were fairly llat- teuiuir to the traok — huiTiriuir the earth — rush- ing like a storm-courier into eternity ! The engi- neer looks not fivm the rail ; his hand eomos not fix)m the bar — and still faster we rush on, as never before. Did you ever see a juggler swallow a sword ? So are we swallowing the line of open space be- tween the trains ! Like two scared devils aro these two engines working their best. That ono over there is a beautv ; but this ono is " old busi- ness 1 '' Wo come up to the rear end of the train ; the bmkeman on the rear platform, as wc are opposite him with the engine, tm-ns away in disgust. Xow for it, red-hot ! Just a little moi*o etemn, and we shoot bv like a dart, as if it waa liacc on tlhc Pra/i/rie. f>5 80 coxy ! The pasBCiigers on that train wavr3 no more handkcrchiefo ; there is a lon^ wliite flash of them from the windowB of our r^arn, as wo Irxjk }>ack. We quietly motion to the eng-ineer over there t/j try it again, lie Bhakes liis head, and thinks — as did the Dutchman's hoy ! Here we are — they are there ! And then, as speed was Blackened, our engineer says, with a smile : " Oood mornvruj ! " And the two trains went on their way as if nothing had happened — as there had not — only a race — a going a little faster than usual rate of speed, out of compliment to a perfect track and the perfection of machinery. " A good engine I '' " You are right — the best in the world." " Where was she made ? " " At our shops." " A model piece of work." r>() Jiiic<) on the Prairie. " Yes, sir ; our boys know their business." And the eu^-iueer looked so k^vin^-ly and ap- pi\">vini::ly on the beauty on whleh we nxle — the strength, the polish, the perfect ion ol* ingvnuity. The lineman opened the d(.xn- so we eould hear the little devils in the hot thivat and livid fur- nace laugh iviid ehueklo over the work so well done under the guiding hand of a brave man, who could tiiino the elements to aimihilate space. ■}«• 4f * -K- •}{•-:<• And we kx>ked at the country ^at the beauti- ful engine — at the long stretch of railivad — at the irork men had done for such great pur}K>se. Then wo sat on the cushioned seat so kindly given up to us by the firenuin, who soon will bo an engineer, and thought of the earnest workei-s of the land — «.>f the braw-anued uieehanics, whose muscle we almost envy — of their clink- clank on anvils — of their work over hot tires — of their dailv, dailv, dailv work — oi their wives and their little ones — of theii' sweethearts and Race on the Prairie* 67 their hopes for the future — of the earnest life they are living — oi the work they are doing for the benefit of our country. And we thought of the men on farms, the women in farm-houses, the children who wish for better homes, better education, better clothing, and how proud we were to know that these work- ing-men, working-women, and working-children were, and are, entitled to the honor of making our country great. Then, we thought, as the' train flew on, as the engineer managed the beautiful machinery made by other workingmen, as the fireman threw in the wood cut by other workingmen, as we rode over the roads laid' by still other workingmen, as we dashed by the homes of yet other working- men, as we hastened on to help our workingmen^ how glorious it is to live and be of some use in this world, which is one of the little machine- shops of the universe. And we said, while thinking of what the saw- 68 Race on the Prairie. ers of wood, the drawers of water, the miners of metals, the pounders of iron, the cookers of food, the workers everywhere are doing to help them- selves, and help each other : God love the worJcers of America, and dcAnn the Power that will not jprotect them ! dm- CHAPTEK IX. REMINISCENCE OF KOXELIA. OU never saw Eoxelia Powlowker, the crimson-haired daughter of Gen- eral Washington Powlowker, of Bos- ton, did you? If not, Pll tell you about her. She is married, now— has been for years. But she was not then. I was a boy — a pale-eyed songling of some note, but not possessed of much wealth. My parents were honest people. General Powlowker lived in a stone house— a large edifice, with not less than nineteen rooms inside, and room for more outside. Mrs. Powlowker called it a stxm house ; but she was always so facetious. 70 Reminiscence of Roxelia, Mrs. Powlowker was General Powlowker's wife — lawfully wedded unto him a long time previous. His father was one of them as fit into the Revolution. He, too, had a contract — took his pay in Continental money, bought land, loaned it out in corner-lots with mortgage secur- ity, and took on style. He must have been pos- sessed of at least several thousand dollars, if not more. He was a respectable man. He never drank out of a bottle. He never swore before the preacher, or other company. But sometimes, in the barn, or when a wasp would sting into him he would converse in dialect most sulphurious. He had five children — three boys, and two who were pretty near boys. Eoxelia was one of the latter. I was one of the boys she used to be pretty near, only when the old gent would catch us at it ! Then he objected. Once or twice he object- ed with a boot. But did true love ever run smooth ? Reminiscence of Hoxelia. 71 I heart-hankered for Roxelia. She was fair to look upon. She had health — abont one hnndred and eighty pounds of it. And her face ! It was all there. And her feet ! What sighs ! — as I think of those. And her hair ! Like her heart — to love her Marlmel, decidedly ready. She was to have property some day. "We all desire property. As a nation of accumulators, we are a general success. I was not rich, but was willing to be. And I did love Koxelia. She was the first girl I ever saw so much of. There was not' so much of any other girl as of her. How I courted that girl ! The first eggs of spring I found in her father's barnary and laid in her lap. The early birch-bark and the pris- tine juvenile wintergreen, with an occasional slip of prince's pine, would I besiege her with. The language of the latter — I pine for thee, O Roxelia. I desired to become wedlockically acquainted T2 Meminiscence of Roxelia. with her. I visited her Saturday nights, and stayed till Morpheusly sleepy. But not when the old man was there. ^ I looked with luscious eye on the time when I could be son-in-law to the General. But I was poor. My home was in a blacksmith-shop — part of the time. Because I at times was caught at a vise, the old man had no use for me. He asked if I had money. " No, no, old man," I said. But Roxelia did not detest me. Oft have I sat on the fence and looked in at her window. Often did I stand and see her father walk by. But he never noticed me. But I did his girl. We planned elopements. "We sat, and sighed, and squeezed each other's hands. It is justly sup- posed to be fun. Indeed it is. So we liked it. Hoxelia liked it, too. We made affection to each other. We met by moonlight. Once she moved forth from her chamber-window and sat on the wood-shed roof. I would shed my blood as that wood-shed roof would shed rain ; and so, anxious JReminiscence of Boxelia. 73 lad that I was, I laddered myself up to her side, and reposed with my head in her lap, till each of ns took a cold in the head. But what is cold in the head to a heart all aflame with a consuming fire ? Colds troubled Koxelia. They were red- headitary in the family. But she went not into the chamber that night, like a turtle in his pal- ace, till we had plighted. When should come the spring-time, we were to wed. This contract was negotiated in the gentle autmnn, when the moon was in its mooniest glory, and chickens had not read of Thanksgiving terrors. Then I was very happy. I slid off that roof' as easy ! Who .cares for ladders, when happiness fills him like smoke in a new church ? Wliat if a brave boy sprains his knee and destroys the wholeness of wearing apparel, if his Roxelia has only anchored her head on his shoulder, and said yea to his enticements 1^ The next day I went to work with renewed cheerfulness. It was of the vernal time coming, 4 74 lieminiscence of Roxelia. and of Roxelia, that I thought, and of our com- ing joys, and home, and hen-coops, and good clothes, and 'lasses, and looking-glasses, and per- haps of other responsibilities, when I should earn them. The next night, like a dutiful girl, she told her paternal that she had chosen and had promised to wed with the object of her father's cholorousness. lie was angry — perhaps more. lie took hold of her ear with vehemence. lie wafted her from him. lie said she was no daughter of his — which was a rough joke on her mother, to say the least. But the General was angry. lie threat- ened convent for the girl and double-barrelled shot-gun for the boy. But she was firmness. Then I loved Hoxelia none the less. Quite to the very contrary. So we sat in meditation and apprehension. And alas ! One day a man came there, who was a scion of wealth, who boasted of pedigree, who wore oil on Reminiscence of Roxelia. 75 his mustache, who carried a cane, and wore cream-colored kids. lie spake French, and Greek, and Russian, and other oddities, to me. He was the Count Somebody. lie talked with the General. lie played sweet on the fair Rox- elia. lie minced his language lie boasted of his paternity, and of his beautiful home by tlie sea. As a talker, he was a success. Good-by, boy in a blacksmith-shop ! When the vernal season came, there was a wed- ding. The Count and Roxelia were the ones. She turned up her nose at me. Old Powlowker wanted me to come and* black boots for the Count the night he was to be married. lie said it was an lienor he would confer upon me. I went — not much ! Time has been flying a few years. ' I saw Roxelia to-day. Her Count was also a banker — a large dealer. But he dealt fair-0 ! he did. Old Powlowker thought he was a catch. So did Roxelia. So it was — for Roxelia. Now 76 Reminiscence of lioxelia, she has two or three little Counts. She tends an oyster sal(^n in the Bowery. I have been there twice to-day — once for a stew, once for a few raw. She does not know me now. Her hus- band holds a position in Sing-Sing — three years yet to serve. To-morrow I will drive by her saloon, and per- haps step in and order a broil, or a dozen on the half -shell. Slie seems to understand the business. Maybe I will ask her if she ever lived at , and loiew old General Powlowker, or if she re- members him ? I will tell her my name is I^or- val, or Jones, or Perigrew, or Winterset, or some- thing. Her father is older now. So is Roxelia. He was quite rich. then. But that was before the war — ^before his daughter married a Count, and before the boy who worked in a blacksmith-shop, and had no fine shirt to wear, was Rememberingly thine. CHAPTEE X. KU-EXUX ! O THE Pkesident OF THE United States : to the Senate and House of Reprobates, and all other loyal citi- zens at home or roaming : This, the prayer of your outraged petitioner, prayeth — Selah ! My name, which it is Wandering Y. A. Bond. My father made basswood hams, and that was the cause of it. The amateur part of my varie- gated life was spent in Kew Hampshire. Edu- cated on two catechisms — one Kitty chism and baked beans on Sunday, I skinned cats on Mon- day for worrying rats on the Sabbath, and thus 78 ' Ku-Klux, became one of tlie anointed. Ours was a Chris- tian neighborhood. The song of praise in the morn, and the flipping of coppers for the con- tents of the contribution-pLT,te, were heard each Sabbath, while the sistere of the flock poured molasses and the rum of New England together for evening devotions and ornamenting of puri- tanical noses. This, by way of prelude. Wlien the war came I was at home, bnsy at my avocation. 1 heard the harsh tocsin of flght. It wakened me from my afternoon nap on a bench in the corner grocery, and kindled a new impulse into me. It filled me with martial de- sire. I sold my clam-cart, and laid my all on the altar of Government. I was commissioned by the best President of the best Government the best people in the best world ever saw, to arm and go forth as a Chaplain, to flght the enemies of Gog and Magog, Shadrach, Abraham, and Belial. Ku-Klux. 79 In two days I fitted m^^self for the ministry ; in one day fitted for war — a cerulean uniform and an empty trunk. At the expense of our good Government I rode forth by sea and by land, on foot and on horseback ; going up and down the earth, preaching currant-jelly for the stomach, plunder for the body, and loyalty for effect. Therefore hear me, ye President and other Keprobates of the upper and nether mill- stones, whose business which is to grind with steady continuality those who are gnilty of mis- fortune. So give ear, you who have ears in abundance, to this my loyal complaint. I have been out- raged — victimized — destroyed. Warped in my liberties and demoralized in my pursuits, I now demand the protection of Congress. One summer day I left the grottos of Xew 'Hampshire, to travel South. Two hundred men who wanted to get rid of me signed a paper as to my worth, and, with the proceeds of the contri- 80 Kn-Klux. bution-plate one Sabbath, I lit out. Miles I wan- dered, by sea and land, till I pierced the heart and borders beyond the rebellions land in- the South ! One day I was walking along the road in Texas, when I saw a man in a field, with a mnle and a plow and a tattered suit of gray, making believe he was at work When I saw him in those whipped garments, my hair clove to the roof of my mouth, and my tongue got upon its end like squills in fretful tui-pentine. I thought of the way he had murdered our innocents, pro- longed the war, starved us at Andersomdlle, cheated Banl^s on Eed Kiver, and sold cotton to our Northern Generals! My poor heart did seethe and bile, like soap in a new kettle. At last I got over the apology for a fence, and ap- proached the villain, and said unto him in a loud, loyal tone of voice, so his mule could hear me : " Plowin', are ye ? Why ain't ye in a grocery, hrn'rahin' for Grant? Is this the way you spit Ku-Klux, 81 upon your benefactors ? Plowin', are ye ? Why dcaa't you leave this work for the poor blacks ? " " Nothing to pay them with ! " said he. Then I said, says I : " You are a liar and a rebel ! That old coat was not made in ISTew England ! " > He looked at me and to his mule, and said : " Whoa, Butler ! " He had but one arm ; then I knew he was a rebel, and I thought proper to subdue his re- bellion. I engaged him, but alas ! he bounced me I He thrust his one fist into my left eye ; he punched me on the end of my nostril, and he kicked at me with the ungodly vehemence of a jackass. So I was compelled to move on in sor- row and suffering. He is not whipped yet ! A kind negro lady kept me all night, and, because I was sore, torn, bruised, and battered, put me in her little bed. In the language of Absalom, when he hung himself by the hair up to dry, I groaned : 82 ^ Ku'Klux. r ' *' Tliis is the place I long have sought, And weeped because I found it not ! " Will Congress protect her loyal citizens from such outrages ? Ku-Klux I Again your petitioner puts forth. AYalking one day in Louisiana, I saw a horse kick a gen- tleman of color — of Baez complexion. Of coiu'se, the gentleman was loyal ; the horse was not. So I went up to him, and said to him : " Wounded and outraged brother, who o^vns that horse ? " " Marsa Eobert." " Was that horse in the Southern army ? " " Yes, marsa." " Go home, mutilated citizen ; I will punish this noble brute ! " To punish him for kicking my brother, I en- ticed him under and between me, and, with a stout switch, so warmed the steed that he ran fifteen miles before I could stop him. I pulled Ku-Klux. 83 up at a grocery, and who should come out from that 'ere sinful place but the man who owned the horse ! Instead of staying at home and doing his work, he had left it to niggers, and a horse to abuse them. I told him of it — told how it was my duty to protect the down-trodden and punish their oppressors. The man was a rebel ; I know it, for his hair was gray ! lie seized the horse, hove me from its back, and, with the aid of some ungodly ones, so set upon me that I was bounced again ! Kn-Klux ! Will Congress not interfere, or will it not ? Hear me again, most noble President. Kot liking the rebellious atmosphere of Louisiana, I sought the everglades of Florida ; and here again my loyalty cansed me much suifering. On a circus-day, while the tent was going up, I saw many contrabands seated in shady places, playing Old Sledge, Penny- Ante, and such wick- 84 Ku-Klux. ed games. Procuring a box, I mounted mj^self thereon, and said unto these innocent men and brothers : " Come here, sable objects of our Government, and give heed unto my advice. Behold in me a loyal man from New England ! During the war I wept for you often and often. During the war I fought copperheads and butternuts, traitors and Democrats in the North, oftentimes in one day slaying ten thousand or more with my good right arm. Now I come to you from the best Govern- ment in the world, to say to you this : " Continue as you are continuing. For years you were forced to labor, and now it is your turn to live in idleness. Make your old masters sup- port you. Every mother's son of }'ou here is en- titled to forty acres and a mule ; or, if the land is not handy, forty mules and an acre ! It is your business now to govern. It is your business to make laws, and to punish the white trash of the country, turned over to your hands for "Procuring a box, I mounted myself tliercon, and said unto these inno- cent brothers " — See. pu(]e 84. KvrKlux. 85 punishment by the loyal Government of the JSTorth. " Therefore I say unto ye, sable denizens, whenever you see a white man, go for him ; re- lieve him of his chickens, his horses, his property generally ; and, if he objects, go for him in the dead hour of night, till he shall learn that you are the monarchs of America, and that " Just then, Mr. President, I was seized with a sudden fear. In the crowd I saw a white man loading a shot-gun. The man was seventeen feet high, and I know it, and his gun was eighty-six feet long ! While he was putting seven or eight pounds of buck-shot in the left-hand baiTel, I noticed a reliable contraband makino: haste through the crowd, coming with vigilance towaixi my platform. lie approached, lifted his lips to my ear, and whispered : " You'd better git ;- dat ar man am a Ku- Klux ! » I got! Affain was I oiitraored in North Carolina. Wliile seated by the roadside, comiting up spoons, watches, picture-frames, celery-dishes, punch-ladles, and such little things I had found in my travels through the country — while pre- paring to box and ship them to fi-iends in the Noi-th — I saw a crowd of boys and girls coming toward me. They were children ranging from seven to twelve years of age. I looked, Mr. President and Members of Congress, upon their faces, but there was no sadness there ! The little rebels were laughing and playing just like other children — and the American flag floating only thirty miles away ! Great God ! Mr. President, can such things be, and be tolerated in this free country ? My spirit again rose within me, and my blood took unto itself feelings of vengeance. "When this regiment of young rebels came along, I rose in my dignity, pulled my hat well do^\^l upon my head, stretched forth my right hand, and proclaimed : Ku-Klux. 87 " Ob, ye little whelps of ungodly peoplehood ! Your fathers were rebels, and ye deserve death. Know ye not that I am a loyal man, and that your smiles, your laughs, your hilarious fun, and your mirth as ye are going to school, is an out- rage in my ears % " Ye know what ye are — ye are the advance- guard of Ku-Klux ! Your mission is to waylay strangers, that your biggers and your backers may come up and bounce them. Why are ye not mixing with the little innocent blacks ? Your fathers were thieves ; they were rebels ; they objected when the cross-eyed patriots of the North stole spoons ; they found fault with the Christians of the comitry for burning houses where your rebellious, ungodly parents lived. And your mothers, what are they, O ye brats of the South ? What are your mothers ? They are she-adders ; they are rebels ; they are not so good as the blacks ; and yet, ye little scapegraces 88 JTu-ITlux. dare stand up and look an honest man like me in the face ! -" Becoming excited, I waved my carpet-bag, when one of the urchins, a villanous-faced youth of eleven years, sang out : " Oh, boys ! he's a carpet-bagger. We've heard just such talk before. Let's bomice him ! " And, Mr. President, they proceeded at once to carry their infernal threat into execution. They attacked me in front and rear with stones. They called me vile names. They wrenched from me my carpet-bag, and divided my plunder among them. They said I was a thief. They advised me to get to my home. I called upon several intelligent contrabands who were near to come to my relief, but so terror-stricken were they that they dare not. Dear creatures ! they did not wish to plunge the country into another war ! They were afraid of these young rebels ; and for the sake of appearances, and to cultivate the friendship of those they feared, they stood afar Ku-KUx, 80 off, and laughed and clapped their hands, and the urchins continually assailed me. They parted my coat-tails from the upper portion of the gar- ment. They rolled me in the mud, and sifted sand in my hair ! They put a split stick upon my nose, and turpentine-wax in my ears. But, thank God ! Mr. President, they could not seal my mouth • that it should not cry out against the horrible outrages inflicted upon the loyal people of the South by the Ku-Klux ! Is there no redress for patriotism ? Are loyal men to be thus outraged % K so, it were better for this Government that a mill-stone were tied in its coat-tail pocket, and it be sunk in a tan- vat ! Ku-Klux ! Your petitioner therefore prays that he may be appointed the head of a commission to go South at the expense of the working people of the North, escorted by a few thousand troops armed with mmiitions of war and presents for 90 K%i-Klux. the negroes, that the white rebels wlio have bounced me so unmercifully may be punished, and the innocent contrabands rewarded for their generous defence of a loyal citizen. And your petitioner will ever pray, &c. CHAPTER XI. GOING TO THE CIRCUS. HAVE found a ^g-gig-giit for my gig-gig-girl, I have found a rare pup-pup-place now for fuf - f uf-f un ! I'll sh-sh-shingle my head of each curl, And bub-bub-buy a ticket for the circus when done ! I'll walk with my gig-gig-gig-girl in the tent. When the man with his sh-sh-show comes to town For to have lots of fuf -fuf -fun I am bent, And tit-tit-tit-to laugh at the tricks of the clown. My gig-gig-girl shall gig-go with me there. And sis-sis-sit by my side all the while ! And we'll shout and we'll coo like a pup-pup-pair Of mud turtle did-did-doves on a stile I 92 Going to the Circus. We'll see tlie fui-fuf-fine horses go round. Like lightning inside the big rir-rir-rir-ring ! And laugh when the tit-tit-tumblers f uf -f uf -f all down, To bub-bub-bounce up again with a spring. And the woman wh-wh-what walks up the small wire, As an ant woo-woo-would walk up a string, As high as a sis-sis-steeple, or higher, Indeed its a mum-mum-most wonderful thing I We'll hear the Band sweetly pip-pip-pip-play, Most beautiful mum-mum-music and tunes. And stare at the tremendous did-did-display Of fuf-fuf-fuf-fine actors, horses, and buffoons I CHAPTER XII. AMONG THE ASTKOLOGISTS. E read in the newspapers that Mad- ame Ray, on Mott street, was a very learned woman, the seventh daugh- ter of a seventh daughter, and thith- er we repaired. Mott street is in 'New York city. It is delightfully situated between donkey-carts, dirty-faced children, and irregular-shaped dwell- ings. As for smells — well, a person should be suited there, as a separate and distinct smell came from around each house. u MDM. EAY, &C. A two-story brick house, green blinds in front, black walnut door-knob, yellow door two steps 94 Among the Astrologists. from the ground, entrance immediately from the walk. There being no bell, we knocked. As we did not Imock very loud, there came no re- sponse, so we knocked again. " Mag-g-g-g-g ! The door ! " In obedience to a " C-sharp " voice, there came pattering downstairs two feet. The door opened slowly, and a red head belonging to a fi*eckle- faced, square-faced, fat-faced, grinning-faced, dirty-faced female girl of about twenty summers and somewhere near that many winters, inserted itself outward nigh as far as the shoulders. She was very muscular about the — the — the — the chest, and we thought some of turning back, but she asked : " Did yer knock ? " " To be s-s-s-sertainly ! Is Madame Ray in ? " "She is. Walk in." "We entered. The several-faced girl closed the door, which locked itself, and led the way up stairs. She opened the door, and said, " Recep- Among the Astrologists. 95 tion-room ! " "We entered, and sat down. It was a small room, about twelve feet square. A three-ply carpet on the floor, two sofas, three chairs, a table, two steel-plate engravings, a small mirror, and a photograph of a big-whiskered man, completed the useful and ornamental furni- ture. From an adjoining room there came a sound of clashing dry-goods and rustling of crockery, and in two minutes or so the reddish-top called lis to see the object of our search. A well-fur- nished room about twelve by twenty. Brocatelle 'curtains rather the worse for wear. A bureau on which was a pier-glass and a large bouquet. Side-table covered with books. On the wall hung a large printed and colored chart some three feet square ; on this chart were innumer- able figures of all colors, circles, triangles, signs, cosines, hieroglyphics, &c. On a dressing-case stood perfumery of several kinds ; while a gam- mon-board, a set of chess-men, and a pack of 96 Among the Astrologists. cai'ds on a stand, showed that the occnpant wag evidently game. On a well-worn mohair-covered sofa sat, as we entered, Madame Kay, avIio arose very gracefully to receive us. She was alxMit forty-five years of age, red-faced, red-necked as far as wo could see — and that was far enough She had brown hair, fat fingei^s, fat face, and fat sides. Her dress was a morning-gown of red silk, and we set her down as the worst old talker in the business. " Good morninii:, fair strano^er ! " " Good morning, Madame ! '* " AVliat is the object of your visit this morn- ing?" " We came, Madame, to consult you as to tlie past, the present, and the futm-e. Having doubts in our mind as to what course to pursue, wo come to you for advice and connsel." " Ilave you faith 1 " " Exceeding great of it I " " Stranger, you have done well to consult me. Among the Astrologists. 97 I know your past, and can read your future. I am gifted above all mortals, and will tell tliee truly. For all this I ask but one dollar in ad- vance. "Would you know more ? " "We handed her a $ on the Katanyan Bank. She returned it. We handed her a dollar on a New York Bank, which she took, and said : " The first bill is not good here. Look out, or sharjDers will put bad money on you ; *and that Kat-2XL-yan Bank is Western, and is not worth much here I " We looked at the "gay deceiver," folded it carefully, and laid it away, first thanking the Madame. As she knew worthless money, our faith in her power increased ! " In what year was you born, sir ? " " Don't know — am an orphan who never knew nothing much ! " " What is your birthday ? " " Don't know ; my parents left me their only child when I was a suckling ! " 98 Among the Astrologists, " Poor boy I Let me look at your hand. (She looked.) Now on that chart place yonr finger on a red number. (We put it on 2.) Now on a green one. (We put it on 0.) Now on a blue one. (We picked out 8.) Now on a yellow one. (We picked out 4.) Now, in that circle, at the top, pick out a number — any one. (We put our finger on 11.) That will do ; now sit do^vn." We did as directed, when she said : " Nine times two are eighteen ; eight times four are thirty-two. The jQtav you were born was 1832, and it was in the eleventh month, or December. You first put your finger on 2, then on 11, which makes your birthday the 13th." As this was our birthday in reality, we felt a little curious to have her go on. She continued : " You don't look so old, but you be ! I can tell everything. Cut those cards. (We cut at the queen of diamonds.) You first loved a woman who was rich. She loved you, (cut again,) but she was foolish, and didn't marry Among the Astrologists. 99 you. (Out again.) She married another, and often thinks of you, and is unhappy. (Cut again.) You married another woman. You have one child. It is a young child. (Cut again.) Yoii V\^ill have a second wife, and she will have two children — a boy and girl. You will be very happy all your life, except a little trouble for a year. Then you will be happy, and do well. Now draw ten cards out of this pack." We did so. She continued, as she looked them over one by one : " You have had much trouble in business, but you will come out all right before long. You are in business somewhere now, and making money. In a short time you will make more. You face up a long journey, but no danger. You are very lucky and independent. You cut the queen of hearts ; you will soon meet the one you love best of all. You have some enemies, but they are afraider of you than you be of them. One of them is a dark-complexioned man 100 Among the Astrologists. with a scar on his face. He will try to kill you if you meet in the woods where he can't be seen. He is a coward, and you will not be afi-aid of him. The other enemy is a fat man who wants to rob you. He can't do it ; you have friends who won't let him. You o^vn land and machin- ery of some kind. You have an interest in some kind of a boat, which is in danger of being seized. You will have much property left you in a few years, and you are going to travel, and write books. Please open that red book on the stand, and hand it to me." "We opened the book as directed, when she continued : "You will be an old man, and have many friends when you die, and you will die in your own house. You will die in the parlor, on a bed so you can see the sun go down. You will have friends by you, and will die very easy — jnst like going to sleep. You will leave property to your family. Do you wish to ask me any questions ? " Among the Astrologists. 101 « I do." " Will it rain to-day ? " " "Will it rain ? That's a funny question ! — nothing to do with the matter ; but I don't think it will. Anything else ? " " Nothing, Madame ! Good morning ! " " Good morning, sir ! " And the red-haired girl showed us out. CHAPTEE XIII. THE EESTJLT OF MY COUETSHIP. ALWAYS was a basMul boy! Modesty wanted a depot, and used me ! But I loved the fair sex, and thought to marry, in time. Fmmy acknowledgments to make ; but, as gray hairs have bivouacked all over my head, it makes no difference if I do own up. I tried sparking, once ; it came nigh bursting me, and that idea was abandoned. Two years my lass-orated heart was like Mrff. Rachel's babies — without comforters. Then 1 grew lonesome. The sun didn't look The Result of my Courtship. 103 so bright as it was. The moon looked speckled- like, as does a fellow's black pants after milking ! The grass wa'n't as green. The trees wa'n't as straight. The roosters, geese, turkeys, ducks, and other " feathered songsters of the glen," did not warble as sweetly as once ! My hair grew long, and it was because I was lonesome. I was like a tree in the woods. I had been blown over by my feelings, and if I didn't " lodge," I'd fall, sure pop ! Salina Jane took my eye. She was tall as the daughtei^ of Nathal, and more beautiful. Her father had been a rich man, and Salina Jane had a good figure — nigh onto $30,000, or less. Not being a slubberdegullion, the filthy dross had no chaiTQS for me. Salina Jane had. We looked at each other a few times. Mutuality was in the glances of each. I loved the fair Salina Jane. Salina Jane loved me, and I loved Sahna Jane. Says I, "May 11" Says she, " To be sure — and come early ! " 104 The Besult of mij Courtship. I went, and she was there. It was night. The pale moon was up and doing. Tlie little cross-eyed stars were langhing at each other, and Salina Jane and I were in the parlor. It had a stove — and a lounge — and a clock — and a table — and a yellow dog under it — and a picture of IToah and his relatives mov- ing into their new boarding-house ! And it had a carpet — jmd lots of chairs — and an oil lamp — ■ and a picture of General Putnam backing his horse up a ledge of rocks. And it had in it Salina Jane and I ! Often went I there, and often was Salina Jane made happy by my com- ing. It was years ago, but I remember well. We got to lildng each other. Then it took deeper root, and we loved. We didn't do nothing — Salina Jane and I didn't — only court each other. AVo used to sit and hold on to each other's hands as though we were afraid of falling out ! Then we'd look at each other and smile a sweet little laugh, just as The Result of my Courtship, 105 easy like I Then we'd move around on our Beats, and lean on to each other, and say nothing. When we said nothing, the folks in the house wouldn't hear us, and we didn't have an^iJiing to take back. Then the oil would give out, and it would be dark. Once I went to whisper in her ear, and she turned her head around, so that, by mistake, I whispered in her pretty mouth. This proved to be a good way to whisper, and we done it that way quite often ! Then we'd talk. I don't know what we talked about, but we talked. I didn't say much, nor Salina Jane didn't, but we said a little something every time I All winter I courted her. I thought of marrying her, but couldn't get to the sticking point no-way. Dear me, I was too bash- ful I One night Salina Jane was cutting rags for a carpet. I helped her rip up a pair of her dad's old trousers, and we courted while she cut. As 106 The llcsult of my CourtsMp, the long strips of rags unwound thonisolvos from her sheai-s, I moved myself up \o lier. T ]nit my head in her hip. Salina Jane kept on cutting. T didn't know what to do, so I laid still, and she kept on cutting rags. I lay there and went to sleep. When I woke up, she had cut half my hair off by carelessness. I could stand that ; she was such a sweet girl, my Salina Jane was, so it didn't make mo mad. She wasn't as sweet as some girls, but she was good enough for a bright, intelligent boy as I was. Over a year we did thuslv. Three ni^lits in the week beside Sunday, till day broke, would we sit and court. It was sweet. Never knew of anvtliino; like it. Never courted before. Sorry we hadn't. It was so nice to hitch up to Salina Jane, and at last just touch her store-clotlies ! How it made our back-bones jingle when our hands met ! Never would have done so, if court- ing wasn't nice. Over another year Salina Jane and I courted. AYo med, the second year, to The Result of my CourtsMj). 1 07 Btay in the honsc till midnight in the summer. Then I'd get up to go. We'd go out by the gate, and spend an hour there. Then I wonld leave for my humble roof. I used to 1)uy nice things for her — molasses candy, little candy hearts, peppermint-drops, and such good stuff ; apples, two for a cent apiece, and oranges without a speck of rotten in 'em ! They were all for Salina Jane, and I didn't care for the expense. Then I used to dream of her. I'd think my- self a fish, and Salina Jane and I would sport among the waters, and she'd chase me around by the stones and old roots, and under the soddy banks of the creelc where I thought we were. Then I'd dream we were little warbling birds, and sitting on a high limb of a tall tree together, sweetly singing ! Then I'd dream I was a hoi-se, drawing a nice carriage in which was Salina Jane ! Then, when, after working hard all da}^, I'd eat a hearty supper of pigs' feet, cold pota- 108 The Result of my Courtship. toes, and such light food, and have a night-mare, and dream Saliiia Jane was on my chest, working bntter ! If I hadn't loved that girl, sho'd never laid so heavy on my heart ! Over two years 1 courted and she courted. It was my firet real experience. I always wanted to marry Salina Jane, but dare not ask her for fear she'd say No. Over two years I lavislicd on that gushing girl sweetmeats, new raisins, the fii-st green apples of the season, and }'Oung win- tergreens, with a prodigal hand. One day a platter-headed la^vyer came along. lie was just sweet flag, done up in sugar-coated cakes ! He saw Salina Jane afar off, and made for her. He was a gay and festered chap. He knew more than he'd forgot — a heap more. lie wore store-clothes on week-days ! I didn't. He had the advantage of me there. He hadn't brains enough to keep his hair straight, so it curled. Salina Jane liked curly hair ! He carried a watch — an Eg}^tian bull's-eye, The Result of my CouHshirp. 109 plated with gold ! It was a big thing. I had no watch ! Salina Jane went back on me, and made for the watch. He had a roll of counter- feit money, and he showed her the end of it. She thought he was hefty about the purse, but he wasn't — ^nor about the head either ! He called with a carriage — livery carriage — and they went out riding. It was the night I was to sit u]) with Salina Jane. I went there to her domi- cile, but she had gone. "O Salina Jane, Don't do it again ! " I wrote in a bold hand on the 10x12 mirror which hung in the parlor, with a piece of tallow, and left the house. I went off to weep, and for two hours my affections oozed out of my eyes as water would ooze out of a wet sponge with a big man sitting on it ! She read the poetry, but didn't give no heed ! Poor Salina Jane ! She was deceived in that man, and / knew it. ' He wasn't what he was 110 The Result of mij Courtship. cracked up to be, and he knew it ! Gradually, as sparks fly upward, slie left me to mourn, and I done it. Two years and three months, by the almanac, had I courted her, good and strong ; but she left honest worth for a plated watch and curly hair. I felt bad ! Whenever she'd sit on the fence, as she used to at times, after driving the pigs out of her folks' cornfield, I used to watcli her. "Wlien she'd get off the fence and go in the house, I'd go and sit on the spot she had sat on. For a while it calmed my heart and made me feel good. But she got thicker and thicker with her new lover, and, after a while, sitting on the fence failed to relieve me ! Well, matters grew worse. That fellow put in his best licks, and told Salina Jane all manner of foolish yarns — got her all manner of fancy jig- geretts for keepsakes, and I was left to mourn the loss of time, money, and affection, to say nothing of blasted hopes. How I'd courted her ! The Result of my Courtshvp, 111 Day and night I had made love unto her, and she had led me, poor, guileless boy, as a butcher does a calf ! But it was soon to end. My egg- shell of happiness had squshed in my hand, and the yolk of it run all over my heart. In two weeks this fellow and Salina Jane were married. He was older than I — was bom first — but I spoke to hun about it just as though we were of the same age. Anger abided in my heart when I spoke to him. I demanded satis- faction — not the satisfaction I had looked for with Salina Jane as Mrs. " B." P., but the satis- faction a gentleman should expect. He looked at me kind of pityingly when I spoke of it, and said he'd pay me. " Pay for what ? " said I — " for a busted heart — for all my spare time — for my candy — my sweetmeats — my raisins — my big apples, and all the presents I have given Salina Jane 1 " " No,", said he ; " but Pll pay you for courting her up so nice ; it just saved me the trouble ! " And that was all the satisfaction I got. CHAPTEE XIY. THE CONFIDING WIDOW. N the train, and sitting in front of us, was a middle-aged lady, who all of a sudden turned about, and asked: " Are you a Baptist ? " " Yes ; I believe in the ^^^-theory ! " " Well, I thought so ; you look just like a Bap- tist minister I knew once, or at any rate I heerd preach in Eochester, New York, and I didn't know but you was him." " I never preached in HocJiesterP " Did you ever preach in Lockport ? " Tlie Confiding Widow. 113 " Ko ; I never preached in any of the Eastern cities." "I suppose it keeps you busy preaching out here ! I've heern that there was some good preaching done here. I live in Eochester. I'm a Baptist, too, and I think that it is the best church in the world." " Yes, it is a good church — a large and pros- perous church." " Yes, it is. I've been visiting in Milwaukee and it seems as if there wa'n't much religion in Milwaukee ; and I'm so glad I met you ! Some- thin' told me you was a Baptist preacher, and I'm so glad I've met you! What may I call your name \ " " Knubson — ^Ezekiel Knubson." "I never heern tell of that name; but I've heerd of Mr. Spurgeon, an Englishman." " No relation, madam. I'm a iTorwegian." " Where is your field ? " " In La Crosse, Wisconsin." 114 The Confiding Wldoio. " Oh, yes ! I've lieerii tell of that place. I've read iii the iiewspapei-s about a wicked man who lives there." " Thaf s the place." " Well, now, I'm real glad I met yon ! I alwa}^ meet somebody wherever I go. I have a girl twelve yeara old ; she j'ined the Baptist chm*ch last year. Her name is Matilda Park- hni-st. My name is Parkhui-st. My husband was Deacon Parldiui-st. He died last Spring. I am a widow now, and have g(^ a nice farm neai* Kochester. I had a house in Pochester, but I sold it for nine hundred dollars, and had the money stolen fix)m my pocket by somebody on the cai-s. I thinlc I know who stole it, but I can't tell, for I couldn't find him. A man saw me buy a ticket, and he came and sat in the seat with me. He said he was a Baptist, and I told him all about things. Pui*ty soon he said he had the nose-bleed, and he went out to wash his nose in a place where we stopped to wood, and the Tlie Confiding Widow, 115 cars started before he got his nose washed ! He said I must look out for my money. And I told him it was safe in my pocket. Then he said, if I saw a red-headed man with a red moustache and a silver-headed cane come along, I must look out for him. Purty soon I saw a man with a red head and a mustache come through the cars, but he had left his cane. lie walked on past me — didn't hardly look at me nor mother. After he had gone out of the car I felt for my pocket- book, and it was gone. Then I told the conduc- tor I'd been robbed by the red-haired man, and he went and brought him back ; and I told the folks in the car what the Baptist man told me about looking out for such men, and how he put his handkerchief to his nose and went out, 'way back on the road. The red-headed man said he was a member of the Legislature, and he told his name, and said he wouldn't steal ; and he got mad at the conductor, and said I was an old fool, and all the folks laughed, and he said the man 116 The Confiding Widow, ■' with the nose-bleed had robbed me,- and he made them believe it ; bjit I knew better, 'cause he was such a nice man, and he bought a lot of hickory-nut meats and put them in my pocket for me, and I've got some yet. Won't you have some, Brother Knubson ? " " All, thank you ; just a few." " And you never got your money % " " No. Ain't it a shame, now ! " "And your girl, Matilda — she joined the church % " " Yes ; last year she was baptized." " Where was she baptized ? " " In the river." " Ah ! What month was she baptized in ? " " In May — on the fourteenth day of May." " Well, May is a good month to be baptized in." " Yes, so it is. And Matilda so enjoyed it ! After she was converted she wi'it some verses The Confiding Widow. 117 about her father's death. Leinme see — ^yes- no — ^yes, this was the way they begin : ♦' ' Dear father, you had to die Before I was but eleven, And I am^goin now to try To meet you up in Heaven. That was the first verse : " ' What made you go away, And leave me here behind you ? But I have been converted And some day will come and find you.' That was the second verse. There was three. (( ( And now IVe lost my father, And I haven't any brother, And as you have gone to Heaven I'll have to stay with mother ! ' " This was the last verse. Matilda has writ a good many verses. I wish I had some for yon to read ! She writ a hymn, but I can't sing it with- out somebody to start it. [We offered to start it, but she had forgotten the words.] I never could 118 The Confiding Widow. sing, unless my husband, Deacon Parldiurst, started it. lie was a powerful starter! Didn't you never hear of him ? lie made stickin'-salve, and had a big farm. lie w^as a good man, too. lie never scolded back when I scolded." " Did he die ? " " Law, yes ! and I'm his widow. He died one night, as easy ! " " AVas he resigned ? " " Oh, yes ; he was one of the willingest men to die I ever seen ! " " / have no doiibt of it ! And you have not married again % " CHAP. xy. TO A BEIGHT-EYED MAIDEN. |HEN the lamp low do#ti is turned, And at your feet a lover "lies " Telling how his love is spumed — How his heart for you now dies ! Watch his eye — read it right. Treacherous is its changing light. "When he pleads, and says his sorrow Will be greater than can be borne; Bid him wait — perhaps to-morrow Will bring to each a different mom. Watch his eye — read it right — Test his love for you to-night. 120 To a Bright-eyed Maiden, When lie talks of love and wedlock — OfEers you liis heart and hand ; Know ye that each are honest — His may be siege most boldly planned ! Watch his eye — read it right — Many a maiden lost to-night ! Is he true and noble -hearted ? Learn this, maiden, ere you wed — Else you sorrow tiU the dawning Of the day beyond the Dead 1 Search his heart — read it right — Joy or sorrow from to-night I Many prizes may be offered — Many traps to catch your beauty ; Many gifts in wordi be proffered — Gently maiden — life's a duty^ Answer not — another night You may read by clearer light. When you know he's true and noble, Look forever in his eyes. If your lieart then bids you love him, Live and love — enjoy the prize. Trust him ever — bless the night You learned to read his heart aright. " Tavern's all full," said the clerMst as he looked at Clorinda, — See page CHAPTER XVI. EXPERIENCE JN BOSTON AT THE PEACE BANJOREE. E took her there — Clorinda Magwil- ligaii, chief daughter and delayed spinster of the house of Magwilli- gan, of Magwilligansville. We have known Clorinda long. She was a tall girl, and meant it. All tall girls mean it. They mean to be long for this world. So did Clorinda. Years ago we loyed her. Twenty years ago we climbed up about her neck and hung a few lusciousary kisses on her triumphant lips. And when her eyes beheld the sweet glory of our coming down past the barn where the 6 122 In Boston at the Peace Banjoree, cows were milked by Clorinda, as she sat squat- ted on a one-legged stool, tlie eyeliglit of her aforesaid eyes would glimmer, the freckles on her face would seem illuminated, and she'd always give us a kiss, milk or no milk. She was a healthy kissist, full of gentle and stimulating vigoi . Did you ever kiss a girl and fairly hanker for more ? We loved her, and she loved back. We planted kisses, and love sprouted till the branches thereof made a grove under which we took refuge. Clorinda heard of the Peace Banjoree in Bos- ton. She wanted to go. We took her there. Went on an excui^sion tour. Weather hotter than making tomato pickles. We rode in the cai-s and on a boat, then went on foot. Clori!:ida wears No. 7s, small. She had undei*standing to let. Gracious ! but didn't she sling style ! Such a Grecian bend ! And her waterfall — right on In Boston at the Peace Banjoree, 123 the upper end of her head, like froth on soda- water. And a bonnet twice the size of a postage- stamp — a three-cent one at that! And a dress whose trail ontrivalled the lateral extension of the peacock, and more grandly gorgeous ! We put up at a hotel about ten minutes. " Tavern's all full," said the clerkist, as he looked at Clorinda. She was a tower — that is, we looked up to her. She said, "Move on." We walked to another hotel, asked the same question, and the same clerk said they was all full. Then he told us to go to the " Tremont." There we went. Walked afoot. Went straight ahead on a curve. Came to the " Tremont." The same clerk was there. Said he was full. And he looked at Clorinda. Then he told us to go to the "American." So we patted it around there. Saw the saxtie clerk. He said they was all full. Told us to go to the " Parker House," and we started to find it, but couldn't do it. Come to find out, 'twas the " Parker House " we had en- 124 In Boston at the Peace Banjoree. tered every time ; and that clerk knew, when he told us to find the house we were in, the streets were so dyrned crooked we couldn't ! Clorinda and I moved on. We walked all over the city, on the same street. "We asked a policeman where was a hotel, did he know ? And he said there wa'n't none, for it was Banjoree week. He asked if we had heard the big organ, or seen Gil- more ? We said No. We went to find O. and G., the twin celebrities of Boston. We went up to Bunker Hill Monument. Didn't know but Clorinda and us could bunk there. But the Monument was all taken up. Somebody told us that Warren fell over there. We went to see, but he had got up and gone I Then we went to Breed's Hill. We wanted to see Grant, and, knowing his love for dogs, thouo:ht to find him at Breed's ! But he wa'n't there ; a Boston Peace Banjoree Yankee had hired him for a tobacco-sign ! So we didn't Imow which one was Grant, they were so plenty ! In Boston at the Peace JBanjoree. 125 Tramping around, Clorinda blistered her feet. She was not nsed to walking. She was brought tip in Khode Island, and hadn't room to turn her feet. "We couldn't walk, so we stood still till the Coliseum came around. It was a big thing. Clorinda got all jammed up. She was made thinner nor a lath. When I hugged her, it seemed like squeezing a paper- folder. But she was good ! We heard the big organ. We saw Gilmore counting his money. Hotel accommodations being out of the question, we anchored under a tree. Country taverns don't contain too much ! After Clorinda had her head blowed full of sweet discordancies and St. Yitus' melodies, I tooli her down on the Common, and paid five dollars for an hour in the arms of Morpheus. Clorinda was there too. We had a fine supper — two peanuts and a boiled bean split. Only a dollar ! And then we had refreshments — two pints of water, with yel- 126 In Boston at the Peace Banjoree. low paper in for lemonade, at two shillings a glass. And such a breakfast — soup made from the back of a postage-stamp ! I had to take Clorin- da off that diet ; she was getting fat. Only cost twenty-eight dollars a day to see the big organ and Deacon Gilmore, chief of the Boston ban- ditti ! Clorinda was sweet, for certain ! I filled her full of molasses-candy and gingerbread the first day, but the stamps gave out. They called it a Peace Jubilee, and took the last piece I had — except Clorinda. But we saw the Banjoree, and shall die happy, if not sooner. Clorinda was de- moralized. Some wretch sat down on her band- box. It caved in, and up went her bonnet. But we saw the Peace Banjoree, and Gilmore, and the big organ. Clorinda had her feet trod on in the crowd more nor a thousand times. I thought they were her tally-books. And she lost her trail. I'm sorry about that ! But I didn't In Boston at the Peace Banjoree. 127 lose Clorinda. I looked up to her so much, it was no trouble to look her up ! Clorinda never was so badly jammed up. I think she was hugged by three thousand men whose habits were good, and by seventeen thou- sand whose habits were t'otherwise. She was squeezened out flat one way, and squeezened up flat t'other way. And she never would have been so long in the first place, if it had not been for the huggings I had given her when she was little. When you see a little short, fat girl, it is a sign she has not been properly hugged. If she had, it would have squeezed her up taller ! But then, we saw the Peace Jamboree, and we heard the music. And such music ! It seemed as if all the fiddlers, and feline-intestine scrapers, and mashers of base drums, and blowers through brass instruments, had all the blacksmith-shops, tin horns, dogs with kettles tied to their tails, children who had partaken of too much small- beer, men with the toothache, cats on wood sheds, 128 In Boston at the Peace Banjoree, serenaders on a bender, fire-crackers, pistols, mus- kets, rat-traps on a drunk, music run mad, and harmony badly bust, had contrived on this occa- sion to fill Clorinda's ear with the most unmiti- gated doings ! — and had succeeded. Clorinda had so much in her ear, that I could not .whisper love in it in a fortnic^ht. I bouMit a tin horn and whispered through that. But it was no use. The only way I could bring her to her senses, or tone her auricular appurtenances down to their original condition, was to seat her on a rail- road engine and let her whistle it six hours a day until she recovered. But she has not been good- natured a day since. That bran-new frock with streaks up and down it, is all skurypt, till the continuation of her trail resembles a garbage-cart struck by lightning while blessed with a full load. And that little bonnet she had — a hundred and sixteen dollars' worth of style and ten cents' worth of fabric ! Oh, I guess not ! Four firkins In Boston at the Peace Banjoree. 129 of butter to buy a bonnet, besides the other fir- Idns disposed of to purchase other wardrobe for Clorinda. You see, she was a dairyman's daugh- ter ! Linked sweetness long drawn out, or but- ter long a-coming ! And that little ridicule she had to carry powder, white chalk, and red doin's, and those little scrambled hair-things what they wear, and some other devices, contmuations, and inventions not enumerated — somebody sat down on it, and when they rose, it resembled a sum in multiplication attempted by a boy who did not know how ! Clorinda says Peace Jamborees are a humbug We reached her home, the Lord only knows how. The Banjoree busted my cash, exhausted my pa- tience, destroyed my raiment, upset my health, deprived me of rest. During all the time it con- tinued, Clorinda and I got no sleep except when I took her down on the Common, where we re- posed like two doves with but a single stamp, two sweethearts piled as one, under the shadow of a 130 In Boston at the Peace Banjoree. tree which loomed up against the State House. I wanted them to let me rock Clorinda to sleep in the cradle of liberty, but thej said the cradle was full. I don't want her photograph taken now. It ain't purtj. She don't look good-natured. I don't believe her picture would call sweetness back to sour milk. I felt very sad about it. The juice of gladness doth not abound in my heart. The permeating sap of contentment rangeth not around my gizzard, as was its wont. I left Clorinda at the house of her paternal de- rivative, and returned, put on my good clothes, and went to see her. But she was not seeable. She was getting fixed. So I sat myself down under her window, and plaintively I sighed out : " Oh, Clorinda, 'Rinda, 'Einda, draw nigh — do ! " But she wouldn't. And. then the pale moon scooted along, and I said : In Boston at the Peace Banjoree. 131 " Oh, moon, moonie, moonie, pity my woe — do, just once ! " But he wouldn't. And a little star followed the moon like a poodle-dog follows a little girl, and I said : " Oh, star, starie, starie, twinkle me one — do come and pin my love onto 'Kinda's heart ! " But nary a twinkle. And a cloud hegiraed overhead, seeming not to care a dyrn for my trouble ; and in the agony of my bitterness I sank back upon the grass, and said : " Oh, cloud, cloudie, flying cloudie, cloud me no more, for my heart can't stand it ! " And I called again to Clorinda, and she would not come. And it is all on accoimt of the Peace Jamboree. She was the best-natured girl on the creek till this transpired. She was sweeter than shrimps, or a free ride to a picnic. But, alas ! her sweetness is departed. What with the jam- ming and the cramming, the eating of old baked beans, second-hand peanuts, and gingerbread 132 In Boston at the Peace Banjoree. whereon many an army of iiies had camped, she wasn't well ! She says, l^o more excursion for her ! She did not like the Hub. She prefers to remain in the dignity of her own dqmicile, to take care of the little doings thereof ; so she goeth not to Boston for another spree, not even to see the Colisenm, or the big organ, or the crooked streets, or Gilmore, or any of them things ; but she goeth to bed in madness and in sadnes^ but riot in any gladness. Such is Clorinda ; while I am disconsolate, used up, out of cash. But, thank the Lord, I have helped Gilmore, have an interest in the Coliseum, heard the big organ, and have been to Boston ! CHAPTER XYII. MY WIDOW IN THE' PAKK. IGHT down there — ^jiist where it was last year. O Park ! Wlij couldn't you move away, that I be not moved by harrowing recallings in \dew of you ? Confound you, but memory lingers with a fellow like a hole in his hat-band. All day it had rained like much thunder, and the wet \vinds blew moistness all over the win- dow and the soul. It was one of them days when a person feels just like it, and sometimes more so. So did I. 134 My Widow in the Park. And I read in the newspaper all the political, religical, financical, nonsensical, and litterical articles it had. Then the advertisements. And this one : " A young widow, with a loving heart and yearning soul, wishes to form the acquaintance of a nice gentleman who will love her. A good- looking man preferred. Address, appointing an interview, Eosa Morgan, Post-office." • That's me! Why not? I looked into the mirror — no reflections. Hair turning gray — but gray is becoming more fashionable than blue! Form, a little bit on the stoop — but Hogarth says a curve is a line of beauty. Not many wrinkles in the face — only ninety to the square inch — but what is wrinkles, when a widow is in the way ? And a wig — but thus we encourage industry, and then we thi'ive. So we wrote unto her, saying things as she re- My Widow in the Park. 135 posed her eyes onto and drank into her trump of hearts. She answered back again. So did we. And missives passed between ns — postage-j)aid. And the notes were on brass-momited or gilt- edged paper, to betoken eclatness of design and high-bloodness of rank and style. At last, oh ! at last. Wlien you have a bite, pull up. She, our Rosa, wanted an interview. She wrote as if we were much to her in the spirit and in the flesh. Greeting ! We read her gush- ingness, for it yearned all over the brass-mounted paper she performed her writing onto. So we yearned. We wrote epistles. We made little note to her. We asked her to come and meet us in the Park. Union Square Park. At eight P.M. Sunday night. Pleasant. In- deed, mooney. At the Fifteenth street-entrance. Broadway side. And if she held our letter in her hand when she arrived, she would be known. And greeted. And loved. And why not? Wliat is Park, and man, and folks for ? 136 My Widow in the ParJc. She answered Yes. She put a postscript to her catalogue of affections, wliich read : " P. S.— I'll be there, sure. With the letter in left hand. Already I love you. I'll be there. " EOSA." Happy ! As a clam with a new toothpick. "Would she come ? Would a woman fool a fel- low ? They never have yet ! So we fixed. Lie still, wriggling heart ! Why those flutters, when the time will come without ? We took a bath and paddled in the water an hour, dreaming of our Rosa. We had our wig brushed and ears curled. And our face shaved two layers deep below the skin. We looked rare and high-toned I Then we mounted a new hat over our head. Put on a blue neck-tie with ma- roon trimmings. A red silk undershirt like a lap-dog. A frilled shirt with birttons behind, so as not to unquilt the front and discomfit the My Widow in the Park. ' 137 starch thereon. And we put onto us sich a pair of lily-white linen pants, thin and cool. And we strode forth twenty minutes before the appointed time. We sat upon the bench. Our heart ! Have you ever been there ? Did you ever wait for your sweetheart, or one who might be, until your heart became like a roasted " shoo-fly " for uneasiness % Then come in ! We sat on the bench. A very hard bench for thin pants. Uneasy lies the head that wears a bench ! ^ People j)assed both ways. The mosquitoes were active. They bored pneumatic tunnels into our rheumatic legs till we dogmatically cursed them much. They bit, and we slapped. We slapped, and they bit. They bored into our knee- pans, into our thighlets, and all up and down the match-shaped fatness of our calves. We endured torture, and killed the cusses by dozens. We slapped them till folks thought we were patting the juba, and till our white linen was like unto a loS My Wulow in the Park. qiiaiVs bosom filled with shot, aiul a i*cd-}>cpper box-cover on the le^ik. We killed them, and smeared their corpses over our loirs like embividerv. AVe killed them at their meals, till the white pants were i*cd- lleeked with human gore. O Uosa ! Rosa ! whv dostest not eome, if thou comest ever i Ivnowest thou not that it becom- eth thee to eome scxmi i AVhy keep lover c^n a hard seat, killing mosquitoes and spoiling bi*eeeh- es ? But we forgive thee, sweet svlphess 1 At last ! She eamo. Twenty minutes late. Forty minutes mosquitcvkilling ! Now kx>k at our pants I AVliat a specledation to be in ! She had our letter in her left hand. It was her. O Jupiter ! — Jupe, desert us not ! But she ^vas a eharmer. Five feet ten inches high. Slim as a rail. Forty-nine yeai*s old, if a day. And her face looked like that of a tniined cat — decidedly catankei*ous. She had her mouth in a prim. Her eyebi*0W3 blacked, and lips My Widov) m the Pwrh. 130 painted with vcnriilion. And a little yaller j>ara- Bol. And a No. 7 hoot. IJut sho waB a woman ! We weakened — then rallied and braecjd up. "Ah! good evening! Ho glad! J low good t/> eonie I Conld have waited for hourn. I^et \w> walk here arjd there. Let ns go heiu^e, to nee how w(;nien dress and men govern. Come, J^^na, Bweet!" And we ventured out from the Park. Why we(jp when taking medieine? Oh, yourig widow — with a yearning heart ! Sainted wether of the lloek, art thou she \ J>ut we pratthid sweetly. We reaehed up to her arm. Wc were BO glad she was niee ! We feared she might }>o a squash- waisted nymph of aliout ninci hundred. Hearts do always find their mates, and that is what she trjld us. Folks laughed as wc reached up to her. She was so tall, and wc a little, short, fat one — she the long, and wc the short of it ! Oh, advertise- ment of yearning young widow wanting a man to love! Our thermometer left us — we grew 140 My Widow in the Parle. rich — linked sweetness drawn out too long — and we wilted. It was a pretty picture — a fine, lengthy view. We walked toward her home. We wanted to, but our heart failed us, on turtle-doving this tad- pole beside us ; so we invited her to a saloonery of ice-cream benevolence. We seated her on a chair. Called for two vanillas, large ! Then she excused us for a moment, while we went to speak to a friend at the door. We gave a waiter a dol- lar, thinking that would pay for cooling her off. We saw her through the window enjoying it, and fled like Moses away from the Egyptians. Some day we shall dare to look in to see if she is there yet, or if she has found a lover. CHAPTEE XYIII. PARIS CLUB ROOMS. |HE poor of 'New York we leave behind to-iiight, for there is nothing attractive in the garb of necessity or misfortune, nor is there much to entice in the watery eyes and watery potatoes, the hard floor and hard bread, the whining voice or crealdng hinges, the sparred countenances and ragged clothes, the dark rooms and dark life of those who are poor as the acme of poverty, and whose life is of so little account that their death and burial is almost unnoticed, except by the proper authorities. Leave them all behind to-night. 142 ^^Paris Club RoomsP The laihps are again lit. By the thousand tliey gleam and glimmer everywhere. To the right and left — up and down Broadway, to the right hand and left hand, as far as the eye can reach, they stand, better guardians of the night than many of the police officers. Many a man in ITew York owes his life to the street-lamps, the steady glare of which have more terror in them for evil-doers than a score of police-clubs. The lamps never have to go in to drink, or toast their shins before the fire in some curious place around the corner, downstairs. " Carriage, gentlemen ? " " Well, yes ! Do you know where the new Paris Club Kooms are ? " "No." " Drive to ISTo. — East Forty-second street. And say — drive around by Eiley's first." " All right ! " And away we go up Broadway to Eighth street — down Eighth, and then to the right. How the ^^Paris Club BoomsP 143 wheels rumble over the cold pave ! The horses are fast ; the click of their steel-shod feet on the stones evokes sparks as we dash ahead. The car- riage is well cushioned, and rides easy. We pull the furs about our ears, draw the robes over our knees, and hurry on. Who cares for carriao-es ? ■\Vlio rides in all these cars, carts, carriages, cabriolets, and coupees ? Somebody! Where do they live ? Somewhere ! Where are they all hurrying? Somewhere— to the theatre— to the cars— the boats— to go from home— to return- to church— to fill some engagement— to any- wheres and ever}^wheres. Here is Eiley's ! One of our party wants a choice Havana ; another wants a little sherry ; another wants to see his friends fixed. And away we go again ! Still lamps, gaslight, car- riages, and pedestrians. Kow to the right— to the left— to the right over beyond the haunted cellar and its murder-scenes. We stop before a four-story brown-stone front, 144 ^^ Paris Cliib Booms ^ handsomely-planned dwelling. " Ko one at home ? " Wait. " Driver, it is now a quarter past eight. Return here at thi-ee in the morning — sharp ! " "Ay, ay, sir." And the carriage rumbles away where the horses can rest and the driver keep warm ; for the establishment is now under pay, subject to order. It i^ not a year since these club-rooms were opened. Comparatively few of ISTew York peo- ple know of them. There is much done in New York no one laiows of ! Up the wide stairs — three of us. A silver bell-pull. All ig dark and quiet. A pull on the bell. Listen ! Not a tinkle is heard. " Pull agam 1 " Ko ; once is enough. A bolt is with- drawn — a light chain rattles- — a door swings open — a stqp is heard — a little wicket in the outer door is raised — the face of a stout black man looks out, but the door does not open. " All right — 1 " ^'Paris Club RoomsP 145 " Certainly, gentlemen ! " The wicket closes. All is dark. Another bolt is withdrawn, and the large iron door, painted to resemble rosewood, opens silently. The ebony waiter steps back. " Good evening, gentle- men ! " We enter silently. The door swings to — a large bolt returns to its socket. The inner door, also of iron, swings open — we pass in — that swings to and is bolted, and we are in the new Paris Club Hooms. To the left, into a reception-room. Hat, furs, overcoat, and overshoes are handed to a waiter who will be there when we want them again. IIow elco-ant the room ! A errate full of red coals throws out a generous warmth. A chestnut side-board in one corner of the room is covered with glasses and decanters. The polite door- tender invites us to help ourselves. We sit by the grate and are blessed with the grateful heat. While the door-tender disappears — we see him leave the room — we listen to hear his footfall ; 14G ^'Paris Clicb Eoo'insy the soft carpets are too much for us — the doors open too silently. We would not know but he stood outside the reception-room door, waiting in the hall like a black statue. In a moment or two he returns. " Gentlemen, whenever you are ready ! " " All right ! " "We arise and follow him. How silently the doors open ! IIow the carpets yield to pressure of the foot ! IN^ot a bit of noise — no more than if this were a deserted grave. Out in the hall — ■ to the end thereof. Another door opens, as leaves float in the air, and we enter the salon proper. What a splendid room ! Full forty feet square. Three grates on three sides of the room lend a cheerful look. The carpets are of the softest texture ! The chandeliers are of magnifi- cent pattern and generous proportions, two score of gas-burners making the room light as day. And the paintings on the wall? -decidedly ^^ Paris Club Rooms. ^^ 147 French in all that makes up the novel, the strik- ing and suggestive ! In the centre of the room is a faro-table, around which twenty men are sit- ting and standing at play. In the right-hand corner is a roulette-table, around which excited persons are betting on the red or black. On the left side of the room are smaller tables for poker, whist, cribbage, vintugn, and other games. There are five doors to the room besides the one at which we entered. There are half a dozen sofas, several easy-chairs, four tete-a-tetes, and a splendid side-board well stocked with the choicest wines, brandies, liquors, and cigars in the city. Everything denotes extravagance and excellent taste for furnishing. The furniture is of the most expensive make and elegant design. The picture-frames are of solid rosewood. The room is warm, and more than comfortable. And how still it is ! No introduction is needed, though we introduce our friends to one of the proprietors, 7 148 ''Paris Club Roomsr to whom we are introduced by a card and private note. " Welcome, gentlemen ! Make yourselves at home ; and if anything be lacking for your com- fort, it shall be sent for ! " "Ah! thanks!" Half a dozen really beautiful ladies are sit- ting around the room, or lounging idly at the tables. One of them is crocheting a beautiful lap-robe, which in a few days will astonish peo- ple on the avenues. All are beautiful, painted, dressed, and accomplished, as the word goes. There are books ; here is a guitar ; here are silver-mounted pistols, silver goblets, riding- whips, and silver spurs hanging over a mantle. What will you do % Would you smoke ? Here is a genuine Havana. Are you thirsty ? Here is wine, water, &c. Would you play faro ? Here is room — always room. Would you make up a party at poker ? Here are cards, table, ivory checks, and partners. Would you play '''•Paris Chib RoomsP 149 cribbage ? Here are cards, cribbage-board, and partners, either male or female. Would you sit by the fire and warm ? IN'o need of that, for the room is just right. Would you talk with one of the young ladies % Here is a tete-a-tete, or a sofa ; yonder, in the corner, are vacant chairs ; and here is a charming young lady who speaks French, Italian, Spanish, and English. She can tell you of travel, of cities, of games, of watering- places, and of people. Would you hear music from the guitar ? It is but a step into another room, and you can remain there as long or short a time as you please, and she will play some low- toned, gentle tune for you ; and if your head aches, hers are the fingers which will try and still the throbbing temple. . Are you hungry ? Step this way, into the lunch-room. Here are oysters, cold chicken, sandwiches, ale, &c., &c. ; or you can wait till one o'clock, for supper. All is free — that is, in the eating and drinking Ime. You can play or not, as you choose. You can 150 ^^ Paris Club Boo7rs,^^ drink, smoke, or eat — just as you please. It costs nothing. The proprietor presses yon to try a cigar. The young lady you are talking with insists on your drinking a glass of wine with her — then another — then another. How still it is ! !N"o loud talk — no profanity. At times an excited man at the faro-table utters a loud excla- mation. The dealer looks up at him. A negro waiter asks him what he will have. lie calls for a glass of liquor, and all is still again. Or some one asks the case-keeper what cards are dead and what cards are yet to be dealt out. Or some one wants another stock of " chips," as the round, flat ivory checks, about the size of half- dollar silver pieces, are called. Or some man ejaculates, " Thunder ! " as he loses fifty or a hundred dollars. But, for all that, there is no noise. Who are these men and women ? ISTever mind who ! The women are somebody ^^Paris Club liooms.^^ 151 — at least, they were somebody till they came here. They go to summer watering-places as somebody. They know enough of the world to convince you that they are somebody ; but their names — ah ! we forget to inquire ! " And the men ? " Ah, no ! people don't tell all they know. Some of these men are " sports," who live by gambling. Some of them are mer- chants, business men, politicans, office-holders, speculators, and a few curiosity-students like our- self. " What do they come here for ? " What makes the wind blow — water run down- hill — smoke ascend — men love women — women love men? We can't tell you? Most of them come here to gamble — to make or lose money faster than by legitimate business. We meet some of these men on Wall street — in the Cus- tom-House. We saw three of those here to- night, on the floor of Congress lately. If you would learn their names, come here as we came, 152 ^^PaHs Ohib RoomsP and see for yourself. It is easy to come, after you know tlie ropes 1 Everything is extravagance and dissipation. You can get more here than we have yet spoken of, if you have money and desire. There m-e private rooms. Men meet here to drink wine and devise means to caiTy elections, to control the people, to manipulate railroad stock — to affect the market, to study on some new road to wealth. After the plans are laid, a few hmi- dreds are lost or won at the gaming-tables ; and in the early morn, after a supper fit for the gods, home is sought. This is a modern gambling-house. There is nothing wanting to make attractive this resort of those who have money. Poor people have no business here. The handsome young ladies who are so agreeable, get a good living and wear the finest of clothing every day. There are from six to ten of these beauties here every night. They hail from other cities — are the creme de la creme ^' Paris Club Rooms)' 153 of their sisterhood — adepts in cunning and all the arts to win man from his good resolutions, and to entice money from him. They play poker, whist, or other games, with the coolness and dexterity of an expert, and are so very interesting that a man is nearly willing to pass through the gate to perdition if she but open it for him, and, with a smile and languid eye, will start him on the downward road. There is a selectness about this modern gam- bling-house. ISTone but men who know their business ever enter here. The owners of this palace are polite, and seemingly generous. The best of everything is set before the guest — wines, food, and cigars. One o'clock at night is the hour for a most sumptuous repast, when all the delicacies of the season are served in a long dining-room, where can sit forty-four guests at the table. You get here the most tempting roasts, the fattest broiled quail and other birds, the finest oysters, fruits in and out of season, 154 ^^ Paris Club Rooms^ coffee of rare flavor, champagne of exquisite memory — all in abundance, served by tlie most attentive waiters. Yon can eat alone, or by the side of a lady ; or yon can sit outside, listen to the rattle of knives, forks, spoons, and dishes, the pop of champagne-corks, and the jokes ; for every one has a license to say a good thing, if he but knows how, where, and when. For all this lux- ury there is no price charged. You return to the salon and begin again, or go home, as you please. It is now two o'clock. There is a lull in the ivory storm. Let us try the " Tiger," as faro is called. Here is the table — a long mahogany affair, covered with green velvet, on which are glued thirteen cards — from ace to Inng, in two rows, six in each row, with the seven-spot by itself, at the end. Behind this table sits the " dealer," a quick- eyed, quick-fingered, cool-nerved man, who seems like a machine in his look and motions. We will ^^ Paris Clxih Rooms .^^ 155 play a little, for it is not polite to run the house. At the right hand of the dealer, on the table, is a box filled with stacks of ivory checks, piled up in stacks like little plates. They are about the size of a silver dollar, if our readers can remember what size that is. They are white, red, blue, each color denoting different value. The white ones are worth a dollar each ; the red ones are worth ^YQ dollars each ; the blue ones are worth fifty dollars each. For fifty dollars he hands us fifty of these white checks, and puts the green- backs into a drawer beside him under the table- top. We sit down by the table ; a half-dozen men sit beside us, each with a stack of chips, white, red, or blue, as the purse of the player, or his inclination, calls for. The keen-eyed dealer opposite the table in front of us takes a full pack of cards, puts them in a silver box with an open top, so we can all see what card is first. The cards cannot fall out of the top, for there is a rim which holds them. They are kept up to the top 156 ^^ Paris Club RoomsP by means of a spring in the box nnderneatli the cards, pressing them steadily, firmly np. " Eeady ! " The first card \dsible to all is, we will say, a ten-spot. No one knows what the next card is. We mil put ten dollars' worth of checks on the king, on the table. If the first card under the ten be a king, the bank wins. The cards are drawn out one at a time, and laid in two piles regularly. The first card (under the one which is visible) is the dealer's. All money bet on that, he takes. The second card belongs to us. All can see what cards are drawn. All the little piles of ivory checks standing on the first card, of the two drawn, are picked up by the dealer and set back where they belong in the box. All the little piles of ivory on the next card dra^vn call for the dealer to set beside them a pile of corre- sponding size and value. We bet on the king. The game goes on — the dealer draws, takes, and pays. Hallo! The king was in his pile — we ^^ Paris Club lioomsP 157 lose ten dollars ! We put ten more on the same card. Next time it»wins, as it comes out first or second. lie now puts ten dollars more on it. We place the twenty dollars on the Jack. He deals ; the first one in the pack under the king is a four-spot. He takes all there is bet on that card. The next one is a Jack. We had twenty dollars on it. He pays without a word. Per- haps half a dozen men were betting on the Jack. He pays each one all he bet thereon. We now have forty dollars. We shove the pile of chips or checks over to the queen. The rest of the players put their checks v/here they think best. He draws two more cards. The first is a six- spot, which loses ; the second is a queen. We have again won. He places checks on these to correspond with the pile we had there. Now we have eighty dollars — having lost one bet. We pile our chips in front of us, and put twenty dol- lars on the nine-spot. He draws. The nine-s^^ot comes first ; we lose. It is our opinion that the 158 ^^Paris Club RoomsP nine-spot will not lose twice in succession, so we place twenty dollars more on it. Again he draws. The nine-spot wins. And so it goes. We bet on which card we please. Every other card wins for us — every other card wins for the bank. " IIow do they make it pay ? " That is the great question. When two cards are together, the half of what was bet on that card — an ace, for instance, if two aces are together in the pack — is taken by the dealer, for it is called a sjplit. This appears to be the only percentage the game has over those who play against it ; and in large games, such as are played here, the half which the house wins on sjplits often amounts to a thousand or more dol- lars a night. Again, men come in, lose a hun- dred or two dollars, and quit. The bank is gen- erally this much the gainer. Sometimes a man will lose a thousand, or twenty thousand dollars, a night, here. Sometimes a man will win as ^^Paris Club Booms^'' 159 much ; though few men have the nerve to play their " luck," as it is called, as high when win- ning as when losing. There is a percentage in favor of the bank — at least, a faro-bank generally wins, and they who play against it generally lose. "We started in with fifty dollars. It is now fifteen minutes of three. In fifteen minutes a carriage will be at the door. We have been lucky ; in the place of fifty dollars, we have now nearly four hundred. "We pile up our chips and pass them in to the dealer. lie hands out the greenbacks with a pleasant nod, which says " It is all right," and shove back from the table. In the forty-five minutes we sat there, three men were winners and seven were losers. The amount the three won is less than six hundred dollars, while the seven men have lost over four thousand ! The bank is ahead. Our wine, sup- per, &c., is paid for. We have four odd checks — just enough to divide between the waiter who attended us at the table, the one who brought us 160 ''Paris Club Eoomsr cigars when we came in, the door-tender, and the boy in the coat-room. It is nearly thi'ee o'clock ; still the games go on. Here is a table where five men are playing poker for large stakes. Here sit two men and two of om' handsome ladies at euchre, for fifty dollars a corner. This is a gambling-house. It will be kept open till six in the morning. The crowd is not as when we entered. Some have gone home broke ! Some have won enough to do them, and left. The balance are here. Some are in the little rooms about here, having a social chat over a glass of wine or a cigar. The ladies, who were so smiling ^nq hours since, look war-worn and petulant. The waiters look somewhat sleepy. Still the game goes on. The dealer has been rested by his " partner," and another keen-e^^ed man draws the cards, takes, and pays. Men come here and lose in a night more than they made in a year. They use the funds of others. ''Paris Club RoomsP 161 If luckj, all is well ; if unlucky, there is a bank defalcation, a deficit in some Government offi- cial's account, a breaking-np of some merchant, and no one stops to inquire into particulars. " Ai'e you going, gentlemen % " " Yes ; it's time countrymen were in bed, you know." " Yes. Good thing ! Take something before you go out ? It's a raw night — must take care of health." And the polite proprietor insists on the acceptance of his hospitality. We start for the door. A pretty dame d^honneur, with a smile and look of interest, invites us to call when convenient, mshes us good night, and smiles us into the hall — well sat- isfied that the Paris Club Rooms of ]^ew York are models of dissipation, ease, luxury, and extravagance. In the recejDtion-room is a good fire. The ebony waiter carefully fixes on our overshoes, helps on our coat and furs, brushes our hat and overcoat, and bows his thanlvs as we give 162 ^^ Paris Club Booms P him a check. At the iron door stands the keeper of this institution. We drop a check into his hand ; the doors open silently as before, and with a shiver we are outside, hastening into the car- riage there in waiting, and down the almost deserted streets are rumbling along to our hotel, to sleep away the balance of the night, or morn- ing, while our friends with us are satisiied with the adventures of the evening. CHAPTEE XIX. MT FIRST NIGHT AT SPARKING. ELL! She just took my eye — both eyes, for that matter ! Yoimg, gushing, bashful, laughing, happy black eyes, red cheeks, cherry lips, black hair, white teeth, voice like a warbler, laugh like the rising of a bride, step like a fawn, gait like a zephyi-, heart like the noonday sun ! Took my eye ! Ay ; she took my two eyes. Come to think of it, she took my heart along with my optics. She — God bless her animated photograph ! — ^was just rising sixteen. Sweet ? No name for it! I was older. I should be 164 My First Night at Sjyarldng. older, and I was. I was rising nineteen — ^hard on nineteen and a half. TVe were neighbors. That is to say, our pater- nal relatives were neighbors, as the farms of our paternal relatives joined. My paternal relative was my uncle by birth, and I was^ his nephew ; but the farms joined just the same as though nothing had happened. Her name was Eliza. Her name was a sweet name to me. It flowed into my heart so sweetly like, I rather liked it We met by chance — the usual way. I went to her house of an errand. She was there, and we met. I went for a pail of vinegar, and she poiu'ed it out for me. When I got home, my aunt said the vinegar wa'n't good. I knew why — Eliza had looked into its depths, and gave it sweetness ! She had a brother. He was older than either of us. Ilanlv was his name, and he worked the farm. But I got to loving Eliza, if he did. We often met — in the orchard, when I went to steal My First Night at Sj[>arhing. ' 165 fruit ; and the old man — that is, her father — sent her to drive me out I Take care, old man ! I am after t'other fruit what yon hain't dreamed of ! It took her a good while to drive me out. I was often chased by her — chased so far I had to go part way home with her ! Then, we met on the hills, when after berries. Lie still, fond heart ; You're dreamin' on her now ! I used to show her the big bushes. I used to shove a handful of the ripe fruit into her basket, at times. This was before she was rising sixteen — at least two years before. When I first got to loving her, and she acted as if she knowed it, I used to pull the brush out of her path, and con- sole her over the pricks and scratches she got from the thorny briars which beset our path. Well ! Time flew on, just as it always does. We increased in years, and I got to loving her more than a little. At last, I wanted to visit her by moonshine. It was in J;he fall of the season. 166 • My First Night at Sjpm'Jcing. I had cut com all day with my paternal uncle. I was tired ; but love said to corn-cutting fatigue, " Get thee hence," and it henced to once. I enveloped myself in a boiled shirt with linen collar. It was a turn-over collar. I put onto me a dickey belonging to my uncle. I had but few store-clothes of my own, as I was not wealthy in worldly dross and such ! I put a couple squirts of mellow woodchuck-oil, scented with cinnamon-s of tooth-picks from your whiskei*s, and " purrs " like Pretty Waiter -girl Saloons. 210 a love-asking kitten. She is so affectionate, one cannot help feeling an interest in her. We ask, and she tells her history, as we sit a little apart from the rest. IIuo-o's fiction excelled ! " She is a young widow — poor, but honest parents. Husband killed in the army. Is forced to do this, or starve. She earns six dollars a week, and five per cent, on all nightly sales over twenty dol- lars." You wonder how she dresses so well on six dollars a week, when it costs nine for board ! Overchange sometimes, when gentlemen treat ! And the proprietor thinks much of her, and pays her extra wages! Or she is a young girl just from the country. Or she is a milliner, and her shop is busted, and she does this for a living. Of course, she is strictly virtuous. Yet — if there ever was a man — ^}'ou, who so resemble a dear friend somewhere, might be just the man — if — ■ and if — and if — oh, dear I And we all drink again. There are as many different styles of pretty 220 Pretty Waiter-girl Saloons. girls here as there are waiters. Here is a queen of night — eyes and hair of raven blackness, dressed like a queen, beautiful and enticing. Beware there, conntrjinan ! She is more bean- tiful than the woman you love, perhaps ; but never mind. Another comes, dressed in mourn- ing. She has just lost a mother (or something else), and tells you a sorrowful tale, and, half- weeping, says Yes to any proposition, except to edit a daily paper ! And here comes a red- cheeked girl, dressed so prettily, with a natural rose in her hair — no jewelry, no display — that even a city sport is tempted to fall in love with the little minx. The saloon is filled with pretty girls, who are here from seven to half-past one every night." After the latter hour, time is their own. The saloon is fitted up regardless of cost. Marble tables — marble counters — full-length mir- rors — easy-chahs — brilliant lights — a large foun- tain playmg into a marble basin six feet across, Pretty Waiter-girl Saloons. 221 filled with gold-fish — canary birds hanging in the evergreen branches, which form little screens oi' bowers in the corners of the room, or by some pillar where sits a gray-haired sinner, half -hidden from gaze of curious eyes, holding the hand of a pretty waiter-girl, who has him on a string, for sure ! In one corner of the room a piano sits, and at intervals a Polish, Hungarian, or German " professor " favors us with operatic or other airs. The room is warm — the blood gets hot — the pretty waiter-girls groT^ sociable as the small hours draw nigh. There is nothing to offend the most polite. Loud talking, profanity, and un- seemly conduct is not allowed. A police officer is always in the room, to preserve order and eject those who are too noisy. The proprietor walks about, seeing that all is well. The hours fly past. It is cold outside — comfortable here. We play a game of dominos, to see who pays the next drinks. Our girl trips off for a minute, to wait on somebody else. She returns smilingly, just as 222 Pretty Waiter-girl Saloons, the game is finished, ready for another chat. She tells all her little troubles, and the history of every girl she dislikes who is present ; for pretty waiter-girls have their jealousies as well as other people. If you order drinks from another girl, she does not like it. She tells you her name, which is Anna, Emma, Katie, Frank, Belle, Sophia, Alice, Nellie, Carrie, or some such pet name. She invites you — that is, if she likes your style — to call at such a number on such a street, and visit — ^just for acquaintance' sake, you know ! Or, perhaps you would as soon walk or ride home with her when the saloon closes. Saloons do close in I^ew York I Being a stranger, with nothing to do, of couree you would not object to going just a little way with a pretty girl, to protect her from loafers, you know ! These girls have their regular customers, whose patronage is their capital. We have seen them go half-crazy with anger, when some regular Pretty WaiteT-girl Saloons. 223 evening dropper-in at the saloon would give an order to some other girl who had never before waited on him. They fix up a man's coat-collar to keep his ears warm, go with him to the door, and say, " Come again ! — Call for ' Frank,' or ^ Kate ! ' — Good-nio-lit ! " with such a winninir way, that a man thinks pretty waiter-girls and pretty waiter-girl saloons are great institutions. As a general thing, these girls are sharp. They know who to spend time talking with, and who not to. It is not eveiy one they will waste words with, of all the hundreds who nightly visit this place in particular. They are the Grisettes and Lorettes of Paris, only sharper and more mercenary. Most of the patrons of these institutions are strangers, and, of course, better paying customers than residents of the city. Men come and go. They become interested in the girls. They bring friends to these saloons, and swell the receipts to sums ranging from one to three hundred dollars 224 Pretty Wcdter-girl Saloons. a night. Yon get anything, from ^vine to ice- water, from a raw oyster to a cold turkey — of course papng well for it. At half -past one the hour for closing aiTives. The crowd is thinned down to but few more than there are girls. One by one or two by two they go mated, if not matched. The saloon is still — the customers have taken their last drink — the girls have put on their things and gone, with or without an escort, as they were enticing or in luck — the police officer goes home — the bar- tenders take a " night-cap " drink — the cashier and proprietor figure up the receipts and lock up the cash — the girls' number- badges are strung ready for to-morrow night — first come, first num- bered — the gas is turned do^vn — the porter locks the doors and goes off to his room, perhaps a mile or more away — and the pretty waiter-girl saloon is closed till to-morrow night at seven o'clock, when all is light and " splendor " again. The influences of these saloons are evil — only Pretty Waiter-girl Saloons. 225 evil continually. Men come here singly and in gronps — many but to see and extend their knowl- edge of human nature. Some come to drink ; some to chat with the girls, who are always striv- ing to please, and who have their fi'iends and admirers, whose coming is looked for each night. Men come here because they have the blues — to see the girls, and watch others. They, come and buy a drink — anything from lemonade to hot poison — or take a cold lunch, look about, and go home. The girls are generally all one thinks them to be. They receive low wages, but live by picking up flats. Clerks in stores, business men, stran- gers, and others, fall in love — what an insult to the word ! — make them presents, buy their smiles and favors, and, strange as it may seem, at times marry the inmates of these legalized concerns. They are of the selectness which sends disease far over the land, and would be abolished but for the influence they wield at the polls. The votes 10* 226 Pretty Waiter-girl Saloons. of the Five Points, and such localities, are in a manner counteracted hy the " aristocracy " of politics which run the votes which cluster around such places. CHAPTER XXYII. TO A PRETTY LITTLE MAID. Y pretty little maid Whose gentle heart for love ia yeaming, Better be a wee afraid — And closer watch the coals a-buming ! Lovers talk of joy and sorrow, True to-night — and false to-morrow. Boys will talk of earnest loving. Men will dally in their roving. Some for one thing — some another, — Wed the one and love the other I My pretty little maid, Don't sit there listening When up and off to bed You had better be hastening 1 My pretty little maid, Don't believe all the praising — All the words so smoothly said Till you've learned your lover's raising I 228 To a Pretty Little Maid, Men will talk, ne'er believing, Happy when you maids deceiving. Men will vow, and then forgetting- Leave you to your vain regretting, Twenty court for your iindoing — One is earnest in his wooing. Darling little maid, You'd better be hastening Away to your bed,. And not there be listeninff I CIIAPTEE XXYIII. PUEIVir.LE BENEVOLENCE. E had a high old time in Piiritanville, or Puriville, as wo call it. The win- ter's snows all ran down the creek. Our New England hills sang with joy as the ice ripped and the water rippled on its grapevine-way to the deep blue sea. In all our scttlemeiiLt lives not a single, mar- ried, or double Democrat. We are all loyal in Puriville — and refined — and so Christian-like in disposition I We never jerk the last ogg from the nest — till the active pullet has tired of her eggs-periments, and gives up her cggs-ultation 230 Puriville Benevolence. over our eggs-centrlcity of taking all we get, except tlie shells ! Eveiy Sunday our dear, pious divine, Eev. Ilezerky Dropcliin, preaches such soothing ser- mons at lis ! lie tells us that h-e and two ells is paved ninety feet deep with skulls of infants cemented in with the curses of the d-a-m-ned ones — and that the Lord loveth a cheerful giver — and that giving to the poor is investing with the Lord. And he says we must love our ene- mies — or we can't make a cent out of seventeen of them. He is a good man, is Rev. Ilezerky Dropchin, and preaches with most unctuous eclat. And we do just as he tells us to ; for why doctor yourself, when you buy his doctorin's ? One day, while the sprouts were sprouting, the buds were budding, the leaves leaving, and the grass grassing all over things generally, the bell rang a loud Christian-like rangle, calling us all to worship. Ours is a nice bell — it was conquered Purimile Benevolence. 231 from a church-tower when oiir troops were on their Southern " tower," and now rings " Glory hallehijah " in the hands of a Northern jerkist. It is wicked to be proud, and God loves us in Puriville for confiscating all such articles of " bigotry and virtue " from the South, and recon- structing them Via the plan of roundhead salva- tion. And we have such nice carpets, and hymn- books, and a Bible, and that aristocratic solid silver communion service, all taken from the proud people of the South, who would have ended their days in much continuous toraient had we not taken their idols from them, and directed their eyes to the true and revealed Power. It is so sweet to save souls this way. And it's cheaper for us. And then, our churches will seem so homelike when visiting brethren and sisters visit us in our own prayer-warmed homes, to attend divine service with us ! The other day Brother Dropchin told us that 233 Purimlle Benevolence. his dear cousin 'Zeldel had been Sonth. And such destitution he never saw. He went down with two thousand cheap pictures to sell to the innocent contrabandboxes of the South, but they had been supplied, and he only sold seven dam- aged " views " in all his trip ! And he had two thousand dollars' worth of brass jewelry, but the white men of the South had so outraged, robbed, and impoverished the negroes, that they — poor innocent architects of national cemeteries ! — had no spelter to shell out ; and so his jewelry gan- grened, and he returned with it in verdigris. Then, after a prayer and two songs, our be- loved pastor said we must do something for the poor people of the South, to let them know that we forgave them for their wickedness, and to win them back to a love for their benefactors, lie said they needed school-books, and old clothes, and reading-matter, and money, and encourage- ment. We all felt it our duty to aid in restoring these Puriville Benevolence. 233 poor disfi*eclded sinners to their rights and re- ligion. So we appointed a committee to solicit aid for the poor half-whipped rebels, that they might know we love them. And everybody responded. Our people are so liberal 1 Indeed, God loves a cheerful giver ; and if the folks South do not love us, it ain't our fault. "Wje give them good advice, and good laws, to match the articles sent to them by our committee, C. O. D. ! Our committee did first-rate. In two days we raised twelve big boxesful of things for them, and sent them off. Deacon Gunner had them stored in his barn, four miles from the depot, and his son John hauled them to the cars for four dollars a box, advance charges paid, and forwarded for collection ! Then we had them repacked in new boxes — thirty-seven dollars, advance charges, forwarded for collection. And they all went on ma Os- wego, Cape May, St. Paul, La Crosse, Pittsburg, to St. Louis ; thence by ocean steamer to New 234: Puriville Benevolence. Orleans, and up the river to Morrison, Illinois, and then by cars direct to the South. There were lots of things in the boxes the people of the South need. In one box were : Seventeen pairs of old, moldy boots, of 1818 — good as new. Twenty old hoop-skirts taken from the lanes and streets. One waterproof night-cap, raffled on the "back. Two old boot-jacks, split. !N'ine straw hats, averaging forty-one years old, selected from the cock-loft over the vv^agon houses. Another hoop-skirt — boy's size. Two umbrella covers, perforated. One claw-hammer, without teeth. Two dozen tracts on the Incalculable Horrors of Perpetual Damnation. One tin horn run over by a cart laden with stone. Twelve pill-boxes to hold garden-seeds. One red overcoat, without a tail. Two dozen shirts, Purimlle Benevolence. 235 assorted sizes, minus flaps, arms, bosoms, buttons, or other wrinkles. Three pairs of second-hand stove-legs, good as new. Likeness of a bob-tailed cat — good to amuse Sunday-school children. One pair of curling- tongs, bent, and only a little rusty. Two dozen of them things you buy in pairs at a store, providing you need them. One flannel shirt for the baby to wear, in the sweet summer-time. One lot of carpet-bags, and loyal sneak-thieves to carry them. One dozen old socks, scalloped and assorted. One copy of a cook-book to stay their appe- tites. The other boxes were filled with like goods. And, now that we have done our duty, and shown to the people of the South how much we love them, we are happy and contented. CHAPTEE XXIX. WHAT I KNOW ABOUT FAEIkllNG. AM a pharmer. One of the olclen kind ! About ninety-five year olden kind. "Wlien yonnger than now, I had much to do with Weeds ! This fact makes me a pharmer. There is nothing about the science of pharming^ from sitting of a hot day under a rail-fence in company with a jug, to picking geese, that I do not feel justified in knowing. Picking geese is good. I have helped pluck many a goose — from the black Michi-ganders to the last Pepublican candidate for Governor in the State of New York. Observe the following rules about pharming Wliat I Know About Farming. 237 the result of sixty years' subsoil ploughing to find the floor of the philosopher's office. These instructions, if not right, are according to copy- right, and will be useful to office-clerks, octo- genarians, and those who raise bees on a pole ; also to the poor of large cities, who should bor- row a few thousand dollars of their friends, go West, settle alongside of some railroad where the land has been properly Grant-ed to men who are willing to sell what cost them nothing, for fifty dollars an acre, including back taxes. In selecting land, great care should be taken to get bottom-lands — that is, lands with a bottom to them. It is just as easy to enter them, without the danger of going clear through. Hill-lands are apt to make pharming a one-sided affair, the price paid for such property, as a general thing, being a little steep. Stones and stumps are not essential to good farms, unless you have plenty of dogs, or intend to make speeches as the men are mowmg and 238 ^Yhat 1 Know About Farming, maids a-milking while the dew is on their eye ! But to resume. Pharming is one of the fine arts discovered by the ancients of Ireland, under the green old sod. To be a pharmer, a man must be a pharmer whole or in part. The less he knows about it, the more he can write about it. Having a few spare moments, I bought of Carleton, the great book-maker of New York, ten copies of Greeley's " What is It 1 " on farming, and opened-up shop. I have read that book through nine times — twice backward, and once standing on my head ! Have mastered it at last, and condense in milder shape what I know about running the thing into the ground. Young man, be a farmer ! Young woman, be a farmer ! Buy a billiard-table, dust your clothes on the top of it, sprinkle on a little dandruff, and go to work. Never think of beginning with less than a field of green at least What I Know About Farming. 239 » 6x10. Spread your earth all over the billiard- table evenly, to the depth of one-sixteenth of an inch, irrigate with a sponge, and subsoil to the depth of ten feet. If you have no billiard-table, buy a piece of land, if you can't get a whole one, and go to work. The best way is to stand about in the shade, or hire out to hold a chair down in a saloon while the old man does the work. If your farm is stony, pick out the stones be- fore they are ripe and throw them in the road. This will cause others to McA-Dam-ize your street. Never think of ploughing less than nine feet, if your mule will pull it. If you have no team, wait till winter ; then drill and blast. This will pulverize the earth, elevate your land warm it, and you will be able to report before your slow neighbors. Run your creeks up-hill, and wash sheep only in warm water. Pick geese on Sunday, and sit the eggs 24v0 What I Know About FaTming, on fence-posts, out of the way of garter- snakes. In turning grind-stone to educate scythes, never turn the handle backward, or the early grass will wilt before the color comes to it. Put a left-handed swivel in your scythe, so it will cut both ways. In selecting gooseberries, pick out the crook- neck variety and put them in the nest under the best goose in the drove by the middle of Octo- ber, that the goslings may be naturalized by the time for spring elections. In harvesting strawberries, be careful not to run the thresher too fast, or the straw will be spoilt for juleps, and only fit for beds. To cook string-beans, it is not necessary to par- boil the strmg in more than one suds. The best way to raise calves is to sit in a cane- seat chair and put your heels on the mantel-piece or a high table. When washing sheep, it is best to shear them Wliat I Know About Farming, 241 first — less soap and fewer towels will be wanted. Eoosters should never be supplied with more than one comb a year, and this should be a horn one, tied about their necks so they will not lose them so easily; they will hatch up enough brushes. In raising catnip for children, the Maltese variety is the thing, as it comes up the best when called. In breaking colts, use a club ; it is better than a crowbar. A sled-stake will answer. Drive fence-posts with the butt-end down, so the boys won't want to sit on top of them when arguing so long without coming to the point. Butterflies should never be milked or churned the day they are slopped, lest the young milk be spoiled, l^one but the ice-cream cows should wear skates — ^the heel-cork sscratch the calves so. Hydraulic rams should be butchered before sunrise, and the pelts saved for company. 11 24:2 What 1 Know About Farming, Canary-seed should be sown* in drills, so tlie young birds will rows early. In planting string-beans, never nse yarn — when once in the throat it is so hard to come np. The same with artichokes or pips in chickens. Pitchforks should be sorted and packed in sugar, the juice boiled and skimmed before run- ning into cakes. Pumpkins should hang on the trees till fi'ost comes ; then should be picked, not shook off, and packed in sweet oil. In stuffing sausage, do not stuff too much into your stomach, or you'll have a feline in your category, and feel that you have incurred some- thing you hate to meat. Dandelions should be worked in pink rather than blue worsted — they will wash better. In putting up dried apples for market, let them lay out in the rain till the seeds start ; then run them backward through a fanning-mill set to seive No. 4^ with the slide well down in Wliat I Know About Farming. 243 the hopper, while the hired girl turns the crank to the key of C-sharp. Ordinary shoes will do for oxen when at farm- work. Use slippers on them only when going to chm'ch. For succotash, the young corn and potatoes should be sliced and planted in the same hills the year before. Then take care not to injure the pods when the fruit is ready to tassle out. Old rags are better than glass to stop holes in windows — the neighbors cannot see in so well. Beach-nuts should never be eaten with their skins on — they change the complexion so. Young bed-quilts should never be taken out of the ground in the fall, till the beds have been well spaded for the next crop. In hatching suspenders, care must be taken that the old hen does not have her nest near the gallows, or the young birds will be hard to catch. Look out for Protection ! Let the bio- hog-s eat the little ones, then there will be more room 24:4: What I Know About Farming. in the pen and less expense for barrels. But, in salting the pork, never nse rock-salt on a stony farm, but feed them with fine salt from a spoon, if Butler is not in that vicinity. Use Epsom salts exclusively for horses. ITever put spots on pigs backward, except they are for army use. Sweet corn is the best to corn beef, though old cows used to the business will eat the common red glaize, if the hired man does not yellow at them before they get into the garden. In making pork out of pig-iron, it is not neces- sary to fill the tub more than half -full of lime and straw, though hickory-ashes are the best. Use peach-leaves to color blonde, and this is all I know about farming. Furrowily thine, "B." P. CHAPTER XXX. "who's ben here since ish bin gone?" ILLFLICKER SOTCKSISTACKER, a Teutonic vender of sourkraut, wooden combs, crude cabbage, strip- ed mittens, cotton suspenders, and ■'^ liddle dings," with true patriotic zeal, left his home in La Crosse at the commencement of the war, and enlisted as a slop grocery-keeper behind the sutler's tent on the Potomac. When he went away, it was with the intention of making some " monish," if it took all summer ; and nobly did he fight it out on his line. How he did it, is best told as he related it to us on his return : " You see, Mr. Bumroy, der drum beats, und der call cooms to go to war mit arms. Ish be 246 " Who^s hin Here since Ish hin Gone ! " patriotic so miicli as Sheneral "Wasliburn, or Shen- eral Curtis, or Sheneral Bangs, or any tarn shen- eral who lifs to coom home great mans. So I puys some liddle dings, und gits some baj)ers from der War Committee, und goes mid der poys to be batriots, nnd sell some liddle dings imd make some monish. I kiss mein frow ^\q^ nine- teen dimes, nnd goes mit der war. I goes to Shambersbnrg und makes some monish. 'Yun day I pokes mein vindow out on mein head to hear der serenade, und dink of someding, ven I see dat rebel Sheneral Shtonefence Shackson, mit his droops und pig prass pand, cooming der shtreet down, playing like der tuyfel on der prass band, " ' Who's bin here since Ish bin gone ? ' " Dat Shtonefence Shackson is der tuyfel mit fightins ! So I puts mein monish in mein bocket, und I puts mein little bapers in mein pag, und I goes so quick as never vas to Gettysburg ; und dere I opens some more liddle dings, und makes shtore mit der army. Yun day I hears sojer- di'oops on der horsepack riding down der shtreet like dunder, und den I pokes der vindow out on " Who's hill Here sioice Ish hin Gone ! " 247 mein head und looks meinself tip der shtreet, und der cooms dat tuyf el Sheneral Shtonef ence Shackson, playing dat same oder dune as I hear pefore, " ' Who's bin here since Ish bin gone ? ' " Den I makes mein monish coom inter mein bockets, und makes mein pag coom into mein bapers, und puts mein sign on der pig shtore on der corner, so I loses more goods as I had not got, to collect more pay from der War Commit- tee, und den I coom to Wisconsin to see mein f row, as I don't seen in dese two years, so long time as never vas. " Den I cooms home, und knocks on der door, und mein frow she makes talk, und tells me, ' Who's dere?' "Den I say, ^Hilliiicker Snicksnacker ; ' und she knows dat ish mein name, 'cos dat ish her name, too, und she make herself coom out of der house, und gif me nine, seven times kiss on mein face, so good as never vas ! " Den, Mr. Bumroy, I looks mit mine eyes, und I sees somedings ! Und so I ask mein frow 2i8 '^TT/io'^s hhi Here aince Is A hin Goiier^ if she pe true to me all der time since I go off to pe a batriot ? imd, if she pe true to her Hill- flicker Snicksuacker, vy she make so much grow yen I pe gone two yeai*s mit der war ? Und I gits mad as der tuvf el, und den I dinks of dat tam Sheneral Shtonefence Shackson und his pig brass band, und I sings, " * Who's bin here siuee Ish bin gone ? * *' Und now, Mi-. Bumrov, somebody makes trooble mit me, for Ish bin g-one two yeai*s, und I know somedings, und I goes pack mit der war, und I sinscs dat tam Shtonefence Shackson son^: all der vay, " * Who's bin here siuoe lah bm goue ? ' " CHAPTER XXXI. A JERSEY ATONEMENT. I'M like a rosebud snbdrowned in honey. Yea, in a newspaper mine optics beheld lines, saying — black ink on white paper, a contrast like Bnowflakes on a contrabandus — that '^ A ElCn WIDOW OF GENTLE DIS- /V position wants some one to love — wari'^s to marry a congenial gentleman not over sixty, with a desire to improvement. Address, &c." Just my age to a duck's foot ! Rather ambigu- ous, but means well, sayeth I to I. Desire to improvement was good. Slow work for a man of sixty to greatly improve a woman, unless she 11* 250 A Jersey Atonement. be well down tlie steel-yard of years. I went. Quiet home — charming widow. Had seen forty winters somewhere — know not where. Handed her the paper with the delicious advertisement therein, like a raisin in a kettle of beans. She smiled over her fan. She scooched her head gently, thus. She gently bit her upper lip, and prayed — that is, prayed me to be seated. I was fi'esh from the districts of ruralism. I had hoed the calves, milked the bees, fed the growing pota- toes, built sweet cider, and quenched my thirst with rail-fences, and was just the canary for the blooming widow's perch. I sat in the spontaneous deliciousness of the affectionate intercourse of that enthusiastic ex- plorer of masculine hearts ^^iQ> hours that night. I was like a humming-bird in a fanning-mill. I squozed the widow ; the widow squizzened me. I leaned my thinking-box against her maternal instincts, and looked into her eyes as a burglar looks around a corner. And all I saw was love. Says I, " Shall we ? " Says she, " Shan't we ? " We went to a minister. Five dollars, and all was over. A Jersey Atonement. 251 How I revelled ! Sixty years of bachelor days in N'ew Jersey had fleetened over my head and things. I was a freshman. I was a icicle, wait- ing for the sun of love to thaw me out. She thawed me ! We began to live. I tried to im- prove the widow. I spent all my evenings in improving her. She improved. We were wed- dened in Aj)ril — April the onest. With the vigor of a Spring chronticleer did I prove my devotion. Like the first violet of vernal did I watch our <&rc. increase. One day, when I came home to our cot in the mill, I saw spread out on the floor a fourteen-year-old lump of ragged boy. 'Twas ragged Pete, of the Newsboy Brigade. He was on a lark. He'd been sloshing about, and had become hilarious. He showed surface indications of being drunk. I wanted to know why he earnest thus upon us. He said he wanted the old woman to give him half a horse. That was Pete's idea of a $5 bill ! The cherubim was the child of my adored ! I gave him the lucre. He went. I wanted to caress him with the toe of my boot, but he looked too detrimental. I spoke gently to my wife about Pete. She said she 252 A Jersey Atonement, meant to tell me tliat slie had a cherub, but when &he saw me, I was so enticing' she forgot it ! She said I made her forget it. Pretty compliment, wasn't it ? I told her that her Peter mustn't be a re-peter, or I'd peter. She said five dollars a week would keep him away. I told her I was just in from the country, &c., etc. ; but she did five-dollars me, and I saw no more of Peter. She said she had atoned for all that. Who could doubt her ? We went on smoothly. One day, when I came home, two half-breeds were on the family bed, playing with a shaggy- eyed dog. The half-breeds were brothers. They were twins. They were of eleven years' dura- tion so far. They were in the boot-black busi- ness at Washington Market, and lived in a dry- goods box there. They had dark features, and a peculiar kink to their capillary. They called my consort "Mother." She had bore them. They bored me. Words failed to relieve me. I spoke of Pete. She said these were her other heavenly blessings I I asked if these had been atoned for. She said No. I felt better, for, if they had, I should have looked for four of an age, and al] A Jersey Atonement. 253 f oiu' clear black ! I settled five dollars a week on the young Washingtons, and was again happy. * * * « « * This is the record of June. I've been a father for a week. Says I, Bully for New Jersey ! Was married April first, l^ever knew an in- stance where improvement went on so rapidly. Age tells ; blood is nothing. And such a baby ! It's a pretty baby. Will be a man, if it grows up. It was like a newspaper that is well read. It has the strabismus. It has red hair. I have written to my father to know if I had red hair. Mine is like the driven over snow. Have written to my original doctor, who I used to term a cow- catcher, to know if I had the cross-eyed when first borned. Am waiting for a reply. Wife says it is because we live at the forks of the road, opposite the red barn. She may be right. I hope she is right I If I had been ninety years old, we should have had this help to our census a month ago. That is, on this principle. I have given up business. The loving disposition is proving too much for me. I sold my steers, corn-stalks, and cow-pastm^e. I sold them that 254 A Jersey Atonement, I miglit be here continually to improve the widow. Now look at me ! I'm clad in a pea-green dressing-gown. It is four o'clock in the morn- ing. I have been walking the floor three hours. . This cherub asleep in my arms is our baby. 0%ir first haby ! That is to say, on my part. It is our last atonement. I like baby. It's better than lobster-salad. It's a vigorous baby. It never sleeps. I feed it on paregoric, and such stimulants. I am its nurse. It eats from a bot- tle. I walk the floor with it. It don't seem to like me. It yells as if its father had been an auctioneer. I never auctioneered. It kicks as if its paternal derivative had at some time of life been a yackass. I never was a yackass ! It squalls as if its philoprogenitor had been a storm at sea. I never was one of them. Its mother is of a loving, gentle disposition. She loves gin, and, after drinking two bottles full, or empty, becomes gentle. She is gentle now ! I have tied the cherub's legs together with a piece of wire, so he can't kick ; I've put a court-plaster over his mouth, so he can't squall ; I've tied a A Jersey Atonement. 255 strip of paling to his back, so he can't squirm ; and sit down to write how this affair is culminat- ing. I've got Pete and the two " atonements " out of the way. I've got a sure thing on the widow, while the gin holds out. And I've got a tight thing on our cherub, if the court-plaster don't burst. So now I'll let him sleep in my arms, lying like an infant on its father's lap while I wi'ite. Egad ! I've got 'em all tight, and now to my letter. I feel a little dry ; will take some ice-water, and go to work. * -x- -K- * * * Don't answer advertisements inserted by loving widows. I have tried it, and, after a few weeks of Confound that young one — how it perspires ! Guess I won't finish this article till I've tried on those new pants, for they may not fit, and I may have to send them back for alterations ! ^ Tk^e is a kind of physiognomy in the titUM of books no It-ss than in the faces of men, by 7uhich a skilful observer will know as well what to ex- pect from the one as tht gihtry — BuTLKiL NEW BOOKS Recently Published by G. W. CARLETON & CO., New York, Madison Square, Fifth Avenue and Broadway. N.B.— TffW PrjmifBiiKris, nr>on reofjlf.t of tho price In arlvanco, wtH nend •uy of tho foUowiDK IJookH by mail, Pohtaok fkkk, i/> any part of tbo United States TiiiH (y^nvcniorikanrl very Hufc rnofie may be a^lopted when tho ti«igh1>or' ing liookHcIIera are not Hujjplied with tho deHired work. ITIarlon Harlaud. ALONE. — . . 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