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HIS

WITl

Ajicr ttuiu

BE[

Eli Perkins

(A r LARGE).

HIS SAYINGS AND DOINGS

Mei.vili.e D. Landon

WITH MULTIFORM ILLUSTRATIONS BY UNCLE CONSIUKR,

Ajtct mentis by these desigmng youvg men, Nast, Dailey, Freu'eruk.^
Ey tinge. White, Stephens, and others.

TORON rO :
BELFORD BROTHERS, PIJBLISKERS,

MDCCCLXXVIl.

j- N /' //- f

PREFACE.

Thk literary part of this book may not be very nice,
but the cover is pretty and the pictures are life-like.

The picture of my Uncle Consider on the first page is
considered a good likeness. I presume the reader recog-
nizes the broad, massive, thick Perkins skull. To get
that soft, sweet expression of the countenance in my
uncle's picture, I— I, sat for it myself. I often sit for
the artists when they want to produce their master-
pieces. I sit for all kinds of pictures — landscapes,
animals, marine views, and

The last picture I sat for was a farm-yard scene. It
represented a "pious farmer feeding his geese." Henry
Ward Beecher he sat for the farmer, while I sat for the
rest of the picture.

I am a great artist in my way. I drew all the pictures
in this book — drew *em in a lottery.

Besides drawing nice pictures, I 'm studying now so
as to draw hundred dollar checks and drafts such as
Jay Cooke drew and Daniel Drew.

The first picture I ever drew represented " Sir Walter
Scott leading his victorious forces into the city of

r RE FACE.

Mexico." The critics admired it exceedingly, but they

said it had one fault— they could n't tell which was Sir

Walter Scott and which was the city of Mexico. So I

gave it to my family clergyman as his annual donation —

and he was so delighted with this picture, and so grateful

to me, that he hung this picture in his study— and he

said he wanted to hang me in his back yard.

E. P.

Y,"^.— Dear Reader : Let me impress upon your mind the fact
that the pictures in this book arc all real pictures, and not mere
painted imitations like Michael Angelo's "Last Judgment" by
Bierstadt, and Church's " Heart of the Andes," by another fellow.

You will never know how much I admire and appreciate these
beautiful pictures— how I love them ; and the fact that you love and
appreciate them too— the fact that you admire the author and his
pictures, — why it shows you have a massive intellect.

CONTENTS.

Uncle Consider, on Temperance,

Solitaire Diamonds,

Ki.i Perkins in Hot Water,

Kli on Fire-Proof Houses, ,

Dreadful Profanity,

Kli Perkins's Pen Pictures, . ,

A Fifth Avenue Episode, .

A Lonesome Man, . . , .

AnouT Children,

Sr.RVANTOALISM, . . . .

Uppkrtendom

Letter from Ant Charity, .
The Literary Girl, .

Uncle Consider as a Crusader, .
Eli in Love, ....
P>uown's Boys, . . . .
A Brown's Boy in Love, .
BiiovvN's Boys in New York,
Rich Brown's Boys,
Brown's Girls, . ...
Advice to Youno Men,

PAOK
9

13
16

23
24

28
30

34
38
40

45
51

55
58
60
66
68

78
84

vi CONTENTS.

PAGR

Tiff, Funny Side of Fisk, 87

Rkv. Ei,i Perkins, 98

A Sai> Man, 102

A Quf;er Man, 104

Eu's Happy Tuounirrs 106

The Lecal-Mindei) Man, 109

A Grateful Man, . . . , , , , , m

A Consistent Man, . .114

The Dancing Mania , 115

The Military Man, 117

The Horse Man 119

The Pious Man 120

A Frontiersman, 121

The Hackman 124

Sewers and Sowers 125

Hard on Lawyers, 127

E. Perkins — Attorney at Law, . . . . , . 129
How DoNN Pirate Thrashed Eli Perkins, . . .131

A Day at Saratoga 135

The Swells at Saratoga, 140

Minnie in Saratoga 143

Married Brown's Boys at Saratoga 150

Eli's Belle of Saratoga 155

Brown^s Boys at Saratoga, 157

Up to Snuff 160

A Flirting Dodge, 162

Fall of Another Clergyman, 164

The Swell Dress Parade 166

PAOR

. 98
102

. 104
106

. 109
III

. 114

. 117
119

. 120
121

. 124

125

. 127

129

. 140

143

. 150

. 157
160

. 162

164

. 166

co/vTF.xrs. vH

PArjK

TiiK Good Man, 169

C)vvKi> 10 Franklin Statuk, 172

A TARRor Story, 172

TiiK Rat Story, 173

TkAVKRS AND Cl.FAVS 1 73

Travkrs on Fisk and Gould 174

Pawn-Shop Clotiiks, 175

Will RK Ducks Livk, 175

FlVK IIUNDRF.D DOLLARS SAVKD, ...... I76

Til' OF TIIK Fashion, 177

SlIIRKINC. FROM WoRK, 177

Trunk Smashkrs, 178

Eli on Dominik Ford, 179

A 1 1 API) Namk 179

Eli on thf F. F. C's 180

TiiF Mfanf.st Man Yet 181

Nkwsi'ai'ER Goke, 182

Eli on Ana 182

Animate Natur^j, 183

Orioinal Poetry, 183

Complimentary 184

Baijies, 184

Tight L'.cing, 185

Som-et-i-mes, 185

Grammar, 186

Eli Perkins Blunders, 186

Nice Arable Land 188

Money Close, 188

vni

CONTi:XTS.

■I

Indiffkrknce, . . . . .

TnK WuisKKY War

Fun in Washington, Ohio,

Tkrkiiu.y Indic.nant

Thk Unsusi'Ectino Man,

Vkry Dangerous

Wood,

Saratoga Betting, ....

WlCKKI) AND PROFANK,

Mr. Marvin's Blundkr, ....
Poor hut Honest, ....
PuFcisK Statements, ....

Early to Bed

Personal Matters

Small Feet,

Little Perkinsisms, ....
Eli Perkins's New Year's Calls
How Eli Perkins Lectured in Pottsvil
Scaring a Connecticut Farmer,
Eli Perkins as a Balloonatic, .
The Shrewd Man, ....
Lost Children in New York,
The Absent-Minded Man, . .

PAnR
189

189
. 190

191
. 191

192
. 193

193
. 194

194

• 195
195

. 196
196

• 197

•99

. 203

211

. 222

225

. 233

237
. 246

PAnic
. 1H9

189

. 190

191 .
191

192
. 193

193
• 194

194

. 195

195
. 196

196
. 197

199
. 203

211
. 222

225

. 233

237
. 246

Provkrhial Pim.osoriiY.

" ff yoii ft^( the best of rvhiskey, Eli, whiskey will get the best of you, ^

UNCLE CONSIDER, ON TEMPERANCE.

"Eli."

"Yes, Uncle."

" Let me read you suthin* from the Christian Uniotiy'
r.nd my Uncle Consider wiped his German-silver glasses
with his red bandana handkerchief, adjusted them on
liis nose, and read :

'* A man in Jamaica, Long Island, after drinking too much cider,

insisted, against his wife's wishes, on smoking on a load of hay. He

crime home that night without any whiskers or eyebrows, and the

iron work of his wagon in a potato sack."

" This little incident, Eli," said my Uncle, looking
over his glasses, " preaches a sermon on temperance.
It teaches us all, in these limes of public corruption,
tempered by private assassinations, to keep our heads
'spiritoally level.' "

"How can this be done. Uncle?" I asked.

" Jes lis'en to me, Eli, and I'll tell you. I'll open
the flood-gates of wisdom to you, so to speak." Then
my uncle put one hand on my shoulder, looked me
straight in the face, and said :

" Ef you drink wine, Eli, you will walk in winding
ways; ef you carry too much beer the bier soon will
carry you. Ef you drink brandy punches you will get
handy punches; and ef you allers get the best of
whiskey, Eli, whiskey '11 allers get the best of you."

" But brandy. Uncle — brandy has saved the lives of
thousands of people — hasn't it.?" I asked.

" Yes, Eli, brandy has saved thousands of lives, and
do you want to know how — do you ? By their not
drinking it, my boy ; that's the way it saved their lives.
No, my boy, if you want to keep your spirits up you
mus'n't put your spirits down."

" Did you ever know brandy and whiskey to do as
much damage as water has. Uncle .?" I inquired, mod-
estly.

" Yes, my boy, I have. What has brandy done in
our fam'ly.? Didn't I see your Uncle Nathaniel come
home from the lodge one night, after he had taken
too much whiskey in his water, an' didn't he stagger
into the kitchen, get up on a chair and wash the face
of the clock, and then deliberately get down and wind

ui
D

looking
erance.
uptiop,
• heads

11 open

Then

:ed me

i^inding
on will
vill get
)est of

'OU."

ives of

s, and
eir not
lives,
ip you

do as
mod-

)ne in
come
taken
agger

e face
wind

up the baby and try to set it for'ard fifteen minutes ?
Didn't he!"

" But when we read in the Bible, Uncle, how much
damage water has done — how it drowned Pharaoh, de-
moralized Jonah, and engulfed the whole human family
in the deluge, don't it really make you afraid to drink
any more water in your'n? Don't it?" I said, raising
my voice. " I know water don't cause the destruction
of two-dollar clocks," I continued, " nor wind up inno-
cent babies, but it wound up Pharaoh's whole army and
washed down the whole human race and "

" Shut up, Eli ! Don't talk to me. You make me
sick," shouted my Uncle, gesticulating wildly with one
hand and wiping his eyes with the other. But a mo-
ment afterward he became tranquil, and, looking over
his German-silver glasses thoughtfully, he continued :

" No, no, Eli, my boy, that fust glass of wine has
ruined many a yiing man. The other nite," he con-
tinued, wiping his eyes, " I drempt I saw my fav'rite
sun adrinken from the floin' bole. My hart yarned for
'im an* I strode to'rds 'im. As he razed the wine-
glass in the air I was seezed tragick-like and sez I,
' O Rufus, the serpent lurks in that floin' wine. Giv'
— O giv' it to your father!' and when he past it
to'rds me I quaffed it, serpent an' all, to keep it from
my tender sun. H^ was saved from the tempter, Eli,
and turnin' with tears in my eyes I remarkt, ' O, my
hopeful boy, do anything — skoop burds' nests, stun
French glass winders, match scnts, play with powder,
take snuf, take benzine, take photographs, — anythiiii:;^
but don't take that first glass of wine.'

H i

MI NOBLE BOY.

Fear not, father,' answered my noble boy. ^ That
first glass o' wine be blowed. Us boys is all a-slingin'

in ol' crow whisky and a-punishin' gin
slings and brandy smashers — if we
ain't YEU kan hire a hall for me — yeu
kan!'

'' Mi noble boi ! " and then Uncle

Consider lighted a 40-cent Partaga and

proceeded to ask James what he had

purchased for the week's supply from

the market.

" I bought two gallons of sherry, sir, four dozen

Burgundy, some of the old rum we had before, some

cheese, two boxes of cigars, and two loaves of bread,

an' it's all here in the larder."

"All right, James," said my Uncle, lookin' over his
glasses, "but was there any need of spendin' so much
money for bread .'* "

And then Uncle Consider went on cutting off his
coupons.

il!

, < That
i-slingin'
shin' gin
— if we
me — yeu

:n Uncle
taga and
t he had
ply from

ir dozen
ire, some
)f bread,

over his
so much

off his

SOLITAIRE DIAMONDS.

went into Tiffany
desired to purchaF

Since they have discovered
diamonds in Africa, they are
getting too common on Fifth
Avenue to be even noticed.
One young lady, reported to
be young and handsome, wears
finger-ring diamonds in her hair.
A Chicago lady, staying at the
Fifth Avenue, alleged to have
lived with her present husband
two weeks without getting a
divorce, wears diamond dress-
buttons; and even one of the
colored waiters — an African, too,
right from the mines — showed me a
diamond in his carpet-bag weighing
thirty-seven pounds, which he offered
to sell to me in the rough for $4 —
a clear indication that even the Africans
don't appreciate the treasures they have
found.
This morning a lady from Oil City
s great jewelry store and said she

e a diamond.

III

" I understand solitaire diamonds are the best,
Mr. Tiffany," she said, "please show me some of
them."

" Here is a nice solitaire y' answered the silver-haired
diamond prince. " How do you like it ?"

"Putty well," said the lady, revolving it in her fin-
gers. " It shines well, but are you sure it is a solitaire^
Mr. Tiffany.?"

" Why, of course, madame."

" Wall now, if you will warrant it to be a real gen-
uine solitaire^ Mr. Tiffany, I don't mind buying it for
my daughter Julia — and — come to think," she con-
tinued, as she buttoned her six-button kid-gloves and
took her parasol to leave, " if youVe got five or six
more real genuine solitaires just like this one, I don't
mind takin' 'em all so's to make a Wg solitaire cluster
for myself."

" Yes, madame, we'll guarantee it to be a real soli--
taire,** smilingly replied Mr. Tiffany, and then the head
of the house went up to his private office and in the
presence of four hundred clerks sat down and wrote
his official guarantee that the diamond named was a
genuine solitaire. As the lady bore the certificate from
the big jewelry palace she observed to herself, " There's
nothing like knowing you've got the genuine thing.
It's really so satisfyin* to feel sure !"

But that evening her fiendish husband refused to
buy the diamonds — " and then this beautiful woman,"
said Mr. Tiffany — " all dressed up in silks and laces
and garnet ear-rings cut on a bias, sat down in the
hotel parlor and had to refuse to go to a party at Mrs.

poi

nei
ful
a
the

the best,
some of

^er-haired

I her fin-
solitaire,

Witherington's because her jewels did not match her
polonaise /"

"O dear!" said the great jeweller, and in the full-
ness of his grief he poured a coal scuttle into a case
full of diamonds and watches and silver spoons, and
a basketful of diamonds and ;)earls and garnets into
the coal stove.

real gen-
ng it for
she con-
Dves and
e or six
I don't
e cluster

real soli"
the head
d in the
d wrote
d was a
ite from
There's
2 thing.

used to
mman,"
id laces
i in the
at Mrs.

ELI PERKINS IN HOT WATER.

The other day I sent this paragraph to The Herald :

*' Mrs. Johnson is said to be the most beautiful woman in the
hotel."

I didn't know what I was doing. I'm sorry I did
it. Now the ladies are all down on me, and poor
Mrs. Johnson is being persecuted on all sides. The

ladies are telling all sorts of
stories about her — how she poi-
soned her first husband, threw
a baby or two down the well,
and all that.

A few moments ago a tall,
muscular gentleman entered my
room, holding a long cane in
his hand. He looked mad. I
wasn't afraid. O! no; but I was
writing, and hadn't time to talk.

"Are you Mr. Perkins.'*" he
commenced.

" No, sir; my name is La "

" Did you write this article
about Mrs. Johnson being the
most beautiful woman.?" he in-

"I'VE FOUND YOU." ,

terrupted.
"Why.>" I asked modestly.

he Herald :
roman in the

;orry I did
and poor
ides. The
1 sorts of
w she poi-
md, threw
1 the well,

Lgo a tall,
ntered my
cane in
d mad. I

but I was
me to talk.

iins?" he

s La "

lis article

being the

I?" he in-

" Because my wife is here, sir — Mrs. Thompson — a
very handsome woman, sir, and — **

" Ah ! Thompson — yes ; only the fact is I sent it
down ' Thompson,' and those rascally type-setters they
made 'Johnson' of it. Why, yesterday, Mr. Thompson,
I wrote about President Porter, the well-deserving
President of Yale College, and those remorseless type-
setters set it up ' hell-deserving,' and President Porter
has been cutting me ever since."

" All right, then, Mr. Perkins, if you really sent it
down, 'Mrs. Thompson,' I'll put up my pistol and
we'll be friends; but if I ever hear of your writing of
any lady's being more beautiful than my wife I'll send
you to New York in a metallic case — I will, sure !"
and Mr. Thompson strode out of the room.

A few moments afterward I met
Julia, my fiancee — the one I truly
love.

**You look lovely to-day, Julia!"
I commenced as usual.

"You're a bore, Eli — you're a dread-
" BASE DECEIVER !" fulpersou — a false, bad man. You—"
"What is it, Julia.? what has displeased you now?"
I interrupted, sweetly.

" Why, you base deceiver! haven't you been calling
me beautiful all the time? Haven't you made sonnets
to my eyes, compared my cheeks to the lily, my arms
to alabaster; and now here you go and call Mrs.
Johnson the most beautiful woman in the hotel. You
mean, false, two-sided man, you !" and Julia's eyes
snapped like sparks of electricity.

" But, Julia, dear Julia, let me explain," I pleaded.
" It was all ruse^ Julia. Don't you know, newspapers
tell a good many lies — they must, you know ; the
people will have them; and there is a rivalry between
them to see which shall tell the biggest and longest
ones, you know, and tell them the oftenest ?"
" Yes," she murmured sweetly.

"Well, I've been telling so much truth lately in
T/ie Herald^ folks told me to change my course a
little — to throw in a few lies, and — "
" And you did ?"

"Why, yes, and this was one of them. Of course
you are the most beautiful woman in Saratoga. Of
course you are."

This seemed to make Julia happy again, and I
thought I was all right. I went back to my room
thinking so, but I was all wrong.

In a moment, Rat! tat!! tat!!! sounded on the
door.

" Come in,** I said, as I stood with my pantaloons off,
thinking it was the boy to take this letter to the post.

" ts it you who is making fun of
my wife — you miserable — "

" I beg pardon, sir ; if you and your
wife will just step back a moment, I'll
draw on my pantaloons and try and
tell you,** I said, trembling from head

"is it you, sir?" to foot.

" No, sir, we won't step back a moment, but say,
sir, did you say my wife, Mrs. Johnson, was the hand-
somest woman in Saratoga; she who has been known

. as
mini

pleaded,
svvspapers
now ; the
r between
1 longest

lately in
course a

)f course
:oga. Of

I, and I
ny room

on the

oons off,
;he post,
fun of

nd your
lent, I'll
try and
»m head

3ut say,
e hand-
known

"no, sir!"

as the plainest woman and I the plainest Methodist
minister in this here circuit — say, did you.?"

The woman was a fright. I could
see it from behind the sofa where I
scootched down. She wore a mob-
cap, had freckles, crooked teeth and
peaked chin.

" No, sir !" I said, vehemently. " No,
sir-r-r ! I never said your wife was
the most beautiful woman in Saratoga,
for she evidently is not. I meant some-
body else — another Mrs. Johnson. I
could not tell a lie about it, and she is
positively ugly — that is, she is not hand-
some; she IS not beautiful.
" Far different."
"Far different! My wife not
good-looking, sir? My wife far - —
different.? I'll teach you to at-
tack my wife in that way," and
then his cane flew up and I
flew down. I don't know how
long I staid there, but I do know
that the next hour I found my-
self in a strange room, and my
clothes smelt of chloroform and
camphor. The doctors say I met with an accident. I
don't know what it was, but I do know that I shall
never say anything about that handsomest woman
again. Never !

I'LL TEACH YOU.'

ELI ON FIRE-PROOF HOUSES.

It pains me to hear of so many people being burned
out on account of combustible elevators and defective
flues. It's dreadful how much damage fire is doing of
late years when it can just as well be managed if only
taken in hand.

This morning the superintendent of the New York
Fire Department came to my room and wanted me to
explain my theory of preventing ^ire.

"All right, Gen. Shaler, be seated," I said. Then I
showed him the machine invented by Prof. Tyndall and
myself for abstracting heat from fire.

" Heat from fire, did you say, Mr. Perkins ?"

"Yes, sir," I said, turning a crank. "This is the way
we do it. Put your eye on the spout. Now, do you see
the cold flames coming out there while the boys are
wheeling off" the heat in flour barrels to cook with.>"

"Splendid!" exclaimed Gen. Shaler. "What other
inventions have you ?"

"Dozens of them, sir," I said, leading the General
into my laboratory.

Then I showed the General my famous machine for
concentrating water to be used by the engines in case
of drought. I showed the General my process of con-
centration, which is to place the water in its dilute
state in large kettles and then boil it down till it is

;ing burned
d defective
is doing of
,'ed if only

New York
itcd me to

I. Then I
yndall and

is the way
do you see
J boys are
vith?"
Hiat other

le General

achine for
es in case
5S of con-
its dilute
h till it is

thick. The experiment proved eminently successful.
Twelve barrels of water were evaporated down to a
gill, and this was sealed in a small phial, to be diluted
and used to put out fires in cases of extreme drouth.

" But, Mr. Perkins, how "

"Never mind 'how' General," said I. "You see, in
some cases the water is to be evaporated and concen-
trated till it becomes a fine, dry powder, and this can
be carried around in the vest pockets of the firemen,
and blown upon the fire through tin horns — that is, it
is to extinguish the fire, in a horn."

" But, Mr. Perkins, "

" Never mind your buts. General — just you look at
the powdered water," I said.

Then he examined the powdered water with great
interest, took a horn — a horn of powdered water — in
his hands and blew out four tallow candles without
the use of water at all, while I proceeded to elucidate
my plan for constructing fire-proof flues. I told him
how the holes of the. flues should be constructed of
solid cast iron or some other non-combustible material,
and then cold corrugated iron should be poured around
them.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed the superintendent. "Per-
fectly wonderful ! But where will you place the flues,
Mr. Perkins.?"

" My idea," I replied, drawing a diagram on the
wall-paper with a piece of charcoal, "is to have these
flues in every instance located in the adjoining house."

"Magnificent! but how about the elevators.?"

"Why, after putting 'em in the next house too.

I'd seal •em up water-tight and fill 'em with Croton,
and then let 'em freeze. Then I'd turn 'em bottom-
side up, and if they caught fire, the flames would only
draw down into the cellar."

ith Croton,
;m bottom-
would only

DREADFUL PROFANITY.

A YoijNG lady who attends Vassar College came
liome to her mother on Madison avenue yesterday,
and said that she didn't like to go to school there
any more, for — for "

"For what, Jenny?" asked her mother.

"Why, because some of the Vassar girls swear, Ma."

"Swear, Jane! Good Lord, what do you mean?"

" I mean they use bad words, Ma. I "

"Great Heavens, child! run and tell your grand-
mother to come here."

[Enter Grandmother.^

"What is it, Marion?" asked grandmother, looking
over her glasses.

" Why, goodness gracious. Mother, what do you think ?
Why, Jenny says the girls swear, they "

"Lord o* mercy, Marion! Heaven knows what we'll
come to next. Lord knows we've been too precious
careful of our children to have 'em ruined by any
such infernal devlishness."

" I wish to Heaven — but here, Jenny " (catching
hold of the young lady), " tell me now — what do those
Vassar girls say ?"

"Why, Lizzie Mason talks about Mad-dam de Stael,

and Lizzie Smith says when she goes to New York

she'd rather ride up to see McComb's dam bridge

than to have a front seat at the For-dam races."

"Good Lord, Jenny, how you startled me!"

ELI PERKINS'S PEN PICTURES.

{Around toivn.)

Let me show you some little every-day New York
pictures this evening. There are only four of them :

" Hundreds of little Italian boys are kept by old hags
on Cherry and Baxter streets, just to steal and beg.
If they come home at night without having stolen or
begged certain sums, the poor little fellows are whipped
and made to go to bed on the fl'^or without any
supper. Most of these boys turn out pick-pockets,
and eventually go to the Island or to Sing Sing as
burglars and housebreakers. One little fellow who has
lived on Cherry street for seven years didn't know
what the Bible was, and he told us he had never
heard of Christ." — N. V. Times.

But

" the Rev. Mr. Van Meter, who established the second
Five Points Mission House, has raised funds enough
to establish a Protestant mission church in Rome. He
writes that three more Italian subjects have been res-
cued from Popery and converted to the Protestant
faith, and that he is deeply solicitous for further con-

tributions from brothers and sisters in the cause to
help on the glorious work and enable them to build
a snug little marble parsonage for the residence of
the American missionaries." — Five Points Mission Re-
port,

[ew York
f them :

old hags
and beg.
stolen or
: whipped
lOut any

-pockets,
Sing as

who has
n't know
id never

e second
enough
me. He
jcen res-
rotestant
her con-

II.

*' Mrs. Mary Thomas testified this morning that Mrs.
Hurley turned her out of the Girls' Lodging House
on a stormy night to die in the Fifth Street Station
House, and Sergeant Snyder swore that on the morn-
ing of the 1 8th of March he found Mary lying sick
on the floor in the station house. She was in dis-
tress, and said :

" * For God's sake, have some one do something for
me!* and in the midst of her crying and mourning
she gave birth to a child." — N. Y. Herald.

But
" the private stables of Mr. Belmont, Bonner, and
many other gentlemen are made of black walnut,
beautifully furnished, and nicely warmed. The horses
are clothed in soft, white blankets, and fed and cleaned
with the regularity of clockwork. I am endeavoring
to have all other animals well cared for, too, and to
accomplish this I caused the arrest of a private coach-
man to-day, and detained the carriage in front of
A. T. Stewart's, because the driver had driven tacks in
the side of the bridle, which pricked and chafed the
horse, compelling him to keep his head straight. If
cars are overloaded the horses will be stopped, and the

people will have to walk." — Mr, Humane {T) BergJC
Letter,

III.

" A woman, who up to the time
of our going to press had not
been identified, was found dead
yesterday morning on a door-
step in Thirty - fourth street.
The deceased evidently wandered
from some of the poorer wards
in search of employment, and
from her emaciated ( ondition it
is probable she had not tasted food for several days.
It is thought that poverty and starvation caused her
death. The body, scantily clothed in a few rags,
lies unclaimed in the Morgue." — N. Y. Sun,

But

"Mrs. Livingstone's elegant and
fashionable reception and german,
at her palatial Fifth avenue man-
sion on Monday evening, was too
gorgeous for description. Many
of the ladies' toilets came from
Worth's, and cost fabulous srms,
and the flowers which draped the
rooms —all rare exotics — must have
cost a small fortune. Among the guests sparkling
with jewels was Mrs. Lawrence, whose bridal trousseau^
when she was married last week, is said to have cost

[?) BergIC

to the time
s had not
ound dead
1 a door-
•th street.
' wandered
orer wards
ment, and
)ndition it
^eral days.
;aused her
few rags,

legant and
d german,
sniie man-
g, was too
ti. Many
ame from
lous sums,
[raped the
must have
sparkling
trousseauy
have cost

$7,000. The rare and expensive wines which cheered
the occasion, some of them costing as high as $20
per bottle, astonished even the connoisseurs:'— Home
Journal.

IV.

" Bellevue Hospital is often crowded to excess with
sick, so much so that patients suffer through bad air
and inattention. *****

" It is impossible to warm the Tombs, or to keep it
from being damp, unwholesome, and sickly; and until
an appropriation of at least $50,000 is made by the
city, prisoners must continue to be crowded together
and continue to suffer, especially in cold weather,
beneath damp bed-clothes."— i?^/^;V Commissioners of
Charities and Correction.

But
"the Park Commissioner is of opinion that it will
cost $5,000,000 to complete the new Natural History
buildings in Central Park, to give ample room for the
minerals, fossils, and live animals. The 7m/d animals
of the zoological collection take up a large amount
of room in the Park buildings, and it costs the city
a great deal of money to feed them and keep them
properly warmed, but they are a source of great
amusement to the nurses and children."— /'^r/j Com-
missioner's Report.

A FIFTH AVENUE EPISODE.

Miss Livingstone was calling on the Fifth Avenue
Woffingtons yesterday afternoon. As she stepped out
of her bottle-green laudaulet to walk up the Woffington
brown-stone portico, a swarm of sparrows from Union
Square chirped and twittered over her head and up
along the eaves. The sparrows v/ere dodging about
after flies and worms — something substantial — while
Miss Livingstone's mind never got beyond her lace
overskirt and the artificials on her Paris hat.

"It's perfectly drefful, Edward!" she observed to
the bell-boy as she shook out her skirts in the hall —
"howible!" Then flopping herself into a blue satin
chair she exclaimed : " I do hate those noisy spaw'ows,
Mis. Woffington. They'r beastly — perfectly atwocious!"

" But you know they destroy the worms, Miss Liv-
ingstone ; they kill millions of 'em — ^just live on *em.
Now, wouldn't you rather have the sparrows than the
worms. Miss Livingstone ? Wouldn't you ?"

" No, I wouldn't, Mrs. Woffington. Just look at my
new brown silk — the nasty, noisy things ! I "

" But worms eat trees and foliage and fruit. Miss
Livingstone. They destroy "

(( "-T

They don't eat silk dresses, Mrs. Woffington, and
they don't roost on nine dollar ostrich feathers and

•

h Avenue
^pped out
Voffington
Dm Union
i and up
ing about
il — while
her lace

•

served to
he hall —
•lue satin
spaw'ows,
vocious!"
kliss Liv-
; on *em.
than the

)k at my

uit, Miss

jton, and
liers and

thirty dollar hats, do they? I'm for the worms, I tell
you, and I don't care who knows it ! I hate spaw'ows!"

" VVell, I hate worms, I do. I hate "

Just then Miss Livingstone's brother— a swell mem-
ber of the Knickerbocker club — Eugene Augustus
Livingstone, entered, interrupting the sentence, when
both ladies turned on him and exclaimed:

" Oh, Mr. Livingstone, we were discussing sparrows
and worms, 'and we refer the question to you. Now
answer, which had you rather have — sparrows or
worms ?"

"Well, weally I kont say, ladies. Weally, 'pon m'
honor I kont, yeu kneuw— yeu kneuw. I never
had "

"But which do you think you'd rather have, Mr.
Livingstone ? Which "

"I weally kont say, ladies, for I never had the
spawows — at least, not since I can remember ; but the
worms "

"Oh, Mr. Livingstone!" and then poor Eugene Au-
gustus had to open the window and sprinkle ice-water
all over two fainting Worth dresses, which looked as
if some careless milliner had let them drop — a woman
sinker in each holding it to the carpet.

A LONESOME MAN.

s/l

BANK DEPOSITORS.

In Denver, years ago — when
Denver was made up of a popu-
lation of robbers and gamblers
and adventurers — there used to
be a miners' bank — a bank where
miners deposited bags of gold
dust, or sold it for currency. In
the bank, before the teller's window, there sat, one day,
a forlorn, dejected, woe-begone looking old miner — a
seedy old forty-niner. He wore an old faded slouch
hat, about the color of his tangled, sun-browned beard.
He never spoke as the other miners came in and ex-
changed their dust for coin, and no one spoke to him.
He was a personified funeral — a sad, broken-hearted
man. As this sad miner sat there, one day, smoking
his pipe, and seemingly oblivious to anything, a young
man entered and jauntily handed in his bag of dust.

" It weighs six hundred and eighty dollars, Mr. John-
son," said the teller, taking it from the scales.

"All right; give me credit on the books," said the
young man, moving towards the door. But, turning
on his heel in the doorway, he paused a moment, put
his hand thoughtfully across his brow, and said :

" I beg your pardon, sir ; but it seems to me you

EPOsrroRs.

one day,

miner — a

id slouch

id beard.

I and ex-

e to him.

a-hearted

smoking

a young

of dust.

^r. John-

said the
, turning
nent, put

made a little mistake in paying me last week, didn't

you ?"

" No,, sir, we never err, sir ; and if we did, sir, it's
too late to correct it now. You should have spoken
about it at the time," replied the teller, coolly.

"But, sir, I'm positive that you paid me ninety dol-
lars too much. Suppose you weigh the last week's
bag again," urged the young man.

"Oh, if the mistake was that way, perhaps we did,"
replied the teller, putting the bag of gold dust on the
scales again. " Godness ! I did make a mistake. Just
ninety dollars and "

" Here's your money," interrupted the young man,
throwing down the amount in coin.

"I'm very much obliged," said the teller; "for the
mistake would have come out of my wages when we
came to balance. I cannot thank you too much."

The only man watching the transaction was the old
slouch-hatted miner. He arose, fastened his eyes on
the young man, then came and watched
him pay the money back. Surprise filled
his countenance. His eyes opened wide,
and his lips fell apart with astonishment.
Then, looking the honest young man
straight in the face, he exclaimed:

"Stranger, don't you feel mighty lone-
some 'round here?" "^lonLome?-''''

me you

SARATOGA SPRING FASHIONS.

bo
of

For the benefit of many young ladies who remain
away from Saratoga, that beautiful spot where
" The weary cease from troubling and the wicked are at rest,"

I send the following account of the latest watering
place fashions:

" Shoes are worn high in the neck, flounced with
point aquille lace, cut on the bias. High heels are
common in Saratoga, especially in the hop room. Cot-
ton hose, open at the top, are very much worn, some
of them having as many as three holes in them. Cot-
ton plows are not seen.

" Children — Are made very forward this year, but
they are very often dispensed with entirely for quiet
toilets. They are too loud. A neat thing in babies
can be made of drab pongee, gored and puckered to
match the panier. Little boys ruffled, fluted, and cut
on the bias to match the underskirt are very much
worn. Many are worn all down to living skeletons by
such fashionable ladies as Miss Management, Miss
Usage, Miss Behavior, Miss Doing, and Miss Guid-
ance.

"Bonnets — Are worn high — none less than $35.
They are made high in the instep and cut d^collet^ in
front, trimmed with the devilknowswhat. Low neck
3g

10 remain

B at rest,"
watering

iced with
heels are
•m. Cot-
)rn, some
Tfi. Cot-

year, but
for quiet
in babies
:kered to
and cut
iry much
etons by
nt, Miss
5S Guid-

bonnets with paniers are no longer worn. The front
of the bonnet is now invariably worn behind.
I ** Lovers — Are once more in the fashion. They are
worn on the left side for afternoon toilets, and directly
in front for evening ball-room costume. A nice thing
in lovers can be made of hair (parted in the middle),
a sickly moustache, bosom pin, cane and sleeve but-
tons, dressed in checked cloth. Giant intellects are not
fashionable in Saratoga this season. The broad, mass-
ive, thick skull is generally preferred. The old lover
trimmed with brains, character, and intelligence is no
longer worn.

*' Dresses — Are not worn long — none over two days.
They are trimmed with Wooster Street sauce, looped up
with Westchester County lace, with monogram on 'em.
Shake well and drink while hot. Inclose twenty-five
cents for circular.

" Eli de Perkins, Modist.

" Hotel des Etats Unis, Saratoga, August, 1875."

an $35.
collets in
3w neck

ABOUT CHILDREN.

Yesterday
Miss Miller said
her friend, Mrs.
Thompson, was
wrapped up in a
beautiful camel's
hair shawl which
she said she paid
$2,000 for at
Stewart's.

"That's noth-
ing at all," said
my Uncle Con-
sider. "I know
a lady up in

Litchfield who is wrapped up in a beautiful home-made

baby that she won't take $200,000 for!"

Uncle Consider is crazy on home-made things.

OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM.

LITTLE NELL.

Little Nellie, whom we all see every day dancing
around the parlors, won her mother's permission to
sit up in the ball-room every night for a week, by prov-
ince that she had four fathers.

How did she do it ? This was the way :

•

. 85

" Now, ma, I have one more father than no little

girl, haven't I?

"Yes, pet."

" Well, no little girl has three fathers ; and if I have .

one more father than no little girl, then I must have

T E R D A Y

four fathers."

iller said

1 n «■ ,

Alas ! we've all got forefathers, but little Nellie went

;nd, Mrs.
son, was
i up in a
i\ camel's
iwl which
I she paid
D for at
's.

it's noth-
all," said
cle Con-
" I know
up ? n
me-made

ngs.

dancing
ission to
by prov-

a step farther than us all in her logic.

SIMPLICITY.

Another little girl toddled
up to a venerable " mother in
Israel " yesterday who was lean-
ing over engaged in reading,
and, smoothing her little hand
cautiously over the old lady's
beautiful silver hair, she said:

"Why, ou has dot such fun-
ny hair — ou has." Then, paus-
ing a moment, she looked up
and inquired, "What made it
so white?"

" Oh, the frosts of many win-
ters turned it white, my little
girl," replied the old lady.

" Didn't it hurt ou?" asked the little thing, in child-
ish amazement. Tt was the first time she had ever

"OU'S DOT FUNNY HAIR !"

seen gray

hair.

CHILDREN HALF PRICE.

One day I took a crowd of children in Saratoga

down to see Ben the educated pig. Among them was
little Johnny Wall, who has always been troubled be-
cause he had no little sister to
play with. When he asked his
mother to get him a little sister,
^^^^^^ "^ ^ bhe always put him off with :

" Yes, Johnny, when children
get cheap I'll buy you a little
sister. You must wait."

So to-day when Mr. Jarvis
"OH. UNTLE ELi!" rcad these letters on Educated

Ben's tent —

I so

Children half price — 15 cents.

little Johnny jumped straight up and down, clapped
his hands, and exclaimed :

" Oh, Untie Eli ! now mamma can buy a itty sister
for me, for itty children ain't only hai. price now —
only 15 cents."

AMBITIOUS CHILDREN.

When Johnny came back, his mother showed him a
picture of a jackass with long ears in a picture-book,
when this colloquy occurred :

" Does ou see itty dackass, mamma, stan'in' all loney
in ze picsur?" asked the little three-year old.

"Yes, dear."

" Oh, mamma,. Nursey been tellin' Donney all about

them was
mbled be-
I sister to
asked his
ttle sister,
r with :
I children
u a little

Ir. Jarvis
Educated

, clapped

ittty dackasB. He ha-n't any mamma to make him

dood, an' no kind nursey 't all. Poor

itty dackass hasn't dot no Bidzet to

dess him c'ean an' nice, an' he hasn't

any overtoat yike Donney's 'tall. Oo

solly, mamma?"

" Yes, dear, I am very sorry. Poor
itty dackass ! Dot nobody 't all to
turl his hair pritty, has he, Donney?
an* he hasn't dot no soos or tockies
on his foots. Dot to yun an' tick all
day in 'e dirt. Tan't ever be put to seepy in his itty
beddy 't all, 'an—"

"O mamma!" interrupted Johnny.

"What, baby?"

"I wiss I was a itty dackass."

DONNBV.

Itty sister
ce now —

ed him a
ure-book,

all loney

all about

■111

SERVANTGALISM.

A LADY writes that she has great
trouble with her servant girls. She
says she has only herself, husband, and
little girl, but that it takes just as many
servants to keep house as if she had a
dozen in the family — that is, she must
keep a cook, nurse, chambermaid, and
a girl to dust around and attend the door-bell. " Now,
Mr. Perkins," she asks, " how can I get two good, old-
fashioned girls, who will work together and run my
little house?"

I don't know, my good lady, unless you advertise.
Suppose you put this advertisement in the Herald to-
morrow, and see the result:

COOK WANTED.

A woman in respectable circumstances, living on Lexington av-
enue, and who can give good references from the last lady who
worked for her, wishes a situation as mistress over two young
ladies. The advertiser has a husband and one child, but if the
child is an objection, it will be sent out to board. The ladies
who consent to enter into the alliance will have full management
of the house. They will be allowed to employ an inferior person
to assist them in doing their own washing and ironing, provided
they will allow the advertiser to put in a few small pieces, such
as collars, cuffs, and baby clothes. The advertiser will assist in
the heavy work, such as wiping down the stairs, building fires, and
such other labor as may be considered unbecoming in a lady. A

has great
;irls. She
»band, and
it as many
she had a
, she must
maid, and
I. " Now,
good, old-
l run my

gentleman of color will be in attendance to wash door-steps, scrub
stairs, clean knives and dishes, carry water and run on errands.
The young ladies will have Sundays and Saturday afternoons to
themselves, and can use the back parlor for evening company during
the week, provided the advertiser can use it in the morning. In
case the young ladies desire to give a party, the advertiser, after
giving up the keys of the wine-cellar and larder, will spend the
night at the hotel. If the young ladies have relatives, they can
supply them with flour, chickens, and vegetables from the common
larder. Presents will be exchanged on Christmas, and the young
ladies can have a set of jewelry or a point lace underskirt on Easter
morning.

Candidates will please send address to No. • - Lexington aventie,
when the advertiser will call on them with her recommendations
and certificates of good character.

advertise.
Jerald to-

xington av-
t lady who
two young
b«t if the
The ladies
lanagement
rior person
J, provided
)ieces, such
11 assist in
g fires, and
a lady. A

UPPERTENDOM.

JULIA.

ELI VERKINS ON SHODDY PEOPLE — HE MOURNS BECAUSE

HE IS NOT RICH.

Last night I made a fashionable call
on a fashionable young lady — not one of
your intellectual young ladies, who takes
pride in brains and literature and travel
and music, but one of our real " swell "
girls, who dotes on good clothes and dia-
monds and laces, and who bathes daily in a
bath tub of Caswell and Hazard's cologne;
who keeps a Spanish poodle, dyes her
hair yellow, wears a four-inch Elizabethan
ruffle, and has her face powdered with
real pearl powder, specked with black court-plaster.

My dear Julia sat under the mild light of an opal
shade, fanned herself with a twenty-inch Japanese fan,
and discoursed-— oh, so sweetly ! By her side sat Eugene
Augustus Livingstone, of the Jockey Club. She told
me everything — how the Browns had sailed for Paris;
how the lace on Mrs. Fuller's dress cost $3,000; how
Mrs. Jones had a new Brewster landaulet ; how Miss
Fielding was flirting with Mr. Munson; how all the

girls were going up to Thomas's concerts, and "

"Is Thomas going to give the Ninth Symphony?" I
asked.

"Oh, yes; he's going to give them all — the ninth
and tenth; and won't they be jolly?"
40

S BECAUSE

nable call
lot one of
who takes
md travel
1 " swell "
; and dia-
; daily in a
s cologne;

dyes her
lizabethan
ered with
ister.

f an opal
anese fan,
at Eugene

She told
for Paris;
coo; how
how Miss
V all the

d "

hony?" I

the ninth

"Is he going to give the Symphony in D minor?"

"Oh, nao ! not in Deminer, Mr, Perkins, but in Cen-
tral Park Garden; too lovely, ain't it?"

"I understand," I said, "that they are going to have
the 'Dead March in Saul.' "

"Why, I didn't know that the dead ever marched
anywhere, Mr. Perkins ! How can they ? Well, I don't
care how much the dead march in Saul if they don't
get up and march around in Central Park Garden.
I "

" How did you like the Church Musicals, Mr. Liv-
ingstone ?" I asked.

' O, they're beastly — perfectly beastly — haw-

a-ble. They make one so confounded sleepy

that yeou kon't keep awake, yeou kneuw —

dre'fulbore— dre'ful!"

"What book are you reading now. Miss

Julia?" I asked, delighted to be able to converse with

a literary young lady.

"O, I'm running over one of Dumas's — awful bores
though, ain't they? Dre'ful stupid!"

"Shall you read Never Again., Miss Julia?"

" Never again ? I should hope so — a good many
times again. How sarcastic you are — perfectly atro-
cious!"

"Do you read Once a Week 2'^

" Once a week ! Why, I hooe I do, Mr. Perkins. I
hope "

"Perhaps you read Every Saturday^ Miss Julia?"

" No, I read Sundays — read novels and society papers
— all about balls and parties — ain't they nice?"

EUGENE
AUGUSTUS.

" But, speaking of intellectual feasts, Miss Julia, how
do you like the genial Lamb ?"

"O, lamb — the tender lamb — lamb and green peas!
They're too lovely; and sweetbread and asparagus
and "

"And the philosophical Bacon, on which the hungry
souls of England have fed for almost a century?"

*' Ves, that lovely English bacon ! don't mention it,
Mr. Perkins! A rasher of that English bacon, with
English breakfast tea, and "

And so Julia rattled on. I was delighted. I wanted
to stay and lalk with Augustus and Julia forever. I
loved to sit at the feet of wisdom and discourse upon
the deep philosophy of hair dyes and pearl powder,
and to roam with Julia through classic shades of pan-
nierdom, and belt and buckledom.

Eugene Augustus now invited Julia to treat us with
music — " some lovely gem culled from — from what the
Dickens is the opera by — by the fairy-fingered what's-
his-nanie, you know."

"Do, Miss Julia, do sing us that divine song about
the moon — do!'' pleaded Augustus.

Then Julia flirted up her panniers behind, coquettishly
wiggle-waggled to a Chickering Grand, and sang:

When ther moo-hoon is mi-hild-ly 1 >heam-ing

O'er ther ca-halm and si-hi-lent se-e-e-a,
Its ra-dyunce so so-hoft-ly stree-heam-ing,
Oh ther-hen, oh ther-hen
I thee-hink
Hof thee-hee
I thee-hink
I thee-hink
I thee-he-he-hehehehe-hink hof theeeeeeee ! !

Julia, how

reen peas !
asparagus

:he hungry
tury?"
nention it,
aeon, with

I wanted
forever. I
3urse upon
rl powder,
es of pan-

at us with
1 what the
ed what's-

ong about

)quettishly
ng:

" Beautiful, Miss Julia ! Beautiful ! !" and we all clap-
ped our hands.

"Do please sing another verse — it's perfectly divine,
Miss Julia," said Eugene Augustus.
^ Then Julia raised her golden (dyed) head, touched
the white ivory with her jeweled fingers, and warbled :

i When the sur-hun is brigh-hi-hight-ly glowing

O'er the se-hene so dear-hear to meee,
And swee-heet the wee-hind is blo-ho-hoing,
Oh ther-hen, oh ther-hen
I thee-hink
Hof thee-hee,
I thee-hink
I thee-hink
I thee-he-he hehehehchehe-hink hohohohohohoho
hoho h-o-f theeeeeeeeeeeeee I ! ! ' ! !

"Beautiful! Just too lovely!!"

As Julia finished the st " theeeeeeee"
her father, who grew up from an office
boy to be a great dry goods merchant,
entered. He'd been out to an auction,
buying some genuine copies of works of
art by the old masters.

"I tell ye'r what, says he, "them Raf-
fells is good, an' Mikel Angelo he could paint too —
he "

"Did you buy an Achenbach, Mr. Thompson ?" asked
Augustus.

" * Buy an akin* back ?' I guess not. I don't want
no akin' backs, nor rheumatism, nor "

"And was there a Verboeckoven ?" I inquired.

"No, sir; there wa'n't no Verboecks hove in — they

"them raffells!"

ain't a hovin' in Verboecks now. Money is tight an'
paintin's is riz."

" Ah, did you buy any^ Church's or Worms?"

" Buy churches and worms ! What the devil do I
want to buy churches and worms for? I'm buyin*
works of art, sir. I'm buying "

"Ah! perhaps you bought some Coles, and may be
an English Whistler?"

" Me buy coals and an English whistler ! No, sir ;
I'm not a coal dealer. I'm a dry goods man — A. B.
Thompson & Co., dry goods, sir, and I can do my own
whistling, and

And so Mr. Thompson went on !

But alas! how could I, a poor author, commune
farther with this learned encyclopedia of beautiful calico
and grand old cheese, and pure and immaculate salera-
tus, and sharp and pointed needles } — I, who cannot
dance the German or buy a " spiked " team !

Alas! I sigh as the tears roll down my furrowed
cheeks, what profit is it to know the old masters — to
commune with Phidias — to chant the grand old hex-
ameter of the Iliad, when you cannot buy and own
them? I am a poor, ruined man. I cannot buy — I
cannot build — I cannot decorate ! I can only sit and
weep in sackcloth and ashes, at the shrine of the
beautiful and the true. ' Eli Doloroso.

is tight an*

devil do I

I'm buyin'

nd may be

! No, sir;
man — A. B.
do my oVn

commune
atiful calico
ilate salera-
who cannot
n!

ly furrowed
masters — to
d old hex-
y and own
not buy — I
>nly sit and
ine of the

OLOROSO.

LETTER FROM ANT CHARITY.

Aunt Charity's letter from the Perkins* Farm in
Litchfield county !

I give it just as written, for I love my maiden aunt,
who stays on the old farm, runs the Episcopal church,
boards all the school-marms, and keeps splendid pre-
serves and sweetmeats for all her nephews when they
visit the old homestead. E. P.

Perkins' Farm, Litchfield Co., Ct., May 25.
£/i Perkins:

My dear Nevy — Yours received. While your Uncle

Consider was in Afriky your maden Aunt Ruth and I

thot wed get up an expedishun

to New York to do sum Spring

tradin'.

We spent 4 weeks at the 5 th

Heavenue.

We are glad to get back to

Litchfield County whare there

is not so much commerce and

good clothes, out whare intel-

leck is highly prized, and whare

virtue and piety shines on the

forehead of society — so to speak. We are glad to get

ANT CHARITY.

back whare it don't take loo yards to make a dress,
whare fair women don't paint their faces, and wharc
dark women don't ware golden hair.

While many are ambishus to worship at the shrine
of the godess of Fashion, I am willin* to stay away
from the old girl forever. I don't want to ware white
lips in the mornin* and cherry-colored lips in the after-
noon. I don't think it is right to ware strate u^ oSes
with no busts in the mornin' and stun the innocent
men with full busts like the Venus Medechy in the
evenin'. I don't think it is Christian for young fellers to
hold your hands, and put their arms around your waste,
and hug you tite in the evenin' round dances, when it is
konsidered hily onproper for a young lady even to smile
at a feller out of a third-story winder in the mornin'.

No ! no ! ! Eli, such fashuns is not founded onto
the gospel. Search the good book thru an' you can't
find a passage which justifies heels over two inches hi'.
Examine the pen-ta-took from Generations to Revolu-
tions an' you won't find enny excuse for young ladies
bucklm' on automatic umbrellas in place of swords,
or wearin' l6o bonnets made out of two straws, a daisy,
an' a suspender buckle.

You ask me how we succeeded in buyin' things.

We can't say much for New York as a tradin' port.
New London is far cheaper.

First we went to Messur De Go-Bare's, the man
dressmaker, for we wanted to sho' our Litchfield nabers
the highflyingist stiles of the Empire City.

" Vot veel I show ze madame ?" asked M. Go-Bare,
a-smilin' sweetly.

ni;

ni}

ake a dress,
and wharc

t the shrine
) stay away
i ware white
in the after-
rate u^ oses
he innocent
echy in the
ing fellers to

your waste,
s, when it is
i^en to smile
mornin'.
unded onto
L* you can't
> inches hi'.

to Revolu-
oung ladies

of swords,
ws, a daisy,

things,
radin' port.

the man
ield nabers

'.. Go-Bare,

" Dresses," scz I, in a firm tone — " I want you to
make me four dresses."

" Dresses for ze morning or for ze evening, ma-
dame ?"

"Why, good dresses, sir — dresses for all day — caresses
to wear from six o'clock in the mornin' till nine at
night," I replied with a patrishun air.

" Ough ! zen ze madame will have ze polonaise^ ze
wattcau wiz ze gratide panicr^ and ze sleet' a la Marie

Antoinette and "

" Yes, everything," sez I, carelessly ; " and now, my
good man, how many yards will it take?"

" We^ madame, it will take for ze grande dress 176
(what you dam call him }) yards. Oh ! I veel make

ze madame one habit magnifique, one "

"What, 176 yards for one dress!" I exclaimed,
holdin' my breath.

'"''We^ we" explained the man-tailor, rubbing his

hands. "Zat is wiz ze polonaise^ ze
watteauy ze paniery ze flounce, cut in

ze Vandykes "

Good heavens, man ! must I have
all these things ? — and what will they
all cost?" I exclaimed, tryin' to con-
ceal my emoshun.

" Ough ! a veere little, Madame —
only seventeen-fifty wiz all ze rare

lace on ze flounces, and "

"Gracious, Charity, that is cheap,"
sez Ant Ruth, takin' off her glasses and a-lookin' at
the patterns. " Seventeen-f-i-f-t-y ! Why, Charity,

ANT RUTH.

I shud a thot that $65 was a small figer for all these
fixins."

"Can't you put on somethin' more, my good man?"
sez I. " The Perkinses is able, and we are willin' to
go to thirty or forty."

'*Yees, madame, I can put ze Jabot of ve-ree fine
lace in ze neck — «//, troisy dix plaits."

"All right; what else?" sez I, whirlin' my pocket-
book carelessly.

"We can catch up ze skirt and ze flounces with
bows "

"S — sb ! man, do you think I'll have beaux catchin'
up my flounces? Shame! insultin, base man!" I ex-
claimed, as I felt the skarlet tinge of madenhood play
upon my alabaster cheek.

" No, sir, we want no beaux catchin* up our flounces,"
sez Ant Ruth ; •' we " •

" Pardon, madame ; I mean ze bows will hold up ze
flounces, ze bov/s "

" No, tha won't, insultin* Frenchman ! Do you know
you address a Perkins?" and Ant Ruth and I turned
a witherin* look at the monster and walked, blushin',
to the door.

"Nine — nine!" exclaimed a young German woman
from Europe, wildly ketchin' hold of our clothes.
" You nix fustand putty goot Mister Go-Bare. He no
means vot you dinks. You coomes pack again and
de shintlemans explains vot you no understand.
Coome !'*

We re-entered the abode of fashun again.

" What else can you put on to add to the expense

"or all these

jood man?"
e willin' to

ve-ree fine

my pocket-

3unces with

lux catchin'
lan !" I ex-
mhood play

ir flounces,"

hold up ze

you know
d I turned
d, blushin',

nan woman
)ur clothes,
re. He no
again and
understand.

he expense

""^W

41)

of this dress ?" scz I, in a soothing tone. '* Scventeen-
fifty is loo cheap for nic. I'm willing to go to twenty-
five."

" Oh, 7tv, madame, ze round point on ze flounces —
he comes very high — zat will make ze dress twent-
two."

"Nothing else? But do stop talkin' about high
flounces!" sez aunt Ruth, the color returning to her
cheeks again.

" IP\', Madame. You can have ze side plaits, ze
kelting, ze gores, ze grande court train, ze petite gos-
set on ze elbow, ze bias seam up ze back, and — "

" Heavens, man, have mercy on us ! Still more you
say ?" exclaimed Aunt Ruth.

" IVe, verec much more. You can have ze rar-ee
flowers a la Nilsson, an' ze point aguille vill make ze
dress of one grande high price — grande enough for ze
Grande Duchessey

" Wall, how high will the price be then, my good
man ?" sez Aunt Ruth.

" Vingt-six — tweenty-sex, madame. Ce n^est pas trh
cJtei\ madame /"

"O! no, my good man, twenty-six is cheap enough.
It beats New London tradin' to death. Now give us
the change," sez Aunt Ruth, handin' hmi a $50 bill
on the New London First National.

" Man dieif^ madame ! Zis is not change enuff. Zis
is nothing. Zis grande dress cost ten — fifty times
more !"

"Gracious! man, didn't you say twenty-six?" in-
quired Aunt Ruth,
c

"Oh, 7VC — wc — 7VC — madame, but he cost twenty-six
hundred — $2600 !"

Eli, I've got thru tradin' in New York. Why, our
whole crop of hay, corn, and maple sugar v/udent bi
over two such dresses. Don't talk to me any more
about sity fashuns ! Litchfield County will do for me,
and my old bombazine, with a new polonaise^ will do
for our chuich for many years to come. It's good
enuff.

Yours affeckshunate.

Charity Perkins.

twcnty-six

THE LITERARY GIRL.

Why, our

• v/udcnt bi

e any more

do for me,

liscy will do

It's good

Perkins.

MISS ADAMS.

Tin: Boston young lady has arrived
in New York. I mean the real literary
young lady — the Siege of Troy girl.
She grew up in Boston and graduated ^f
at Vassar College last year. She weais JjMt'
eye glasses, and is full of wisdom.
She scans Homer, rattles the verb
"lipo" like the multiplication tables,
sings Anacreon to the old Greek melodies, and puts up
her hair after the Venus of Milo. There is no end to
her knowledge of the classical dictionary, and when it
comes to Charles Lamb or Sidney Smith — who never
wrote much, but got the credit of every good joke in
England — she can say their jokes as a Catholic says
his beads. If you ask her how she likes babies, she
answers :

"'How.'' Well, as Charles Lamb remarked,*! like
'em b—b— boiled.' "

Ask her anything, and she will always lug in a
quotation from some pedantic old fool like Dr. John-
son or Swift or Jack Bunsby, just to show you that
she is up in literature, and that you are — green.
Not a single original idea, but one constant " as
Socrates said," or "as Pluto remarked," or "as Diog-
enes observed."

Yesterday one of our absurd and ignorant New

; M

York young ladies got hold of the pedantic business,

and suggests this wretched paraphrase on Miss Boston's

language :

" Do you love music, Miss Julia '" asked Jack Astor.

" Well, ' yes,' as the poet observed."

'* How many times have you been engaged since Christmas ?"

"'Six,' as Mr. Dab'all pathetically remarked in his arithmetic."

"Do you dance the round dances?" continued Mr. Astor,

"'No,'" said Julia, and then she remarked, "as the Lord Mayor

of London quietly observed as John Ruskin asked him for the loan

of four dollars."

The Boston girl is so well posted that she wins
triumphs over you by a sort of literary *' bluff " game.
She attributes sharp quotations to distinguished men,
and, conscious chat you dare not question their au-
thenticity, of course she "bluffs" you right down.
When you go to your home and read up, and find
she has really " bluffed " you, of course you are too
genteel to mention it, and so this Boston girl goes on
pluming herself at the expense of New York gallantry.

Yesterday the Boston girl was at it again. Some-
body asked her who was the oldest, Methuselah or
Deuteronomy ?

" Why, Barnes, the commentator, says * Deuteronomy
came before Numbers ' — and of course he's too old
to be computed."

Now, I knew she lied, but still I had a doubt
about it. I didn't want to break out and say Deu-
teronomy came after Numbers, and then have those
miserable Boston fellows say, with that terrible up-
ward inflection, "How are you- Eli Perkins.?" O!
no. But when I got home I sent over to a gen-
tleman on Fifth Avenue, who I understood had a

: business,
>s Boston's

stmas ?"

rithnietic."

stor.

Lord Mayor

for the loan

she wins
iff " game.
>hed men,

their au-
ht down.

and find
I are too
•1 goes on
gallantry.
1. Some-
uselah or

iteronomy
; too old

a doubt
say Deu-
ave those
rible up-
is?" O!
) a gen-
d had a

Bible to lend, and got the Pentateuch— and, sure
enough, just my luck, that miserable, pedantic, specta-
cled Boston girl was right. The fact is, they are always
right, and that is what produces so much profanity in
New York. Then how they can show off their Bibli-
cal knowledge and bug-and-spiderology !

The other night Miss Boston took off her eye-glasses
and asked me three square catechism questions which
displayed a Biblical knowledge that made my head
swim.

"Who is the shortest man mentioned in the Bible,
Mr. Perkins.?" she commenced.

"The shortest man.?" said I. **Why, I know. It
was Nehemiah or Mr. What's-his-name, the Shuhite. It
was "

" No, sir, it was Peter," interrupted the Boston girl.
"He carried neither gold nor silver in his purse.

"Who was the straightest man.?"

"Was it Joseph," I asked, ''when he didn't fool
with Mrs. Potiphar.?"

"No, it was Joseph, afterwards, when they made a
ruler of him.

" But, now, tell me, Eli, what man in the Bible felt
the worst.?"

"Was it Job, Miss Boston.?"

"No, sir; it was Jonah. He was down in the
mouth for days."

It was this same Boston girl who years ago said
Cain never could sit down on a chair," and when
they asked her " Why .?" she said : " Why, because he
wasn't Abel."

»iji,i
m

^1'

Then one of our wicked New York fellows got
mad, and asked Miss Adams, "Why is it impossible
to stop the Connecticut River?"

"Is it owing to the extreme heat and density of
the atmosphere?" asked Miss Adams.

" No, but because — why, b-e-c-a-u-s-e — dam it you
can't !

" And speaking of rivers, Miss Adams, do you know
why there will never be e.i^y chance for the wicked
to skate in the next world?"

"Because the water will be tot warm and thin?"

" No ; but because how in H — H — Harlem can
they?" •

If you sit down by this Boston girl and don't
behave like a minister, she don't get mad : nd pout.
O ! no. She says, " Mr. Perkins, shall I repeat you a
few lines from Saxe ?" and then she goes on —

Why can'^ you be sensible, Eli !

I don't like men's arms on my chair.
Be still ! if you don't stop this nonsense,

I'll get up and leave you— so there !

And when you take out a solitaire ring, or try "to
seal the vow," or something of that sort, as New
York fellows alwa)'S try to do with almost every
Boston girl who coires here, she looks up blushingiy,
and, in the laugua;5e of Swinburne, poetically remarks :

There ! somebody's coming — don't look so—

Get up on your own chair again —
CafiU you seem as if nothing had happened?

I n,^'ev sav.' such geese as you jne... !

"ellows got
impossible

density of

am it you

you know
he wicked

id thin?"
irlem can

and don't
and pout.
)eat you a
1 —

Dr try "to

, as New
ost every
Dlushingiy,
'■ remarks :

UNCLE CONSIDER AS A CRUSADER.

HOW HE JOINED THE LADIES.

This morning Uncle
Consider returned from
the temperance crusade in
the West.

"What have you been

doing, Uncle.''" I asked as

the old man sat p ''hing

his German silver glasses

with his red bandana handkerchief.

** I've been crusadin' with the

temp 'ranee wimmen, Eli — been 'stab-

Uishing temp 'ranee bar-rooms for

religious people, and — "

"Where — a— bouts, Uncle.?" I
interrupted.

"Why, over in Springfield, where

Abe Linkum's monument is. Thar

these wimmen war a processin'

around in a great crowd. As they

kum by the de^o' I asked one of the pretty gals whar

the soin' society waz. * Whear you all crusadin' to ?'

sez I.

" ' Crusadin' to !' sez she, ' Why, we ain't a crusadin'
anywhere; we are a visitin' saloons — licker-saloons.

" i'm jes ready to

cruise around with

pretty, gallus-

lookin' girls.''

We are organized to put down whiskey. Won't you
jine in, old man?*

" I told *er I wud. Sez I, * Young woman, that's me
zackly. I'm jes reddy to cruise 'round with pretty,
gallus-lookin' gals any time, and, as fur visitin' saloons,
I'm jes t'ome thar, too I've visited a dog-on many
saloons in my day, and, when it comes to puttin' down
whiskey, young woman,' sez I, * I s'pose I kin put down
more whiskey, an' hard cider, an* Jamaky rum
than *

U I

No, no, old man ! we want you to pray in the
saloons — pray for the rumsellers and '

« (

All right,* sez I, * that's me agin. I've preyed
'round all the rumsellers and into all the saloons in
New York, from Harry Hill's to Jerry Thomas's, for
years, and it's jes nothin' but boy's play to prey 'round
these little country saloons.'

"'But who's to furnish the money, young woman.?'
sez I.

" Money, old man ? Why, this is a labor of love,'
sez she, a col'ring up — *a priceless priv'lege — "without
money and without price," an' '

U i

All ri^ht,' sez I. 'I'm jes suited now. Preyin'
'round saloons and puttin' down whiskey " without
money and without price " jes suits me. Z-a-c-k-1-y
so ! Put me down a life-member.'

"'And you say it's all free and don't cost a cent,
young woman ?" sez I, hesitatin' like.

" ' No, sir, old man. Virtue is its only reward. Go
and crusade, and humanity will thank you for doin' it
— posterity will heap benedictions upon you — the great

Won't you

n, that's me
;vith pretty,
;in' saloons,
)g-on many
uttin' down
I put clown
maky rum

3ray in the

Ve preyed

saloons in

omas's, for

>rey 'round

g woman?*

•r of love,'
— " without

r. Prey in'

" without

5-a-c-k-l-y

'St a cent,

reformers for centuries to come will rize u^^ and call
you blessed and '

'"Nuf sed, young woman,' sez I, and then I jes
handed my perlice to the stage-man and jined in. I
preyed 'round 96 rumsellers and into 180 saloons—
puttin' down whiskey and beer and rum an' merlasses
in ev'ry one, till I lost all 'count of myself or anybody
else until the station-house keeper told me about it
the next mornin*.

"An' now, Eli," said Uncle Consider, looking over
his glasses very mournfully, "if them thar crusadin'
wimmen kum 'round you to get you to help them prey
'round saloons and 'stablish temp 'ranee bar-rooms, you
jes don't go. Now, you mind me. Don't you go
'round singin*

" • On Jordan's stormy bank I stand,'

but you jes stay at home and sing ' I want to be an
angei; with Ginral Butler an' Zack Chanler an' me."

vard. Go
)r doin' it
-the great

ELI IN LOVE.

A TAIL or LOVE, FLIRTING AND DESPAIR.
{In Four Chapters.)

CHAP. I.

" Eli !"

" Yes, Julia," I said
as I helped my sweet-
heart dress the room
for her Christmas par-
ty-

"Well, Eli, I was
going to say that I
could live in a garret
with the man I loved
if "

"If wiiat, Julia?" I said, handing
her up another sprig of cedar.

"Why, if it had a nice Otis elevator
I could have my meals sent in from
monico's and

CHAP. II.

"Julia!" I said, interrupting her two weeks
after the conversation narrated in the previous
chapter, " I have something confidential to tell
you."

"What is it, Eli?" she asked in a low sil-

PAIR.

xye£i

^yh

very voice — a kind of German-silvery voice — throwing
her beautiful eyes upon me.

"Well, Julia," I sighed, "I think— I think, dearest,
that I love you. Now do you love me.? Do you.?"

"Yes, Eli, I do love you — you know I do," and then
she sot down off the chair and flung her alabaster
arms around my neck.

"I'm very glad, Julia," I said, "for I 1-i-k-e to be
loved."

"Well, Eli!"

But I never said another word. '

CHAP. III.
Time passed on.

Six weeks afterwards my beloved grasped my hand
convulsively, looked in my face and said :

" Eli, such devoted, warm-hearted men as you often
make me feel very happy."

"How, darling.?" I asked, too happy to live.

"Why, by keeping away from me, Eli!"

CHAP. IV.

" Why, O why is this, my beloved .?" I sobbed, one
bright spring morning five years afterwards.

*' Because, my darling, — father and mother told me
that when you called they wanted me to propose "

" O Julia, darling, I am thine. Take, O take, your
Eli ! Never mind father — never "

" But no, Eli, they wanted me to see you and pro-
pose — p-r-o-p-o-s-e that you don't come here any more !"

Base flirt— I left her— O I left her!!

FINIS.

BROWN'S BOYS.

CHAPTER r.

THE TRIBE IN GENERAL.

A BRoWN S BOY.

The Brown's Boy is pecu-
liar to New York, though
every iarge city is infested
with Brown's Boys in a great-
er or less degree. They were
named after Sexton Brown of
Grace Church, They are his
boys. He keeps them — this
dilettante Grace Church sex-
ton does — to run swell parties
with. He furnishes them with
invitations to weddings and
parties and receptions. In fact, Brown contracts to
furnish Brown's Boys to dance and flirt, and amuse
young ladies at parties, just as he contracts to furnish
flowers and ushers and pall-bearers at a funeral. How
can Mrs. Witherington's party go ofl" weU without a
Brown's Boy to lead the German.? They don't have
anything in particular to do, Brown's Eoys don't, and
it takes them all the time to do it. They don't have
much money, but they make believe they have immense
incomes. They are looking out for rich wives. They
live in cheap rooms, on side-streets, and s\vell in Fifth
Avenue parlors. Ask them wiiat they Jo for a living,
and they will say, — .
60

>y IS pecu-
k, though
s infested
in a great-
They were
I Brown of
ley are liis
:hem — this
urch sex-
rell parties
them with
dings and
ntracts to
nd amuse
to furnish
ral. How
without a
'on't have
don't, and
lon't have
J immense
es. They
1 in Fifth
■ a living,

"O, aw — I opewate a little in stawks now and then
on Wall street, yeu know."

If you go down to Wall street you will never see cr
hear of them.

In New York they live on the Egyptian plan — that
is, they rent a hall bedroom and eat when they are
invited; but in Saratoga they swell around in amber
kids and white neckties, and spend their time in
dancing the German and in noble endeavors to win
the affections of some rich young lady. Their whole
theory of a noble life is to marry a rich girl and board
with her mother — and not be bored l^y her mother.

These Brown's Boys are always very religious — from
12 to I on Sundays. At that hour you will see them
always religiously — returning from church. You will
always see them just coming from or going to church ;
but I have consulted the " oldest inhabitant, " who
says that up to this time, they have never been visible
to the naked eye while engaged in an active state of
worship.

Brown's Boys are good managers. They all have
nice dress suits, and wear immaculate kids. They
dance al) the round dances, and, at supper, "corner"
enough champagne behind ladies' dresses to last all
the evening — even after the champagne is all out, and
other people are reduced to lemonade and punch.
They never take any one to a party. They come late
and alone, but they go for the prettiest girl immedi-
ately on their arrival, and run her regular escort out.
They don't call that "cheek" — they call it society
diplomacy.

The theater and opera are the favorite resort of
Brown's Boys. They go alone, in swell Ulster over-
coats, crush Dunlop hats, and elaborate opera glasses.
Here they stand around the doors and aisles, and
during the acts visit rich young ladies in their twenty-
six-dollar boxes.

CHAPTER II.

BROWN S DOYS AT PARTIES.

Brown's Boys are the dancing men at fashionable
parties. They do not talk — they have no ideas — but
they do dance the German divinely.

They generally accompany some member of the
hereditary train of uncertain-aged dancing young ladies,
who attend five parties a week, from December to Lent.

These dancing girls are generally prettily and often
richly dressed, and are the daughters of rich parents,
while the dancing fellows are generally poor. They
are pensioners on the young ladies, for, when the young
ladies forget to send a carriage for them, they invari-
ably excuse themselves on the ground of a previous
engagement, or smuggle themselves in alone. Still, they
are good-looking, generally contrive to wear nice-fitting
dress suits, faultless kids, and crush hats. They de-
pend upon " the governor," generally, for cigars. They
look upon the party as a place to flatter the girls, get
a free lunch, smoke good cigars, and ^''corner'' cham-
pagne.

A Brown's Boy's strong point, as with Achilles, lies
in his heels. Though, without any apparent brain, they

resort of
Jlster over-
era glasses,
aisles, and
leir twenty-

fashionable
ideas — but

3er of the
)img ladies,
)er to Lent.
' and often
ch parents,
oor. They
L the young
hey invari-
a previous

Still, they
nice-fitting

They de-
ars. They
e girls, get
er'* cham-

chilles, lies
brain, they

chatter cleverly and seem exceedingly smart in com-
monplaces. They know, from force of habit, just what
to say, and just what to do. If they step on a lady's
dress, they say instantly,

"Beg pardon. Miss Smith. I thought t/ie train had
passed /**

'*Ha! ha! Charley, you must learn to wait for the
train," Miss Smith remarks as Charley peeps over the
banisters to smell the incipient breath of — supper.

brown's boys at supper.

The dancing men — the professional champagne "cor-
nerers " — are never late to supper. Here their discrim-
inating genius makes a prodigious display.

They never go for c/icap refreshments, but have a
weakness for fried oysters, salads, and expensive wood-
cock. They take to expensive game wonderfully, and
they manage to have it while the non-professional
party-goer is picking away at plain sandwiches, cold
tongue, mottoes, and cream. A knowledge of Greek
and Latin don'f help a man in the giand raffle for
woodcock at a New York party, for Brown's Boys are
sure to win by tact and society diplomacy.

CORNERING CHAMPAGNE.

When the wine comes on, then the professional man
of heels is in his element. He turns a sweet patron-
izing smile upon the caterer, and says,

"John, no cider champagne for us, yeu kneuw."
John smiles and hands him the first bottle of fine
old Roederer. This he generally drinks with the fel-
lows, while the ladies are eating in the corner.

Now he approaches the caterer and says with a pa-
tronizing wink:

"John, some more of our kind, yen kneuw," and
John hands out two ])ottles more — one to be drunk
with the ladies, and the other Charley "corners" with
a laugh, behind their dresses. The girls think this is
very funny, and they laugh at Charley's coup in high
glee.

This is a nice provision on the part of the champagne
"cornerer," for soon "the governor's" best champagne
gives out. Then while the unprofessionals, having ex-
hausted everything from cider champagne, through
sparkling Catawba, to Set Sherry, are all sipping away
at rum punch, Charley is reveling in Widow Clicquot's
best. All the girls are laughing, too, and Charley is
voted "a deuced smart fellow."

Now he is up to the prettiest tricks, even to taking
a young lady's hand, or even her mother's. They all
say, " It's all right — Charley has been ' cornering* a little
too much champagne — that's all. Hal ha!"

EXPENSIVE CHARLEY.

Let's see what Charley has cost Nellie Smith's gov-
ernor to-night.

Carriage (which Nellie Smith sent) $5 oo

Two woodcock (totally eaten up) ... . . i 50

Salad and oysters (destroyed) i cx)

Cigars (smoked and pocketed) t 00

Champagne 12 00

Total for Charley $20 50

Cr. By face and heels lent to Nellie for occasion $20 50

Balance 000 00

la\
<

iJa

m>
tht

vith a pa-

iiiw," and
be drunk
ers" with
nk this is
p in high

hampagne
hampagne
aving ex-
, through
jing away
Clicquot's
Dharley is

to taking

They all

ig' a little

eft

A KIND old father-in-law on Madison avenue, who
is sui)i)orting four or five of Brown's Hoys as sons-in-
law, went down to see Barnum's Feejee Cannibals.

"Why are they called Cannibals?" he asked of Mr.
Barnum.

" I^ecause they live off of other people," replied the
great showman.

" O, I see," replied the unhai)py father-in-law. "Alas !
my four Brown's Boys sons-in-law are Cannibals, too —
they live off of me!"

ith's gov-

12 OO

$20

000 00

A BROWN'S BOY IN LOVE.

CHARLEY MUNSON.

I KNOW a Brown's Boy — Charley
Munson — whose pet theory has always
been to marry a rich orphan girl with
a hard cough — with the consumption.
One day he came into my room
almost heartbroken.

" My pet theory is exploded," he
said. "I am discouraged. I want to die." Then the
tears rolled down his chcjk.

" What is it, Charley ? O, what has happened .>" I
asked.

"Ohoooo, Eli!" he sobbed, and then he broke down.
"But what is it, Charley.** Confide in me," I said,
my heart almost breaking in sympathy at his bereave-
ment.

"Well, my friend, my dear friend, I will tell you all
about it."

Then he leaned forward, took my hand tremblingly
in his, and told me his sad, sad story.

"The other day, Eli," he said, "I met a veiy rich
young lady — the rich Miss Astor. from Fifth avenue.
She was very wealthy — wore laces and diamonds — but,
alas! she didn't have any cough to go with them.
She had piles of money, but no sign of a cough — no
quick consumption — ^just my lurk!"
66

i
f

3y — Charley
Y has always
lan girl with
onsumption.
Q my room

plodcd," he
Then the

ppened?" I

3roke down,
le," I said,
lis bereaA'e-

tell you all

Then he buried his face in his hands. He wept
long and loud.

«<

"What else, Charley?" I asked, after he had re-
turned to consciousness,

"Well, yesterday, Eli, I met a beautiful young lady
from Chicago. She was frail and delicate — had just the
cough I wanted — a low, hacking, musical cough. It
was just sweet music to listen to that cough. I took
her jeweled hand in mine and asked her to be my
bride; but alas! in a fa.al moment I learned that she
hadn't any money to go with her cough, and 1 had to
give her up. I lost her. O, I lost her!"

And then the hot scalding tears trickled through his
fingers and rolled down on his patent leather boots.

tremblingly

a veiy rich
fth avenue,
londs — but,
with them,
cough — no

BROWN'S BOYS IN NEW YORK.

THE TIRING-OUT DODGE.

They don't have any money themselves, Brown's
Boys don't, and consequently they are looking for rich
wives. They are handsome fellows, and always man-
age to keep all the pretty girls "on a string," but they
never propose. They never come right out like us
honest fellows, and ask a young lady plump to marry
them. They are dog-in-the-manger lovers.

Of late, when I call on Julia, I am always sure to
find a Brown's Boy at the house. He sits in danger-
ous proximity to the girl I love, talks very sweetly,
and, I think, tries to run me out.

Of course, when you make an evening call on a
young lady, the first visitor is entitled to the floor, and
after saying a few pretty things, you are expected to
place caller number on., under everlasting obligations
to you by putting on your overcoat and leaving. Now,
Brown's Boy, unlike Mr. Lamb, always comes early and
goes late, and I've put him under obligations to me
so many times that I'm getting sick of it. He can
never live long enough to pay this debt of gratitude.
Oh, how I hate that Brown's Boy !

Last night I had my sweet revenge.

I had been telling my sad tale of sorrow and disap-

])ointment to Sallie Smith. I told her 1 "meant busi-
es

)RK.

Ives, Brown's
3king for rich
always man-
ng," but they
; out like us
imp to marry
s.

Iways sure to
ts in danger-
very sweetly,

call on a
le floor, and
expected to
obligations
iving. Now,
les early and
tions to me
it. He can
3f gratitude.

^ and disap-
meant busi-

ness " all the time with Julia, and that I knew Brown's
i3oy wacs flirting.

"Now, Miss Sallie, confidentially, what shall I do.''"
1 asked.

"Well, cousin Eli, I'll tell you just what to do," said
Sallie, her eyes sparkling with interest.

"What, Sallie.?"

"Why, the next time you call on Julia you must
come the ' tiring-otit dodge,' " she replied, looking me
earnestly in the fare, and quietly picking a tea-rose
out of my Prince Albert lappel.

"What dodge is that, Sallie.?"

"It's just like this, Eli. You must call on Julia as
usual "

"Yes."

"And if a Brown's Boy is there, you musn't be the
least bit jealous "

"No."

"And you must talk just as entertaining as you
can "

"Yes."

"And you musn't look at your watch nor feel uneasy,
but quietly remove your amber kids, then lay your
London overcoat on the sofa, and sit down as if you
had called by special invitation to spend the entire
evening;" and then Sallie's great liquid eyes looked
down on her fan.

"Well, what then.?" I asked, deeply interested.

"Why, a Brown's Boy is a spoony fellow, you know.
His strength lies in cornering a girl, and coming the
sentimental dodge. He won't be able to stand such a

siege as this, and I'll bet a dozen 'six buttons' that
he'll get up and leave the field to you."
"All right, my dear Sallie; I'll try it."
Then I took her dainty little hand, and pondered
on her stupendous strategy which was to demoralize
this Brown's Boy, and perhaps capture the loveliest
blonde girl on Madison avenue.

>»

Last night I mounted the brown-stone steps w^hich
led to Julia's palatial residence, with a heart big with
resolution. I resolved to see Julia and talk with her
alone, at all hazards. At the touch of the bell, the
big walnut and bronze door swung back. In a second
I saw that miserable silver-tongued Charley Brown —
that flirting Brown's Boy — on the sofa with Julia.

As I entered, Charley started, and Julia's diamond
rings flashed a straight streak of light from Charley
Brown's hands. Oh dear ! those flirting Brown's Boys !

"Ah, Julia, I'm delighted to have an opportunity of
spending an evening with you," I commenced, as I
slipped off my gloves.

" Our happiness is mutual, I assure you, Mr. Perkins,"
replied Miss Julia. "Won't you remove your over-
coat.?"

"Thank you, Miss Julia; it would be unpleasant lo
sit a whole evening with one's overcoat on, and "

"Then you are liable to take cold when you go out,""
suggested JuKa, interrupting me.

"Especially when one expects to sit and talk for
several hours," I continued; "and when 1 have so

buttons' that

nd pondered

demoralize

the loveliest

I steps which
Dart big with
:alk with her
the bell, the
In a second
•ley Brown —
th Julia,
ia's diamond
rom Charley
rown's Boys !
)portunity of
lenced, as I

^r. Perkins,"
your ovei-

nplcasant lo

n, and "

you go out,"

.nd talk for
1 have sc

much to say as I have to-night, I don't know when I
shall get through."

Charley Erown began to be a little uneasy now, and
looking at his watch, ventured to ask :

"Is Nilsson to sing Mignon to-night, Mr. Perkins.?"

Of course I didn't hear Charley, but kept blazing
right straight away at Julia about ritualism and parties
and Lent, and all such society trash.

'*Oh, Miss Julia, did you hear about Jay Gould get-
ting shot.'*" J asked, remembering how cousin Sallie
said I must entertain her, and talk Charley Brown out
of his boots.

"Jay Gould got shot! How.? Wher°:.?" exclaimed
Julia.

" Why, in a Seventh avenue hardware stare. I mean
he got pigeon shot for the Jerome Park pigeon match."

"Oh, Mr. Perkins! Ha! ha! how could you.?"

Then Charley looked at his watch.

"By the way, Miss Julia, do you know which is the
strongest day in the week?" I asked modestly, taking
her beautiful gold fan.

"No. Which is the strongest day, Mr. Perkins.?"

"Why, Sunday, Julia; don't you
know all the other days are weak
days!"

" Oh, Mr. Perkins ! Ha ! ha ! you'll
kill us," exclaimed Julia (while Char-
ley looked at his watch). Then he
remarked that " Samson's weakest
day was the day he let Delilah cut
off his hair:" but nobody heard him.

CHAKLiiY BKOWN.

Charley now began to be uneasy. He whirled in
his chair, then looked at his watch again, and, standing
up, remarked that he had some letters to write, and that
duty called him home early.

" Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Brown," said Julia, still
talking with me.

"Good bye, Mr. Brown, good bye!" I said, grasping
his hand. " Next time, I hope, I sha'n't have so much
to say to Miss Julia."

As Charley passed into the hall I asked Julia which
were worth the most — young gentlemen or young
ladies }

" Why, young ladies, of course — don't you always
call us dear creatui-cs .'*"

"Yes, but, my dear Julia** — I talked fondly now,
for Charley wis gone — "you know, ray dear, that at
the last end you are given away, while the gentleman
is often sold !"

" Oh, Eli, you are very wicked to make such a re-
mark, when you know every young lady who marries
one of Brown's Boys is sold in the worst way. I don't
think Brown's Boys are ever sold. They arc soulless
fellows. But then they are so nice, they dance divinely,
and they are so spoony — when a girl happens to have
a rich father. They do dance the German so nicely;
and then they bow so nice on the avenue on Sunday,
and come and see us /;/ our papa's boxes at the opera,
and "

"And run out us solid fellows who mean business,
who don't know how to flirt, and who really love you,"
I interrupted.

gav

con
hov

hap

how

fSB

whirled in
d, standing
te, and that

Julia, still

id, grasping
ve so much

Julia which
or young

^ou always

ondly now,

;ar, that at

gentleman

such a re-
dio marries
y. I don't
arc soulless
ce divinely,
ns to have

so nicely;
Dn Sunday,

the opera,

dlB

•'What! you m$an business, Mr. Perkins?" and Julia
gave me a searching look.

"Yes, my dear Julia;" and then I took her hand
convulsively. Neither of us said a word; but, oh!
how you could have heard the heart-beating!

Julia never took it away at all, and now I'm a
happy man — all because cousin Sallie Smith told me
how to do it !

n business,
love you,"

RICH BROWN'S BOVS.

t.'.' ill AVKNUK IIoTF-I,, )
^ItlgUst I. \

1hi -ich Brown's Boys!

Not the poor Brown's

Boys who live on side streets,

and buy $i tickets, and

swell in amber kids in rich

young ladies' $20 boxes at

the opera — smart fellows,

^^S||P who really can't do any

lujjMjhij'lJiijI better, but the good-for-

i'J-Jiil>;iilJlL!iliil nothing rich Brown's Boys.

Who are they ?

Why, the city is full of them.
They have rich fathers; they drive
their father's horses ; their fathers are
stockholders in the Academy, and the
boys occupy the seats. Their mission
is to spend their father's money and
live like barnacles on his reputation.
They don't know how to do anything
useful, and they don't have anything useful to do.
They come into the world to be supported. They are
social and financial parasites. A poor Brown's Boy
does the best he can, but these fellows do the worst

they can.

RICH BROWN S BOY.

: IIuTRL, }
I. i'

vvn's Boys !
»r Brown's
side streets,
ickets, and
iids in rich
JO boxes at
irt fellows,
I't do any
good-for-
Dwn's Boys.

of them.

they drive

fathers are

my, and the

leir mission

money and

reputation.

io anything

eful to do.

They are

rown's Boy

o the ■svorst

Rich girl " go for " them or account of their rich
fathers. Ti y marry then\ have a swell wedding, and
then spend '^ lifetime .aourning that they aid not marry
a brave, str ng, working fellow, vho would have felt
riA in their affections. ar<' who, with a little help from
father-in-law, wx)uld have hewn his way to wealth and
position.

RULES FOR MAKING RICH I]ROWN*S BOYS.

Below I give the ten cardinal rules which, if followed,
will make a rich Brown's Boy out of any brainless son
of a rich father. Any young New Jersey Stockton,
Kentucky Ward, or Massachusetts Lawrence — yes, any
Darnphool Republican Prince of Wales can carry out
these simple rules, and thus attain to the glorious posi-
tion of a rich Brown '.^ Boy. If carried out they will
produce the same result nine times out of ten. I have
seen them tried a thousand times ;

RULES.

First — If your father is rich or holds a high position
socially — and you arc a good-for-nothing, dissipated,
darnphool of a swell, without sense or character enough
to make a living, pay your addresses to some rich girl
— and marry her if you can.

Second. — Go home and live with her father, and mag-
nanimously spend her money. Keep up your flirtations
around town just the same. Gamble a little, and always
dine at the Clubs.

yV/m/.— -After your wife has nursed you through a
spell of sickness, and she looks languid and worn with

^''; '.''?

anxiety, tell her, like a high-toned gentleman, that she
has grown plain-looking — then scold her a little and
make love to her maid !

Fourth. — If your weary wife objects, I'd insult her —
tell her you won't be tyrannized over. Then come
home drunk once or twice a week, and empty the coal-
scuttle into the piano and pour the kerosene lamps
over her Saratoga trunks and into the baby's cradle.
When she cries, I'd twit her about the high (hie) social
position of my own (hie) family.

Fifth. — If, weary and sick and heartbroken, she
finally asks for a separation, I'd blacken her character
— deny the paternity of my own children — get a divorce
myself. Then by wise American law you can keep all
her money, and, 'lile she goes back in sorrow to her
father, you can magnanimously 'peddle out to her a
small dowry from her own estate.

Sixth. — If she asks you — audaciously asks you — for
any of her own money, tell her to go to the Dev —
Devil (the very one she has come to).

Seventh. — Now I 'd keep a mistress and a poodle dog,
and ride up to the Park with them in a gilded landaulet
every afternoon. While this miserable, misguided
woman will be trodden in the dust by society you can
attain to the heights of modern chivalry by leading at
charity balls in public, and breeding bull-pups and
coach-dogs at home.

Eighth. — After you have used up your wife's last
money in dissipation, and brought your father's gray
hairs down in sorrow to the grave, I'd get the deliriu/n
tremens and shoot myself. This will create a sensation

that she
ttle and

lit her —
en come
the coal-
le lamps
s cradle,
ic) social

(ken, she
character
a divorce
keep all
)w to her
to her a

you — for
le Dev —

lodle dog,
landaulet
nisguided
r you can
eading at
)ups and

life's last
.er's gray
dcliriiun
sensation

in the newspapers and cause every other ricli Brown's
Boy to call you high-toned and chivalrous.

Ninth. — Then that poor angel wife, crushed in spirit,
tried in the crucible of adversity, and purified by the
beautiful " Do-unto-others " of the Christ-child, will
go into mourning, and build with hsr last money a
monument to the memory of the man who crushed
her bleeding heart.

Sacred to the Memory

J. LAWRENCE BROWN.

Died May 12, 1876.

He was a kind father and
an indulgent husband. He
always indulged himself.

" The pure in spirit shall
see God."

He owned a 2,40 Hoss.

BROWN'S GIRLS.

DIARY OF TWO DAYS IN HER LIFE.

Brown's Girls !

Yes, we have Brown's Girls, too.

Tiiey are a set of husband-hunting young ladies —
smart, accomplished, and pretty, but with no hearts.
Tliey only marry for money. They are thus taught by
their mothers, and failing to catch fortunes, many of
them become blase old maids.

Below I give the diary of two days in the life of a
New York young lady. At nineteen she is honest,
loveable, and innocent. Seven years after she becomes
a blasi\ Brown's Girl.

HER DIARY 1875.

May I, 1875. — Nineteen to-day —
and I'm too happy to live! How
lovely the Park looked this morning.
How gracefully the swans swam on
the lake, and how the yellow dan-
delions lifted up their yellow faces
— all smiles !
Albert — dear Albert — passed mam-
ma and me, and bowed so gracefully ! Mamma frowned
at him. O, dear! I am not quite happy.

Last night my first ball, and Albert was there.
78

NINETEEN TO-DAY !'

[ ladies —

hearts,
aught by

many of

life of a
s honest,

1 becomes

to-day —
i ! How
morning,
swam on
low dan-
low faces

scd mam-
i frowned

IS there.

AI.BKKT SINCLAIR.

I'our times he came, and I let him put his name on
my card — then mamma frowned savagely. She said I
ouglit to be ashamed to waste my time with a [)()or
fellow like Albert Sinclair. Then she brought iij) old
Thomi)son, that horrid rich old* widower, and 1 had
to scratch Albert's name off. When Albert saw me
dancing with Thompson the color came to his cheeks,
and he only just touched the ends of my fingers in
iho grand chain.

O, dear, one of Albert's little fingers
IS worth more than old Thompson's
right arm. How stupidly old Thompson
talked, but mamma smiled all the time.
Once she tipped me on the shoulder,
and said in a low, harsh voice, " Be
agreeable, Lizzie, for Mr. 'i'hompson is
a great catch." Then Thompson, the stui)id old fool,
tried to talk like ,the young fellows. He told me I
looked "stunning," said the ball was a "swell" affair,
and then asked me to ride up to the Park in his four-
horse drag. Bah ! Mother says I must go, but, O,
dear, I'd rather walk two blocks with Albert than ride
ten miles in a chariot with the old dyed whiskers.

After supi)er such an e\ 'nt took place. Albert
joined me, and after a lovely .valtz we wandered into
the conservatory and had a nic confidential chat to-
gether. It is wonderful how we both like the same
things. He admires the beautiful moon — so do I. I
love the stars, and so does he ! We both like to look
out of the open window, and we both like to be near
each other — that is, I know I do. Albert dotes on

'59

Longfellow, and, O, don't I ! I like Poe, and so does
Albert, and the little teois fairly started (hut Alhert
didn't see thcni) when he repeated softly in my
ear:

•' For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams,
Of my beautiful Annabel Lee ;

And the siars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of my beautiful Annabel Lee,"

— and a good deal more besides, about love and the
sounding sea. Then Fannie Carter, who is in my class
at Mrs. Hoffman's, came by with Will Mason, and sat
right down in the next window. I do believe she
loves him !

What a nice, sfjisible talk Albert and I had ! First,
we began talking about the soul — how destiny some-
times bound two souls together by an invisible chain.
Then we considered the mission of man and woman
upon the earth — how they ought to comfort and sup-
port each other in sickness and in health. And then
Albert quite startled me by asking me if I had ever
cared for any one. And when I said " Yes, papa and
mamna." he laughed, and said he did not mean them,
and then I felt quite hurt, and the tears would come
into my eyes, for I do love mamma, even if she does
make me dance with that horrid old Thompson, with

his dyed whiskers.

Then Albert leaned his face towards mine. I felt

his mustache almost touch me as he whispered sucli

nice words in my ear. He told me how he had longed

for an opportuiity to speak to me alone, how — and

then I was so ""appy, for I knew he was going to say

tid so does
but Albert
:ly in my

le dreams,
eyes

^e and the
n my class
n, and sat
relieve she

ad ! First,

tiny some-

ible chain.

nd woman

; and siip-

And then

had ever

papa and

lean them,

ould come

f she does

pson, with

lie. I fell
ered such
ad longed
how — and

ing to say

something very nice indeed — when ma, with that dread-
ful old widower, came along and interrupted us.

"Come, Lizzie, you go with Mr. Thompson, for i
want to present Mr. Sinclair to Miss Brown," and *hen
ma — O, dear ! she took Albert and presented him to
the girl that I hate worst of anybody in school. I
didn't see Albert again, for v hen he came around, ma
said, "Lizzie, it looks horribh; to be seen dancing with
Albert Sinclair all the t^/e ang. You ought to be
ashamed of yourself."

O, dear, I look like a fright — I know I do, but I
do hope I shall look better when I see Albert on the
avenue to-morrow. Let's see — I wonder if he won't
write to me ? But I'll see him when he walks up from
business to-night — maybe.

HER DIARY, 1 882.

May I, 1882^. — Out again last
night. What a horrible bore par-
ties are! I hate society. New
York women are so prudish, with
their atrocious high-neck dresses,
and the fellows are so wretchedly
slow. O, dear ! Everything goes
wrong. If I hadn't met Bob Mun-
roe, who took us to the Mabille and
the Alhambra, on the other side
last summer, I'd 'a' died. Bob's double entendre rather
startled the poky New York girls, though. Gracious,
they ought to hear the French beaux talk ! They do
make such a fuss about our Paris decollete dresses.

THE BLASi: GIRL.

Why, Bessie Brown wore a dress at a Queen's Draw-
ing Rooni with hardly any body on at all — and she
had that same dress on last night. Of course I
could not stand any chance with her, for dJcolletJ
dresses do take the fellows so. But I'll be on hand
next time.

Young Sinclair, with whom I used to " spoon " years
ago, was there — and married to Fannie Carter, my
old classmate. Pshaw! she is a poky, old, high-
necked, married woman now, and Sinclair — well, they
say that he was almost broken-hearted at my con-
duct — that he drank, and then reformed and joined
the church, and is now a leading clergyman. Well,
I'm glad Sinclair became a preacher. I always knew
black would become his complexion.
What if I should go and hear him
preach, flirt with him a little, and get
his poky old wife jealous ! Good-
ness ! but don't he look serious,
though ! There's a glass — gracious !
I'm as pale as a ghost! There's no
use of my trying to dress without
7'ouge. I do wish they would learn
how to put on pearl white here — why, every wrinkle
shows through. Then I do wish New York fellows
would learn how to dance! — that atrocious galop
upset my pads, and I had to leave in the middle of
the dance to arrange things. Old Thompson is dead,
died single — but his brother, the rich whiskey man,
was there, and gracious! it was fun to dance with
him after he had taken in his usual two bottles of

REV. ALBERT SINCLAIR.

's Draw-

■and she

:ourse I

ddcollctJ

on hand

n years
rter, my
id, high-
:ell, they
my con-
d joined
I. Well,
lys knew

RT SINCLAIR.

wrinkle
c fellows
galop
liddle of

is dead,
ey man,
ice with
nttles of

champagne. He turned everything — the lanciers, polka,
and all — into the Virginia reel. That's Bob Monroe's
pun. But after we got through dancing, didn't I
have a flirtation Avith Old Thompson No. \i while
Albert Sinclair was helping mother to some refresh-
ments! Dear old thing, she don't bother me in my
conservatory flirtation any more. Well, Old Thompson
No. 2 got quite affectionate — wanted to kiss my hand,
and when I let him he wanted to kiss me! The
old wretch — when he's got a wife and three daughters.
But I had my fun — I made him propose condition-
ally — that is, if Mrs. Thompson dies ; and I tell ma
then I'm going to be one of our gay and dashing
young wives with an old fool of a husband — and
plenty of lovers. O, dear ! I'm tired and sleepy, and
I do believe my head aches awfully, and it's that
abominable champagne. What goosies Fannie Carter
and Albert Sinclair have made of themselves ! What
fun can she have with the men .^ 0, dear!

ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN.

LET ME TELL YOU SUTHIN', ELI.

" Eli !"
" Yes, sir."

"Are you list'ning?"
continued my Uncle Con-
sider, as he took his pipe
out of his mouth, laid
down his glasses, and
poked the fire with the
tongs.

"With both ears, Un-
cle."

"Well, let me tell you suthin'. If you want to be
wize, Eli, you must allers listen. If you want to be
wize you must let other people do all the talkin' —
then you'll soon know all they know, Eli, and have
your own nolledge besides. D'you see.'*"

"Yes, Uncle."

"And never you bl)vv a man's
brains out to get his money, Eli,
but just sly around and blow his
money out and get his brains —

" And be temp'rate and econo-
mical, Eli, and "

" Yes, Uncle, I always try to be

'Ireful. I al /ays owe enough to

j '; all <.y debts, and I'd rather

cAREiuL 1:1.1 owe 11 man .brever than cheat him

N, ELI.

nt to be
It to be
talkin' —
nd have

a man s
fney, Eli,
blow his
rains —
d econo-

try to be
lough to
d rather
heat him

(

out of it. I'd pay every debt I owe if I had to go
out and borrow money to do it; I would. The fact
is, Uncle," I said, getting excited, " I always advise
the boys to be steady and saving. I advise 'em to
stick, stick to their places and be temperate, no matter
how hard they have to work, and it'll make men of
'em. But the rascals "

''What, Eli.?"

" Why, they all pay more 'tention to my example
thin they do to ray precepts, and they're all turnin'
out loafers."

" That's dre'fful sad, Eli," said my Uncle, wiping his
eyes sorrowfully, "when I've allers talkt to you so
much about the dignity of labor — wh u I've allers
taught you to obey the script'ral injunction to live by
the sweat of your brow."

"But I always do that; don't I, Uncle ^'

" Yes ; but how can you live by the sweat of your
brow, Eli, when you spend all your ti^ne trav'lin'
'round and lecturin' and foolin' about.? How can
you.?"

"Why, Uncle, that's just what I travel for. I go
down South winters, where it is hot, so I can live by
the sweat of my brow without working so hard."

"And about this drinkin' business, Eli — this drinkin'
wine and cider and beer? Don't you know the Bible
is agin it.? Don't you.?"

"Yes, Uncle, I know it; but haven't you read the
parable in the Bible about turnin' water into wine.?"

" Yes, my nevvy."

"Well, that's all I do, Uncle; I just turn water into

my wine, and I don't turn much water In either,
and "

" What's that, Eli ! Do you mean to say that you
ever drink at all? Do you "

" No, Uncle, never. The tempter came to me the
other day. But when they pressed me to take whiskey
I took umbrage "

" Took umbrage, did you ! O, my nevvy, that must
be un awful drink ! Umbrage ? O, did I think it
would ever come to this? — u-m-b-r-a-g-e," and Uncle
Consider wiped his eyes with his red bandana.

" But, Uncle," I said, trying to cheer the old man
up, "I'm opposed to whiskey. I do not drink with
impunity. I "

"Don't drink with Impunity, Eli! Well, I thought
you allers drank with everybody who invited you.
Mebby Impunity didn't invite you, Eli? Well, well,
well, well, I am glad to find one man that you refused
to drink with, I am." And Uncle Consider knocked
the ashes out of his pipe and fell asleep in his chair,
repeating, "Didn't drink with Impunity."

r-i

In either,

' that you

to me the
ke whiskey

that must
I think it
and Uncle
ma.

e old man
drink with

I thought
vited you.
Well, well,
^ou refused
er knocked
1 his chair.

THE FUNNY SIDE OF FISK.

A QUEER MAN.

Yes, Colonel Fisk was a funny man, and a man
always full of humor could not have been a very bad
man at heart.

Once I had occasion to spend an hour with the
Colonel in his palatial Erie office, and a record of
that hour I then wrote out. Fisk was being shaved as
I entered, and his face was half-covered with foaming
lather. Just then some one came in and told him that
the gentlemen in the office had made up a purse of
^34 to be presented to little Peter, Fisk's favorite little
office boy.

"All right," said the Colonel, smiling and wiping the
lather from his face. "Call in Peter."
In a moment little Peter entered
with a shy look and seemingly h"lf
frightened.

" Well, Peter," said the Colonel, as
he held the envelope with the money
in one hand and the towel in the
other, "what did you mean, sir, by
absenting yourself from the Erie Office, the other day,
when both Mr. Gould and I were away, and had left
the whole mass of business on your shoulders?"

PETEK,

Then he frowned fearfully, while Peter trembled from
head to foot.

" But, my boy," continued Fisk, " I will not blame
you ; there may be extenuating circumstances. Evil
associates may have tempted you away. Here, Peter,
take this (handing him the '$34), and henceforth let your
life be one of rectitude — quiet rectitude, Peter. Be-
hold me, Peter, and remember that evil communications
are not always the best policy, but that honesty is worth
two in the bush." 31

As Peter went back to his place beside the outside
door everybody laughed, and Fisk sat down again to
have the other side of his face shaved.

Pretty quick in came a little dried-up
old gentleman, with keen gray eyes sur-
mounted by an overpowering Panama hat.
The Erie Railway office was then tlie
old gfc^.;tlcman*s almost daily rendezvous.
Here he would sit for hours at a time,
and peer out fiom under his broadbrim at the wonder-
ful movements of Colonel Fisk. Cautious, because he
could move but slowly, this venerable gentleman, who
has made Wall Street tremble, hitched up to the gold
indicator, all the time keeping one eye on the quotations
and the other on the Colonel. As a feeler, he vent-
ured to ask :

" How is Lake Shore this morning. Colonel ?" M

" Peter," said Fisk, with awful gravity, " communi-
cate with the Great American Speculator and show
him how they are dealing on the street!"

The old man chuckled, Gould hid a smile while

DREW.

imbled from

I not blame
.nces. Evil
Here, Peter,
)rth let your
Peter. Be-
munications
;sty is worth

the outside
*vn again to

tie dried-iip
ly eyes siir-
Panama hat.
IS then tlie

rendezvous.
5 at a time,
the wonder-

because he
tleman, who
to the gold
e quotations
er, he vent-

3ncl ?"
" communi-
r and show

smile while

smoothing his jetty whiskers, and little Peter took hold
of the running wire with Daniel Drew. It was the
beginning and the ending — youth and experience —
simplicity and shrewdness — Peter and Daniel !

Little Peter was about ten years old, and small at
that. Frequently large men would cbm.e into the Erie
office and " bore " che Colonel. Then he would say :

" Here, Peter, take this man into custody, and hold
him under arrest until we send for him!"

" You seem very busy to-day ?" I remarked, handing
the Colonel a cigar.

"Yes, Eli," said Fisk, smiling. "I'm trying to find
out from all these papers where Gould gets money
enough to pay his income tax. He never has any
money — fact^ sir! He even wanted to bon. ,v of me
to pay his income tax last summer, and I lent hun four
hundred dollars, and that s gone, too ! This income
business will be the ruination of Gould." Here the
venerable Daniel Drew concealed a laugh, and Gould
turned clear around, so that Fisk could only see the
back of his head, while his eyes twinkled in enjoyment
of the Colonel's fun.

"What will be the end of putting down the railroad
fares, Colonel?" I asked, referring to the jealous op-
position in fares then existing between the Erie and
New York Central.

"End! why we haven't begun yet. We intend to
carry passengers through to Chicago, before we get
through, two for a cent and feed them on the way;
and when old Van does the same the public will go
on his road just to spite him I"

1)1)

"Of course, Ihe Erie is the best road," continued
Fisk, in his Munchausen way. " It runs faster and
smoother. When Judge Porter went up with me in
the Directors' car, last winter, we passed 200 canal
boats, about a mile apart^ on the Delaware and Hud-
son canal. The train went so fast that the Judge
came back and reported that he saw one gigantic
canal boat ten miles long ! Fact, sir ! We went so
fast the Judge couldn't see the gaps!"

" Arki tiie other railroads going to help you in this
fight.?" I asked.

"Why, yes, they say they will; but they are all
afraid to do anything till we get Vanderbilt tied fast.
Do you want me to tell you who these other half-
scared railroad fellows, Garrett and Tom Scott, re-
mind me of.'" asked the Colonel, leaning himself for-
ward, with his elbows on his knees,

"Yes; who. Colonel.?"

" Well, Scott and Garrett remind me of the old
Texas ranchman, whose neighbors had caught a noted
cattle-thief. After catching him, they tied him to a
tree, hands and feet, and each one gave him a terrible
cowhiding. When tired of walloping him, they left
the poor thief tied to the tree, head and foot. He
remained tied up there a good while in great agony,
till by and by he saw with delight a strange man
coming along.

"'Who are you.?' said the kindly-looking stran-
ger.

"'I'm Bill Smith, and I've been whipped almost
to death,' said the man in a pitiful tone.

out

continued

"aster an'l
th me in
200 canal
and Hud-
he Judge
' gigantic
J went so

ou in this

?y are all
tied fast.
)tlier half-
Scott, re-
imself for-

f the old

t a noted

him to a

a terrible

they left

foot. He

-ut agony,

ange man

ng stran-

26. almost

1)1

U (

(( (

Ah, Bill Smith, how r^wA/ they whi]) you — a poor
lone man ?' asked the sympathizing stranger.
Why, don't you see/ /'/// //W/.'
Wliat, did they tie you up?*

Yes, tied me tight. Don't you see the strings
now ?'

"'Poor man! How could they be so cruel.?' sighed
the stranger.

" ' ]Uit I'm tied now,' groaned the man.

" ' What ! tied now — tied so you can't move this
very moment, Bill ?' asked the stranger, eagerly exam-
ining the ropes.

"'Yes, tied tight, hands and feet, and I can't move
a muscle,' said the thief, pitifully.

" ' Well, William, as you are tied tight, / z^//'/ wi/n/
if J ^ive yoii a fc7U licks myself for that horse you
stole from me,' said the stranger, cutting a tremendous
whip from a bunch of thorn bushes.' Then," said Fisk,
"he flogged him awhile, just as all these small railroad
fellows would like to flog Vanderbilt if he was well
tied."

But, alas, they never get Vanderbilt tied.

FISK AND MONTALAND.

When Montaland got on from Paris, last year, Fisk
had just said farewell to "Josie," and so he took
extra pains to make a good impression on his beau-
tiful prima donna.

On the first sunshiny afternoon after Montaland
had seen the Wonderful 0})era House, Fisk took her
out to the Park behind his magnificent six-in-hand.

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

11.25

lit m

^ bg 12.0

^J>

%^^
^

Hiotographic

Sdences

Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y 14580

(716)«72-4S03

^^^\.
V>^
V

Passing up Fifth avenue, Montaland's eyes rested on
A. T. Stewart's marble house.

"Vat ees zat?" she asked, in broken French.

"Why, that is my city residence," said Fisk, with an
air of profound composure.

" Cest inagnifique — c'est grande ! " repeated Monta-
land, in admiration.

Soon they came to Central Park.

" Vat ees zees place .?" asked Montaland.

" O, this is my country seat ; these are my grounds —
n.^ v^attle and buffaloes, and those sheep over there
compose my pet sheepfold," said Fisk, twirling the
end of his mustache h la Napoleon.

^^C'esi tres magnifique T exclaimed Montaland in
bewilderment. "Mr. Feesk is one grand Americain!"

By-and-by they rode back and down Broadway,
by the Domestic Sewing Machine building.

"And is zees your grand matsoity iooV asked Mon-
taland, as she pointed up to the iron palace.

"No, Miss Montaland; to be frank with you, that
building does not belong to me," said Fisk, as he
settled back with his hand in his bosom — " t/iat belongs
to Mr. Gould r

dea
by

qua
ane<
wit

it.'

FISK DEAD.

One day I called at the Erie office. Col. Fisk's
old chair was vacant, and his desk was draped in
mourning. Fisk's remains lay cold and stiff, just as
he fell at the Grand Central, pierced by the fatal bullet
from Stokes's pistol. His old associates were silent,
or gathered in groups to tell over reminiscences of the

rested on

;nch.

isk, with an

;ed Monta-

grounds —
over there
wirling the

ntaland in

Lmericain !"

Broadway,

sked Men-
e.

I you, that
'isk, as he
that belongs

Zo\. Fisk's
draped in
fif, just as
atal bullet
ere silent,
ices of the

dead Colonel, whose memory was beloved and revered
by his companions.

Mr. Gould never tired in telling about Fisk's good
qualities. Even while he was telling the quaintest
anecdotes about his dead partner, his eyes would glisten
with tears.

" One day," said Mr. Gould, " Fisk came to me and
told me confidentially about his first mistake in life."

'*What was it.^" I asked.

"Well," said Gould, as he laughed and wiped his
eyes alternately, " Fisk said that when he was an in-
nocent little boy» living on his father's farm up at
Brattleboro, Vermont, his father took him into the
stable one day, where a row of cows stood in their
uncleaned stalls.

"Said he, *James, the stable window is pretty high
for a boy, but do you think you could take this shovel
and clean out the stable.-*'

"'I don't know. Pop,* says I; *I never have done
it.'

"'Well, my boy, if you will do it this morning, I'll
give you this bright silver dollar,' said my father, pat-
ting me on my head, while he held the silver dollar
before my eyes.

"'Good,' says I; 'I'll try,' and then I went to work.
I tugged and pulled and lifted and puffed, and finally
it was done, and father gave me the bright silver dol-
lar, saying :-

"'That's right, James; you did it splendidly, and
now I find you can do it so nicely, I shall have you
do it every morning all winter.' "

CHARITY.

One day a poor, plain, blunt man stumbled into
risk's room. Said he :

" Colonel, I've heard you are a generous man, and
I've come to ask a great favor."

"Well, what is it, my good man.'*" asked Fisk.

" I want to go to Lowell, sir, to my wife, and I
haven't a cent of money in the world," said the man,
in a firm, manly voice.

"Where have you been.'*" asked the Colonel, drop-
ping his pen.

"I don't want to tell you," replied the man, drop-
ping his head.

" Out with it, my man, where have you been .'*" said
Fisk.

"Well, sir, I've been to Sing Sing State Prison."

"What for.'"'

" Grand larceny, sir. I was put in for five years,
but was pardoned out yesterday, after staying four
years and one-half. I am here, hungry and without
money."

"All right, my man," said Fisk, kindly, "you shall
have a pass, and here — here is $$. Go and get a meal
of victuals, and then ride down to the boat in an Erie
coach, like a gentleman. Commence life again, and if
you are honest and want a lift come to me."

Perfectly bewildered, the poor convict took the
money, and six months afterward Fisk got a letter
from him. He was doing a thriving mercantile busi-
ness, and said Fisk's kindness and cheering words gave

hi
a

him the first hope — his first strong resolve to become

a man.

imbled into

IS man, and

I Fisk.

wife, and 1 j

id the man, I

lonel, drop-
man, drop-
)een?" said
Prison."

five years,
aying four
id without

"you shall

get a meal

in an Erie
;ain, and if

»»

took the
)t a letter
ntile busi-
vords gave

BLACK AND WHITE.

Ten minutes after the poor convict left, a poor
young negro preacher called.

• "What do you want.'* Are you from Sing Sing,
too.-*" asked Fisk.

"No, sir; I'm a Baptist preacher from Hoboken. I
want to go to the Howard Seminary in Washington,"
said the negro.

"All right. Brother Johnson," said Fisk. "Here,
Comer," he said, addressing his secretary, " give Broth-
er Johnson $20, and charge it to Charity," and the
Colonel went on writing, without listening to the stream
of thanks from the delighted negro.

don't count charity.

One day the Colonel was walking up Twenty-third
street to dine with one of the Erie directors, when a
poor beggar came along. The beggar followed after
them, saying, in a plaintive tone, " Please give me a
dime, gentlemen ?'*

The gentleman accompanying Fisk took out a roll of
bills and commenced to unroll them, thinking to find
a half or a quarter.

"Here, man!" said Fisk, seizing the whole roll and
throwing it on the sidewalk, "take the pile."

Then looking into the blank face of his friend, he
said, " Thunderation. Sam, you never count charity,
do you!"

"But, great guns, Colonel, there was $20 in that
roll," exclaimed the astonished gentleman.

"Never mind," said Fisk, "then I'll stand the sup-
per to-night."

GRAVEYARD FKNCE.

Somebody in Brattleboro came down to New York
to ask Fisk for a donation to help them build a new
fence around the graveyard where he is now buried.

"What in thunder do you want a new fence for.?"
exclaimed the Colonel. "Why, that old fence will
keep the dead people in, and live people will keep out
as long as they can, any way!"

FISK S LAST JOKE.

The day before Fisk was shot he came into the
office, and after looking over some interest account, he
shouted, "Gould! Gould!"

"Well, what."*" says Gould, stroking his jetty
whiskers.

" I want to know how you go to work to figure
this interest so that it amounts to more than the
principal ?" said the Colonel. .

miserable fisk!

What a miserable reprobate the preachers all make
Fisk out to be ! And they are right. Why, the
scoundrel actually stopped his cou/>if one cold, dreary
night on Seventh avenue, and got out, inquired where
she lived, and gave a poor old beggar woman a dollar !

in that
the sup-

ew York
id a new

buried,
ce for?"
mce will

keep out

into the
count, he

lis jetty

He seemed to have no shame about him, for the
next day the debauched wretch sent her . around a
barrel of flour and a load of coal. One day the
black-hearted scoundrel sent ten dollars and a bag of
flour around to a widow woman with three starving
children ; and, not content with this, the remorseless
wretch told the police captain to look after all the
yiooT widows and orphans in his ward and send them
to him when they deserved charity. What a shameless
performance it was to give that poor negro preacher
$20 and send him on to Howard University! And
how the black-hearted villain practiced his meanness
on the poor, penniless old woman who wanted to go
to Boston, by paying her passage and actually escort-
ing her to a free state-room, while the old woman's
tears of gratitude were streamiug down her cheeks !
Oh ! insatiate monster ! thus to give money to penni-
less negro preachers and starving women and chil-
dren !

to figure
lan the

all make
k^hy, the
dreary
;d where
1 dollar !

REV. IJ.I I'HRKINS.

The other evening, at the
Fifth Avenue Hotel, after being
sworn in to preach the gospel
of Fifth Avenue as I under-
stood it, I arose, took off
my brown linen duster, and
said :

ANGELS DON T WEAR TEARI, POWDER

Mv dear sisters :

The stanza —
" I want to be an angel,"
which you have just
sung will not help
you much unless you
change your course of
life. You must commence dressing more like angels
here in this world if you want to be a real live angel
in the next. You'd make healthy lookin' angels,
wouldn't you? Now, wouldn't you? Angels don't
wear pearl powder, do they ? and angels don't wear
false braids. They don't enamel their fiices and smell
of Caswell and Hazard's cologne, nor bore holes in
their ears like Injuns and put Tiffany's ear-rings in
them ! Angels don't dye their hair, nor wear big dia-
monds, and have liveries and footmen, like many ot

our " shoddy " people. They

POWDER

ike angels
live angel
n' angels,
gels don't
lon't wear
and smell
holes in
3r-rings in
ir big dia-
; many ot

"But how can we tell 'shoddy' people, Uncle Eli?"
interrupted several young ladies in the congregation.
. This way, my friends, I said : When a strange family
arrives at our hotel, you must watch ihem closely.
Divinity puts up certain infallible signs to distinguish
the ignorant and vulgar from the children of culture
and virtue.

1. If a lady comes into the parlor with a diamond
ring on the outside of her glove, it is safe to ask her
how much she gets a week. [" Hear, hear !" and sev-
eral ladies put their hands under their paniers.]

2. If Providence erects a dyed mustache over the
mouth of a man, it is to show that he is a gambler
or a vulgarian. [Cheers, when two Americus Club
men, a gambler, and four plug-uglies from Baltimore,
put their hands over their mustaches.]

3. If, when that new family enter or leave the dining-
room or parlor, the gentlemen rush ahead, leaving the
ladies to follow, there . is something " shoddy " some-
where.

4. If the man presents the ladies to the gentlemen,
instead of vice versa, and they all shake hands on first
presentation, then you may know they hail from Oil City.

5. If, when they go in to dinner, they do nothing but
loudly order the waiters around, and talk about the
wine, you can make up your mind they are the first
waiters they ever had and that is the only wine they
ever drank. If they pick their teeth at the table, or
take out their false teeth and rinse them in the tumbler
\A voice — " Shoot them on the spot !"] — yes, my friends,
I say that to their teeth.

100

6. If, when a gentleman sits in the parlor talking to
a lady, he doesn't sit up straight, but sprawls all over
the sofa, puts the soles of his boots on the lady's dress,
on the furniture, or wipes his shoes on his own white
linen pantaloons, you'd better refuse an introduction
to him. [Applause, when eight young fellows, who sat
with their legs radiating like the wings of a windmill,
or sprawling one foot cross-legged in the empty air,
whirled themselves right side up.]

7. If the ladies in that party whitewash their faces,
redden their lips, blacken their eyebrows, or bronze or
yellow their hair, just you think this is another sign
which Providence puts up so you can shun them.
Enamel and hair-dye are social beacon-lights, to enable
you to keep off the rocks of Cypria. Just you keep
away from such people, for they are wolves in sheep's
clothing.

Voice from a young lady — "But we want to look
beautiful, Mr. Perkins."

But this will not make you beautiful, my children.
Any sweetheart who is so shallow as to take whitewash
for the human skin, or rouge for the rose-cheeks of
nature, is too much of a sap-head to make a good
husband ; and if he is smart enough to see through
your deception — why, he will surely leave you in dis-
gust. I Applause by the gentlemen, while several ladies
wiped their faces with their pocket-handkerchiefs.]

8. If, when this family get into their carriage to ride
around the Park, the young ladies appear in gaudy
colors, throw over their laps a bright yelloAv and red
or blue afghan, and the coachman wears a gold hat-

Iking to
all over
's dress,
rn white
Dduction
who sat
vindmill,
ipty air,

;ir faces,
ronzc or
;her sign
n them,
^o enable
ou keep
1 sheep's

to look

hildren.
litewash
leeks of

a good
through

in dis-
1 ladies
efs.]

to ride
gaudy
and red

Id hat-

101

band, and a sprawl-tailed yellow livery, with velvet
collar, and holds brass-bespangled horses with white
reins, you may know that the owner keeps a livery
stable and that this is his first carriage.

9. It is cQnsidered the height of impoliteness to
criticise persons to their faces, and still many vulga-
rians try to make polite reputations by picking up other
people, when the correction is ten times a more flagrant
breach of etiquette than the original mistake. .1 have
seen plebeians who, if a man by design chose to eat
the fine ends of his asparagus with a knife, would call
his attention to the error — thus straining at a doubtful
gnat of custom and swallowing a camel of impolite-
ness. Politeness is to do as you would be done by,
and anything you do, if you wish to be polite, must
be tried by this golden rule.

In conclusion, my dear brothers and sisters, I will
say that politeness does not depend upon eating peas
with a fork, but it rests on the grander and broader
basis of love for your fellow-man.

How is your mother, Johnny?

"Oh, she's dead, I thank you!" is a silly drop of
Mrs. Potiphar politeness, which looks yick beside the
big ocean of manly generosity which comes out of the
Pike's Peak, "Come up, old boy, and liquor, or fight!"

There being several Members of Congress present,
Dr. Chapin now lined the hymn —

" I love to steal a while,"
and the congregation, like a man with a poor hand at
euchre, passed out.

A SAD MAN.

"ekib down?"

CoMiNd up from Broad Street in
the cars yesterday 1 met a poor dis-
consolate Wall Street broker. His
heart seemed broken and his face
was the picture of despair. I had
been usher at his wedding a few
months before, when he seemed the
picture of happiness ; so, smiling, I
asked :
" Why, Charles, what has happened ; what makes you
look so sad?"

" Oh, Eli!" he sighed, " I am all broken up. I have
met vith a dreadful misfortune."

"What is it, Charley?" I asked sympathetically.
" Ohoooo, dear Eli, I cannot — cannot tell you," and
then he sobbed again, "Ohhooooo!"

" But what ' is it, Charley ? Perhaps I can comfort
you."

" No, Eli. I am so discouraged I want to die."
"Are you ruined, Charley? is your money all gone?"
" Oh, no, Eli, not so bad as that ; but Nellie, my dear
wife, is dead," and then he broke down again.

" Cheer up, Charley, tliere may be some happiness
left yet. Do not die now," I said.

" No, Eli, I am all broken up — ruined ! I don't take

103

Street in
)oor dis-
sr. His
his face
I had
g a few
med the
miling, I

ikes you

I have

ally.
)ii," and

comfort

die."
gone ?"
my dear

103

any interest in anything now. My mind is constantly
with my poor, angel wife. 1 dream of her all the time
— in the morning and at night, and — by the way, Eli,
how did you say Erie closed to-night?"

" Erie is down and they are * all off,' Charley."

" Well, that's cheering," he sobbed, " for when I got
' short ' of Nellie, I went * short * of the whole market,
and it's very consoling in my grief to find things look-
ing so cheerful on the street. And what did you say
about Pacific Mail, Eli?"

" Flat as a flounder. The bears have got the whole
market, Charley."

" Well, that's cheering, too, Eli. That is indeed
cheering, to think my losses are compensated — that
when the angels had a * call ' on Nellie I should have
a 'put' on Uncle Daniel Drew. It is so consoling to
be able to * cover ' your losses, you know. Oh, Nellie
was such a comfort to me ! but we can't have every-
thing in this world, EH. We can't always have the
whole market our own way. If we take our profits, we
must bear our losses. Now let us have a little of Jules
Mumir's extra dry, to drink to the memory of my
poor dead — goodness! Eli, I'll make $5,000 on that
Erie * put ' as easy *s drinkin a sherry, cobbler!"

appmess
n't take

■ • .V :

A QUEER MAN.

One day, as the Kansas Pacific train neared Topeka,
I sat down by an old farmer from Lawrence. Corn
bins lined the road, and millions of bushels of corn
greeted us from the car windows. Sometimes the bins
full of golden grain followed the track like a huge
yellow serpent.

Looking up at the old granger, I asked him where
all this corn came from. "Do you ship it from New
York, sir?"

"From what.?" he said.

"From New York, sir."

"What, corn from New York!"

'*Yes, sir," I said. "Did you import it from New
York, or did you ship it from England.?"

He looked at me from head to foot, examined my
coat, looked at my ears, and then exclaimed,

"Great God!"

I never heard those two words sound so like " darned
fool " before.

A moment afterwards the old farmer turned his eyes
pityingly upon me and asked me where I lived.

((

I live in New York, sir."

Whar?"

In New York, sir. I came West to lecture.

104

105

"What, you lecture?"

"Yes, sir."

"You!"

"I do."

"You lecture! you do.? Well, I'd
give ten dollars to hear you lecture."

I never knew whether this was a
great compliment, or — well, or what it
was.

WHAT, YOU LECT-
URB?"

e " darned

ELI'S HAPPY THOUGHTS.

I SAW a man pulling his
arms off trying to get on a
new pair of boots, so I
said:

Happy T/iou^s^/it — They
are too small, my man, and
you will never be able to
get them on till you have
worn them a spell !

I heard an officer in the
Seventh Regiment scolding
a private for coming too
late to drill, so I said :

Happy Thought — Somebody must always come last;
this fellow ought to be praised, Captain, for, if he had
come earlier, he would have shirked this scolding off
upon somebody else !

I saw an old maid at the Fifth Avenue, with her
face covered with wrinkles, turning sadly away from
the mirror, as she said :

Happy Thought — Mirrors nowadays are very faulty,
Uncle Eli. They don't make such nice mirrors as
they used to when I was young !

lOG i

107

)me last;
f he had
Iding off

with her
/^ay from

y faulty,
irrors as

J heard a young lady from Brooklyn praising the
sun, so I said :

Happy Thought — The sun may be very good, Miss
Mead, but the moon is a good deal better; for she
gives us light in the night v/hen we need it, while the
sun only shines in the day time, when it is light
enough without it!

I saw a man shoot an eagle,. and as he dropped on
the ground I said :

Happy Thought — You might have saved your pow-
der, my man, for the fall alone would have killed him.

An old man in Philadelphia brought a blooming girl
to church, to be married to her. The minister stepped
behind the baptismal font and said, as he sprinkied
water over her head —

Happy Thought — I am glad you brought the dear
child to be baptized !

A young man was disappointed in love at" Niagara
Falls, so he went out on a terrible precipice, took off
his clothes, cast one long look into the fearful whirl-
pool, and then —

Happy Thought — Went home and went to bed !

Two Mississippi River darkies saw, for the first time,
a train of cars. They were in a quandary to know what
kind of a monster it was, so one said:

Happy Thought — Oh, Sambo ! it is a dried up steam-
boat getting back into the river!

108

A poor sick man, with a mustard plaster on him,
said :

Happy Thought — If I should eat a loaf of bread I'd
be a live sandwich !

As a man was burying his wife he said to his friend,
in the graveyard : Alas ! you feel happier than I. Yes,
neighbor, said the friend:

Happy Thought — I ought' to feel happier, I have two
wives buried here !

A man out west turned State's evidence and swore
he was a member of a gang of thieves. By and by
they found the roll of actual members, and accused
the man of swearing falsely. I was a member, said the
man ; I

Happy Thought— \ was an honorary member!

on him,
)read I'd

is friend,
I. Yes,

have two

id swore

' and by

accused

said the

THE LEGAL-MINDED MAN.

The other night, I met a young Columbia College
law student at a party. He was dancing with Miss
Johnson.

" I have an engagement to dance the * Railroad
Galop ' with Miss Johnson," I remarked — " number

ten

" You have an engagement 1 You mean you have
retained her for a dance.?"

" She has contracted to dance with me," I said.

" But contracts where no earnest money is paid are
null and void. You must vacate the premises."

" But will you please give me half of a dance } I
ask the courtesy."

"Why, yes, Mr. Perkins," he said; "take her;" but,
recollecting his law knowledge, he caught hold of my
coat-sleeve and added this casual remark :

" I give and bequeath to you, Mr. Eli Perkins, to
have and to hold in trust, one half of my right, title
and claim and my advantage, in a dance known as the
' Railroad Galop ' with Amelia Johnson, with all her
hair, paniers, Grecian bend, rings, fans, belts, hair-pins,
smelling-bottles and straps, with all the right and ad-
vantage therein ; with full power to have, hold, encircle,
whirl, toss, wiggle, push, jam, squeeze, or otherwise use
— except to smash, break or otherwise damage — and

109

with right to temporarily convey the said Amelia John-
son, her hair, rings, paniers, straps, and other objects
heretofore or hereinafter mentioned, after such whirl,
squeeze, wiggle, jam, etc., to her natural parents, now
living, and without regard to any deed or deeds or in-
struments, of whatever kind or nature soever, to the
contrary in anywise notwithstanding."

The next evening, the young lawyer called on Miss
Johnson, with whom he was in love, and proposed.

" I have an attachment for you, Miss Johnson," he
commenced.

"Very well, sir; levy on the furniture," said Miss
Johnson, indignantly.

" I mean. Miss Johnson, there is a bond — a mutual
bond "

" Never mind the bond ; take the furniture, I say.
Take "

" You do not understand me, madam. I came here
to court "

"But this is no court, sir. There is no officer."

" Yes, Miss Johnson, your father said this morning :
*Mr. Mason, I look upon your offer, sir, with favor.'"

"Your officer?"

" My offer, madame — my offer of marriage. I love
you. I adore "

"Goodness gracious!" and Miss Johnson fell faint-
ing to the floor.

0ir^

nelia John-
ler objects
;uch whirl,
rents, now
eeds or in-
-er, to the

d on Miss
•posed,
hnson," he

said Miss

—a mutual

ire, I say.

came here

)fficer."

morning :
;h favor.' "

e. I love

fell faint-

A GRATEFUL MAN.

One day one

of the James

Brothers, the

famous bandits,

who have filled

Missouri with

terror for years,

rode into Kansas

City during the

State Fair.

Though a price was set upon

his head by the Governor, and a half

dozen of Pinkerton's men had "bit the

dust " hunting him down, this brave

bandit passed on through the town in

open daylight to the place where they

were holding the State Fair. Then,

quietly riding through twenty thousand people, he

walked his horse straight up to the treasurer's stand

seized the cash-box with three thousand dollars in

it, and rode quietly away. It was a Claude Duval

adventure — a wild, devil- dare deed. All Kansas City

was filled with amazement. The newspapers foamed

and fretted about it, the Governor proclamated, and

the mayor offered rewards, but all to no avail. The

money nor the man ever came back again. Among
111

15'W'

112

the newspapers which were abusing the James Brothers,

was the Kansas City Timcs^ but one clay the Times

said :

" It may have been robbery, bui it was a plucky, brave act —
an act which we can but admire for its splendid daring and cool,
calculating bravado."

A week after this article praising the James Boy's
pluck and daring appeared in the TimcSy two horsemen
rode up to the Times office at eleven o'clock at night.
Calling a watchman, they asked him to tell the editor
to please come out.

" Tell him somebody wants to thank him," they
said.

When the editor came out on the sidewalk one of
the horsemen beckoned him up close to his horse,
and said, in an undertone :

" My friend, you said a good thing about me the
other day. You said I was brave, even if I was a
robber. You spoke kindly of me. It was the first
kind word I ever had said about me, and it touched
my heart, and I've come to thank you."

" But who are you, gentlemen ? I- am not aware to
whom I am talking," said the astonished editor.

"Well, sir, our name is James. We are the James
Brothers "

"For God's sake, don't kill mc!" gasped the fright-
ened editor, almost sinking in his shoes. "I haven't
harmed you. I "

" No, you haven't harmed us. You spoke kindly
about us, and we came to thank you. Not only that,
but we have come to present you this watch as a token

113

of our gratitude," and the robber handed out a
beautiful gold hunting case chronometer.

"But I can't take the watch," remonstrated the
editor.

" You must," replied the robber. " We bought it
for you in St. Louis. We didn't steal this watch.
Your name is engraved in it. See!" and he held it
up before the street lamp.

■' No, I cannot take it, I cannot," replied the man,
newspaper-man-like, unable under any circumstances to
take a seeming bribe.

"But you must. We insist."

"You will have to excuse me, gentlemen," pleaded
the honest editor, "for I tell you, gentlemen, I can-
not!"

"And you will take nothing from us?"

'' Nothing at all."

" Then, if you can't take anything from us— not
even this watch," said the bandit, sorrowfully return-
ing it to his pocket—" if you won't take anything for
our gratitude, perhaps you can name some man around
here you want killed!"

A CONSISTENT MAN.

1 MKT a Californian to-day who says he don't be-
lieve Chinamen have ordinary common sense.

" Tliey haven't ordinary sagacity, Uncle Eli," he said.

"Why?" 1 asked.

"Jiecause," said he, growing excited about it, "be-
cause — b-e-c-a-u-s-e they haven't."

"But why?" I asked. "1 want to know an instance
where a Chinaman has ever shown himself to be a
darned fool."

"Why, Eli, I've known a Chinaman to secrete two
aces in his sleeves, and when I've played the three
aces I had secreted in my sleeves, why, there 'd be
five aces out! How absurd!"

" Yes, that was very foolish for the Chinaman, but
what other cases of foolishness have you seen among
the Chinamen ?" I asked.

"Why, it was only the day before I left 'Frisco, Mr.
Perkins, that we put some tar and feathers on one of
them Johnnys, just to have a little fun, and then set
fire to it to amuse the children, and the darned fool
ran into a clothes-press and spoiled a dozen of my
wife's dresses putting out the fire, though I told him
better all the time. Dog-on-it, it is; enough to make
s. man lose faith in the whole race!"

And then that good Californian threw a colored
waiter out of a fourth story window and went on cut-
ting off his coupons.

114

THE DANCING MANIA.

ROUND DANCES.

If you sec a two-hundred pound
man and woman perspiring around
vvitii their i)ompous bodies tossing
lightly and springily in the air, arms
swaying — keeping good time, and
making grand Persian salaams for a
bow in the Lancers, you ran set
them down as belonging to the old
Tweed-Fisk-Leland-Americus Club
school.

If you see two healed young people tripping fast
away ahead of the music, taking short steps, and jerk-
ing through a square dance as if the house was on
fire and the set must be completed before any could
take to the fire-escapes, you can set them down as from
the plantation districts of the South, or the rural dis-
tricts of Pennsylvania and the West. It is the Missis-
sippi River steamboat quickstep.

If you see a black-eyed youth with long hair and a
young lady with liquid black eyes, and she has her two
hands on the young man's shoulders at full length, and
stands directly in front of him, and they both go hoj)-
ping around like Siamese twins with wire springs under
them, you can wager they are from Louisville, Memphis,

115

110

or Little Rock. They have the square-hold wrestling

StC[).

If you see a young fellcw grasp a young lady firmly
around the waist, seize her wrists, stick her hand out
like the bowsprit of a Sound yacht, and both hump up
their backs like a pair of mad cats on a door-yard fence,
and then go sliding slam bang against people, over
people, through people, up and down the room, side-
ways, backwards, and up and down like a saw-mill gate,
you can be sure they are directly from Chicago, or from
the region of Milwaukee or Detroit.

If you see a couple gliding gently, slowly, and lazily
through the Lancers — just half as fast as the time, but
keeping step with the music — quietly sauntering through
the "Grand Chain," too languid to whirl partners, talk-
ing sweetly all the time, as if they were strolling in a
graveyard, you can rest assured that they are from New
York, and from the most fashionable section between
Madison Square and the Park. This is the churchyard-
saunter step.

If you see a fellow clasp a girl meltingly in his arn.s,
squeeze her hand warmly, hold her swelling breast to
his, and they both go floating down the room locked in
each other's embrace, looking like one person, his feet
only now and then protruding from a profusion of illu-
sion and lace and so on, rely upon it you can set the
two down as belonging to the intense Boston school.
It is the melting Harvard College embrace.

Massachusetts, take our hat!

"•»

ladie
Vane
were
awfu
1 1
The
corncj
than
a cir(
altogi
dance
see tl
speak
wriijg
came
throu
corri(
man
was 1
room
they

(1 wrestling

lady firmly
:r hand out
h hump uj)
-yard fence,
eoplc, over
room, side-
^'-mill gate,
go, or from

, and lazily
le time, but
ing through
rtners, talk-
polling in a
from New
m between
hurchyard-

1 his arn.s,
X breast to
locked in
3n, his feet
Ion of illu-
an set the
on school.

THE MILITARY MAN.

TiiK other day, I took a couple of "swell" young
ladies up to the West Point Military Ball. Miss (Irace
Vanderbilt and Miss Mary Astor, Jack Astor's sister,
were their names, and their dresses cost $500 apiece —
awfully " swell " girls.

I had a hard time chaperoning these two pretty girls.
The cadets would get them away from me at every
corner. I couldn't keep my eyes on them any more
than I could have kept diem on a dozen velocipedes in
a circus tent. Finally I lost sight of Grace and Mary
altogether. They disappeared in the mazes of the
dance like small boats in a fog. Now and then I would
see them waltzing toward me, and then before I could
speak to them their long trains would hop around and
wriggle out of sight. In vain — loaded down with
camel's hairs and opera-cloaks — I searched for them
through the reception-rooms and along the flag-draped
corridors. At length I found Grace dancing the Ger-
man three blocks from the main ball-room, while Mary
was flirting desperately with a cadet graduate in the
rooms of the Spoonological Museum. That is what
they call the Natural History rooms, into which steal
flirting cadets and sentimental young ladies, where they
can listen to the oft-repeated tales of love and hope.
Here in the half-light the cadet, with one hand on a

117

118

cannon and ihe other on a bunch of Indian arrows or
the jawbone of a whale, will tell the unsuspecting
young lady how he loves her better than war or gun-
powder or geometry. And all the time Mary's unsus-
pecting mamma imagines her beautiful daughter to be
innocently walking backwards and forwards in the
Lancers.

" What was Cadet Mason saying to you in the
Spoonological Museum by the Rodman gun, Mary .?"
I asked, as we came back from the Point on the
Chauncey Vibhard.

"Well, he talked very interesting — he — proposed,"
replied Miss Mary, blushing.

" How proposed .'*" I asked.

"Why, he said he loved me and wanted me to be
engaged to him."

"And you ?"

" Why, I told him to ask father, and—

"And he ?"

" \\ hy, he said be wasn't really in earnest. He
a/ui;iQA, and said he didn't really mean anything seri-
ous. Then he took my hand and said, ' Why, really,
Miss Astor, I don't want to ask your papa.'

What do you mean then, Mr. Mason V I asked.
Why, Miss Astor,' he said, ' I only meant to ex-
tend to you the regular and customary courtesies of
the Point !'

"The miserable, flirting cadet!" And Miss Mary'>
eyes flashed as she said it.

U (

u <

■ 1 ■■■

,n arrows or
unsuspecting
war or gun-
Gary's unsus-
ughter to be
irds in the

you in the
;un, Mary?"
oint on the

— proposed,"

)d me to be

arnest. He
nything scri-
Why, really,

>' I asked. |
leant to ex- **
:ourtesies of

Miss Mary'^'

THE HORSE MAN.

One morning the Rev. Dr. Corey, my uncle Con-
sider, and another good old Baptist minister, were
sitting on the balcony in Saratoga, talking theology.

Dr. Corey, who always has an eye for a nice horse,
was watching a couple of spans of trotting horses while
his brother minister was moralizing over the sins of
this gay and fashionable world.

" Alas, these are degenerate days. Dr. Corey ! very
fast days!" sighed Dr. Deems as he bowed his head
and looked at a tract which he held in his hand.

"Yes, pretty fast. Dr. Deems — fast for such young
horses and such a heavy road," replied Dr. Corey,
whose worldly eyes were on the horses.

Just as two spans danced by with light Brewster
buggies, followed by the swellest dog-cart tandem in
Saratoga, Dr. Deems heaved a sigh and remarked
again,

"Yes, brother Corey, alas! we live in a very fast
age."

"Very fast, brother Deems," replied Dr. Corey, taking
off his eye-glasses, "very f-a-s-t, but I'll bet ten dollars
that I've got a span of fast mares in Nev/ York that
can 'dust' anything you see here, except the Commo-
dore's!"

Brother Deems merely dropped his head upon his
hands, and drew a sigh which could come only from
a crushed and broken heart.

119

THE PIOUS MAN.

A PIOUS old Kentucky deacon — Deacon Shelby —
was famous as a shiewd horse dealer. One day farmer
Jones went over to Bourbon County, taking his black
boy Jim with him, to trade horses with brother Shelby.
After a good deal of dickering, they finally made the
trade, and Jim rode the new horse home.

"Whose horse is that, Jim.?" asked some of the
horse-trading deacon's neighbors as Jim rode past.

"Massa Jones's, sah."

" What ! did Jones trade horses with Deacon Shel-
by .?"

"Yes, massa dun traded wid de deakin."

"Goodness, Jim! wasn't your master afraid the dea-
con would get the best of him in the trade.?"

"Oh no!" replied Jim, as his eyes glistened with a
new intelligence, "Massa knowed how Deakin Shelby
has dun got kinder pious lately, and he was on his
guard/ "

A FRONTIERSMAN.

Shelby-
lay farmer

his black

ler Shelby.

made the

ne of the
e past.

aeon Shel-

d the dea-

■ •

led with a
cin Shelby
was on his

-'—^:-

^^K

W^^^ ^D^^^^ ^.vJWHbwj

n^^3

ii»i

"pay yer far!"

Westward, westward,
westward we have been
riding all day over the
Kansas Pacitic. From
Kansas City the road runs
straight up the Kansas
River bottom and along
Smoky Hill and the buffalo
country to Denver. On the train are grangers from
Carson and Hugo, and killers and stabbers from Wild
Horse and Eagle Tail.

As we near Salina, Kansas, Conductor Cheeney
comes along to collect the fare. Touching a long-
haired miner on the back, he looks down and says,
"Tickets!"

"Hain't got none," says the frontiersman, holding
his gun with one hand and scowling out from under
his black slouch hat.

" But you must pay your fare, sir !" expostulated
the conductor.

" Now jes look a-here, stranger ; mebbe you're a
doin' your duty, but I hain't never paid yet goin'

through this country, and "

Just then a slouchy old frontiersman, who had been
compelled to pay his fare in a rear car, stepped up in
front of the mulish passenger, and pointing a six-
shooter at him, said;

F m

12a

"See here, Long Bill, you jes pay yer fare! I've
paid mine, and they don't anybody ride on this train
free if I don't — if they do, damme!"

"All right, you've got the drop on me, pardner, so
put up your shooter an' I'll settle," said the miner,
going into his pocket for the money.

" Do these incidents often happen ?" I asked the
conductor a little while afterward.

"Well, yes, but not so often as they used to in 1868
and 1870, Mr. Perkins. The other day," continued
the conductor, "some three-card-monte men came on
the train and swindled a drover out of $150. The
poor man seemed to take it to heart. He said his
cattle got so cheap during the grasshopper raid that
he had to just * peel 'em' and sell their hides in Kansas
City — and this was all the money he had. A half-
dozen miners from Denver overheard the talk, and,
coming up, they ' drew a bead' on the monte men and
told 'em to pay that money back.

" * Just you count that money back, conductor,' they
said, and after I had done it," continued the con-
ductor, " one of the head miners said :

" * Now, pardner, you jes stop this train, an' we'll
hang these three-card fellows to the telegraph pole.'"

"Did they do it.?" I asked.

"Well, they hung one of 'em; but the other two,
dog on it, got lost in the grass."

"But wa'n't there h — 1 to pay on that train when
we got to Muncie, though," said Cheney.

"How.>" I asked.

" Why, six masked men stopped the train and robbed

'are ! I've
this train

»ardner, so
the miner,

asked the

to in 1868
continued
n came on
^150. The
[e said his
r raid that
s in Kansas
1. A half-
talk, and,
;e men and

uctor,' they
i the con-

, an' we'll
ph pole.' "

other two,

train when

123

the express car. One man uncoupled the engine and
ran it forward — two men went through the express
safe and three men went through the passengers. But
O ! didn't they play hell, though. Wa'n't it a glorious
day!"

"Did they rob anybody? did "

" No, they didn't zackly rob 'em, but they frightened
'em almost to death and then laughed at 'em. They'd
stick their blunderbusses in the car windows and shout
'Throw up your hands!' to the passengers, and their
hands would go up like pump handles.

The Rev. Winfield Scott, a devilish good old min-
ister from Denver, was takin' a quiet game of poker
with another passenger at the time. He had just got
four queens and was raisin' the ante to fifteen dollars
when one of the robbers pointed his pistol at him and
sang out:

'''Hold up your
hands! or I'll blow your
head off!'

" ' No, you wont,* says
Parson Scott, standing
up in his seat — 'not by
a danged sight ! I've been a
preacher of the gospel goin' on
twenty years, and I'm ready to die
in the harness, and I will die, and
any man can shoot me and be danged before I'll throw
up such a hand as that — two trays and four queens!'"

PARSON SCOTT,

and robbed

THE HACKMAN.

General Grant has been sending a good many
Philadelphia Quakers to the Indian Nations as agents.
Recently a party of Quaker commissioners returned to
Philadelphia on a visit.

The "Broad Brims" landed, carpet-bag in hand, at
West Philadelphia, when an Irish hack-driver, who
chanced to have a broad-brim also, stepped up, and
to ingratiate himself into their good graces, passed
himself off as a brother Quaker.

" Is thee going towards the Continental Hotel .'*"
asked the hack-driver.

" Yea, our residences are near there," replied the
Quakers.

"Will thee take my carriage?"

"Yea— gladly."

As they seated themselves, the hack-driver asked
very seriously —

"Where is thou's baggage.**"

121

SEWERS AND SOWERS.

The other day, Uncle Consider and Aunt Patience
came down to Nt vv York to trade. Uncle said he'd go
and buy some jewelry — a black emanuel buzzum-pin
and some antic ear-rings — for the girls, and an onion
seed-sower for the farm; while Aunt Patience went
looking about for a sewing-machine.

After a while Uncle Consider, in his meandering
down Broadway, stumbled into Wilcox & Gibbs's
sewing-machine show-rooms. He saw so many little
machines, and pamphlets, and nice cases around, that
he took it for an agricultural warehouse.

As the old man entered the store, the polite Mr.
Hankey, who always shakes hands with all new cus-
tomers, advanced to meet him, saying:

" Good-morning, sir. Can I show you a sew "

" Good-mornin','* interrupted Uncle Consider, grasp-
ing Mr. Hankey's hand. " How d' do ? 1 kum into
buy — this is a machine store, ain't it .^"

" Yes, sir, this is Wilcox & Gibbs's ; we sell the best
machines *

" Well, Mr. Gilcox & Wibbs, I want to buy a sower —
one that will sow all kinds of little truck — a machine
that will sow cotton, will sow "

" Yes, sir ; our machines will sew anything in the
world, and gather, and tuck, and ruffle, and fell, and

125

126

hem, and puff; and we send a binder and a feller with
it — fifty-six dollars, sir, for the plain machine, and "

"You say it will bind as well as sow?"

" Certainly, sir ; bind anything in the world."

"And gather, too?"

"Anything, sir."

"And sow anything we may have to sow on the
farm?" asked Uncle Consider in amazement.

"Sew anything and everything, as straight as a
clothes-line," replied Mr. Hankey.

" And you sell 'em for fifty-six dollars ?"

"Yes, sir."

" Well, Mr. Gibcox & Wills, then you jes send me up
one of them thar machines that will sow onions, bind
buckwheat, and gather apples," said the old man, un-
rolling his leather wallet and laying six ten-dollar bills
on the counter.

feller with
and "

i."

w on the
ght as a

jnd me up

ions, bind

man, un-

lollar bills

HARD ON LAWYERS.

In Akron, Ohio, where they have the personal dam-
age temperance law, I heard of a funny temperance
case. A rumseller, whom I will call Hi Church, be-
cause he was " high " most of the time, had been sued
several times for damage done by his rum on citizens
of the town. One man came out drunk and smashed
in a big glass window. He was too poor to pay for it,
and the owner came against Church. A boy about six-
teen got drunk and let a horse run away with him,
breaking his arm. His father made Church pay the
damage. A mechanic got drunk and was killed on the
railroad track, and his wife sued Church for $2,000
and got it. A farmer got drunk and was burned in
his barn on the hay. His son sued Church and recov-
ered $1800. Church got sick of paying out so much
money for personal and property damages. It ate up
all the rumseller's profits.

Still, he acknowledged the law to be a statute, and
that it held him responsible for all the damage done
by his rum. He used to argue, also, that sometimes his
rum did people good, and then he said he ought to re-
ceive something back.

One day lawyer Thompson got to drinking. Thomp-
son was mean, like most all lawyers, and when he died
of the delirium tremens there wasn't much mourning in

128

Akron. There wasn't anyl)ody who cared enough for
Thompson to sue Church for damage done. So, one
day, Church went before the Court himself.

" What docs Mr. Church want ?" asked the justice.

" I tell yer what. Jedge," commenced the rumseller,
" when my rum killed that thar mechanic Johnson and
farmer Mason, I cum down like a man. I paid the dam-
age and squared up like a Christian — now, didn't I,
Jedge r

"Yes, you paid the damage, Mr. Church; but what
then .?"

" Well, Jedge, my rum did a good deal to'ards killin'
lawyer Thompson, now, and it 'pears ter me when I kill
a lawyer I kinder oughter get a rebate!"

mough for
. So, one

le justice,
rumseller,
hnson and
d the dam-
, didn't I,

; but what

ards killin*
k^hen I kill

E. PERKINS— ATTORNEY AT LAW.

ELI PERKINS,

Attorney at Law.

I AM now ready to commence
the practice of law in New York.
I've been reading New York law
for two weeks — night and day.
I find all law is based on prece-
dent^. Whenever a client comes
to me and tells me he has
committed a great crime, I take
down the precedent and tell him
what will become of him if he
don't run away.

In cases where clients contem-
plate great crimes, I tell them beforehand what will be
the penalty if they don't buy a juryman.

Yesterday a man came to me and said he wanted
to knock Mayor Hall's teeth down his throat. "What
will be the penalty, Mr. Perkins.?" he asked.

" Are they false teeth or real teeth ?" I inquired.
"False, I think, sir."

" Then don't do it, sir. False teeth are personal
property; but if they are real, knock away. These
are the precedents:"

TEETH CA':)ES.

A fellow on Third avenue
borrowed a set of false teeth
from the show case of a dentist,
and he was sent to Sing Sing for
four years.

129

Another fellow knocked a
man's real teeth down his throat,
and Judge Barnard let him off
with a reprimand !

130

The next day Controller Green came to me and
wanted to knock out Mr. Chas. A. Dana's eye, because
Mr. Dana wrote such long editorials.

"Are they real eyes or glass eyes, Mr. Green?" I
asked.

" One looks like glass, the other is undoubtedly real,"
said Mr. Green.

"Then read this precedent and go for the real
eye:"

POSSIBLE EYE CASES.

Making off with a man's glass
eye — two years in Sing Sing.

Tearing out a man's real eye —
a fine of I5.

In cases of legs I find these precedents :

Stealing a man's crutch — two
years in the Penitentiary.

Breaking a man's leg — a fine
of $10.

So I advise clients to go for real eyes and real legs.

GENERALLY.

I conclude —

Damage to a man's property —
the Penitentiary and severest pen-
alty which the law admits.

I conclude —

Damag.? to or destruction of a
ma-^'s life — acquittal or a recom-
mendation to mercy.

Now I am ready to practice. I prefer murder or
manslaughter cases, as they are the simplest. If you
want to shoot a man come and see me, and I'll
make a bargain with the judge and jury, and get you
bail beforehand.

HOW DONN PIRATE THRASHED "ELI

I'ERKINS."

LETTER FROM THE VICTIM — DREADFUL PUNISHMENT

OF consider's nephew.

I SHALL never forget how Donn Pirate, a District
of Columbia brigand, and I fell out and had a big
fight. I shall also long remember the terrible thrash-
ing he gave me. I knew I had been whipped by Donn
because I saw the marks on Donn's face and also
talked with the doctor who sponged him off and put
liniment on him. But oh, it was a fearful castigation !
I never want to be whipped again. If ever any man
wants to continue to serve humanity — wants to make
a martyr of himself — wants to reduce himself to a
lump of jelly like the boneless man in the circus, by
whipping me, I hope he will read this and reflect.

This is the way Donn came to thrash me. I tell it
to our sorrow. You see, Donn had been saying how
I had stolen some literary thunder out of his Capitol.
I informed him politely how he had lied, and insinu-
ated that he was a d f , such as they have a

good many of in the District of Columbia.

This roused Donn's patriotism, and yesterday he
called at my rooms to thrash me. I was never so af-
fected in my life as when 1 saw him coming up the

131

132

:.;'; -'.ri'

long dark stairs. And when I smelled his breath I
was thrown into hysterics. I was so badly frightened
that I didn't know what to do. I seized my cane and
commenced dancing wildly around the room. Every
now and then I would let it drop on somebody.

" Please be quiet, Mr. Perkins — calm yourself," said
Mr. Pirate, who seemed to sympathize with me in my
extreme agitation.

But, like John Phoenix when he thrashed Judge
Ames, I couldn't keep quiet. My cane continued to
fly around in such a wild manner that Donn really
pitied me. He didn't feel like going on with the
thrashing at all. But all at once he made a lurch
with both legs towards the stairs, frightening me ter-
ribly. Then he dragged me down the steps by the
hair of his head, which stuck to my trembling hands.
I was so frightened that I fell down on top of him.
Then he shook me up and down in the most savage
manner by my poor hands, which were fastened tightly
to his coat-collar. All the time I was so scared that
my cane trembled violently in the air, and it would
have been smashed to pieces a dozen times had not
Mr. Pirate's head softened the blows on the pavement.
Thus this infuriated man continued to thrash me until
he became unconscious. Then the police came and
took his hair out of my hands, released me, and car-
ried him home on a stretcher.

I shall never recover from that terrible fright. Even
this morning I began to be nervously affected again
when I saw this bloodthirsty man. My cane began
trembling in the air. But Donn seemed to feel sorry

D
E
C

P
\Va

133

breath I
frightened
J cane and
n. Every
ody.

self," said
tne in my

■d Judge
tinued to
nn really
with the
J a lurch

me ter-
»s by the
g hands.

of him.
>t savage
d tightly
red that
it would
had not
ivement.
Tie until
me and
ind car-

:. Even
d again
: began
2I sorry

for me— "so sorry," he said, "that he didn't have the
heart to thrash me any more."

To show how this whipping occurred, I append a
map drawn by the new Heliotype process after William
Hogarth :

ECCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

E
E

E
E
£
EE

E
EEE
E D

E DDD

E D

E E C U

EEE ECCCCCCCCCCCCC

EEE D

EEE DDDDD

EEE DDD

E E D D

ED D D

E DDD

E E D DD

E E ■ D D

E D D

D D

DDDD D

D DDDD

£
E

E
E
EE

MAP OF ACCIDENT.

D represents Donn.
E represents Eli.
C represents Cane.

Yours truly.

"Eli Perkins."

P. S. — I send you my original poem by Artemus
Ward and John Phoenix on my truthful and high-toned

134

friend Donnel Pirate, the only licensed court-jester now
living :

CHAP. 3ST.

Once on a time it came to pass,

As Donn Pirate was lying
Asleep in bed, he had a dream

And cried, " I'm dying — dying !'*

PART ONEST.

But when they woke the lying Donn,
He said, " I'm only cheating

The grave of my poor sinful soul
And th' Devil of a happy meeting.'

CONCLUSION.

So when they found in Washington,
Alas ! that Donn was stealing

A march on Satan and his imps,
Their grief 'twas hard concealing.

E. P.

urt-jester now

A DAY AT SARATOGA.

nn,

ng.

FLIRTING — DANCING — DRINKING — GAMBLING.

E. P,

ef 3^

j^^gj

ysm

w^^9i

ISfljHFi

S^'>Sh

^if^^mj^^lm

^^S

1 AM AFRAID SOME ONE
IS WATCHING US !"

What do the " swells " do in Sar-
atoga ?

Well, at eight A. M. they appear
on the hotel balcony. He is dressed
in soft hat, with feather, and English
cut-away coat ; she in Leghorn hat,
cocktJ up with plume. She carries
a pongee parasol, bound with black
lace, and wears a pongee redingote,
with black lace sleeves to match lier parasol. In the
old time of Mrs. Harrison Gray Otis and Mrs. Dr.
Rush, young ladies and poodles in hot weather both
needed muslin; but times have changed.

"Aw, Miss Astor," Augustus remarks, "thwal I
ethkort you to the Congwes spwing.?"

"Thanks, Mister de Courtney, thanks!" replies
Miss Astor, taking his arm.

Then they saunter to the spring^ drink two glasses,
and walk around the park. She hangs lovingly on his
arm as she v/atches the squirrels and fawns, or looks
up sweetly as she gossips confidentially about the "hor-
rid dresses the Scroggs girls wear." Returning to the
spring, they drink the third glass and return to the
"States." Now they walk three times up and down

135

136

the balcony to show their morning costumes; then
sweep in to breakfast, where they read the Saratogiati,
eat Spanish mackerel, woodcock, and spring chicken,
give the waiter a dollar, and gossip about the Jones
girls, whose mother used to keep a boarding-house.

"Bah! some people do put on such airs!" remarks
Miss Astor.

After breakfast and cigars all sit on the back bal-
cony of the " States " to talk and " spoon " and hear
the music.

» Time, half-past ten. Sentimental young ladies now
" spoon " under mammoth umbrellas, with newspapers
in front.

" Oh, Augustus ! I am afraid somebody is watching
us."

"No, they kon't, yeu kneuw. Miss Mollie; but it's
hawid to sit in such a cwowd — perfectly atwocious;
let's walk up to the gwaveyaid."

"To see the Indians, Augustus.'*"

"Oh, yes; they're jolly nice — perfectly lovely —
splen "

And off they go to the Indian encampment on the
hill.

At two P. M. dinner — sv/eetbreads, salad, Philadel-
phia squabs, and champagne.

"O gracious! Augustus, aren't my cheeks red!"

Augustus's father, after eating squabs and drinking
champagne, sherry, and claret, remarks:

" Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Perkins, that a plain
liver like me could have the goat?"

Dinner over, and all retire to balcony to smoke and

137

Limes ; then
Saratogian,
ig chicken,
t the Jones
ig-house.
>!" remarks

back bal-
" and hear

ladies now
newspapers

is watching

ie; but it's
atwocious ;

T lovely —

ent on the

s red !"

'\ drinkinLi;

at a plain
;moke and

Philadel- f

read the papers. Sentimental young people retire to
corners and flirt under umbrellas and twenty-inch fans,
and Augustus reads sentimental poetry :

You kissed ir.e ! My soul, in a bliss so divine,

Reeled and swooned like a foolish man drunken' with wine.

And I thought 'twere delicious to die then, if Death

Would but come while lay lips were yet moist with your breath !

And these are the questions I ask day and night :

Must my life taste but one such exquisite delight ?

Would you care if your breast were my shelter as then ?

And — if you were here — would you kiss me again ?

Miss Astor reads :

Why can't you be sensible, dearie ?

I don't like men's arms on my chair.
Be still ! if you don't stop this nonsense,

I'll get up and leave you — so there !

Then the " spooniest " young people saunter over to
the ten-spring woods or down to the double seats in
Congress Spri: ^ Park.

After tea the grand balcony tramp commences.
Ladies in full dress — gros grain silks, tight to hip, long
train, with white lace sleeves. Hair braided in short
stem behind. Gentlemen in "swallow tails."

"O, Augustus! isn't this dress too sweet for any-
thing.?"

" Just too lovely, Miss Astor. And ain't the mewsic
awful jolly to-night?"

Admiring mothers now look on and hold extra chairs.
Rich old bachelors who own dog-carts bow, present
bouquets, and retire. Engaged couples seclude them-
selves in unlighted corners.

"Yes, Augustus, we'll go to Washington on our
bridal trip."

138

At nine, children are led off to bed, mothers occupy
long lines of chairs around the hon room, and dancing
commences. Small talk usurps the time between the
sets.

Young Gentleman — Charmin' evening, Miss Astor.

Young Lady — Yes, awful charmin' — perfectly lovely —
splen

Young Gentleman — Donee a squar donee to-night?

Young Lady — Oh, Augustus ! I kon't, yeu kneuw.
The squar donees are beastly — perfectly atwocious —
hawible — perfectly dre'ful. Let's donee a galop.
They're awful jolly — perfectly divine.

Twelve P. M. — Hop over and lights out. Girls drink
lemonade in reception room, talk about ruined dress
skirts, and handsome fellows rush down to Morrissey's.

"I'll make or break to-night."

Table loaded with white and red checks, champagne
flows, and cigar smoke fills the air, like a cherubim.

" Gus, lend me %\oV'

"The white loses and the red wins," slowly repeats
the dealer.

"My i:iod, I'm ruined!"

After midnight — streets silent ; hotel dark. The click
of the gamblers' checks sounds out from the gilded
haunt of the revelers. Lizzie dreams of dresses, of
love, of heaven — and of her dear, dear, innocent
Augustus.

"Who smashed that champagne bottle into the mir-
ror.?"

Then they carry Augustus home — hair over his face
and his blue eyes bleared and blinded.

139

lers occupy
md dancing
>etween the

ss Astor.
tly lovely —

to-night ?
i^eu kneuw.
itwocious —
i a galop.

Girls drink
Liined dress
Morrissey's.

"Oh, please keep it from father!"

Why do I reflect ? Why do I look upon all this
sinning and sorrowing — this verity and vanity — this
gladness and giddiness, and see no good ? Sorrow-
fully I bow my head and say :

We are born ; we dance ; we weep ;

We love, we laugh — we die .'
Ah, wherefore do we laugh or weep ?

Why do we love — and die ?
Who knows that secret deep ?

Alas, not I !
We toil through pain and wrong ;

We fight— and fly ;
We love ; we lose, and then, ere long,

Stone dead we lie !
O life, is all thy song,

" Endure and die " ?

■ PLEASE KEEP IT FP JM

FATHER !

champagne
cherubim.

wly repeats

The click

the gilded

dresses, of

', innocent

to the mir-

ier his face

THE SWELLS AT SARATOGA.

ELI MOURNS BECAUSE

HE CANNOT
DANCES.

DANCE THE ROUND

Conversations as varied as
the crowd greet you on every
hand at Saratoga. Last night
Mr. Winthrop, a young authpr
from Boston, was talking to Miss
Johnson from Oil City. Miss
Johnson is a beautiful girl — very
fashionable. No material expense
is spared to make her attractive.
She is gored and puckered to
match her pannier, and ruffled
and fluted and cut on the bias to
correspond with her overskirt, but,
knowledge is limited.

As Mr. Winthrop was promenading up and down
the balcony last night, he remarked to Miss Johnson
as he opened Mr. Jenkins's English book :

"Have you seen Ginx's Baby^ Miss Johnson.?"

" Oh, Mr. Winthrop ! I think all babies are dread-
ful — awful — perfectly atrocious ! Mrs. Ginx don't bring
her baby into the parlor, does she .?"

" But how do you like Dajue Europa's School^ Miss
Johnson.'" continued Mr. Winthrop.

140

MISS JOHNSON.

alas ! her literary

141

JA.

THE ROUND

JOHNSON.

her literary

and down
ss Johnson

;on?"

are dread-

don't bring

chool^ Miss

"I don't like any school at all, Mr. Winthrop, except
dancing school — they're dreadful — perfectly atrocious !
O. the divine round dances, the "

" Have you seen the Woman in White^ by Wilkie
Collins, Miss Johnson.?"

" No, but I saw the woman in dark blue by Commo-
dore Vanderbilt — and such a dancer — such a "

"Did you ^t^ Napoleon's Julius CccsarV interrupted
Mr. Winthrop.

" Napoleon's Julius seize her! you don't say so, Mr.
Winthrop! Well, I don't wonder. I wanted^ to seize
her myself — any one who would wear such an atrocious
polonaise r

And so, aristocratic Miss Johnson went on. In every
word she uttered I saw the superiority of the material
over the mental — the preponderance of milliner over
the schoolmaster. I was glad to sit with the poor
Boston author at the fountain of Miss Johnson's wisdom
— to drink in a perpetual flow of soul, and to feast on
reason.

But when a moment afterwards I saw Miss Johnson
and empty-headed Mr. Witherington of Fifth avenue
floating down the ball-room in the redowa, I felt that
my early education had been neglected.

"Alas, I cannot dance!" I sighed. "I cannot dance
the German!"

"O," I sighed in the anguish of my heart, "would
that 1 had directed my education in other channels;
would that I had cultivated my brain less and my heels
more, and that books and art and architecture had
not drawn me aside from the festive dance. Would

14^

that the palace of the Caesars, the Milan Cathedral,
and the great dome of St. Paul's were in chaos ! Would
that Dickens and John Ruskin and old Hugh Miller
had never lived, and that the sublime coloring of Rem-
brandt and Raphael had faded like the colors of a
rainbow."

"After death comes the judgment; and what will it
profit a man to gain the whole world and fail \<<th
Miss Johnson to dance the round dances?" In the
anguish of my heart I cry aloud, *' May the Lord have
mercy on my soul and not utterly cut me off because
I have foolishly cultivated my brain while my heels
have rested idly in my boots."

So I went on!

MINNIE IN SARATOGA.

MINNIE.

Minnie is a type of the watering
place belle. She is as beautiful
as her picture, and so fascinating !
Below is Minnie's diary for one
week, just as she wrote it at Sar-
atoga.

minnik's diary.
Monday. — Horribly cold. Ar-
rived from Lake George to-day.
Looked like a fright — know I did,
when I got out of the omnibus.
Wonder if the Vaughans are here. Phew! had to walk
through fifty men smoking on the balcony. Eight
dresses — eight days. Know Virginia is dying to see
them ; such lace ! Saw Bob Munson. Had same club-
house smell as Fred. Walking wine-cellar. She kissed
me in the hall twice. Pumped her about Dick. Didn't
show in the parlor to-night V/Ul make a sensation at
breakfast. Who is this Dick.^ Looks like a poke.

Tuesday. — Bob Munson 's card before breakfast — the
bore ! Drank four glasses. Spooned with Bob on park
seat; afraid it won't agree with me. I do believe he
loves me. Said so. Squeezed my hand twice. The
idiot! I'm too happy to live. Chops and codfish,

H 143

144

y')'-^-'-

niCK CALLED,

Quaker style, for breakfast. Virginia called with Dick.
Such a dress — gored and puffed and fluted, and the
dear knows what ! Just saw an old flame, Albert, dear
Albert. Bowed gracefully. Mamma frowned. Oh,
dear ! Asked him to call. Squeezed my hand a little.
What did he mean.^ Virginia's mother very sick.
Water was too mucli for me.

ll\' tines (/ay. — Such an event has hap-
penc 1. Dick called. Glad Virginia
left him with me. Such a lovely waltz
with Bob. Why don't he cut his hails?
Horrible ! I bite mine. After waltz,
spooned with Dick. Dick says I'm too
sweet to live. Perfectly atrocious.
Dick and I think alike. He likes the moon, and I'm
anotlier. He's spooney and so — well, I make him be-
lieve I am. If that mean, jealous Fanny Mason goes
peering around again when Dick is holding my hand,
I'll seal J) her. No, I'm to be her bridesmaid.

T/mrs'fay. — Walked to graveyard with Dick. Such
a nice, sensible talk as we had. First, we talked about
tlie soul — how destiny often binds two souls together
by an invisible chain. Pshaw, what an old Muggins
Bob Munson is ! Then we considered the mission of
man and woman upon earth — how they ought to com-
fort each other in sickness and in health. If I looked
like that fright who wore the blue dress, I'd wear cor-
sets. And then Dick quite startled me by asking me
if I ever cared for any one. Wore blue grenadine cut
on the bias to-night. Tola him yes, for papa and
mamma. Always did look lovely in grenadine. Dick

145

DICK CALLED.

is a darling. "I mean, Minnie, could you love me?'"
The fraud. Cut the Masons flat.

Friday. — O dear! Rode to the lake. IJol) said,
"I'm going to have a lemonade; what will you have?"
Just as if 1 could say champagne after that. Albert,
dear Albert! Wore white muslin. Uick spooned again.
"You look sweet enough to kiss." Mustache touched
my face. Said he longed for a chance to talk with mc
alone. Knew the precious time had come, and Dick
was just a-going to say it, when ma came up, with that
dreadful old widower Thompson. O dear! Water
disagrees with me again. Must stop it.

"Come, Minnie, you go with Mr. Thompson. I
want to introduce your young friend Dick to the
Masons." I look like a fright. Don't pay to buy six-
buttoned gloves to spoon in.

Dick flirted with Fanny Mason — -the scarecrow'
Wore Elizabeth ruffle four inches high. Did it to
spite Fanny Mason. Where is Virginia }

Saturday. — Dick proposed Swell clothes did the
business. I do love lavender gloves. Virginia is cut
out, sure.. Sang " Rock me to Sleep." Fanny Mason
said I had a cold. The meddling old wudgock ! Lav-
ender is my color. Engaged to Dick. Gracious, I'm
half afraid I love that fellow ! He does kiss too sweet
for anything. Must stop drinking the Avater. Saw the
educated pig. He's a boor. Mother caught Dick kiss-
ing me. Told father. Stormed. Let out that we
were engaged " Then you'll go home to-morrow." O,
dear, my fun is all over. Must stop at the Point and
take in the cadets once more. They can't ilirt. Such

146

goslings ! Dick goes with us, and Virginia — she's jilt-
ed ! Ha ! Ha ! !

P. S. — Wrote a letter to Julia Mason.

MINNIE TO JULIA.

My Darling Julia : First let me tell you all about
myself. I'm just lovely, and having such a time !
Flirting in Saratoga ain't like flirting in New York—
in the horrid box at the opera, or on the atrocious stairs
at a party. We have just the whole back balcony all
to ourselves — and then we walk over to the graveyard,
and pretend to go down to bowl, and stray off into
Congress Spring Park. Then the drives ! My lovely
phaeton — and Prancer, she's just too sweet for anything !
Now, the idea of calling a horse sweet!

" How do I look r

Well, the best way to tell you that is to send you a
sketch which Dick made for me. Now, you don't know
who Dick is, I suppose. Well, Julia — now don't you
mention it — he's — Dick is — well, I'm engaged to him!
Dick is a brunette, you know, and I'm a blonde. He's
poetical and I'm prosy. He's lean and I'm stout. He's
serious and I'm giddy. He's smart and I'm — but you
should just see his eyes once. Such eyes !

And such a divine mustache, Julia !

I know he loves me. He's told me so fifty times;
and when I tell him I love him, he draws a long, sad
sigh, and says :

"I am very happy, darling; I like to be loved."

That's all he says, but I know he loves me.

I know you want to know how I got Dick " on the

147

she's jilt-

striiisr," now don't

'6>

I all about
!i a time!
2W York-
nous stairs
balcony all

graveyard,
ly off into

My lovely
r anything !

send you a
on't know
don't you
ed to him!
nde. He's
tout. He's
n — but you

fifty times;
a long, sad

loved."
me.
:k " on the

you? Well, I'll tell you. There is
a Miss Virginia Vaughan stopping at
the Clarendon. She's an old thing,
and awfully cross and prudish, as all
those Clirendon girls are.

Ha, ha i You know, Dick, he says
the Clarendon must be an awful
healthy place.
"the MEAN THING I" "Why.^" I asked.

" Because most all the young ladies live to such nice
old ages there."
Oh, the wretch !

If it weren't so healthy up there, O dear! a good
many of them would have been dead years ago, wouldn't
they ?

Well, this Virginia Vaughan knew Dick. She, the
mean thing, was engaged to him when they came here.
How he could have ever fancied that cross thing, I don't
know. My ! wouldn't she eat me up if she could —
ivouldn't she !

Mother says Vaughan and my Dick look just alike.
Bah !

Well, to tell you how I first met Dick. Virginia, you
know, was engaged to him. About a week ago she got
a telegraph from the Masons over at Newport, saying
her mother was sick — almost dying. Virginia had to
go, of course. So she came to me and said she loved
Dick, and she hated to leave ..in — the simpleton — and
that as they were engaged, Dick would be quite lone-
some without her. The little goose ! Then she asked
me to sort of entertain Dick till she came back. Sit on

148

the balcony, you know, and promenade, etc. Well, I
did it : you may be assured I did. I played awful
sweet on poor Richard. (" Poor Richard " is good —
ain't it } I mean for me.) I asked him to promenade
in the park. We sat on that flirting seat. I said I was
lonely. I told him it was not meet for any one to live
all alone. Then I sighed, and let my hand fall gently
on the book. Of course he took it — any fellow will do
that. You know the rest. In three days he proposed
to me— and — 1 — well, of course I accepted him. Of
course I had to.

But what a fu?s we had, though! One day I was
sitting on that seat alone, reading and waiting for Dick.
I knew he was coming — of course I did. Pretty soon
I heard some one stealing up behind me. I v. as sure
it was Dick, but I pretended not to notice him. Pretty
soon he came close up, and gave me a kiss, smack on
my neck.

"Oh, Dick! how could you, darling?" I cried, when,
looking up — good gracious ! what do you think } Why,
it wa'n't Dick at all. It was that mean, old, poky,
cross Virginia Vaughan !

Of course she made a fuss about it, and broke off
the engagement, and all that; but I don't care. Dick
is mine now ; and they say the silly thing has actually
put on mourning !

Did you ever.'*

Well, Vaughan (We girls don't call her Virginia any
more) has got s^tme other ^eaux now. She's got old
gray-headed Munson, of the Jockey Club.

Old Munson drives a Brewster dog-cart, with a tiger

149

behind; and such swell English clothes! Then there
is a real nice club-house smell about him all the time,
like dried chamj agne and cigar-smoke. Dick says all
these club men smell like a dried bar.

There, pa is coming.

The dear, good old pa! I'm going right straight to
him and tell him about Dick, get him to say "yes,"
and then tease him out of such a trousseau! Dia-
monds, laces, silver, six bridesmaids, honeymoon, and—
goodness!— I wonder if Dick will want to do like those
Union Club fellows— go off and spend the entire
honeymoon with the fellows, and leave me at home!
Such things are" dreadful. Oh, deui 1

But, darling, I must close. Let's see, what have I
written about ? Next time I'll tell you about myself.
By-by! You old darling! Minnie.

Sa?.atoga, yufy 23.

MARRIED BROWN'S BOYS AT SARATOGA

HIS SECRET LOVE-LETTER.

Saratoga, July i8.

Yes, married Brown's Boys. You will see them in
every large city and at every watering-place — men mar-
ried to suffering, neglected wives, but flirting with
scores of young ladies.

Yesterday a young lady, Miss Ida , at the

United States Hotel, received a letter from one of these
married Browns' Boy flirts at the Clarendon. Miss Ida
carried the letter all day, and accidentally dropped it
in the ball-room last night. The writer is a handsome
man, the husband of a devoted wife, and the father
of beautiful children, and this, alas! is the heartless
letter which he writes to one of our young ladies to-
day :

Clarendon, July to.
My own darling :

I will try and see you to-night in the piano corner
of the big parlor — at eight. Manage to be there with

^ liizzie and Charley, for they are
spooney and we can "shake" them,
and they will take it as a kindness.
I send you my photograph. How
do you like it? Do send me yours.
You are in my mind constantly —
day and night. You say you "don't
"MY PHOTOGRAPH." ^^Ink I Can be true to you and

151

-men mar-

have a wife at the Clarendon." Have I not told
you, dearest, that I have no wife? To be sure, we
are married, but she is not my wife. I do not love
her as I love you. She belonged to a very rich
family, and had a good deal of property — Boulevard
lots. She laid no claim to being aristocratic. My
family were aristocratic. There is no better blood in
the Knickefbocker Club than he has who has so
often confessed his love to you. She married me for
my aristocratic connections, and I married her, alas !
I am ashamed to confess it, for her great wealth. We
are married, but not mated. Then, after she nursed
me through a long spell of sickness, she looked hag-
gard and worn. Then I told her I could not love
her unless she looked fresh and beautiful. She looked
sad at this, and turned her head away. Foolish woman.
Then I resolved to get a divorce. This was before
I saw you, my dear, sweet girl — before Miss S. pre-
sented us at the last ball. Didn't we have a sweet
time.? Then, when we rode over to the lake, and
sauntered out along the willow banks, Mrs. C. thought
I was at the races. That night I loved you so wildly
that I had a fearful headache. I knew it was that.
I threw myself on my bed at the Clarendon. Mrs. C.
insisted on bathing my head with camphor. She said
the races were too much for me. I tossed and rolled in
a delirium for hours, and then finally went to sleep. In
my sleep I dreamed of you, my dear Ida. I called your
name aloud several times — then I awoke. It was three
o'clock, but Mrs. C, haggard and worn, was still sitting
over me. When I cried your name, dear Ida, she said :

153

"Why, darling, have you forgotten my name? My
name is not Ida."

How stupid ! In the morning I gave her a scolding
for making a fool of herself. She looked so forlorn
after this that I told her to stay in her room, and I
came down and spent that happy evening with you.

In one of your notes, dear Ida, you say your papa
asked you if I was not married, and that you blushed
and said " Of course not." That's right. I never take
out Mrs. C, and no one knows that we are married
but our intimate friends.

I shall soon have a divorce,
when I will let her go with a
dowry. It is quite funny to
think that the very money
which I propose to pay her
dowry with, she herself gave me
when we were married. But if
I give her a small dowry, then
we will have enough to keep
our carriage and live hand-
somely Won't we, pet.? You
say, darling, that you could
never be happy without a carriage. Well, you shall
have one, if I have to sell Minnie's diamonds to buy
it. Minnie won't want diamonds when she is living
on a dowry.

You ask me how I became acquainted with Minnie ?

Well, it's a funny story. We first met at Newport.

Her father came up with the Vintons — coach and four,

Minnie was beautiful then. She had golden hair and

"how do you like it?"

153

imo ? My

a scolding
so forlorn
)m, and I
ith you.
your papa
•u blushed
never take
e married

a divorce,

go with a

funny to

ry money

) pay her

/" gave me

i. But if

)wry, then

to keep

ve hand-

et ? You

3u could

you shall

s to buy

is living

Minnie ?
Newport,
and four.

hair and

great brown eyes, like you, pet, and an arm as plump
and white as Lizzie's; but she has worried herself so
about me when I've had neuralgia and headache after
big dinners at the Club, that she's only a shadow
now.

Well, as I was saying, we were at Newport together.
One day we were out rowing — clear out by the light-
house. I stood up in the boat to light a cigar — a gust
came and over I went into the surf. I thought I was
done for, and I did sink twice, but the third time
Minnie rowed the boat up to me, caught hold of my
clothes, and held me till some men put out from the
shore. I ought to be very grateful to Minnie — and I
am. I'm going to allow her a large dowry — for her —
^1,500 a year, and we'll take care of Freddy ourselves,
won't we.-* I suppose she will want Freddy — all moth-
ers are foolish about their children; but he's a boy,
and of course I can take him. Then he won't bore us
much, as we can trudge him off to boarding-school.

Now, my darling Ida, you see how much I love you.
So keep this evening for me and all the round dances
on your card. Those United States fellows wouldn't
make such a sacrifice for you as I would — would
they.? Tell your father that I'm a vestryman in Dr.
Morgan's church. I'm not, you know, but they did
speak to me about it once, and it's the same thing.

With kisses and love, dear Ida, I am all thine till I

see you.

J. C. F.

P. S. — Of course this note is all entre nous.

154

ai!

To-night I watched for J. C. F. Sure enough, Miss
Ida sat waiting for him in the piano corner. In a
moment they " shook " Lizzie and Charley, and went
off on the back balcony, where the lights are few and
dim. There they are now — now as t write. I can
see their shadows drawn out on the floor, but, alas!
they are not two shadows, but one. They must be
sitting very close together.

This, alas, is love — Saratoga love. This is new-
dispensation love. This is round dance, dog cart,
tandem, panier love. This is not the old-fashioned
love of Ruth and Loaz nor the foolish sentiment of
Dante and Beatrice. This is the pure and sublime
passion engendered by the new civilization — the civili-
zation of divorce trials, faro banks, horse races, and
round dances. The old love of our fathers was old-
fashioned and primitive. The new love must come
through wives divorced, through six-carat solitaires and
in a gilded tandem drag with coachmen in gold-
spangled liveries. Honor, bravery, learning ! Bah !
Take away your Socrates and give me the new Phil-
osopher with his coachmen in top-boots. Why serve
seven years for a woman's love, like miserable Jacob,
caught in the snares of Rachel, wiicn you can mariy
a fortune, divorce your wife with a $1,500 dowry, and
carry off your new sweetheart in tv/o weeks at New-
port and Saratoga } We all take to the new panier-
dog-cart love. We all throw away the plain gold ring
for the sparkling solitaire. Did not Martin Luther go
back on Rome and St. Peter — his first love — for the
pretty girl of Nuremburg?

ELI'S BELLE OF SARATOGA.

There she goes — the old belle — and thus we sum
her up: Nine gallons of inflated pannier, 176 yards
of muslin in trailing underskirts, $48 worth of wig, $36
worth of dangling smelling-bottles, fans, card-cases,
and straps; 196 yards of gros grain silk, some cotton,
one box of pearl powder; I72 worth of teeth on gutta
percha; six-button gloves, mammoth umbrella, copy of
Edmund Yates's book — and all hanging on the arm of
something intended to represent a man — a sort of ama-
teur gentleman.

Saxe says :

Hark to the music of her borrowed tone ;
Observe the blush that purchase makes her own ;
See the sweet smile that sheds its beaming rays,
False as the bosom where her diamonds blaze.

And sorrowfully my cousin Peleg wails this verse:

See how the changes of her walk reveal
The patent instep and the patent heel ;
Her patent pannier rounds her form divine,
Its patent arch supports her patent spine,
Lends matchless symmetry and stylish gait,
And bears the label, " Patent— '68."
A patent corset holds her flimsy form,
And patent dress-pads keep her bosom warm.
Behold the plaintive glance of patent eyes.
As she lifts her patent eyebrows in surprise.
She shakes her head — four pecks of patent hair
Fly like a hop-yard in the August air,

150

And twenty grim ghosts wliispcr her aside,
"Dear Sylph ! 7t>t' wore thnt wig before we died."
To whom respondeth, unabashed, the beauty,
Git out, you spooks I I guess I know v\y jiitc-y^
How gnash her patent teeth with gutta percha ire,
And llasli her patent eyes with belladonna fire !
As drops her patent chignon in a chair,
She jumps to pick it up

But I forbear.

BROWN'S BOYS AT SARATOGA.

GUS AND MISS K.

HOW INNOCENT YOUNG MEN ARK DECEIVED.

Saratoga, July 8i/i.
Yesterday a remarkable
case of misplaced confidence
came out up at the aristocratic
United States.

A kind old millionaire fath-
er was staying there with two
daughters. He was said to
be very wealthy. He himself
talks of putting $500,000 into
a national bank. Under the
circumstances, of course the
Brown's Boys have been very sweet on the eldest young
lady. They (and o^/e especially) have been always on
hand with bouquets and bon-bons. Absolute devotion
are no words to express this young man's polite atten-
tion. Thus the thing has been going on for a week.
All -^t once yesterday the most devoted young man fell
off He looked pale and excited. Then he gave up
his aristocratic room at the States, and took cheap
rooms at Congress Hall. Here he looked the picture
of discouragement.

Meeting him this morning I asked him what was the
matter.

Why, Eli," said he, as he heaved a great sigh, "I've

157

158

been devoted to Miss K for a whole week ; we've

been over to eat black bass at Mcyers's ; we've bowled
and breakfasted at Moon's, and I don't knoSv what
we haven't done."

"Well, Glis, what of that?" I asked.

"Nothing, only I've been fooled — deceived. You
know Miss K 's father is rich?"

"Yes — a millionaire."

"And I've been devoted to her for a week?"

"Yes, I've noticed it."

" Spent lots of money on her for bouquets and drives,
and "

"And what, Gus, w-h-a-t?"

"Why, Will Clark knows the family. He was grooms-
man at the old fellow's first daughter's wedding."

"Was it a big one?" I asked.

"Yes, a swell affair on Madison avenue. But when
the poor young husband went to get into the carriage
to start on his bridal tour, the old tight-fisted drome-
dary of a father-in-law gave his bride-daughter — how
much do you think?"

" Why, I suppose a check for $20,000, Gus."

" A check for $20,000 ! Thunderation ! The tight-
fisted old fool handed her a $10 bill, and Will Clark
says he'll be blessed if he has ever given her a penny
since ; and here I've been wasting bouquets and a
whole week's time on the second daughter, and "

And then Gus chewed the end of his cigar violently,
and wiped the cold drops of perspiration from his
forehead. He was a broken-hearted victim of mis-
placed confidence.

151)

veek ; we've
e've bowled
kno\v what

sived. You

eek ?"

and drives,

was grooms-
dding."

But when
;he carriage
ted drome-
ghter — how

»i

The tight-
Will Clark
er a penny
lets and n

and "

,r violently,
from his
of mis-

I told him to cheer up. I told him that he was like
all of us — that it goes against the reason of a young
man nowadays to take an old man's extravagant daugh-
ter for nothing. I told him that once wo had visions
of supporting our fathers-in-law — of giving them large
sums of money; but now, alas! things have changed,
and fathers who deceive us, as you have just been
deceived, ought not to be allowed to run at large.
They should be instantly arrested. They are confi-
dence men — stumbling blocks and snares in the pathway
of innocent, confiding young men.

"Alas, Eli!" he sighed, as the big tears rolled down
his cheeks, "when will we poor innocent young men
cease to be deceived by our sweethearts' fathers.'*
There ain't any more honest love. It is all planning
and plotting, lying and conspiracy, Eli. The old
women lie, and say the girls have large fortunes. Old
men talk to unsuspecting young men about establish-
ing $500,000 banks. Brothers lie and say their sisters
have large expectations, and the girls — even the girls,
Eli — why, they lie their heads on some sweet Albert's
shoulder down in New York and then come up here
and make believe they are not engaged. They take
our bouquets and bon-bons, and then, alas ! they let
us slide down the pathway of life alone.

Somebody should be arrested !

UP TO SNUFF.

Colonel Alexander, the venerable President of the
Equitable Insurance Company, while in Saratoga always
keeps his pocliets full of silver pieces. He keeps a
pocketful of dimes and quarters for the waiters. He
has found that the darky boys are ten times as de-
lighted at the sight of a silver quarter as they are at a
piece of soiled fractional currency, and that they will
ran just ten times as far for it, and bring just ten times
as good a dinner. As the Colonel hands the pieces
out, he always whispers slyly:

"There, that is for 'snuff,' my boy;" and all the
boys have had Colonel Alexander's "snuff" said to
them so many times that they are all ready to grin and
drop the quarter in their pockets as the silver piece
falls and " snuff " is uttered.

Well, last night, the Colonel rang his bell about
twelve o'clock for some ice- water. In a moment, the
uarky was on hand with a pitcher. As he set it down,
the Colonel tipped forward very ominously in his robe
de flint, and handed the boy a couple of bright silver
quarters.

"There, my boy, that's for snuff, you know," said
he, as he dropped the shiny pieces into the somber
palm. Then the door closed, and Colonel A. went to
sleep.

100

IGl

About one o'clock he was awakened by a loud knock
at his door, and then another.

Rat! tat! tat!

"Who's there?" shouted the Colonel from his bed.

It was the waiter, who, not understanding Col. Alex-
ander's snuff dodge, was pounding; at the door with a
bladder of maccaboy in his hand.

"Good gracious!" said the Colonel, as he rubbed
his eyes and opened the door. " What in thunder do
you want.?"

"It's me, sah," said the faithful darky.

"And what do you want, 'round knocking at doors
two o'clock in the morning.? What in goodness'
name .?"

"But, sah, I is come wid de snuff!"
"The what, man.?" asked the astonished Colonel.
"De snuff, sah; and dis is de best I could do, foh
de peoples is all done gone to bed, and de 'backer
shop is all done shut up. Sarten, sah, dis is all de
snuff to be had, fer I'se perpendickler to inquiah evy
wha, sah."

"O dear, this is the worst!" sighed the Colonel, and
then the ladies, who were listening to the dialogue over
the transept, say they heard the disconsolate man drop
heavily on his pillo-A and sigh as if his great, good old
heart were broken.

A FLIRTING DODGE.

One day I saw a pretty young lady from Brooklyn
flirting in a Saratoga parlor. She was reported to be
an heiress, and of course had hosts of admirers. There
seemed to be a good deal of strife among the young
gentlemen as to who should absorb this pretty heiress.

That day a handsome New York fellow got hold of
her early in the morning, and it seemed as if he would
keep her away from all the rest of her admirers for the
rest of the day. He must have *' buzzed " her for an
hour steady — at least until a young Chicago fellow
thought he never would go. He despaired of getting a
word in edgeways — this Chicago man did. If he had
known the New York fellow he would have been
tempted to join in the conversation and sat him out,
but the yc ing lady seemed to like the New York
fellow and was bound to let him have his way clear
to the end. This made it all the worse for the Chi-
cago gentleman.

Well, how did the Chicago fellow manage it }

Why, he simply walked around behind the New York
fellow, and remarked to a friend, just loud enough for
the enraptured lover to hear it :

" John, that feller wouldn't sit there talking so sweet
if he knew what a fearful rent there was in the back of
his coat, would he ?"

1G2

163

jm Brooklyn

ported to be

irers. There

ig the young

retty heiress.

got hold of

if he would

lirers for the

" her for an

icago fellow

of getting a

If he had

have been

sat him out,

New York

is way clear

for the Chi-

The New York fellow overheard the remark. His look
of interest cooled in a moment. Then he worked his
back around towards the wall, as if he was trying to
conceal something. He imagined ten thousand people
were looking at him. He didn't lean forward and look
sweetly into the young lady's eyes any more. He put
liis hand convulsively around towards his back, ahemcd\
a few times in a business-like way, looked red in the
face, and then said :

*' Excuse me, Miss Mollie, but I have an engagement
with a friend. You'll excuse me a moment, won't you .?"
and then he shied off towards the elevator with his
face to the young lady. He didn't walk straight, but
worked himself along sideways, keeping his back"
towards the wall, and then disappeared up the Otis
elevator, just as the young fellow from Chicago sat
down by the young lady and commcmced /u's version of
ihe oft-repeated tale of love and hope.

Are such things right.?

ge it.?

e New York
enough for

ng so sweet
the back of

162

FALL OF ANOTHER CLERGYMAN.

Lr is with sorrow that I am compelled to chronicle
the fall of another clergyman, and that, too, in Saratoga.
The unfortunate man is the Rev. D Corey, who has
been, with Dr. Deems, for many years the spiritualistic
co-adviser of Commodore Vanderbilt We all know that
for many years Dr. Corey has driven fast horses with
the Commodore, but his friends were not prepared to
hear of his fall like a good many other clergymen,
tiirough the influence of woman.

The scandalous story being told by Dr. Corey's
brother clergymen at the "States" to-day, is as follows:
For several weeks Dr. Corey has been noticed at inter-
vals to be engaged in talking with a beautiful young
lady on the balcony. No other strange conduct was
noticed, and nothing serious has been thought of the
matter till to-day, when the fuH particulars of the cler-
gyman's fall became known. It seems that last evening
about dusk the doctor was seen talking still more
earnestly with the same young lady, when another
young lady, a friend of the first, hurriedly joined the
two. Both young ladies are highly connected, but
their names are withheld from the public for the pres-
ent. As the second lady appeared, words ensued, and
Dr. Corey seemed to be surprised about something.
Stei)ping back a moment toward the edge of the bal-

1(M

1G5

cony, his foot slipped, and the unfortunate clergyman
fell over the edge and down into a water-sprinkler,
totally ruining the sprinkler, and tearing a fearful rent
in his Gersh Lockwood pantaloons. Before the doc-
tor's fall became publicly known, he fled to New York,
where he is now keeping his room while his family
tailor is trying to patch up the difficulty and mend the
unfortunate affair.

THE SWELL DRESS-PARADE.

The Seventh Regiment went
to Boston on the i8th of June
to attend the Bunker Hill Cen-
tennial with the swell 5 th Mary-
land. The Regiment encamped
on the Common — right in front
of the aristocratic Beacon street
brown stone residences. All
the pretty girls in Boston
came down to Beacon
street to board that
week, and then such
dancing and talking
and flirting as went
on!

Of course,
everything
was done in a a/
polite and cir- ™^ ""^^ parade.

cumspect manner. Our fellows all wore neat white
pantaloons and sported white kids in place of gigantic
cotton gloves. No gruff orders were given by the
officers, but every direction was made in the shape of
a polite request. An officer was not permitted to say,
rudely,

''''Right shoulder shift — harms!"

166

167

¥.

: neat white

of gigantic |
iven by the
:he shape of
itted to say,

But he was instructed to say,

" Ah, gentlemen {smiling and boiving gracefully ^ 7vith
hat in hand)^ will you do me the favor to shift your
weapons to the other shoulder?" and immediately
after making this request he did not shout in a loud
voice, Harms! but as soon as the request was com-
plied with the officer was instructed to remove his hat,
and say, " Thank you, gentlemen," or " Much obliged to
you," or something of that sort, yeu kneuw.

NEW MANUAL OF ARMS.

This is the way Col. Clarke drilled the regiment
after it was drawn up along the Beacon street resi-
dences, with the beautiful Boston young ladies in front,
kept back by a guard of white satin ribbon.

First the polite drill-master appeared before them,
smiling in his most placid manner — then politely
tipping his hat he saluted the line, and proceeded to
shake hands with the entire regiment. When this
was done the regular drilling commenced and con-
tinued as follows :

Attention,, if you please,, gentlemen ! Ah {takes off hat
and hows sweetly^,, thank you !

Will you be kind enough to shoulder arms ? Thanks
{smiling and bowing with hat in hand)^ gentlemen,
I hanks !

Will you now favor me by ordering arms? Ah, thanks,
gentlemen.

If it is not asking too much, will you be kind enough to
order arms again ? Ah — thanks — {bowing very laiv and
taking off hat), you are very kind.

108

/ hope if not too /ati^qui;ii^^ that you will no7i> /v kind
cnoir^h to present arms ! Ah — very [food {smiles sweetly)^
I'm too obliged to you !

If agreeable to you, 7vill you shoulder arms, please t
You are — ah, very kind — {bo7C'ing) — I'm so much c'oliged
to you !

/^ 7( ■ ,'o>' ::.w: fatigued, gtntlemen, might I ask you
to order . /..','.v.' Thanks, gentlemen. Ah, you're very
kind! {/icu>s vcf- low and salutes regiment?^

You are now dismissed, gentlemen ! {Bows pro-
foundly?) I'm, ah — awfully obliged to you. If agree-
able to you, ah — I should be happy to, ah — meet you
again to-morrow evening ! Good day, gentlemen !
{Bo7C>s and shakes hands all round, while the soldiers
return to flirt with the young ladies on the baleonies.)

7 noK< be kind
smiles sweetly]^

arms^ pleased
much obliged

'ght I ask you
, you're very

{Bern's pro-
Du. If agree-
all — meet you
, gentlemen !
^e the soldiers
; bdlronies.)

'I'ME (IDOD MAN.

^^^^^^ifK

Do not think because 1 write
about the follies and foibles of
Saratoga that good and true
men do not sometimes gr ^^ore.
The good man will be g d
everywhere. He will b. jast
till he has no bread, j ' i. till
he has no f'i^ink, just
chained to the btake, till
he sees the faggots piled
about him and curling
flames gnawing at his
quivering flesh — cling-
ing to the throne of God.
In the mazes of the dance you
will see brave men with hearts to
love and pray; Christian mothers
with faces all aglow with the smiles
of Heaven ; children with beauti-
ful angel faces, and babes in arms,
sweet blossoms born from the
bosom of Divinity.
Last summer you might have seen en-
acted daily, at one of the most fashionable
hotels in Saratoga, one of the sweetest
incidents in the Christian life. As the

109

■..t: '

170

though f less watering-place throng swayed in and out
of the great dining-room, and the endless clatter of
tongues and cutlery seemed to drown every holy
thought, a silver-haired old man entered quietly at the
head of his Christian family and took his seat at the
head of the table.

Instantly the laughing faces of a tableful of diners
assumed a reverential look. Their knives and forks
rested silently on the table while this silver-frosted
Christian, with clasped hands, modestly murmured a
prayer of thanks — a sweet benediction to (lod. The
scene lasted but a moment ; but all day long the hal-
lowed prayer of this good man seemed to float through
the air, guiding, protecting and consecrating the thought-
less army of wayward souls.

It was a long time before I could find out who this
grand old Christian was; but one night it came to us
all at once.

That night a lovely Christian mother arose early
from the hop-room, with her two little girls, to return
to her room.

"Why do you go so early, Mrs. Clarke.^ The hop
in not half over," remarked a lady friend.

" You will laugh at me if I tell you. Now, really,
won't you, my dear?"

** No, not unless you make me," replied her friend.

" Well, then," said this Christian mother, as she
leaned forward with a child's hand in each of hers.
" You know I room next to that dear, good old white-
haired man, and every night at ten he does pray so
beautifully that I like to go with the children and sit

171

in and out
5S clatter of

every holy
luietly at the
> seat at the

ful of diners
ss and forks
silver-frosted
murmured a
(iod. The
3ng the hal-
loat through
the thought-

in the next room and hear him pray; for I know when
we are near his voice nothing can happen to the chil-
dren."

With tears in her eyes, her friend said, " Let me go
with you ;" and right there, in the middle of the lan-
ders, these two big-hearted Christian women went out
with their children to go and kneel down by the door
in the next room to listen to the family prayer of good
old Richard Suydam

^ut who this
came to us

arose early
Is, to return

? The hop

Now, really,

her friend.
Iier, as she
ich of hers.
i old white-
)es pray so
Iren and sit

OWED TO FRANKLIN STATUE.

Head at the Franklin Statue Dinner at Delmonico's,

A. D., 1872.

Gratk statur ! Immense, gigantic Franklyn,

Made of brass ! Wc reverential bow,

And skrape, and in thy presents stand

With hcds uncuvcrcd. We give thee glory — praze,

And smash our Dunlap hats and kry

Thy glory to yon shining Star !

Grate, noble sire ! and yet, of liberty a Sttn

Who cam'st to Ilcrald freedom and a press unchained—

Who tijok'st thy Post with patriots round

The Standard of thy kuntry's struggling braves,

And wrote thyself a Tribune to the startled World.

Thou noble ded ! — and yet knot ded, but quick

In lasting brass — the Express image of thy anshunt self,

A tranquil Witness to the wond'ring Globe^

That honist werth shall not eskape reward !

A TARROT STORY.

Mr. Travers, who stammers enough to make a story
interesting, went into a bird-fancier's in Center street,
to buy a parrot.

"H — h — have you got a — a — all kinds of b — b —
birds .?" asked Mr. T.

" Yes, sir, all kinds," said the bird-fancier politely.

" I w — w — want to b — buy a p — p — parrot," hesi-
tated Mr. T.

173

i;3

*' Well, here is a beauty. See what glittering ijIu-
iiKige !"

"I — i — is he a g — g — good t — talker?" stammered
i rivers.

"If he can't talk better than you can I'll give him
to you," exclaimed the shopkeeper.

William bought the parrot.

THE RAT STORY.

" Mr. Travers," says Jay Gould, " once went down
to a dog-fancier's in Water street, to buy a rat-terrier.

"'Is she a g — g — good ratter.?' asked Travers as he
looked a little, shivering pup with his cane.

"'Yes, sir; splendid! I'll show you how he'll go
fur a rat,* said the dog-fancier — and then he put him
in a box with a big rat."

" How did it turn out ?" I asked Mr. Gould.

"Why, the rat made one dive and laid out the
frightened terrier in a second, but Travers turned
around, and sez he — ' I say, Johnny, w — w — what'll ye
t — t — take for the r — r — rrat.?' "

TRAVERS AND CLEWS.

If any one tells a good story in New York, they
always lay it to Mr. Travers, just as they always used
to lay all the good stories in Washington to Presidenl:
Lincoln.

Henry Clews, the well-known bald-headed bankjr,
who always prides himself on being a self-made man,
during a recent talk with Mr. Travers had occasion

to remark that he was the architect of his own destiny
— that he was a self-made man.

"W — w — what d — did you s — ay, Mr. Clews,?" asked
Mr. T ravers.

" I say with pride, Mr. Travers, that I am a self-
made man — that I made myself — "

" Hold; H — henry," interrupted Mr. Travers, as he
dropped his cigar, ''w — while you were m — m —
making yourself, why the devil d — did — didn't you
]) — put some more hair on the top of y — your h —
head?"

Mr. Clews has since invested 75 cents in a wig.

TRAVERS ON FISK AND GOULD.

One day last summer, Colonel Fisk was showing Mr,
Travers over the Plymouth Rock, the famous Long
Branch boat. After showing the rest of the vessel,
he pointed to two large portraits of himself and Mr.
Goulr", hanging, a little distance apart, at the head of
the stairway.

" There," says the Colonel, " what do you think of
them ,?"

" 1 hey're good. Colonel — yci hanging on one side
and Gould on the other ; f — i — r — s — t rate. But,
Colonel," continued the wicked Mr. Travers, buried
in thought, " w — w — where's our Scviour .?"

Mr. Travers, who is a vestryman in Grace Church,
aays he knows it was wicked, but he couldn't have
helped it if he'd been on his dying bed.

175

3wn destiny

ws?" asked

am a self-

vers, as he
e m — m —
didn't you
— your h —

a wig.

FLB.

liovving Mr.
nous Long
the vessel,
If and Mr.
he head of

u think of

I one side
rate. But,
irs, buried

:e Churcli.
Idn't have

PAWN-SHOP CLOTHES.

One of our swell Fifth Avenue fellows was walking
in the hall of the hotel last night, displaying a nobby
London suit of clothes, and smoking a 40-cent " Henry
Clay."

Hallo, G\

" said a friend, taking hold of his coat
lappel, " why, . thought that coat was new ; but — ah —
I see now! it was bought out of a pawn-shop."

" Out of ;; pawn-shop ? I guess not ! " says Gus,
highly insulte i.

'' Yes, Gus, you bought that coat out of a pawn shop
— now own up — didn't you.'*"

" Look here, Charley Gibson (frowning terribly), I
don't allow any one to insult me, and I won't stand
any more of your devilish insin "

'' But, Gus, what's the use of being so airy about
it .?" interrupted Charley. " I'll bet you a basket of
champagne that you did buy this coat out of a pawn-
shop anyway."

" All right, it's a bet. Now come down to Brooks
Brothers and I will show you the man who cut it.".

" Well then, of course you bought it oi/t of a pawn
shop; you didn't buy it in a pawn-shop, did you, Gus.''"

WHERE DUCKS LIVE.

On Saturday a Dutch 'longshoreman strode up by
the Stock Exchange, with a half-dozen ducks strung
across his shoulders for sale. John Martine and Vice-.
President Wheelock were admiring the gamey birds.

176

and thinking how they would tajte served up at l5el-
monico's, when Martine observed :

" A-ha ! Johnny, nice ones, ain't they? Where did
you shoot them — on the wing?"

" Mine Gott, no ! I shoots him on de tail, on de
back — anywhere he dam shtrike !"

"What do the ducks live on, Johnny?"

" O, they lives un corn, und peans, und bread, und
saurkrout, und "

" But they can't get those things to live on in the
winter, man !"

" O, den dey lives un de schore !'*

FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS SAVED.

This morning an old fellow's horses ran away near
the Fift] Avenue Hotel, and went smashing along
down Twenty-fourth Street to Bull's Head. People
thought the whole fire department was coming. Timid
men dodged with their horses to get away from the
shower of wheels and axle-trees, and old ladies screamed,
tipped over their Domestic sewing machines, and
prassed their frightened children to their bosoms. One
old man found himself directly before the frightened
horses, but it did not do him any good, as he did not
remain right side up long enough to reap any desirable
benefit from the discovery. It did not kill him, but
he looked very much discouraged.

As the old gentleman who owned the team vainly
tried after a few minutes to separate the dead horses

177

I up at l5el"

Where did

tail, on de

bread, iind
e on in tlie

VED.

away near
hing along
d. People
ng. Timid
7 from the
5 screamed,
hines, and
oms. One

frightened
lie did not
y desirable
1 him, but

;am vainly
sad horses

from the running gear, he lifted up his hands and
exclaimed :

"O dear! my wagon is broke! I wouldn't a-had
this happen for five hundred dollars. I "

" But don't grieve, old man," put in a sympathizing
Bull's Head man; "it didn't cost you a cent; you had
it done for nothing, so put up your money!"

And now the old fellow really thinks he has saved
five hundred dollars.

TIP OF THE FASHION.

Miss Mollie BacOxN, of Madison Avenue, observed,
as she spread her paniers over four seats in the
stage :

" I'm too delighted, dear Eli, to have something, at
last, in the tip of the fashion."

"How so, Mollie.?" I asked.

" Why, ' Jennie June ' says, ' High-heeled shoes are
very much 7aom this winter,' and I've got a pair with
six holes in 'em !"

SHIRKING FROM WORK.

They've got a new sensation at the Fifth Avenue
Hotel — the fashionable ladies have. It's a male hair-
dresser. He's a handsome fellow, too, and is bound to
be quite a favorite. The fellows around the hotel are
all jealous of him, and try to quiz him on the back
steps after he has spent an hour or two putting up a
young lady's hair.

178

Yesterday he worked* three hours on a sentimental
young lady's chignon^ and she didn't have very much
hair either.

"O dear," exclaimed my Uncle Consider, "when
work is to be done how some men will shirk!"

TRUNK SMASHERS.

Dave Marks, the famous Troy baggage-r-aster and
trunk smasher — the man who slides trunks from viorning
till night down a plank, and bangs and slams them from
the New York Central trains into the Hudson River
boats — recently experienced religion over at the Round
Lake Camp Meeting. Last night he went to a prayer-
meet jng in Troy, and before a large congregation of
worshipers he confessed that he had smashed thirteen
million dollars' worth of trunks in twelve years, and
had been too sick a good deal of the time to attend to
business personally, too.

" But, my dear brothers and sisters," he said, " since
I experienced the ' wrath to come,' I tell Brother Per-
kins that any old paper bandbox of a trunk is as safe
in my hands as a Herring's safe.

Commodore Vanderbilt told Superintendent Tousey
this morning that he was going to compel every bag-
gage-man on the Central Railroad to either experience
I'fcJ-'gion or go to breaking stones for ballasting the road
Aq says he's not going to hire men and pay them to
tprnd ail their time nnd strength working for the New
York trunk /nakers.

179

ELI ON DOMINIE FORD.

On Colfax Mountain, N. J., lives good old Dominie
Ford. The Dominie is a good old hardshell Baptist,
who distills apple-to My during the week and makes
special prayers and preaches doctrinal sermons on
Sunday. His forte is praying for specific things, and,
like the chaplain in the Massachusetts Legislature, he
always tells the Lord more than he asks for. Sometimes
the Dominic commences his prayer " O Lord ! thou
knov/est," and goes on narrating what the Lord knows
for fifteen minutes.

One day Uncle Consider, Major Colfax and I called
on the good old Dominie, when he prayed as follows:

" O Lord, thou knowest the wickedness and de-
pravity of the human 1 eart — even the hearts, O Lord,
of our visitors. Thou ':nowest the wickedness of thy
servant's nephew, John I'ord. Thou knowest, O Lord,
how he has departed fi om thy ways and done many
wicked things, such as swearing and fishing on Sun-
day; and thou knowest, O Lord, how he retu'ned, no
longer ago than last night, in a state of beastl intoxi-
cation, and v/histling, O Lord, the following popular

air :

" * Shoo fly, don't bodder me ''

And the Dominie screwed up his lips and whistled
the air in his prayer.

A HARD NAME.

A Nkw Yorker v/as introduced to a Cleveland gen-
tleman to-day, and not hearing his name distinctly,
remarked :

l.SO

" I beg pardon, sir, but I didn't catch your name."

"But my name is a very hard one to catch," replied
the gentleman; "perhai)S it is the hardest name you
ever heard."

"Hardest name I ever heard? I'll bet a bottle of
wine that my name is harder," replied the New Yorker.

"All right," said the Cleveland man. "My name is
Stone — Amasa J. Stone. Stone is hard enough, isn't it,
to take this bottle of wine.''"

"Prei-y hard name," exclaimed the New Yorker,
" but my name is Harder — Norman B. Harder. I l)et
my name was Harder and it is/''

The joke cost Mr. Stone just I127.87.

ELI ON THE F. F. C's.

This morning a well-known Boston man sat down
by Senator Robertson, an old and proud resident of
oouth Carolina, on the balcony of the United States
Hotel and commenced ingratiating himself into the
Southerner's feelings.

" I tell you, sir, South Carolina is a great State, sir,"
remarked Senator Robertson enthusiastically.

"Yes," said the stranger from Boston, ^^ she is. I
knew a good many people down there myself, and
splendid people they were too ; as brave and high-
toned as the Huguenots."

"You did, sir?" exclaimed the Senator.

Oh, yes, sir. I knew some of the greatest men your
State ever saw, sir. Knew 'em intimately, sir," con-

181

ir name.
," replied
name you

bottle of
:w Yorker.
y name is
^h, isn't it,

kV Yorker,
er. I bet

sat down
esident of
ed States
into the

jtate, sir,"

she is. I

self, and

,nd high-

men your
sir," con-

i
I

tinued the Boston man, confidentially drawing his chair
closer and lighting his cigar.

"Who did you know down there, sir, in the old
Palmetto State.?" asked the Southerner.

"Well, sir, I knew General Sherman, and General
Kilpatrick, and "

"Great guns!" interrupted the South Carolinian, and
he kept on talking in the same strain for two hours.

THE MEANEST MAN YET.

SoM£ gentlemen were talking about meanness yester-
day, when one said he knew a man oa Lexington
avenue who was the meanest man in Ne\.' York.

"How mean is that.?" I asked.

"Why, Eli," he said, "he is so mean that he keeps
a five-cent piece with a string tied to it to give to
beggars; and when their backs are turned he jerks it
out of their pockets !

" Why, this man is so confounded mean," continued
the gentleman, " that he gave his children ten cents a
piece every night for going to bed Avithout their supper,
but during the night, when they were asleep, he went
up stairs, took the money out of their clothes, and
then whipped them in the morning for losing it."

" Does he do anything else .?"

" Yes, the other day I dined with him, and I noticed
the poor little servant girl whistled all the way up-
stairs widi the dessert; and when I asked the mean
old St amp what made her whistle so happily, he said :

182

u <

Why, I keep her whistling so she can't eat the.
raisins out of the cake.'"

NEWSPAPER GOKE.

One day, while riding over the Kansas Pacific Rail-
road toward Carson, the train boy came into a car full
of miners, with Eastern newspapers.

" Her's yer limes 'n Intcr-Occan. Harper s Weekly^''
he shouted.

An old miner, who caught the last sentence, jerked
up his head and said :

■ "Harper's weakly, schu say, boy. Why, I (hie)
didn't know he was (hie) sick !"

ELI ON ANA.

There was a young woman named D , whose

bubt'e was bigger than she; she said, " I do find the
times I 'm behind, so I '11 just put the Times behind
me!"

The above was parodied from this poem by Sir

Winfield Scott:

" There was a young man in Glen Cove
Who sat down on a very hot stove :
When they asked, ' Did it burn ?'
He said ' Yei^,,* in the sternest
Of voices — this youth from the Cove."

The above is not quoted as one of the finest thinu-
Mr. Scott ever wrote. Oh, no. In fact, we have na-
tive poets who have written grander things.. For e\-
am})le, the inspired poet of Saginaw, (Michigan)

n't eat the.

^acific Rail-
Lo a car full

r's Weekly:'

;nce, jerked

hy, I (hie)

do find tl.e
'unes behind

oem by Sir

finest thini;>

we have r.a-

s.. For ex-

(Michigan)

-, whose

183

speaking of the early settlement of that country tunes
his liar, and sings :

Once here the poor Indians took their delights —

Fished, fit and bled ;
Now most of the inhabitants is whites —

With nary red.

ANIMATE NATURE.

Last year I saw a watch spring, a rope walk,
a horse fly, and even the big trees leave. I even
saw a plank walk and a Third Avenue Bank run,
but the other day I saw a tree box, a cat fish and
a stone fence. I am now prepared to see the
Atlantic coast and the Pacific slope. My Uncle
C'onsider says he saw a tree bark and saw it holler.
The tree held on to its trunk, which they were try-
ing to seize for board.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

"Eli" says the first composition he ever wrote ran
about thus :

A eel is a fish with its tail all

the way up to his ears never fool with

powder eli Perkins

P. S. They live most any where they can git

And he says this was the only original poetry he ever
wrote, and it was composed by another fellow :

184

COMPLIMENTARY.

The editor of the Cleveland Leader brought his wife
and eleven children — all boys and girls — to " Eli Per-
kins's " lecture on free tickets, and then went home
and deliberately wrote and punctuated the following :

" A poor ni.iu fell over the gallery last night while ' Eli Perkins'
was lecturing in a beastly state of intoxication."

BABIES.

In the cabin of the steamer St. John, coming up the
Hudson the other evening, sat a sad, serious-looking
man, who looked as if he might have been a clerk or
bookkeeper. The man seemed to be caring for a crying
baby, and was doing everything he could to still its
sobs. As the child became restless in the berth, the
gentleman took it in his arms and carried it to and fro
in the cabin. The sobs of the child irritated a rich
man, who was trying to read, until he blurted out loud
enough for the father to hear,

" What does he want to disturb the whole' cabin with
that d baby for.?"

"Hush, baby, hush!" and then the man only nestled
the baby closer in his arms without saying a word.
Then the baby sobbed again.

"Where is the confounded mother that she don'l
stop its noise?" continued the profane grumbler.

At this, the grief-stricken father came up to the man,
and with tears in his eyes, said : " I am sorry to dis-
turb you, sir, but my dear baby's mother is in her

185

ht his wife
"Eli Per-

ivent home
following :

' Eli Perkins*

coffin down in the baggage room. I'm taking her hac k
to her father in Albany, where we used to live."

The hard-hearted man buried his face in shame, but
in a moment, wilted by the terrible rebuke, he was by
liic side of the grief-stricken father. They were both
tending the baby.

Mr. Gough is very fond of telling this story, and Eli
is iijlad of it, for it is a good story and a true one.

ling up the

)us-looking

a clerk or

'or a crying

to still its

berth, the

to and fro

ted a rich

out loud

cabin with

nly nestled
ig a word.

she don't
mbler.
) the man,
rry to dis-

is in her

TIGHT LACING.

Why will young ladies lace so tight ?

My Uncle Consider says our New York young ladies
lace tight so as to show economical young fellows how
frugal they are — how little 7c>asU' they can get along
with. They don't lace so as to show their beaux
how much squeezing they ran stand, and not hurt
'em. O, no !

SOM-ET-I-MES.

The other day, at a dinner, Jack Hammond appealed
to several well-known lexicographers as to the mean-
ing of the word som—et-i-7nes.

"How is it spelled.^" asked Mr. Coe. "Perhaps it
is a musical term."

"Why, s-o-m som, e-t et, som-et, / som-et-i, ni-e-s
mes, som-et-i-mes," replied Jack, holding up the word
on a piece of paper.

Nobody could guess it. Three or four Harvard and

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186

Yale men went searching after the Latin root, and the
young ladies said, "We give it up."

"It is very simple," said Jack; "it means occasion-
ally. Webster says, * sometimes, rt^/z'^r^ y occasionally —
now and then !' "

There was a scattering among his guests, and Jack
finished his dinner alone.

GRAMMAR.

The grammarian of the Evening Telegram came into
our room yesterday, and said :

" Do you know, Perkins, that table is in the sub-
junctive mood .<*"

"Why.^" we asked, meekly.

*' Because it's wood, or should be." And then he
" slid."

NO, sir!"

ELI PERKINS BLUNDERS.

Riding up to the village hotel in
Courtland, where I was to lecture during
the Greeley campaign, I saw the big,
smart landlord smoking a short pipe on
the balcony, while his wife was sweeping
around his chair.

"Hallo! Do you keep this hotel.?" 1

tisked.

"No, sir, I reckon not; this tavern keeps me."

" I mean, are you master here ?"

"Waal, sometimes I am (looking at the old lady's

root, and the

ns occasion-
:casionally —

ts, and Jack

m came into
in the sub-

nd then he

e hotel in
ture durins;
iw the big,
ort pipe on
IS sweeping

3 hotel ?" I

38 me.

»>

old lady's

187

broom), but I guess the boys an' I run the stable-
take your hoss?"

"Do you support Grant?" I asked.

"No."

"What! support Greeley?"

"No, s-i-r."

" Thunder, man ! You don't support George Francis
Train or Mrs. Woodhull, do you ?"

"No, sir-r-r-ee! Look he-er, stranger, I don't sup-
port nobody but my wife Abby an' the chil'n. It's
hard 'nough to git suthin for the chil'n to eat, with-
out supportin' Greeley an' Grant an' such other darn
fool women as Mrs. Woodhull, when taters ain't worth
only twenty cents a bushel an' we have to give away
our apples."

After the delivery of this, I kept still a few moments
but soon ventured to continue :

"Got anything to drink 'round here, my friend?"

"Yes, everything drinks around here."

"Any ales?" I mean.

"Touch of the rheumatiz myself — folks generally
healthy, though."

" I mean, have you got any porter?"

"Yes, John's our porter. Hold his horse, John."

"I mean, any porter to drink V

"Porter to drink? Why, John can drink, an* ef he
can't drink enough, I kin whip a right smart o' licker
myself."

" Pshaw — stupid! Have I got to come down and
see myself?"

" Yeu kin come down, Shaw Stupid, and see yourself

188

ef yeu want to — thar's a good looking-glass in the bar-

room.

NICE ARABLE LAND.

Awhile ago, the late Mr. Samuel N. Pike sold an
amphibious Jersey building lot to a Dutchman. There
are large tracts of land in New Jersey which over-
flow at high tide. The Dutchman in turn sold the
amphibious building lot to a brother speculating Dutch-
man as *' nice arable land." Dutchman No. 2 went
to look at it at high tide and found it covered with
salt water, eels, and leaping frogs. He came back in
a great fury, and sued Dutchman No. i for swindling
him.

" Did you sell this land for dry land .?" asked the
judge of the sharp Dutchman.

"Yah! It vasch good try lant," replied the Dutch-
man.

" But, sir, the plaintiff says he went to see it and it
was wet land — covered with water. It wa not dry
arable land," said the judge.

" Yah — Yah ! It vasch good try lant. Ven I sold
it to my friend it vasch low tide!"

MONEY CLOSE.

" How is money this morning. Uncle Daniel V* asked
Uncle Consider, as he shook hands with that good old
Methodist operator on the street this morning.

"Money's close and Erie's down, Brother Perkins;
down — down — down !"

'i]

s in the bar-

Pike sold an
man. There
which over-
jrn sold the
lating Dutch-
No. 2 went
covered with
arae back in
or swindling

'" asked the
i the Dutch-
see it and it
va not dry

Ven I sold

niel V* asked

lat good old

ling.

er Perkins ;

189

" Is money very close, Uncle Daniel ?"

" Orful, Brother Perkins— orful !"

"Wall, Brother Drew, ef money gets very close
lo-day," said Uncle Consider, drawing himself up
close to Uncle Daniel ; " ef she gets very close — close
enough so you can reach out and scoop in a few
dollars for me, I wish you would do it."

Uncle Daniel said he would.

INDIFFERENCE.

"Did you ever do anything in a state of perfect
indifference, Miss Julia.?" I asked an old sweetheart
of mine last night.

"Why, yes, certainly, Mr. Perkins — a good many
times."

"What, did it with absolute, total indifference.?"

"Yes, perfect, complete indifference, Eli."

"Well, Julia, my beloved," I said, taking her hand,
" what is one thing you can do now with perfect
indifference .?"

" Why, listen to you, Eli."

I postponed proposing.

THE WHISKEY WAR.

During the whiskey war in Hillsboro', Ohio, the
ladies all crowded around Charley Crothers's saloon, one
day, and commenced praying and singing. Charley
welcomed them, offered them chairs, and seemed de-
lighted to see them. He even joined in the singing.

190

The praying and singing were kept up for several days,
Charley never once losing his temper. The more they
prayed and sang the happier Charley looked. One day
a gentleman came to Charley and broke out ;

" I say, Charley, ain't you getting 'most tired of this
praying and singing business?"

"What! me gettin' tired.'* No, sir!" said Charley.
"If I got tired of the little singing and praying they
do in my saloon here, what the devil will I do when
I go to heaven among the angels, where they pray and
sing all the time ?'*

Then Charley winked and took a chew of cavendish.

FUN IN WASHINGTON, OHIO.

In Washington they tell a story about Ralph John-
son, who became alarmed when the ladies came and
prayed in his saloon. The next day Ralph went to the
ladies almost broken-hearted, and said if he could only
get rid of five barrels of whiskey which he then had
on hand he would join the temperance cause himself.

" We will buy your poisonous whiskey, and pay you
for it," said the ladies.

"All right," said Ralph, and he took $300 and rolled
the whiskey out. The ladies emptied the whiskey into
the street. Ralph joined the cause for one day, and
then went to Lynchburg, where they have 11,000 barrels
of proof whiskey in store, and bought a new lot.

"What do you mean by doing this, Mr. Johnson?"
asked a deacon of the church.

"Well," replied Ralph, "my customers war a kinder

several days,

he more tlicy

ed. One day

out :

tired of this

said Charley,
praying they
11 I do when
they pray and

of cavendish.

IIO.

Ralph John-
es came and
li went to the
e could only
he then had
ause himself,
and pay you

oo and rolled
whiskey into
)ne day, and
:i,ooo barrels
new lot.
r. Johnson ?"

var a kinder

partic'lar like, and that thar old whiskey was so dog-on
weak that I could not sell it to 'em no how ; but it
didn't hurt the ladies, for it was just as good as the
best proof whiskey to wash down the gutters with."

TERRIBLY INDKINANT.

A New York rough stepped into a Dutch candy
and beer shop this morning, when this conversation
took place :

" I say, Johnny, you son of a gun, give us a mug of
bee-a. D'y' hear?"

" Yah, yah — here it ish," answered the Dutchman,
briskly handing up a foaming glassful.

"Waal, naow, giv' us 'nother mug, old Switzercase !"

The Cherry Street boy drank off the second glass
and started to go out, when the Dutchman shouted :

'' Here, you pays me de monish ! What for you run
away ?"

" 'You pays de monish!* What do you take me for.?
I doan't pay for anything. I'm a peeler — that's the
kind of man I am !" growled the rough.

" You ish von tam sneaking, low-lived scoundrel of a
thief— that's the kind of man I am!" shrieked the
Dutchman between his teeth as the Cherry Street boy
shuffled off towards another beer shop.

THE UNSUSPECTING MAN.

The other evening, at a fashionable reception, Miss
Warren, a well known old maid from Boston, was prom-

192

enading in the conservatory with Mr. Jack Aster, one
of our well known New York young gentlemen. As
the music stopped, the two seated themselves under a
greenhouse palm-tree, and the following dialogue or-
curred :

"Nobody loves me, my dear Mr. Astor; no-
body "

" Ves, Miss Warren, God loves you, and your mother
loves you."

" Mr. Astor, let's go in!"

And five minutes afterwards Miss Warren was try-
ing the drawing-out dodge on another unsuspecting
fellow.

VERY DANGEROUS.

When Colonel Clark and Adjutant Fitzgerald of the
Seventh Regiment came to the Grand Union to see
Jim Breslin and borrow some nut-crackers for the
regiment, John Cecil and Abiel Haywood said it
wouldn't do to let *em have 'em.

"Why.?" asked the Adjutant, indignantly.

"Because it's dangerous," said Mr. John Cecil.

"How, dangerous?"

"Why, Colonel," said Mr. Cecil, as he wiped his
head with a red bandana handkerchief, "don't you
know that when the boys crack the nuts they'll be
liable to burst the shells against the kernel?"

Mr. Cecil told Colonel Boody that he didn't go to
Saratoga to dance and such frivolous enjoyment, " Oh,
no!"

;k Astor, one

itlemen. As

;lves under a

dialogue or-

Astor ; no-

your mother

ren was try-
unsuspecting

gerald of

the

Jnion to

sec

kers for

the

ood said

n Cecil.

e wiped

his

"don't

you

;s they'll

il?"

didn't go

yment, "

Oh,

193

"What for, then, John?" asked Charley Wall.

** Why, I came especially to drink the healing waters
as prepared by — by — by — **

" By Jerry, the handsome Grand Union bartender,"
put in Major Selover.

A suit for libel is pending.

WOOD.

An agricultural paper, discussing the fuel question,
says that dry wood will go further than green. My
Uncle Consider says that depends on where you keep
it. He says that some of his green wood went three
or four blocks in one night.

SARATOGA BETTING.

Some of the ladies here who go to the races are op-
posed to betting. But to keep up the interest they
sometimes make mock bets of $10,000 and $20,000.
Yesterday one of our most charming young ladies made
a real bet of three cents on Longfellow with a well-
known beau noted for his gallantry. Longfellow got a
good start and won the race, and then the lady insisted
on her three cents, but it looked so trivial that the gen-
tleman didn't think it necessary to go to the office and
get the picayune three cents to pay it. This morning
the lady said before a laughing crowd :

" Mr. B., ain't you ashamed not to pay me those
three cents.? Now I want them. I always pay my bets."

"All right," replied the handsome gallant, and in a

194

few moments he returned with three exquisitely cut
bottles of Caswell & Hazard's cologne. Placing them
in a chair beside her, he remarked with a graceful
bow :

" My dear Miss B., I am only too happy to pay my
last bet — please accept, with my compliments, these
three scents."

WICKED AND PROFANE.

An old bachelor, who hates women, said to-day that
he didn't want to go to heaven.

"Why?" asked one of our round-dance Christians.

" Because it will be full of women— not a d — d man
there," replied the wicked man.

He was like the old lady who was afraid to ride on
the mail train because there were no females there.

MR. MARVIN'S BLUNDER.

Ex-Congressman Marvin, who is the " Warwick
behind the throne" in the new United States Hotel,
called on a carpenter yesterday and said :

" Mr. Thompson, we have a nice bar-room, and we
want a handsome bar made. Who can make the best
one r

*' Well, I-I -d-d- don't 'zackly know who could
m-m-make a handsome b-barw«/V/," stammered Mr.
Thompson.

" No, no. I want a nice, handsome dar made "

" W-w-well, dang it ! if you want a handsome bar-

quisitely cut
Placing them
h a graceful

py to pay my
ments, these

d to-day that

:e Christians,
a d — d man

d to ride on
ales there.

e " Warwick
States Hotel,

3om, and we
lake the best

who could
nmered Mr.

• made "

ndsome bar-

196

maid, why don't you go over to T-T-Troy and get
one.>"

" No, no, no, man ! I mean who made these I see all
around town ?"

" Great guns, Marvin ! h-h-how the d-d-devil do I
know who made all the b-b-barmaids around town ?
I d-d-don't know — and damfi care who did," shrieked
Mr. Thompson.

POOR BUT HONEST.

When I lectured in Cooperstown, they told me about
an English joker who dined with Fennimore Cooper
before he died in 1851. Cooper was then the most
conspicuous man in the little town which nestles at the
feet of a high mountain and reposes on the shores of
Seneca Lake. One day, while Mr. Cooper was dining
the Englishman, he poured out some native wine — wine
from grapes raised in his own garden. Takirtg up a
glass and looking through it with pride. Cooper re-
marked :

"Now, Mr. Stebbins, I call this good, honest wine."

"Yes, Mr. Cooper, I agree with you; it is honest
wine — * poor but honest.'"

Mr. Cooper went on tdling his Injun stories.

PRECISE STATEMENTS.

Mr. Carter, of the American Literary Bureau,
which furnishes most of the lecturers in the United
States, has been sued for saying that a certain lecturer
"appeared on the platform half sober."

196

"What do you mean, sir?" asked the indignant
lecturer.

"Why, I meant precisely what I said, sir," replied
Mr. Carter. " I said you were half sober. I'm an ex-
act man, sir. I only saw half of you — the side towards
me. I only spoke of that. I don't mean to insinuate
that the other half wan't sober, too. Oh, no! But,
sir, it would have been preposterous for me to say any-
thing about the half which was out of sight. Wouldn't
it, sir — me, a precise man ?"

EARLY TO BED.

When a kind old father on Fifth avenue sailed for
Europe, six weeks ago, he gave his engaged daughter
permission to " sit up " with her beau, a young stock-
broker, till a quarter of twelve every night. I guess
when that fond father comes home and finds out that
this young man has been " sitting up " and holding
that fond daughter's hand till three o'clock every
morning, under the impression that three is quarter
of twelve — well, I guess that young fellow will think
he is engaged to the daughter of a thrashing-machine.

PERSONAL MATTERS.

General Le Fevre, of Ohio, who was in twenty-six
engagements and nineteen battles during the late war,
has at last become engaged again. This is the first
Saratoga engagement this season. The enemy's name
is Miss Snow, and the General has been for several

: indignant

ir," replied
I'm an ex-
,de towards
o insinuate
no ! But,
to say any-
Wouldn't

2 sailed for
d daughter
3ung stock-
:. I guess
ds out that
nd holding
lock every
is quarter
will think
ig-machine.

twenty-six
le late war,

is the first
;my's name

for several

197

days on the point of doing as General Burgoyne did
eighty years ago — surrendering. At last he did it this
morning. I knew there was something up, because this
morning when 1 asked the young ladies why Miss
Snow was like ice water, they all answered :
"Why, because she is good to lay fever."
The General said this morning, "I don't dance the
lancers, but I should like to lance the dancers — espe-
cially the venerable Mr. Jarvis, of Boston, who keeps all
the young ladies dancing the round dances, just because
some Boston physician said dancing would cure his
dyspepsia."

VERY PERSONAL.

Mr. Scattergood is the name of the minister who
addressed the Round Lake camp-meeting people yes-
terday. The name is very appropriate for a minister,
but there would be no end to its value in a shot-
gun.

The Misses Money, of Cincinnati, are quite belles at
Saratoga. They are named Miss Julia and Miss Sara.
This is not the first time they've had ceremony at
Saratoga. *

Among a delegation of Chinamen at Saratoga are
Ah Sin, Flir Ting, Drin King, Sle Ping, Che Ting, Ste
Ling, Smo King, Dane Ing, Gamb Ling, and Dress Ing.

SMALL FEET.

There is an Englishman in Saratoga whose feet
are so large that he rests easier standing up than
lying down.

. 198

Mrs. Thompson says he objected to taking a walk
yesterday on the ground that it was so damp.

" What difference does that make ?" I asked.

" Oh, his feet are so large that so much of him is
exposed to the damp earth that he takes cold."

" But suppose he is compelled to go out very rainy
weather — what does he do?" I asked.

" Why, if he has to stay any great length of time,
he generally sits down on the grass and holds his
feet up!"

:ing a walk

np.

sked.

1 of him is

cold."

: very rainy

h of time,
holds his

LITTLE PERKINSISMS.

LEVITY IS THE SOUL OF WIT.

One day Mr. Galbraith asked old Mr. Hathaway, of
Canandaigua, if his habits were regular and uniform.

" Yes," said Mr. Hathaway, " they are very regular
and very uniform, and a d d many of *em, too!"

" We consume annually whiskey and tobacco enough
to pay for all the bread eaten in the United States." —
George Bayard in Brooklyn Argus.

Well, who says you don't ?

Last Saturday night was a drencher — a regular
north-easter of a storm — and the theaters were empty.
Dan Bryant had a large audience, but — they staid at
home. Dan said they were like horses — checked by
the rein.

Lloyd Aspinwall is like bell-metal — he's a Lloyd
with tin.

Now the negroes in Kentucky village have got a
school-house ghost. Should it be called the village
Blacks* -myth ?

ISO

%;!■

300

"Muzzlin', Eli," said my Uncle Consider, "makes a
dog safe, while muslin makes a young lady very dan-
gerous; still, in hot weather, they both want muzzlin'!"

The stylish young lady, with hair tJ la Pompadour,
won't allow anybody to up braid her but her hair-
dresser.

Sic Transit. — The sickest transit I know of is the
Greenwich Elevated Railroad.

Capital Offense. — They are going to make it a
capital offense for one man to elope with another
man's wife in California. It always was a capital
offense here, if the man's wife was pretty 1

Self-Possession. — Donn Piatt owns a jackass.

"Well," said Speaker Blaine, "Col. Sanford of
Brooklyn and I were traveling down South. The feed
had been bad for a day or two, when one day at a
railroad station we had a big plate of hash. Col.
Sanford stuck his knife into it and looked at it kinder
curiously, when the landlord remarked :

" * You needn't be afraid of that thar dish, stranger,
's longs bull pups is worth more'n hogs.* "

The Saratoga jail is- so insecure, so totally unsafe,
that the inmates are afraid to keep any jewelry aboui
them for fear thieves at large will break through and

der, " makes a
idy very dan-
mt muzzlin'! "

t Pompadour,
but her hair-

now of is the

o make it a
with another
ras a capital

jackass.

I. Sanford of
h. The feed
me day at a
hash. Col.
i at it kinder

ish, stranger,

tally unsafe,
jwelry aboui
through and

201

steal it. When a man is taken up there now, he sends
his valuables to John Morrisi^ey for safe-keeping. So
many diamonds and laces have been stolen out of the
jail that President Mitchell says they have determined
to paint and whitewash it, or do something to make it
impregnable.

General Bachelor's Geyser Spring in Saratoga is
still spouting. The water bursts from the bowels of
the earth through solid rock eighty feet from the sur-
face, and then flies about twenty feet in the air. A
Frenchman — Baron St. Albe, from the Clarendon —
went over to see the spring spout yesterday. As the
volume of water burst into the air, he dropped his um-
brella on the arm of a young lady, and raising both
hands in the air, is said to have exclaimed:

" Eh ! dis is ze grand spectakle ! Suparbe ! Mag-
nifique ! By gar, he bust up first-rate !"

A BORE is a man who spends so much time talking
about himself that you can't talk about yourself.

A YOUNG married lady says Poe's raven was drunk
all the time it was croaking " never more, never more,"
on that bust of Pallas.

"How's that.?" I asked.

"Why, Eli, it was a raven *on a bust.'"

The same young lady insists that her husband is a
living, personified poem — not epigram or riddle, but a
cross-stick.

202

Mr. Jack Astor left Saratoga yesterday just because
he wrote his name with a diamond on one of the French
glass windows at the United States Hotel and Mr.
Marvin came along and wrote under it:

" Whene'er I see a fellow's name
Written on the glass,
I know he owns a diamond,
And his father owns an ass."

They say "love is blind," but I know a lover in
Jersey City who can see a good deal more beauty in
his sweetheart than I can.

Chicago is the center of American civilization for
liquor-saloons and bad sidewalks.

r just because
)f the French
)tel and Mr.

w a lover in
re beauty in

vilization for

ELI PERKINS'S NEW YEAR'S CALLS.

Fifth Hea venue Hotel, i A. M., yan. 2th.

I don't feel like writing to-day ; my head aches. I
made New Year's calls yesterday — made 125 calls.
I finished them about twelve o'clock — an hour ago.

I had my call-list written off, and commenced at
Sixteenth Street, and came down. My idea was to
make 125 calls of five minutes each. This would take

These illustrations were drawn by Tom Nast, and cut fi-om his
Comic Almanac published by Harpers.

203

204

625 minutes, or ten hours. I think I did it. I worked
hard. I was an intermittent perpetual motion. I did

_____^ all any body could do. If
I any fellow says he made

MAKES CALLS.

126 calls, he — well, he is
guilty of li-bel. I tried it.
I made my 125th call with
my eyes closed, and at my
126th I swooned on the
hall stairs. Nature was ex-
hausted. Oh ! but wasn't
it fun! It is nothing to
make calls after you have
been at it a spell. The last twenty calls were made
with one eye closed. I was actually taking a mental
nap all the time. My tongue talked right straight
ahead, from force of habit. Talking came as easy as
ordinary respiration. All I had to do was to open my
my mouth, and the same
words tumbled out :

" Hap — new year Mis-
Smitte!"

"Ah! Mr. Perkins, I'm
delighted—"

" May you have man*-
hap 'returns — by — by !"

" But arn't you going
to drink to — "

"Than k — s p 1 e a s u r
(drank) ; may you live (hie) thousand years.
By — by" (sliding into the hall and down front steps).

" FIRST CALL."

it. I worked
lotion. I did
^ could do. If
says he made
e — well, he is
•el. I tried it.
[25th call with
»ed, and at my
ooned on the
Nature was ex-
h ! but wasn't
is nothing to
ifter you have
Is were made
king a T>-iental
right straight
le as easy as
s to open my

ALL.

rs.

front steps).

206

I started at noon. Made first call on young lady.

She said, " You have many calls to make. Won't
you fortify yourself with a little sherry ?"

I said I (hie) would, and drank small glass.

Called next on married lady on Fifth Heavenue.

She said, " Let's drink to William — you know Will is
off making calls on the girls."

"All right, Mrs. Mason;" then we drank some nice
old Port to absent William.

On Forty-ninth Street met a sainted Virginia mother,
who had some real old Virginia egg-nog.

Very nice Southern egg-nog. Abused the Yankees,
and drank two glasses with Virginia mother.

On Forty-sixth Street met a lady who had some nice
California wine. Tried it. Then went across the street
with Democratic friend to say New Year's and get
some of old Skinner's 1836 brandy. Got it. Mrs.
Skinner wanted us to
drink to Skinner.
Drank to Skinner, and
ate lobster salad.

Met a friend, who
said,

" Let's run in and
(hie) see Coe, the tem-
perance man."

Coe said,

" Ah, happy time!
L^t's drink to my wife."

Drank bottle of champagne to Mrs. Coe — then
drank to children.

' DRANK TO CHILDREN.

206

Drove round to Miss Thompson's on Fifth Heavenue.
Thompson's famous for rum punch. Tried two glasses
with Miss Thompson. Very happy. House looked
lovely. Ate brandy peaches. Good many lights.
Pretty girls quite num'rous. Drank their health
Drank claret. Then drank Roman punch. Went out,
leaving a Dunlap hat for a Knox, and a twelve-dollar
umbrella in the hat rack.

Happy thought ! Took Charley Brown in the car-
riage with driver, and got on outside with myself.

Charley said, " Let's drop in on the Madison Heav-
enue Masons." "All right." Dropped in.

THE UMBRELLA AND HAT.

'' LEFT OVERCOAT."

Miss Mason says, "Have some nice old Madeira?"
Said, "Yes, Miss Mas'n, will have some, my dearie."
Drank to Mrs. Mason, and ate boned turkey to young
ladies. Young ladies dressed beau'fully — hair, court
train, and shoes a la Pompadour. Left overcoat and
umbrella, and changed high hat for fur cap. Saw a

207

Heavenue.
two glasses
use looked
my lights,
eir health

Went out,
;relve-dollar

in the car-
myself.
ison Heav-

span of horses in a carnage

COAT.

Madeira?"
y dearie."
to young
air, court
rcoat and
Saw a

SAW THIS.

here, and ate
more pony
brandy. Young
ladies beau'ful
— high - heeled
dress and shoes
cut ddcolletd.
Great many of
them. Nice Ro-
man punch with
monogram on it.
Had fried sand-
wich with bran-
dy on it. Pre-
sen ted large
bouquet in cor-
ner to Mrs,
Lamb. Ex-

drawn by Charley King.
Charley was tightually
slight. Said he'd been
in to Lee's, eating boned
sherry and drinking pale
turkey.

Now all called on the
Lambs on Thirty-fourth
Heavenue. Old Lamb
was round. "Lam's
Champ's very good,"
says Charley. Also
drank brandy peaches

'SLID DOWN.

•"^f^

:\\

208

changed hat for card-basket, and slid down front
banisters.

CAKD-UASKET.

'* CALLED BETWEEN CALLS."

Called on Vanderbilt. Hang
(hie) Vanderbilt ! Vanderbilt
didn't rec'v calls. Carried off
card basket and hung Charley's

hat on bell-knob. Used Van's cards to make other
calls with. Kept calling. Called steady. Called be-
tween calls. Drank more. Drank every where. Young
ladies more beau'ful. Wanted us to come back to
party in the evening. Came back. Grand party.
Gilmore furnished by music. Drank more lobster
salad. Drank half a glass of silk dress, and poured
rest on skirt of Miss Smith's champagnp in corner.
Slumped plate gas-light green silk down on to nice
ice-cream. Dresses wore white tarletan young ladies
cut swallow tail. Sat on young lady's hand and held
stairs. Very (hie) happy. Fellows had been drinkin*.

II P. M. Left party. Carriage outside wanted me

209

1 down front

iTWBEN CALLS."

make other
Called be-
lere. Young
me back to
rand party,
lore lobster
and poured
in corner,
on to nice
oung ladies
d and held
1 drinkin*.
wanted me

to get into Fred Young and prom'nade over to the
Stewarts. Roman punch had been drinking Fred. He
invited 8 other horses to get into the fellows and ride
around to Stewarts. Stewart tight and house closed
iij). Left pocket-book in card-basket outside, and hung
wjtch and chain on bell-knob.

URANK MOKE LUIiSTER SALAU.

"cut swallow tail."

Called on the Fergisons. All up. Had old Bur-
gundy. Ferglson's a brick. Took sherry. Beau'ful
young lady dressed in blue Roman punch. Opened
bottle of white gros grain trimmed with Westchester
county lace. Drank it up. Fellows getting more
teie-uly slight. Drank Pofnpadour rum with young
lady dressed d. la Ja7naica. Hadn't strength to refuse.
Drank hap' New Year fifteen times — then got into
Fifth Heavenue Hotel, and told the driver to drive
round to the carriage. Came up to letter, and wrote
this room for the Daily Com{hic)7>erlisers. Pulled coat

2in

i^^-^-

LBFT OUTSIDE."

WANTED MB TO GET INTO FRED."

off with the boot-jack, and stood self up by the regis-
ter to dry. Then wrote (hie) wrote more (hie).

U— LI PlRK(hic)lNS.

r OUTSIDE.**

by the regis-
ore (hie).

:(hic)iNS.

HOW ELI PERKINS LECTURED IN POTTS-

VILLE.
{From an ArtieU written by Mark Twain for Harper's Magazine)

The Pottsvillians resolved to have a course of lect-
ures last winter. Every town — that is, every town that

pretends to be any town at all
nowadays — must branch out in a
course of lectures in the winter.
So the chief citizens of Pottsville
got together last Fall and decided
that they would have a course of
six lectures. They also voted that
they would have a course of lectures
that would, to use a Pottsville ex-
pression, knock the spots off of any course of lectures
ever delivered in Pottsville. Then they wrote to the
American Literary Bure'au at the Cooper Institute to
send them six lecturers, at $ioo each. One man for
theology, one for brass-band rhetoric, one for oratory,
one poet, one reader, and one humorist. The Bureau
finally made selections as follows :

Theology^ . . Eli Perkins, . . $ioo

Oratory^ . . Daniel O'Connel, . loo

Rhetorician^ . . Josh Billings, . . loo

Humorist^ ' . . Wendell Phillips, . loo

Poeff . . . Edgar A. Poe, . . loo

Reader^ . . Cardinal McCloskey, ioo

211

313

As soon as it was known in Pottsville that Mr. Per-
kins was selected to open the course, the committee
addressed him a note telling him that he was engaged
in Pottsville, and asked a speedy reply.

Mr. Perkins replied as follows :

"At large in Illinois, Dec, i.
" MiLO Hunt,

'"''Chairman Lecture Cofnmittee^

" Pottsville,

''Dear Sir:

" Yours informing me that I am engaged in Potts-
ville is received. Very well ; if she is young and
wealthy I will keep the engagement. In fact, young
or old I'll keep the engagement at all hazards — or
rather at Pottsville. Have no fears about my being
detained by accidents. I have never yet failed to be
present when I lectured. Everything seems to impel
me to keep this engagement. Everywhere here in
Illinois the people follow me around in great crowds
and enthusiastically invite me to go away. Illinois
railroad presidents say they will cheerfully supply
me with free passage on the trains rather than have
me remain in the State another night ; and almost
every railroad president in Ohio and Pennsylvania,
including Mr. Tom Scott, has supplied me with
perpetual free passes — hoping I may be killed on the
trains.

" So I'll be with you dead or alive. If I am dead,
please have it fixed so that holders of reserved seats

le that Mr. Per-

the committee

he was engaged

NOis, Dec, I.

jaged in Potts-
is young and
In fact, young
lU hazards — or
bout my being
et failed to be
eems to impel
where here in
great crowds
Lway. Illinois
erfully supply
her than have
; and almost
Pennsylvania,
led me with
killed on the

[f I am dead,
|"eserved seats

213

will be entitled to a front seat at the funeral, where
they can sit and enjoy themselves the same as at the
lecture.

"You ask me about my fee. It is usually $99.50
per night. If your Association feels poor, I don't
mind throwing in the ninety-nine dollars, but I have a
little professional price about sticking to the fifty
cents.

" The lecture will commence at eight o'clock sharp,
and continue an hour or more, or until somebody
requests the distinguished orator to stop.

"You ask me to inclose some of my opinions of
the press to be used in advertising my lecture. I am
sorry to say that my opinions of the press are not very
flattering. In fact, I have the worst opinions of the
press of any one I know of. I cannot help it. I
know them well, and they are a bad, wicked set, those
press fellows are. I belong to the press myself, and
you must excuse me for not sending you my opinions
of them. They wouldn't like it.

"Mrs. Perkins sends her regards, with the hope
that Heaven will continue to protect you as it has
her,

" From your friend,

"Eli Perkins."

This letter was read before the Lecture Committee,
causing much enthusiasm. Pottsville was immediately
placarded with large posters announcing the coming

214

of the distinguished lectu* 3r. One placard read
thus :

CITIZENS, RALLY!

Whereas, that notorious humorist,

Eli Perkins,

has been infesting the Western States and
depopulating her large cities, and now
threatens to

LECTURE

our unfortunate citizens at the

Pottsville Baptist Churchy Jan 3^,

unless he is paid a large sum of money
to desist ; therefore, all patriotic citizens
are called upon to

.RALLY

at the Baptist Church that same evening,
Jan. 3d, and hold an indignation

MEETING

to protest against this impending calamity.

By order of

Lecture Committee.

Tickets to indignation meeting, 50 cts.

These handbills caused great excitement in Pottsville.
Everybody was on tip-toe to see and hear the dis-
tinguished lecturer. On the day of his expected

I placard read

tates and
and now

)f money
citizens

evening,

:alamity.

[MITTEE.

cts.

it in Pottsville.

hear the dis-

his expected

215

arrival great crowds of people thronged the depot,
hoping to catch a glimpse of the distinguished visitor.

At length he came, but in such a quiet, modest
manner that no one saw him. While great crowds of
Pottsvillians were watching the train with strai.*cd
eyes Mr. Perkins quietly slipped out of the emigrant car,
with his umbrella in one hand and carpet bag in the
other, walked up to the Pottsville House, and sat
down in the billiard room.

The arrival of the distinguished stranger was thus
announced by Col. Ramsey in the Miner's Journal^
next morning:

Distinguished Arrival. — A remarkable old gentle-
man with German silver spectacles, long drab overcoat,
and a Greeley looking carpet-bag, arrived at the
Pottsville House yesterday from the Pittsburgh train.
The old man wabbled up to the counter, took off his
old slouch hat, solemnly shook hands with Mr. Jerry
Griffith, wiped his bald head with an old red bandana
handkerchief, looked over his glasses, and wrote,

Consider Perkins (at large).
Eli Perkins, his nevvy, do.

"Have a room, Mr. Perkins.^" asked Mr. Griffith, as
he pressed the blotter over the old man's name.

"O no, thank ye, Ian 'lord."

" Have supper, sir ?"

" No, I guess not. Eli, my nevvy, and I, speak "

" But let me take your carpet bag, Mr. Perkins,"
interrupted Mr. Griffith.

"No, I'm obleeged ter you, Ian 'lord — Eli and I "

ai6

1 ''

" Well, goodness gracious, old man ! what can I do
for you ? What "

" O, nothin' 'tall, lan'lord. We jes thought we'd like
to A-R-R-I-V-E here ; that's all. We've been knockin'
'round through Pennsylvania right smart, an' it's a
good while since we've 'rived at a hotel, an' I thought
I'd like to 'rive here with my Eli to-night. You see,
lan'lord, my nevvy is an edicated young man, an' he's
goin' to lectur the edicated classes here in Pottsville
to-night, an we want to jes sit 'round the halls here
an' wait till the time comes ; that's all."

Our reporter called on Mr. Perkins early this morn-
ing and found him engaged in writing his great lecture
on a backgammon board in the billiard-room.

" Have you any press notices of your coming lecture,
Mr. Perkins — something to republish in the Journal V
asked our reporter.

"Press notices, young man!" said Mr. Perkins,
" Why, yes, bushels of 'em. I've done nothing but
write press notices for the last month. I "

" What ! you don't write your own press notices, do
you, Mr. Perkins.'"

** Sartainly, young man, sartainly," replied Uncle
Consider, as he fished files of the Congressional Globe,
Chicago Times, and other newspapers out of his over-
coat pocket. " Look a here ! See what the Chicago
Times says!" and the old man put oji his glasses and
read as follows :

When " Eli Perkins " delivered his great lecture in the Illinois
House of Reprehensibles, there was a great rush — hundreds of peo-
ple left the building, and they said if he had repeated it the next
night they would have — left the City. — Chicago Times.

vhat can I do

ught we'd like
been knockin'
irt, an* it's a
an' I thought
ght. You see,
y man, an' he's
) in Pottsville
the halls here

arly this mom-
s great lecture
-room.

oming lecture,
the Journal V

Mr. Perkins,
J nothing but

I "

;ss notices, do

•eplied Uncle
'essional Globe^
t of his over-
the Chicago
is glasses and

e in the Illinois
•hundreds of peo-
ated it the next
mmes.

217

" That's complimentary, Mr. Perkins," replied our
reporter. "Have you got anymore?"

" Bushels of 'em, sir — b-u-s-h-e-1-s. Let me read you
this from the Yale College Currant^'' and the old man
continued to read :

It is proper to say that Mr. Perkins delivered his great lecture
before the faculties of Yale, Vassar, and Hai-vard Colleges — ever
heard anything about him. — Yale College Cowani.

" Very complimentary, Mr. Perkins," observed our
reporter enthusiastically. " Have you other criti-
cisms .''"

" Bushels of 'em, young man, wagon loads. Wr-. to
hear what the Christian Union says about Eli's great
lectur.?"

" You don't say the Christian Union compliments him
do you ?"

'* Sartenly. Let me show you," and Uncle Consider
put his finger on this paragraph and handed it to our
reporter :

We never, but once, experienced more real, genuine pleasure
than when this eloquent man, Mr. Perkins, closed his remarks.
That occasion was when we won the affections of a beautiful
young lady, and gained a mother-in-law — and then saw that
mother-in-law sweetly and serenely pass away.

"Beautiful criticisms! beautiful," exclaimed our re-
porter, grasping the old man by the hand.

" If you call that beautiful, young man, just hear
what Henry Ward Beecher says about Eli."

"Does Henry indorse him, too.^" asked our reporter.

" Indorse him ! I guess he does. Just listen now and
hear what Henry wrote to Wilkes' Spirit of the Times :

218

" Words cannot describe the impressive sight," ( ThaCs the way
Henry commences. Then he goes on.) How sublime to see Mr.
Perkins standing there perfectly erect, with one hand on his
broad, massive, thick skull, talking to the educated classes — to sec
the great orator declaiming, perfectly unmoved, while streams of
people got up and went out ! How grand a spectacle, as joke after
joke fell from the eloquent lips of this Cicero of orators, to watch
the enthusiastic crowds arising majestically like one man, and
waving their hands as they clamorously demanded their money back
at the box-office.

"And Henry wrote that, Mr. Perkins?"

"Sartinly; and just listen to what De Witt C. Tal-
mage says ! Listen "

"No; I hear enough! Let me go!" exclaimed our
reporter, and he fied back to the Journal office.

The reserved seat tickets to the great lecture read
as follows :

WK'\

ELI PERKINS" (AT LARGE):

HIS TALK ABOUT SARATOGA.

AND WHAT HIS COUSIN JULIA, UNCLE CONSIDER, AND HIS FRIENDS
THE EDITORS, DOCTORS AND LAWYERS SAID AND DID THERE.

"Mr. Perkins" distributes a $17.00 Chromo to all who remain
to the end of the Lecture.

Pa-* ties 0/ six who sit the Lecture out 'will be given
A HOUSE AND LOT.

Tickets admitting a Man and Wife (his own Wife) to Reserved
Seats, $1.00. Single Men admitted for 73 Cents.

ADMIT ONE.

PoTTSviLLE Opera House, fan. ^d.

t please don't
TURN over.

It was noticeable at the lecture in the evening that
many people came especially to get the chromes. One
party of six slept entirely through the lecture, awaking

310

( Thafs the way
blime to see Mr.
•ne hand on his
;d classes — to sec
while streams of
tacle, as joke after
f orators, to watch
ce one man, and
their money back

e Witt C. Tal-

exclaimed our
tal office.
at lecture read

,ARGE):

HIS FRIENDS
DID THERE.

1 who remain

f ie given

to Reserved
Cents.

PLEASE DON T
TURN OVER.

ELDER CLEVELAND.

e evening that
chromos. One
^cture, awaking

just in time to claim the house and lot. The house
and lot was a smoke house and a lot of ashes.

At eight o'clock the great orator
stepped upon the platform accom-
panied by Elder Cleveland, who
officiated on the Sabbath from the
same desk. The church was crowd-
ed. After the applause had some-
what subsided, Brother Cleveland
arose and said :
" Brothers and Sisters — I have the pleasure of intro-
ducing to you to-night Brother Perkins, from New York.
I am told that he is to deliver a humorous lecture, but
I wish you all to bear in mind that this is the house
of God."

As Elder Cleveland
finished, Mr. Perkins
stepped forward, pulled
off his audience, and,
bowing to his overcoat,
said :

I used to object to
being introduced to
strangers ; and for hun-
dreds and hundreds of
years, I never permit-
ted myself to be intro-
duced to anybody — till
I got well acquainted
with them. {Laughter) "^"^ ''^'"^^ns,

I suppose, my MelvUle D.Landon.

220

friends, that I ought to tell you how I came to deliver
this lecture. Well, it was this way : 1 was riding in
the cars the other day with an old Granger who lives
just over the Pennsylvania line in Ohio. As we rode
along, I looked out of the car window and whistled
one of my favorite tunes like this :

' Lfggrow. Pyna tot. (TDodgto. Laf try mtrt att

llau) cum U unu.

" Did you make up that tune V* inquired the
Granger.

" Yes, sir, ' 1 replied. I do that kind of thing all
the time. My name is Perkins. I'm "

"What! Eli Perkins.?"

"Yes, sir."

" The man who lectures .'*"

Yes, sir; I'm going to Marietta now.*'
Going to marry who.'*"
I mean I'm going to Mari — etta."
" Yes, I heard you say so. Nice girl — rich, I 'spect,
too, ain't she.''"

"No, sir; you don't understand me. I'm going to

lecture at Marietta. I'm "

" Then you really do lecture, do you V continued
the Granger.

" Why, of course I do."
" Been lecturing much in Ohio V*
"Yes — a good many nights."

"Well, now, Mr. Perkins," said the Granger, as he
dropped his voice to a confidential whisper, " why

221

don't you lecture over in Pennsylvania? We just
hate Pennsylvania, we do!"

The whole audience were now in tears, one above
the other, and continued so while Mr. Perkins spoke
for an hour as follows :

inquired the

♦

Glorious * Constitution *

forefathers * Bunker Hill *
* Gen. Washington * Stars and Stripes *

Beautiful woman — * libertv forever *
* * ♦ *

The great orator concluded his lecture by saying:
" The wealthy young ladies in this audience will now
have an opportunity of taking the lecturer by the
hand." No one in the vast audience moved toward
the speaker. But when he remarked, "The lecturer
will now be pleased to shake hands with all young
ladies under twenty years of age," there was a great
rush for the speaker's platform. For over an hour Mr.
Perkins shook hands with long rows of young ladies-
all under twenty years of age. Then putting his
hundred dollars in his pocket the great orator took
the train for Philadelphia.

SCARING A CONNECTICUT FARMER.

The Hon. Charles Backus, of the San Francisco
minstrels, was once censured by the Speaker of the
California Legislature for making fun of his brother
members. This broke poor Charley's heart, and he
joined a minstrel company, so's to be where no one
would grumble when he indulged in a little pleasantry.

The other day, Mr. Backus rode up through Stam-
ford, Conn., with Mr. Lem Read, the bosom friend of
the lamented minstrel, Dan Bryant. As the train
stopped before the Stamford station for water, Mr.
Backus saw a good old red-faced Connecticut farmer
sitting in the station reading the Brooklyn scandal.

" Do you want to see me get a good joke on that
old duffer, Lem .?" asked Mr. Backus, pointing to the
old farmer,

"Yes," said Lem; "le's see you."

"Well, you wait till jes* before the train starts, Lem,
and I'll show you fun — fun till you can't rest. Jes'
you wait," said Charley, laughing and pounding the
palm of his left hand with his ponderous right.

"All right, I'll wait," said Lem.

When the train came to a full stop, Mr. Backus
jumped off, telling his friend Lem to save his seat,
"for," said he, " as soon as the bell rings I want to
bound back on the train."

Then Mr. Backus rushed up to the innocent farmer,

222

\RMER.

an Francisco
)eaker of the
f his brother
leart, and he
vhere no one
tie pleasantry.
Ii rough Stam-
3om friend of
\s the train
r water, Mr.
cticut farmer
^n scandal,
joke on that
inting to the

1 starts, Lem,
I't rest. Jes'
mounding the
right.

Mr. Backus
ave his seat,
gs I want to

Dcent farmer,

2Z3

snatched the paper from his hands, stamped on it with
a tragic stamp, and shaking his clenched fist in the
poor man's face, exclaimed,

"O, you old rascal! I've found you 't last, you mis-
erable old scapegrace — now I'm goin' to lick the life
out of you — you contemptible old scoundrel, you —
you "

Diag-a-ding ! ding-a-dong ! ding-a-ding ! went the
bell, drowning Charley's voice, and the train began
moving out.

*'Yes, /'// lick you," said Charley. "I'll get an ox
whip and "

And then he jumped back from the astonished farmer
and got on the last car of the train moving out.

The old farmer was astonished. He stood up be-
wildered. His knees quaked and his German silver
glasses fell on the floor. Then gathering himself to-
gether, he picked up his newspaper and glasses and
started for the train.

"Whar's the man who wanted to lick me?" he shout-
ed. " Whar's the man who called me a scoundrel ?
Whar's "

"Here he is," said Charley from the rear platform,
as he held his thumb derisively to his nose amid the
laughter of the passengers. "Here I am, sir — I'm your
Roman — take me "

Just then the bell went ding-a-ding again, and what
do you think ? Why, the train backed back ! It
backed poor Charley right into the hands of the infu-
riated farmer, who took off his coat and went for that
poor fun-loving minstrel. Expressed by the types, if

I am compcUt'd to write it, he went for that poor min-
strel about thus :

St. noxSDVccc'KCL!

"You want to lick me, do you?" said the farmer,
jumping onto the platform, while Charley ran through

the car. " You miserable dandy ! You want to ''

And then he chased that poor minstrel through the
cars with his cane in the air, while his big fist came

down on his back like a trip-
hammer. " You've found
me, have you? Yes, I guess
you have !" said the old
farmer, as Charley left his
hat and one coat-sleeve in
his infuriated grasp. "Evi-
dently you have."
-I GUESS YOU HAVE louNUM^r ^^ Backus Said, as he

washed off the blood with Enoch Morgan's Sapolio,
and went in to interview a tailor in New Haven two
hours afterwards, •

"I guess the next time I want to make Lem Read
laugh I won't try to scare a Connecticut farmer. Oh
no! I'll get some pugilist to fan me with an Indian
club, or go and sleep under a pile driver. You hear
me !"

that poor min-

id the farmer,
;y ran through

, want to ''

el through the

i big fist came

ack like a trip-

ifou've found

* Yes, 1 guess

said the old

larley left his

coat-sleeve in

grasp. " Evi-

ve."

said, as he
gan's Sapolio,
w Haven two

ke Lem Read
farmer. Oh
ith an Indian
ler. You hear

ELI PERKINS AS A BALLOONATIC.

HIS TRIP IN THE TRANSATLANTIC DALLOON.

Mr. Perkins, having been invited while at Saratoga
to return to New York and take passage in the great
transatlantic balloon with the other journalists, replied
as follows to the proprietor of the newspaper, who also
owned the balloon :

Saratoga, yuly 4.

Gentlemen : I received your note this morning, in-
viting me to go up in the balloon. You say you desire
me to go as the representative of the Daily Bugle — to
be the official historian of the first great aerial voyage
across the Atlantic. You also say :

•' While your going, Mr. Perkins, might not contribute any great
principle to science, and while we have nothing against you person-
ally, still, your departure would gratify the American people, and
you would be enabled to carry out that beautiful theory of moral
philosophy — ' the greatest good to the greatest number.' "

I thank you, gentlemen, for your flattering invitation,
which I herein accept. I don't know what I have
done, or why you single me out and invite me to go
away, unless it is your desire to lift me up and improve
my condition. However, I will make positive arrange-
ments to go in your balloon any time after the 20th
of August. I have consulted with many of my friends
here, and they all advise me to go. Of course it makes
them feel sad, but they are glad to make the sacrifice

225

236

— glad to contribute the life of one they love so well
to the cause of science. My uncle Consider says the
sadness of my fixed departure would be somewhat alle-
viated if he could only be assured that I would never
return.

" Sunset " Cox says I have the proper specific levity
— that I am light-hearted and light-headed, and am
just the person to go — ^just the one to give earliest
news of sunsets, falling stars, and aurora-borealicusses
and other astronomical phenomena.

You ask me what I desire to take as luggage, offer-
ing me any space which I may desire. First of all, I
should like to take several Saratoga young ladies.
They like to take up a good deal of room, but I assure
you they are very light. They are anything but solid
young ladies. Then, as we drift into new celestial
worlds, it is well to display the judgment of Noah in
looking out for the species. I don't think Noah would
have taken Mr. Sumner or A. T. Stewart. Mr. Vander-
bilt or Mr. Saxe or General Nye would do far better.
I do object to Mr. Sam Cox, who has proved himself
of no particular value in establishing a new population.
In case the balloon is too heavy, the young ladies are
willing to be thrown out as ballast. It is thought that
they would float away very gracefully — as Virgil says :

** Sic itur ad astra."

Twelve young ladies here to-day, with Worth dresses,
Colgate's perfumery, and pearl powder, only weigh 98
pounds.

I should like also to take my horse and Brewster

y love so well
isider says the
somewhat alle-
I would never

specific levity
aded, and am
> give earliest
a-borealicusses

luggage, offer-
First of all, I
young ladies.
1, but I assure
bing but solid
new celestial
It of Noah in
Noah would
Mr. Vander-
do far better,
roved himself
w population,
ing ladies are
thought that
s Virgil says :

Vorth dresses,
nly weigh 98

md Brewster

dog-cart. We may land miles from any street cars
and out of the sight of any omnibus; besides, it will
be nicer to drive into town in style any way.

Here is a list of other luggage which I desire to take
either as baggage, ballast, or company, or to make n:to
gas:

Names, To be used for.

G. F. Train, .... for pure wind, . . .
Schuyler Colfax, . . .for hydrogen gas, . .
4 Congressional Globes, . for dead weight, . . ,

200 doz. champagne, . . for water, . . . .

$g,ooo for curiosity, . . .

12 cows for company, . . .

8 barrels water, ... for scrubbing floor.
Hair, paint, cotton, . . for young ladies,
19 carrier pigeons, . . for pigeon pie, . .
12 lbs. butter for greasing dogcart,

IVeight

190 lbs.

10 lbs.

479,628 tons.

41 lbs.

76 lbs.

3.983 lbs.

3J0lbs.

988,231 lbs.

41 lbs.

9 lbs.

Total,

$32,491

I should also like to take up a watch dog and double-
barreled shot-gun, to be used in case Mr. Wise and I
disagree about the meals served at table, or to prevent
my being called too early in the morning. My theory
to ascend about two miles, and then go straight across
to Buckingjham Palace, and put up with Mr. Bucking-
ham one night, and then go on to Canton. In case I
consider it dangerous or disagreeable to ride in the air,
I shall instruct Mr. Wise and the boys to strap the
balloon to the deck of a steamer, or lace it tight, if the
ladies did not object, to a train of cars. Borne along
at the rate of twenty miles an hour on a freight car, Mr.
Wise could have ample ci portunity to make his experi-
ments with air currents and toll-gates and things. I

really believe that the safest way to do is to all get
in the balloon, put it on a clipper ship, and let the wind
blow us anywhere except over large islands or con-
tinents.

If everything is satisfactory, and you will send me a
few thousand dollars to buy champagne and cigars and
breabtpins and a loaf or two of bread — an absolute ne-
cessity, you know, when you are going to travel — if you
will do all this, why, I'll take your money now, and say-
ing, " May heaven bless your great enterprise," put it in
my pocket, where you will always know where it is.
Yours warmly, Eli Perkins.

THE TRIP.

Notwithstanding the famous balloon burst, and
Wise and Donaldson got into a bitter personal quarrel,
the former withdrawing from the expedition, " Eli Per-
kins" continued to make the trip, sending back the
following carrier pigeon dispatches :

[To the Editor of the Daily Bugle ^

I send you this by the carrier-pigeon Ariel. The bal-
loon is sailing well. The collapse was a ruse. We
"busted" her last night to get the people out of the
yard. Then Mr. Donaldson and myself inflated hei
again with gas which we had with us, and sailed away
at eight p.m. According to the barometer we are now
suspended in mid-heavens ac 968 east latitude and 8
degrees ante-meridian. We passed San Domingo thirty-
seven miles east of the planet Vesuvius at eleven o'clock

o is to all get
id let the wind
islands or con-
will send me a
and cigars and
m absolute ne-
) travel — if you
yr now, and say-
)rise," put it in
where it is.
Eli Perkins.

)on burst, and
rsonal quarrel,
ion, " Eli Per-

iding back the

riel. The bal-
a ruse. We
pie out of the
If inflated hei
id sailed away
er we are now
latitude and 8
omingo thirty-
eleven o'clock

^39

M.D. this forenoon. I am navigating the balloon alone,
and Donaldson and Lunt are feasting on the pigeons
and shooting at each other with pistols. Wise sits in
the stern of the boat with a navy revolver, and Donald-
son sits in the bow with a shot-gun loaded to the muz-
zle with peas and billiard-balls. It is very amusing and
instructive. If I hadn't gone along to act as mediator
and navigator, I think science would have suffered.

This morning at three o'clock ana ninety-four min-
utes N.B., while we were sailing along over Cape Cod,
Mr. Wise came up to my room, rang the bell, and
wanted to know whose side I was on.

"On the side of science," sez I, "of course."

" No, no ! Mr. Perkins," he said in great agitation,
"I mean on which side are you in the great fight.?"
Then he cocked his gun.

I told him I wasn't on any side. I also stated to him
that I was a peace man — that I came in the balloon
purely for science.

"Then, Mr. Perkins," he said, looking at his gun,
" I propose to kill you. You and Donaldson are mu-
tineers. I will give you four minutes to join my side."

Then I joined his side, just to please him, and he
gave me two navy revolvers to defend ourselves against
Mr. Donaldson, who was turning hand-springs and
cart-wheels on the deck in the most threatening man-
ner.

A little later, and Mr. Donaldson pointed his shot-
gun at me and whispered in my ear. He said, "Mr.
Perkins, I will give you $ii if you will join my side."
I took the money and joined. Then we pointed our

inl'

;•' ! I

shot-guns and revolvers directly at Mr. Wise's legs,
and told him to keep quiet.

A little later— about nine s.c. — Mr. Wise offered me
$27 to abandon Mr. Donaldson and come over to
him. I took the money, and saying, "It is all for
science," I came over to him. Then we aimed our
revolvers at Donaldson.

So I've been going back and forth all night. I
have made large sums of money, and put it in the
rear end of my dog-cart, where I can drive off with
it as soon as we land. I suppose I have made $19,-
000 within the last hour in breaking up the balance
of power between the balloonatics.

It is very cold here. There is great coldness be-
tween Mr. Wise and Donaldson, and there is where I
am — between them. The theory that Mr. Wise ever
had a warm heart is completely exploded when you
see the icicles hanging on the end of his nose and on
his cold shoulder, which he keeps towards us.

We have now gone up to a great altitude, say 230
miles. We can easily see people on the moon. We
have discovered that the specks on the sun are made
of German silver. The milky way is only a dense
fog, with droves of mosquitoes that have got lost
from New Jersey. The light young ladies from Sara-
toga, whom we took in for ballast, have all been
thrown out. They astonished us by going on up
higher than the balloon. Several have sailed off
towards Mars — latitude east of New Jersey and longi-
tude 90 deg. Fahrenheit. I computed it.

At four o'clock m.d. we passed General Butler, Ho

r. Wise's legs,

ise offered me
:ome over to
"It is all for
we aimed our

all night. I
put it in the
drive off with
ve made $19,-
ip the balance

I coldness be-
^re is where 1
Mr. Wise ever
ed when you
nose and on
ds us.

tude, say 230
\Q moon. We
sun are made
only a dense
have got lost
es from Sara-
ave all been
going on up
^Q sailed off
ey and longi-

l Butler, Ho

331

found the easterly currant, and stole it and ate it up
before we arrived. He is now looking for prunes and
dates. About this time we met with an accident.
Our silverware disappeared. We are now roasting the
pigeons over a kerosene lamp and eating them with
our fingers. We have passed Australia and Harlem
and Peoria (111.). We may make a landing at New-
gate to see friends. Don't look for our return to-day.

SECOND CARRIER-PIGEON DESPATCH.

10 o'clock D.D.— She moves lovely. A heavy swell
just struck the balloon. We immediately threw him
overboard. Our chaplain has just struck for higher
wages. His wages are four miles high now, and still
he is not satisfied. He struck with his left hand.
He wants to organize a base-ball club. He is not a
proper man for a scientific expedition. We shall throw
him out,

THIRD DESPATCH. .

11 o'clock, F.R.s. — Have thrown the chaplain and
Wise out. They have done nothing but eat the
pigeons and drink the water which we brought up to
scrub the floor with. Our carriage horses are doing
well, and the twelve cows we brought up for company
are improving rapidly. Hay and oats are cheap, but
going up. This morning I called the police and had
Mr. Donaldson arrested for standing on his head on
the top of the balloon. He is now in irons. I'm
sorry for it, for he appears to take quite an interest
in our great scheme. I don't think Mr. Wise does.

232

He spends all his time wiping out his gun and hunt-
ing around for Mr. Donaldson.

FOURTH DESPATCH.

12 o'clock post-mortem. — England in sight. We
can tell it by the fog. We shall return in about a
week. Mr. Donaldson says he shall take this same gas
back to America and exchange it for Congressional
gas from the House of Reprehensibles., which he pro-
poses to put in a solid cast-iron balloon to be pro-
pelled by a canal-boat. This is one of Mr. Wise's
theories. It is growing very cold here. My hands are
frozen. Send me some money ($) by the pigeon.
Also, borrow a Testament from some of the daily
newspapers in New York, if they have one, and send
it along. We shall stop with Mr. Windsor, of Windsor's
Palace, to-morrow night — latitude west 128 Troy weight,
and longitude north from Pittsburgh, 4, 11, 44. The
Daily Bugle comes regularly. Adieu !

Warmly yours, Eli Perkins, Airiant.

gun and hunt-

in sight. We
urn in about a
e this same gas
: Congressional
which he pro-
oon to be pro-
of Mr. Wise's
My hands are
by the pigeon.
2 of the daily
one, and send
)r, of Windsor's
28 Troy weight,

II, 44.

The

ciNS, Airiant.

THE SHREWD MAN.

MR. STOUT.

Mr. Andrew V. Stout, the Pres-
ident of the Shoe and Leather Bank,
is a shrewd man — not, as Joey Bag-
stock would say, "a dev'lish sly
man," but a keen, shrewd financier
and business man.

A few mornings since, when Mr.
Stout was coming down in the
Broadway cars, he sat in such con-
fidential proximity to a sympathiz-
ing pickpocket that the latter was
tempted into the acceptance of Mr. Stout's pocket-
book, containing valuable papers and $150 in green-
backs. Then the pickpocket said good morning to
Mr. Stout, and left. On arriving at the bank, Mr.
Stout discovered his loss. He was astonished that he,
a shrewd old New Yorker, should have his pocket
picked.

"Pshaw!" he said to his secretary, "no man could
ever pick my Docket, I am too smart for that. No, sir.
I should just like to see any one pick my pocket, I
should!"

Then Mr. Stout's lip curled in contemptuous scorn
at the bare idea of such a silly improbability.

234:

But the pocket-book, .with the money and valuable
papers, was gone, and the next day Mr. Stout adver-
tised in the Herald. He said if the person who took
his pocket-book would return the papers, he would give
him the money and $25 besides.

The next morning he got a confidential note from a
party who said a friend of his had the pocket-book
all safe, and that he woi.^^ call at the bank the next
day to arrange the matter.

" I wonder if this man really will call ?" mused
the banker as he wiped his eye-glasses and cut oft
a basketful of coupons. " I wonder if he will be
such a darned fool as that? But then you can't ex-
pect common men to be as shrewd as bank presi-
dents."

But sure enough the next day the man was at his
post.

" Well, what about the pocket-book V asked Mr.
Stout.

" Oh, it's all safe, Mr. Stout, and if you'll just go
with me a few blocks I'll show you the party who has
your pocket-book, with all the memoranda too. It's all
safe, Mr. Stout. Come!"

The stranger had such an honest look that the
banker, who always prides himself on his knowledge of
men, " took stock in him " at once.

"All right, my good man, let me get some money
to pay you for your trouble, and I'll be with you,"
said Mr. Stout, looking at his four-hundred-dollar
watch.

In a few moments they started off together — Mr.

J and valuable
r. Stout adver-
rson who took
, he would give

al note from a
le pocket-book
bank the next

call ?" mused
is and cut oft
if he will be

you can't ex-
as bank presi-

lan was at his

?" asked Mr.

you'll just go
party who has
a too. It's all

ook that the
knowledge of

some money
3e with you,"
lundred-dollar

together — Mr.

'you just wait outside a
moment, mr. stout."

•^35

Stout and his honest friend, for a Centre Street restau-
rani, where the thief or finder was supposed to be.

" Now, you just wait outside
in the front room a moment,
Mr. Stout, and I'll go into the
back room and see the man
who has the money and valu-
able papers," said the good
man as he went into the back
room.

In a moment Mr. Stout's
friend returned with the mes-
sage that his friend wouldn't
give up the valuable papers
in the pocket-book for I25. " He wants ^50 now, sir."
" But I only advertised to give $25 for the papers,"
said Mr. Stout, with an eye to business. " This is an
extortion."

" Well," said the kindly-looking
stranger, " I'll go back and reason
with the gentleman, and try and get
the papers for $25." And he dis-
appeared in the back room again.
In a moment he returned, smil-
ing.

" Well, Mr. Stout," he said, " my
friend will take $25, but he wants
the money before he gives up the. pocket-book."

"All right," said Mr. Stout, blandly, "here is J25.
Take it to him, my good man, take it to him, and bring
back the papers — quick !"

HIS GENTLEMAN FRIEND.

^30

"One word, Mr. Stout," said the man, confidentially.
" this thing, you know, is to be strictly between our-
selves."

"Yes, yes; I've said it."

"And you will never ask any questions, tell anything,
or seek further knowledge, will you.'"

" No, never, 1 give you my word, as President of the
Shoe and Leather Bank, my good man, not to say any-
thing about it, not a single syllable — not even to my
wife."

" All right, then — mum is the word," said Mr. Stout's
friend, as he put his finger to his lips and passed into
the back room with the money.

Mr. Stout waited patiently for his return — waited five,
ten, fifteen minutes, but alas ! his friend never came
back, and the shrewd President returned to the bank,
a sad and a ruined man. He says his friend is wel-
come to the $25, but he told Daniel Drew that he
wouldn't have the story get into print or around among
his friends for $10,000.

"No, sir, it wouldn't be fair, Daniel, would it.?" said
Mr. Stout, " when I promised — solemnly promised the
man when I gave him the $25 never to mention the
matter — not even to my wife."

n, confidentially.
ly between our-

is, tell anything,

President of the

not to say any-

not even to my

said Mr. Stout's
and passed into

irn — waited five,
2nd never came
id to the bank,
s friend is wel-
Drew that he
around among

would it?" said
y promised the
to mention the

LOST CHILDREN IN NEW YORK.

"Lost child!"

That used lo be

the cry along the

street, but now,

though there are a

dozen children lost

every day in New

York, the thing is so

systematized that it

is impossible for a

child to be lost for

any length of time.

The only thing is

to know what to do

to find it, and if you

read three minutes

longer, you will

know all about it.

"How can we find a lost child.?"

The first thing you must do after the child is lost

is to go to the Police Headquarters on Mulberry

street, near Houston. Away up in the fifth story of

that marble-front building are three rooms labeled

"lost children's department."
This Lost Child's Department was established in 1864.

237

LOST IN THE PARK.

'Z'6^

Here you will see a dozen cozy cribs, cradles, ;ui(i
beds for the little lost children and foundlings of tlu;
city. Yes, and sometimes for old men and women, loo,
lost in their second childhood.

At the head of this department you will see tin-
middle-aged matron, Mrs. Ewing — a bright, systematic
American woman.

"How do the lost children get here?"
First they are picked up by kind-hearted policemen
and taken to their respective station-houses. There
they are kept until seven p.m. Then the Sergeant of
Police sends them with a ticket to Mrs. Ewing, at
Police Headquarters.

"What does Mrs. Ewing do with them?"
She first enters the child's name on the book, gives
it a number, then writes its sex, age, color, by whom
found, where found, precinct sent from, and time re-
ceived. Then, after the child is gone, she writes after
its name how long it stayed, and what became of it.
"What becomes of the children sent here?"
Every effort is made to find out where the child
lives, who its parents are, the father's profession, etc. ;
and if, at the end of three days, nothing is heard from
its parents or friends, it is sent to George Kellock,
No. 66 Third avenue, Superintendent of the " Out-
Door Poor" for the Department of Public Charities
and Correction.
"What then?"

Here, in the Charity and Correction building, are
some nice rooms kept by a good woman by the nanic
of Tumey, and the children are cared for till the old

O'M,

ibs, cradles, and

"oundlings of the

and women, too,

'Oil will sec till'
Tight, systematic

carted policemen

-houses. There

the Sergeant of

Mrs. Ewing, at

em?"

I the book, gives
color, by whom

m, and time re-
she writes after
became of it.
here.?"

vhere the child
profession, etc. ;

ig is heard from

jeorge Kellock,

of the "Out-

ublic Charities

>n building, are

m by the nanic

for till the old

nurse named " Charity " takes them in a carriage to the
foot of Twenty-sixth street and tlie East River, and
accompanies them on the boat to the Foundling
Hospital on Randall's Island, where they stay at school
till they are claimed, bound out, or become old enough
to support themselves.

We have now followed the lost child from the time
when first lost, through the local station-house, police
headquarters, Mr. Kellock's office, and to Randall's
Island.

LOST 11 A r. IKS.

Now we will return to the Police Head(iuarters and
hear what Mrs. Ewing says about the babies.

" How many children are lost per month.''" 1 asked
of the matron.

" I had eight yesterday. From 400 to 500 pass
through our hands every month in summer, but in
winter not so many. Then, sometimes, we have old
people too."

" Do you have many old people .»*"

"No, only a few. Yesterday the police brought in
a nice old lady with white hair, who seemed to be all
in confusion. The sight of the police had frightened
her," continued the matron, "but as soon as I got her
in here, I gave her a nice cup of tea, and commenced
to find out where she lived.

" *Who do you live with, grandma?' I asked, for she
was eighty years old.

" She said she lived No. 700, but she didn't know
the street. Then pretty soon she seemed to gain con-

•^40

fiM

fidence in ir.e, and she took out a big roll of bank
bills and a Third Avenue Savings Bank book.

"'See,' said the old lady, confidentially, 'I went to
get tliis and 1 got confused when I came out. I live
on the same street with the bank.'

"And sure enough," said the matron, "when we
looked in the directory there we found her daughter's
residence. No. 700 Third avenue. When the police
took the old lady home the daughter was half crazy
for fear her mother had been robbed."

" Do you have a good deal of trouble in finding
out the residences of children.?"

" Not very often. But sometimes the children stray
across the ferries from Jersey City and Brooklyn; and
then there are so many streets in Brooklyn and Jersey
named after our streets that we are sorely puzzled.

" The other day, to illustrate, a pretty little German
girl was picked up down towards Fulton street. The
only thing she knew was that she lived corner of
Warren and Broadway., so the police brought her up
here. I sent her the next day to the corner of War-
ren and Broadway, but there were nothing but ware-
houses there, so we were very much puzzled. When
the little girl came back I thought her heart would
break. The tears rolled down her cheeks, and her
face was hot with fever. O, it was roasting hot! 1
was afraid she would be sick. So I said :

" * Sissy, don't cry any more — lie down, and when
you wake up your papa will be here.'

"'Ch, will he come, sure, will he?' sobbed the little

girl

5 roll of bank
: book.

ly, ' I went to
le out. I live

m, " when we
her daughter's
len the police
vas half crazy

ble in finding

children stray
Brooklyn; and
lyn and Jersey
ely puzzled,
little German
1 street. The
vc'i corner of
•ought her up
orner of War-
ing but ware-
zzled. When
: heart would
3eks, and her
isting hot ! I
I:
•n, and when

jed the little

241

(( {

Yes, my child, ' I said, and then I put her in the
crib. She had a paper of peanuts and seventy cents
in her pocket, which she said her mother gave her.
These I put before her on a chair, and the little thing
soon tell asleep.

"About two o'clock in the
morning," continued the ma-
tron, " somebody knocked at
the door. I got up and struck
a light, and as I opened it a
man asked —

*' ' Have you got a little lost
girl here.?*

"'Yes, weVe got three little
girls here to-night,* I said.

" ' But have you got a little
with long golden hair, dressed
in a little red hood nnd a plaid
shawl .'' '

" ' Yes, just such a one. Come
in and see her.'
" Then," continued the matron, " I called all the
children up, and he came in. The light shone on the
little girl's face, as she stood there waiting. In a sec-
ond the father had her in his arms.

" ' How did you get over here, baby ?* he cried, as

he held his rough beard against her face. But the

little child only ^obbed and clung to him all the more."

"What was tne child's mistake about the street.?" I

asked.

" Well, she lived corner of Broadway and Walton

"a light shone on the little
girl's face."

■~^

242

street, Brooklyn, and she spoke Walton as if it were
Warren."

A QUEER CASE.

A while ago a little boy, three and a half years old,
living in Passaic Village, New Jersey, strayed away
from home. He wandered to the railroad, and when
he saw a car stop he thought it would be a nice thing
to take a ride. So he climbed up the steps, got into
the car, and rode to Jersey City. When the car stopped
he wandered on to the ferry-boat with the surging
'^rowd of passengers, and was soon at the foot of
Courtlandt street, in the great City of New York.
Here he. played around a little while in high glee. 'By
and by, as night came on, he began to be hungry and
to cry for his father and mother. So a kind-hear-;ed
policeman picked him up, took him to the station-house,
and the sergeant sent hini to Mrs. Ewing's, at Police
Head-quarters.

As soon as little Johnny was missed at home in
Passaic, the search commenced. Dinner came, and no
Johnny — then supper passed, and the father and mother
began to be frantic. They searched everywhere for
two days and two nights. The big foundry at Passaic
was stopped, and oue hundred workmen scoured the
country. Then, as a last resort, his heart-broken fa-
ther came to New York. After putting an advertise-
ment in the Herald^ he thought he would go to Police
Headquarters.

Johnny was such a bright little boy that the matron
had taken him out with her shopping on Broadway,

n. as if it were

half years old,

, strayed away

oad, and when

be a nice thing

steps, got into

the car stopped

Lth the surging

at the foot of

of New York.

1 high glee. -By

be hungry and

a kind-hear*:ed

le station-house,

dng's, at Police

:d at home in
r came, and no

her and mother
everywhere for
indry at Passaic
en scoured the

eart-broken fa-
g an advjrtise-

d go to Police

hat the matron
on Broadway,

when the father came, so he sat down till her return,
to question her about lost children.

Judge of his astonishment and joy, after fifteen min-
utes' waiting, when Johnny came flat upon him with the
matron.

"Why, my little boy!" cried the father, "how did
you get here ?" But Johnny was too full of joy to
reply, and when his father went off to the telegraph
office to tell the glad news to his mother, he cried
till his father took him along too, and he wouldn't let
go his father's hand till he got clear back to Passaic,
for fear he would be lost again.

I'.iCH CHILDREN.

"Do you ever have any rich people's children here?"
I asked the matron. .

" Yes, frequently. They get lost, shopping with their
mothers on Broadway, and the Broadway Police have
orders not to take the lost children whom they find
to the station house, but to bring them directly here.
And here their fathers and mothers frequently come
after them."

"What other children get cared for here.?" I asked.

"Well, the little Italian harp boys frequently come
here with the police to stay over night, but after they
get a nice warm breakfast, they suddenly remember
where they live, and we let them go. They are very
cute, they are!"

WHAT I SAW.

Yesterday I met in the great, seething Broadway

244

crowd three little lost children. Thf'y were struggling
in the ceaseless ebb and flow of humanity on the corner
of Fourteenth street, just by the statue of Lincoln.
The youngest was a baby in arms, the next was a little
girl prattler of three years, and the eldest, a boy, was,
I should say, five. The little boy held the little baby
tightly, and sobbed as if his swelling heart would break,
while the little girl only looked very sad, without cry-
ing. She wasn't old enough to know that she was
lost. I was so much interested that I watched them
for some minutes to see what they would do, but the
more they walked the more they got lost. Pretty soon
they sat down on the curbstone, and the little girl laid
her head in the little boy's lap, while he continued to
sob. Now quite a crowd collected around them, ask-
ing them all sorts of questions, which they could not
answer. They could not even tell where they lived —
not even the street. In a few moments a policeman
came along and tried to find out where the little things
lived, but the more he questioned them the more
frightened they got.

"Shall I take you to your mother, Johnny.?" asked
the policeman, patting the little boy on the check ; but
Johnny kept on saying as he had said for the last half
nour, " O, I want my ma !"

"Well, Johnny," said the policeman, "come with
me and we will find ma. We'll go and see her."

So Johnny took hold of one of the policeman's hands
and his little sister the other, while he carried the
baby in his arms and they all went off down Broad-
way to the lost child department to find their mother.

245

;re struggling
on the corner
: of Lincoln,
xt was a little
t, a boy, was,
le little baby
would break,
, without cry-
that she was
vatched them
i do, but the
Pretty soon
little girl laid
continued to
nd them, ask-
ley could not
they lived —
a policeman
e little things
m the more

mny?" asked
e check; but
the last half

" come with

see her."

eman's hands

carried the

down Broad-

their mother.

Cut alas ! they did not find her.

After the theater, being down
town, I thought I would run in
and see Mrs. Ewing and the
children. The kind matron had
five lost children asleep in her
cradles and cribs.

"What has become of the
little boy and girl.?" I asked.
" Here they are," she said,
"by the fire waiting patiently."
And there they were. Johnny
had the little baby asleep in his
arms, and his little sister was
looking on and trying to advise
him what to do. They were
tending the baby like a little
father and mother.

I suppose their parents have
been to get them before this
time, but it is a queer thing that
there are so many people who
have never heard of the "Lost Children's Department,"
and when they lose their children they do not know
where to go to find them. Remember this, parents :
Whenever your child is lost, go straight to your own
police station, and if the child is not there, go to Mrs.
Ewing's rooms at Police Headquarters, on Mulberry
street.

JOHNNY AND THE BABY.

THE ABSENT-MINDED MAN.

George Harding, Esq., the distinguished Philadel-
phia patent lavyer, and a brother of William Harding,
the accomplished editor of the Philadelphia Inquirer^
is remarkable for a retentive memory.

On Saturday, Mr. Harding rode down to Wall street
in a Broadway omnibus. At the Domestic Sevving-
Machine building a beautiful young lady got in and
handed fifty cents to the distinguished attorney, re-
questing him to please hand it to the driver.

"With pleasure," said Mr. Harding, at the same time
passing the fifty cents up through the hole to the
stage-man.

The driver made the change, and handed forty cents
back to Mr. Harding, who quietly put it away into his
vest pocket, and went on reading a mowing-machine
brief.

Then all was silence.

The young lady began to look nervously at Mr.
Harding for her change. " Can it be possible that this
is one of those polite confidence men we read of in
books .'*" she thought to herself.

Then she looked up timidly and asked Mr. Harding
something about the Brooklyn Ferry.

" Oh, the boats run very regular — every three min-
utes," replied the interrupted lawyer, trying to smile.
Then he went on reading his brief.

ISi6

ed Philadel-
im Harding,
lia Inquirer^

) Wall street
stic Sewing-
got in and
attorney, re-
v^er.

le same time
hole to the

d forty cents
way into his
ring-machine

usly at Mr.

ible that this

read of in

Mr. Harding

^ three min-
ng to smile.

247

"Do the boats run from Wall street to Astoria?"
continued the young lady.

" I don't know, madame," replied Mr. H., petu-
lantly ; " I'm not a resident of New York : I'm a
Philadelphian."

"Ah ! yes " — (then a silence).

Mr. Harding again buried himself in his brief, while
the young lady ahemQd and asked him what the fare
was in the New York stages.

"Why, ten cents, madame — ten cents."

" But I gave you fifty cents to give to the driver,"
interrupted the young lady, "and "

"Didn't he return your change.? Is it possible.?
Here, driver !" the lawyer continued, dropping the brief
and pulling the strap violently, "why the dickens don't
you give the lady her — forty cents, sir, forty cents.?"

" I did give her the change. I gave forty cents to
you, and you put it in your own pocket," shouted
back the driver.

" To me ?" said Mr. Harding, feeling in his vest
pocket, from which his fingers brought out four ten-
cent notes. " Gracious goodness, madame ! I beg ten

thousand pardons ; but — but "

" Oh, never mind," said the lady, eye-
ing him suspiciously ; " you know a lady
in a wicked city like New York has to
look out for herself. It's no matter —
it wasn't the forty cents; but before I
left home mother cautioned me against
-OH, NEVER mind!" p^j'^g coufidence men, who look so

good outside, but "

248

" Goodness gracious ! my dear woman ?" exclaimed
Mr. Harding, while all the passengers eyed him with
suspicion. " I assure you "

But the stage stopped then, and the young lady,
holding fast to her port-w<?;/rv, got out and fled into
the Custom House, while Mr. Harding went on filling
up in this form :

" Goodness gracious ! Did you ever ? O Lord !
what shall I do?" etc.

The distinguished lawyer got so excited about the
affair that he went back to Philadelphia next morning
— a ruined man. He even forgot to tike a $10,000
fee which Ketchum was to pay him in a mowing-ma-
chine case. He says he'd rather pay Jio,ooo than to
let the Philadelphia fellows get hold of the story, for
fear they would be asking him what he wanted to do
with that poor woman's forty cents.

I !** exclaimed
yed him with

young lady,
md fled into
ent on filling

? O Lord !

ed about the
next morning
ke a $10,000
L mowing-ma-
0,000 than to
the story, for
wanted to do

TWO HUNDRED MILLIONS OF DOLLARS!

Two hundred what !

Two hundred millions of dollars ; and that is just the
amount of money and credits which the twelve great
business houses following this page represent.

Twelve such solid, substantial, and time-worn business
establishments were never before collected together in
America. Each house is acknowledged by general con-
sent to be the leading house in its line in this country ;
their cards are not placed in this book for any personal
gain, but they are placed here that posterity mrr" know
about the richest and most respectable business houses
which have honored the present century. It is a mat-
ter of pure benevolence.

For example : — The house of Chickering & Sons
is placed in this book because it has made and sold
47,000 of the best pianos produced during the century;

Brewster & Co. of Broome street, because everybody
from London to San Francisco has ridden or dreamed
of riding in one of their carriages ;

Herring & Co., because their safes in Europe and
America are known to be the strongest and the most
thoroughly fire and burglar proof;

Tiffany & Co., because their great house makes the
fLishions in jewelry for the continent, and because they
sell more diamonds, and bronzes, and silver, and precious
stones than all the jewellers in the United States;

Dunlap & Co., because their immense factory has
placed their hats on every gentleman's head from Sara-
toga to New Orleans ;

Otis Brothers & Co., because their passenger elevators
have no competition for absolute safety and beauty, and
because they are universally adopted ;

i> I

The Fifth Avenue Hotel, because it has been for
twenty-five years the largest, most elegant, and most aris-
tocratic hotel in the great Empire City ;

The Domestic Sewing-Machine Company, because they
sell the lightest running machine, and more of them, than
any other sewing-machine company in this country ;

The Mutual Life Insurance Company, because it is the
oldest, and because its $72,000,000 in money and credits
make it the solidest, insurance company in the world ;
• John Foley's gold pens, because one of them wrote
this book, and because they are used by everybody ;

Caswell, Hazard & Co., because for one hundred years
— almost four generations — their house has been the
leading drug house in America ;

The Hanover Fire Insurance Company, because it is
the most venerable institution of its class, in New York ;

Brooks Brothers, because for half-a-century they have
maintained the largest clothing house in the country ;

The John Russell Cutlery Company, because their
Green River Cutlery Works cover more ground and turn
out more and better cutlery than any other establishment
in the world, Sheffield not excepted ;

Heiter & Gans, because their umbrella manufactory is
the largest in the world, and because they have just paid
^200,000 for their new automatic umbrella patent, which
every future umbrella must have ;

The Grand Union Hotel, Saratoga, because James* H.
Breslin keeps it, and because A. T. Stewart, with his
$60,000,000, has made it the costliest and grandest
watering place hotel in the whole world; and

Enoch Morgan's Sons, because John Morgan's Sapolio
has become a household word and a household necessity
from Rome to the Rocky Mountains, wherever the
English or any other civilized language is spoken.

has been for
ind most aris-

, because they
of them, than
country;
cause it is the
ly and credits
the world ;
f them wrote
erybody ;
lundred years
las been the

, because it is
n New York ;
ury they have
e country ;
because their
lund and turn
establishment

lanufactory is
lave just paid
patent, which

use James* H,
k^art, with his
md grandest
fid

•gan's Sapolio
lold necessity
kvherever the
poken.

CHICKERING & SONS'

GRAND, SQUARE and UPRIGHT

PIANO-FORTES

T'Ae StcuhdcLT'd ^J?Lctnos of iJie World.

And accorded the highest honors by Lizst, Thalberg,
Dr. Meyer, Gottschalk, Jaell, Halle, Reinecke,
RiTTER, and more than loo other of the world's great
artists. They say the ChickeHng Piano is superior
to all others*

Over 47,000 Made and Sold.

(Pianos sold 0:1 easy Tizojifhly payments y
iind at regidar oatalcgito vrices.

Catalogues and price lists mailed free, on applica-
tion to

CHICKERING & SONS,

11 East 14tli Street, New York.

.'1

■T'M

""^'^hm

•c

III nip

•I

P
^

Established 1841,

CHAMPION SAFES.

jfV'tcci i/i over 1,000 Fires and " rroved
Triistworthi/,"

Bank Vaults and Safes,

CABINET SAFES FOR DWELLINGS,

MANUFACTURED 15Y

HERRING & CO.,

251 o-^ 252 Broadway^ New York.
56 6^ 60 Sudbury Street, Boston.

174 Fifth Avenue, 589 Broadway,

Wholesale Jjepartment, 132 Mercer St,,
NKV^ YORK,

HATTERS.

English Hats a specialty. Latest

CH. mELTON,
Agents for^CHRIi^iTY &_CO.

styles always on
' Iioudon.

hand.

Clii"NCO£N, BENSfETT & CO.,

Sole Agents in the United States for Martin's Celebrated London Umbrellas.

Our Celebrated New York Hats

Can be obtained of our Authorized Agents in the Principal Cities, as follows :

ALBANY,

Geo. B. Latham.
Atlanta, Ga.,

[iGW. H. Clarke.
Augusta, Ga.,

C. K. Dodd & Co.
Baltimore,

R. Q. Taylor.
Bloominqton, III.,

Dewenter & Kreitzer.

BOSTON',

Jackson & Co.

BUB'PALO,

Wm. Wippert.
Burlington, Vt.,

B. Turk & Bro.
Charleston, S.C,

J. R. Johnson.
CliiCAGO.

James P. Brewster.
Cincinnati,

A.E.Burkhardt & Co.
Cleveland,

K. Stair & Co.
Dayton. O.,

AulabauRh Bros.
Dktroit,

Walter Buhl & Co.

E ASTON, PA.,

A. T. Drinkhouse.
Elmira,

Stuart & Ufford.

EVAXSVXLLE, IND.,

J. H. Dannettell.
FoHT Wayne, Ind.,

Singer <& Pyke.
Grand Rapids,

H. D Wood & Co.
vtartford, Conn.,

.Jau:?8 Daniel B.
Habrisburg,

J as. Clarke.

Indianapolis,
Ed. Hasson & Co.

Lexington, Ky.,
J. B. Richardson.

Louisville.
G. C. Dubois.

Milwaukee,

F. R. Pantke & Co.
Madison, Wis.,

M. 8. Rowley & Co.
Minneapolis, Minn.,

Fuller & Simpson.
Newark, o.,

O. G. Kinp.
Newark, N.J.,

C. H. Whitney.
New Bedford, Mass.,

C. M. naskell.
Newburgh, N. Y.,

W. J. Whited.
New haven. Conn.,

Brooks & Co.

Crof ut & Co.
New Orleans, La.,

Henri Brisbi.
Newport, R.I.,

J. H. Cozzens& Co.
Omaha, Neb..

C. H. Frederick.
Oswego, N.Y.,

Buokliout & Barnes.
Paris. Kv.,

G. R.Bell.
Peoria, III..

G. W. 11. Gilbert.
Philadelphia.
W. H. Oakford.

PlTTSBI^RGH.

FleminK & OKlevee.

PiTTSFlKLD, MAS.S..

E.G. Judd.

PLi4TT8BURGH, N.Y.,

B. Hathaway & Son.
Pouqhkeeksie. N.Y.,

E. Van Kleek.
Providence,

Elsbree & Valleau.
Richmond, Va.,

O. M. Marshall.
Rochester,

Marion & Clark.
Saratoga,

A. R. Barret.
Savannah,

R. B. Hilyard.
Springfield, Mass.,

Sanderson & Son.
St. Louis. Mo..

Lewis & Groshen.
St. Paul,

R.A. Lanpher & Co.
Springfield, III.

C. Wolf & Oo.
Syracuse,

Wm. P. Sabey & Co.
Toledo, O..

M. L. Paddock;
Troy,

B.W. Boughton & Co.
Utica,

Geo. Westcott & Co.
Warren, O.,

Adams & Co.
■Washington, D.C.,

Wlllett& Ruoff.
Watertown. N. Y.,

McKay & Gennet.

WILKES3ARRE, PA.,

G. \j. Palmer.
Worcester, Mass.,
Day & Hartwell.

9 Broadway,

^ercer St,,

always on hand.
> London.

London Umbrellas.

ork Hats

al Cities, as follows :

ATT8BURGH, N.Y.,
3. Hutbaway & Son,
LTQHKEBKSIE. N.Y.,
1. Van Kleek.

OVIDENCE,

Uabree & Valleau.

DHMONB, VA.,

'. M. Marshall.
CHESTEU,

[arion & Clark.

riATOGA,
.. R. Barret.
VANNAU,
,. B. Hilyard.
ilNGPIELD, MASS.,

linderson & Son.

li )UIS. Mo..
ewis & Groshen.

Paul,

'.A. Lanpher & Co.
iiNGFiELD, III..
. Wolf & Oo.

llACrSE,

Tm. P. Sabey & Co.

r.EDO, O..

[, L. Paddock;

[)Y,

.W. Houghton & Co.

[CA,

eo. Westcott & Co.

lKREN, O.,

dams & Co.

SHINGTON, D.C.,

^illett& Ruoff.

TEKTOWN. N. Y.,

oKay & Gennet.

LKES3ABUE, PA.,
. L. Palmer.

KCESTEll, MASS.,

iiy & Uartwell.

^"TIQ PASSENGER

w I 19 freTght
ELEVATORS

FOR HOTELS, OFFICE BUILDINGS, STORES, WARE-

HOUSES, FACTORIES, MINES, BLAST

FURNACES, &c.

Rapid, Smooth and Noiseless in movement; fuel
and maintenance reduced to a minimum, and provided
with

SAFETY APPLIANCES

Preventing Accidents of all kinds.

The following are a few of the buildings fitted with our
PASSENGER ELEVATORS:

WESTERN UNION TELEGRAPH CO. . . New York.

ST. NICHOLAS HOTEL

DREXEL BUILDING

EVENING EXPRESS BUILDING ....

MASONIC TEMPLE

GRAND UNION HOTEL .... Saratoga Springs, N. Y.

BARNUM'S CITY HOTEL Baltimore.

ST. CHARLES HOTEL New Orleans.

MAXWELL HOUSE Nashville.

GALT HOUSE Louisville.

FIELD, LEITER & CO., new store .... Chicago.

PALMER HOUSE

TRIBUNE BUILDING

MO. REPUBLICAN BUILDING St* Louis.

ST. LOUIS MUTUAL LIFE BUILDING. .
OCCIDENTAL HOTEl San Francisco.

OTIS BROTHERS & CO.,

SOLE MANUFACTURERS,

348 Broadway, New York.

... . J ,i :'!ii I;

i' iiii 'I' .

i!;ll

1 I,

'iliiiiiiii ;:":

: liii'iii

. '"'I'! l!

i'liii

Ji::;iii:'iil!iiii!iliiiiiii;;iii.i;iiiiiii!!!l,il

liiiiiiiiii

mmm

liiiii!

ill

f^P::,

' mil! I!i'!

'ii.i

tii

WMm

liiil!!!;'

ii 'III-

GOOD NOVELS!

P ^

ft;

WE AND OUR NEIGHBORS: "r, r/tr 7;mmf.s o/ au Unfmh.
ionahle Street. A Seciuel to My Wife mul I. By Harriet Bec-her
!5towe. Illustrated. 12mo. Fancy Stumped Cloth. $1.15.

" It is one of the best of Mrs. Stowe's novels ; and Mrs. Stowe is
incapable of writing a poor one."— -St. Louis Globe.

" The story is in the author's best and liveliest vein, and never flag's

even for a moment The illustrations will bear a much

closer examination than the average engravings of the period."—
Detroit Free Press.

MYWIFE AND I: or, Hm^^y Henderson's History. A Novel. By
Harriet Beecher Stowe. 12mo. Illustrated. $1.75.
" Always bright, piquant, and entertaining, with an occasional touch
of tenderness, strong because subtle, keen in sarcasm, full of
womanly logic directed against unwomanly tendencies.'*— Ziosto/i
Journal,

THE ABBE TIGRANE : Candidate for the Papcd Chair. From
the French of Ferdinand Fabre. Translated by Rev. Leonard
Woolsey Bacon. 12mo. Gilt and Ink-stamped Cloth. $1.50.
A brilliant picture of life— interesting from beginning to end. It is a

French novel without immorality ; a tale of intrigue without women ;

and altogetlier an original, piquant and readable story.

NORWOOD ; or, Villoiie Life in New England. A Novel. By Henry
Waud Beecher. Illustrated by AumED Fiiedericks. 12mo.
Price, $2.00.
" Embodies more of the high art of fiction than any half dozen of the
best novels of the best authors of the day."— Albany Evcninu Journal.

TOXHETT "El A Tale of Transition. By Henry Churton. 12mo. 516
pp. $1.50.

"A picturesque, vivid, passionate story Calculated to

entertain and deeply impress. The avei'age novel reader will bo
delighted, and there is chat in it which will attract the most cultivated
and fastidious.'— Cinctuuatt Tini's.

THE CIROUIT RIDER ; A Tale of the Heroic Age. By Edward
Eggleston. 13mo. Illustrated. $1.75.

" The breezy freshness o# the Western prairie, blended with the re-
finements of literary culture. It is alive with the sound of rushing
streams and the echoes of the forest, but shows a certain graceful
self-nossession which betrays the presence of the artist's powei."—
N. Y. Tribune.

BRAVE HEARTS. A Novel. By Roberston Gray (R. W. Ray-
mond). 12mo. Illustrated. $1.75.

"Its pictures of the strange life of those early California days are
simply admirable, quite as good as anything Bret Harte has written."—
LiterariiWarUl.

A GOOD MATCH. A Novel. By Amelia Perrier. 1 vol. 12mo.
Cloth. $1.50.

" A very readable love story, ten- 1 " The characters appear and act
derly lo\d."— Hearth ami Home. I with a real lite."— Providence Press.

iW To be had of all Booksellers, or will be sent to any
address post-paid, on receipt of the price by

J. B. FORD & COMPANY, Publishers,

27 rark Flace, Netv York.

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DOMESTIC" BUILDING.

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THE

Light Running ''Domestic"

SEWING MACHINE.

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THE MUTUAL LIFE INSURANCE

140 to 146 BROADWAY.

F. S. AVIIsTSTC^lsr. President.

BROOKS BROTHERS

CLOTHING HOUSE,

Broadway, Corner of Bond Street,
NEW YORK.

o >-

>-,

C3
O

. 00

HERS

ESTABLISHED 1870.

USE,

Street,

-^w-

Caswell, Hazard & Co.,

C/tamLsLs culcL 9)miggLstSj

NEW YORK and NEWPORT, R.I.,

DEALERS IN THE

Ittr^st ^xn%^ i '^mt^i €\mimh.

MANUFACTURERS OF

PURE, SWEET COD- LIVER OIL.
FERRO-PHOSPHORATED ELIXIR OF CALISAYA BARK

AND ALL OTHER ELIXIRS.

Cologne and Toi let Waters.

Toilet No. 6, Verbena, Lavender, Rose, Geranium.
SACHET POWDERS.

SURGICAL INSTRUMENTS.

Importn^s mttr lUtiiil gcakrs

IN THE

CHOICEST FOREIGN PERFUMES, HANDKERCHIEF EXTRACTS, &c.
Including '■''Hendrie's'' celebrated Extracts from London.

HANOVER

Fire Insurance Con<pany

OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK.

1 20 Broadway, cor. Cedar St.

Cash Assets (Jan. i, 1875) - - $1^426f0f'$4.8^^.

BENJAMIN S. WALCOTT, President.
I. REMSEN LANE, Sec'y. THOMAS JAMES, Actuary.

C. L. ROE, Ass't Sec'y.

)iT<panv

•KK.

•AR St.

resident.
JAMES, Actuary.

AUTOMATIC.

Heiter & Gans,

349 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.

MANUFACTURERS OF THB

Self-Operating Automatic Umbrella.

The Automatic Umbrella prevents sore thumbs,
pinched fingers or ruined gloves.

This new patent, the only real improvement in
umbrellas for years, protects the umbrella spring and
keeps it constantly in order.

— ASK —

for the AUTOMATIC.

FOR SALE EVER Y WHERE,
Patented in England, France, Canada, and the

United States.

^Ull

'^ o .1

RK.

Jmbrella.

sore thumbs,

:)rovement in
Ua spring and

TIC.

RE.

da, and the