EL! PERKINS UC-NRLF WITH MULTIFORM ILLUSTRATIONS LARGE) \ BY UNCLE CONSIDER LIBRARY U N i V E i Y OF CALIFORNIA SAN 'A CRUZ UNCLE CONSIDER'S ADVICE. "Don't you never blow a mads branes out to git his money, Eli ; but you jes' sly aroun* an' blow his money out, an' so git his branes." ELI PERKINS (AT LARGE}-. HIS SAYINGS AND DOINGS. BY MELVILLE DLANDON WITH MULTIFORM ILLUSTRATIONS BY UNCLE CONSIDER, After models by those designing young men, Nast, Darley, Fredericks, Ey tinge, White, Stephens ', and otJiers* NEW YORK: J. B. FORD & COMPANY. 1875- Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by MELVILLE D. LANDON, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. TS E6- PREFACE. THE 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 iv PREFACE. 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. P.S. Dear Reader : Let me impress upon your mind the fact that the pictures in this book are 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. E. P. CONTENTS. PAGE UNCLE CONSIDER, ON TEMPERANCE, . . 9 SOLITAIRE DIAMONDS, 13 ELI PERKINS IN HOT WATER, 16 ELI ON FIRE-PROOF HOUSES, 20 DREADFUL PROFANITY, 23 ELI PERKINS'S PEN PICTURES, 24 A FIFTH AVENUE EPISODE, 28 A LONESOME MAN, 30 ABOUT CHILDREN, 34 SERVANTGALISM, 38 UPPERTENDOM, .40 LETTER FROM ANT CHARITY, 45 THE LITERARY GIRL, .51 UNCLE CONSIDER AS A CRUSADER, 55 ELI IN LOVE, . ...,.,.. 58 BROWN'S BOYS, ........ 60 A BROWN'S BOY IN LOVE, 66 BROWN'S BOYS IN NEW YORK, 68 RICH BROWN'S BOYS, 74 BROWN'S GIRLS, 78 ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN, 84 v vi CONTENTS. PAGE THE FUNNY SIDE OF FISK, 87 REV. ELI PERKINS, 98 A SAD MAN 102 A QUEER MAN, 104 ELI'S HAPPY THOUGHTS, 106 THE LEGAL-MINDED MAN, 109 A GRATEFUL MAN, in 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, 4 . 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, . , I . . . 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 CONTENTS. v ii PAGE THE GOOD MAN, 169 OWED TO FRANKLIN STATUE, 172 A PARROT STORY, 172 THE RAT STORY, 173 TRAVERS AND CLEWS, 173 TRAVERS ON FISK AND GOULD 174 PAWN-SHOP CLOTHES, . 175 WHERE DUCKS LIVE, 175 FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS SAVED, 176 TIP OF THE FASHION, 177 SHIRKING FROM WORK, . . . , . . 177 TRUNK SMASHERS, 178 ELI ON DOMINIE FORD, . . . . . . . 179 A HARD NAME, 179 ELI ON THE F. F. C's., 180 THE MEANEST MAN YET, 181 NEWSPAPER GOKE, 182 ELI ON ANA, 182 ANIMATE NATURE, 183 ORIGINAL POETRY, 183 COMPLIMENTARY, 184 BABIES, .184 TIGHT LACING 185 SOM-ET-I-MES, 185 GRAMMAR, 186 ELI PERKINS BLUNDERS, 186 NICE ARABLE LAND, 188 MONEY CLOSE, ^ 188 viii CONTENTS. PAGE INDIFFERENCE, 189 THE WHISKEY WAR, 189 FUN IN WASHINGTON, OHIO, 190 TERRIBLY INDIGNANT, . 191 THE UNSUSPECTING MAN, . . . . . . .191 ft VERY DANGEROUS, 192 WOOD, 193 SARATOGA BETTING, . ".' . . . 193 WICKED AND PROFANE, 194 MR. MARVIN'S BLUNDER, ....... 194 POOR BUT HONEST, . .195 PRECISE STATEMENTS, 195 EARLY TO BED, 196 PERSONAL MATTERS, . . . . . . . 196 SMALL FEET 197 LITTLE PERKINSISMS, 199 ELI PERKINS'S NEW YEAR'S CALLS 203 How ELI PERKINS LECTURED IN POTTSVILLE, . . 211 SCARING A CONNECTICUT FARMER, 222 ELI PERKINS AS A BALLOONATIC, 225 THE SHREWD MAN, 233 LOST CHILDREN IN NEW YORK, ..... 237 THE ABSENT-MINDED MAN, 246 PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. " If you get the best of whiskey, Eli, whiskey will get the best of you. UNCLE CONSIDER, ON TEMPERANCE. "Yes, Uncle." " Let me read you suthin' from the Christian Union" and my Uncle Consider wiped his German-silver glasses with his red bandana handkerchief, adjusted them on his 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" came home that night without any whiskers or eyebrows, and the iron work of his wagon in a potato sack. '' 10 " This little incident, Eli," said my Uncle, looking over his glasses, tf preaches a sermon on temperance. It teaches us all, in these times 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 11 * 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 m 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 yung 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. He 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 sents, play with powder, take snuf, take benzine, take photographs, anything, but don't take that first glass of wine.' 12 "MI NOBLE BOY." " * Fear not, father,' answered my noble boy. ' That first glass o' wine be bio wed. Us boys is all a-slingin' in ol' crow whisky and a-punishin' gin slings and brandy smashers if we ain't Y'EU 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 oif his coupons. SOLITAIRE DIAMONDS. 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 went into Tiffany's great jewelry store and said she desired to purchase a diamond. 13 " I understand solitaire diamonds are the best, Mr. Tiffany," she said, "please show me some of them." u Here is a nice solitaire" 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 you've got five or six more real genuine solitaires just like this one, I don't mind takin* 'em all so's to make a big 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 tjring. 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. 15 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 pearls and garnets into the coal stove. ELI PERKINS IN HOT WATER. A 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. ) ! 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- terrupted. "Why?" I asked modestly. 16 "I'VE FOUND YOU." 17 "Because ray 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!" f ul person a false, bad man. You" "What is it, Julia? what has displeased you now?" I interrupted, sweetly. " Why, you base deceiver ! have n'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. 18 " 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 The 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. " Is 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?" J.Q f oot " 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 19 '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 fire. "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 20 21 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, 22 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/' DREADFUL PROFANITY. A YOUNG lady who attends Vassar College came home 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 I 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 dev'lishness." "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 town.) LET me show you some little every-day New York pictures this evening. There are only four of them : I. " 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 floor 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."^. Y. 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- 24 25 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. 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 '26 people will have to walk." Mr. Humane (?) BergJis 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 condition 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 sums, 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 27 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." Report 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 wild 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." Park 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 were 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 " "They don't eat silk dresses, Mrs. Woffington, and they don't roost on nine dollar ostrich -feathers and 29 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!" " Well, I hate worms, I do. I hate Jast 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 x^yyy.^ "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. 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 ;/( ' ! ' . , . - T BANK DEPOSITORS. 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 t 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 30 31 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- , , . ... "I'ON'T YOU FEEL some round here? LONESOME?" SARATOGA SPRING FASHIONS. 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 (ttcollett in front, trimmed with the devilknowswhat. Low neck bonnets with paniers are no longer worn. The front of the bonnet is now invariably worn behind. u 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." 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 f o r at Stewart's. "That's noth- ing at all," said my Uncle Con- sider. " I know OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM. a lady up in Litchfield who is wrapped ifp in a beautiful home-made baby that she won't take $200,000 for!" Uncle Consider is crazy on home-made things. 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- ing that she had four fathers. How did she do it ? This was the way : 34 35 " 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 four fathers." Alas ! we've all got forefathers, but little Nellie went 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. It was the first time she had ever seen gray hair. CHILDREN HALF PRICE. ONE day I took a crowd of children in Saratoga 5 k OU*S DOT FUNNY HAIK !" 36 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, she 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!" read these letters on Educated Ben's tent- 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 half 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 37 ittty dackass. 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 DONNEY. 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." 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 39 gentleman of color will be in attendance to wash doer-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 avenue, when the advertiser will call on them with her recommendations and certificates of good character. UPPERTENDOM. ELI PERKINS 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 41 " 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. 1 " " 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 EUGENE , tr i i i tr i n AUGUSTUS, dre ful bore 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? 1 ' "Once a week! Why, I hope 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?" 42 " 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?" "Yes, 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 talk 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 JuKa 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-name, 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 be-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 ! ! 43 "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 : 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-hehehehehehe-hink hohohohohohoho hoho h-o-f theeeeeeeeeeeeee !!!'!! "Beautiful! Just too lovely!!" As Julia finished the last " theeeeeeee" her father, who grew up from an orifice 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. "THEMRAFFELLS!" " I tell ye'r what, says he, " them Raf- fells is good, an' Mikel Angelo he could paint too "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 44 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. LETTER FROM ANT CHARITY. AUNT CHARITY'S letter Trom the Perkins* Farm in Litchfield county! I give it just as written, for 1 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. Eli 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 5th Heavenue. We are glad to get back to Litchfield County whare there is not so much commerce and good clothes, but 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 45 46 back whare it don't take 100 yards to make a dress, whare fair women don't paint their faces, and whare 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 dresses 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' $60 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 high fly ingist stiles of the Empire City. " Vot veel I show ze madame?" asked M. Go-Bare, a-smilin' sweetly. 47 " Dresses," sez I, in a firm tone " I want you to make me four dresses." " Dresses for ze morning 1 or for ze evening, ma- dame ?" " Why, good dresses, sir dresses for all day dresses 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 watteau wiz ze grande panier, and ze sleef 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 y we" explained the man-tailor, rubbing his hands. "Zat is wiz ze polonaise, ze watteau, ze panier, 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 " ANT RUTH. "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, 48 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 un, trois, 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 sh ! 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 bows " " 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 49 of this dress ?" sez I, in a soothing tone. " Seventeen- fifty is too cheap for me. I'm willing to go to twenty- five." " Oh, we, 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. " We, 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. " We, veree 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 Duchesse" "Wall, how high will the price be then, my good man ?" sez Aunt Ruth. " Vingt-six tweenty-sex, madame. Ce tiest pas trh cher, 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' him a $50 bill on the New London First National. " Mon dieu, 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. 50 "Oh, we we we 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 wudent 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 church for many years to come. It's good enuff. Yours affeckshunate, CHARITY PERKINS. THE LITERARY GIRL. THE 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 at Vassar College last year. She weais eye glasses, and is full of wisdom. She scans Homer, rattles the verb MISS ADAMS "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, 'I like 'em bb 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 51 52 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. Daball 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 that 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 53 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." 54 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 any chance for the wicked to skate in the next world?" "Because the water will be too 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 and pout. O ! no. She says, " Mr. Perkins, shall I repeat you a few lines from Saxe?" and then she goes on Why can't 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 always try to do with almost every Boston girl who comes here, she looks up blushingly, and, in the lauguage of Swinburne, poetically remarks : There ! somebody's coming don't look so Get up on your own chair again Can't you seem as if nothing had happened ? I ne'er saw such geese as you men ! 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 polishing his German silver glasses with his red bandana handkerchief. " I've been crusadin' with the temp'rance wimmen, Eli been 'stab- llishing temp'rance 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 depo' 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. 55 " I'M JES READY TO CRUISE AROUND WITH PRETTY, GALLUS- LOOKIN' GIRLS." 56 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 ' " * 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' ' "'All right,' 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 57 reformers for centuries to come will rize up 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 angel J with Ginral Butler an' Zack Chanler an' me." ELI IN LOVE. A TAIL OF 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 what, Julia?" I said, handing her up another sprig of cedar. "Why, if it had a nice Otis elevator and I could have my meals sent in from Del- 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- 68 59 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 got 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. A BROWN S BOY. CHAPTER I. THE TRIBE IN GENERAL. THE Brown's Boy is pecu- liar to New Y or k> though every large 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 off well without a Brown's Boy to lead the German? They don't have anything in particular to do, Brown's Boys 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 swell in Fifth Avenue parlors. Ask them what they do for a living, and they will say, . 61 "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 by 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 all 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. 62 The theater and opera are the favorite resort of Browr>'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 BOYS 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 63 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 Smi!h. I thought the 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 cheap 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't 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. 64 Now he approaches the caterer and says with a pa- tronizing wink: "John, some more of our kind, yeu kneuw," and John hands out two bottles more one to be drunk with the ladies, and the ottTer 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. Thisjis 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. Ha! 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) .100 Cigars (smoked and pocketed) T oo Champagne 12 oo Total for Charley $20 50 CR. By face and heels lent to Nellie for occasion $20 50 Balance , , ooo oo 65 A KIND old father-in-law on Madison avenue, who is supporting four or five of Brown's Boys as sons-in- law, went down to -see Barnum's Feejee Cannibals. "Why are they called Cannibals?" he asked of Mr. Barnum. " Because they live off of other people," replied the great showman. " O, I see," replied the unhappy father-in-law. "Alas ! my four Brown's Boys sons-in-law are Cannibals, too they live off of me!" A BROWN'S BOY IN LOVE. 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. CHARLEY MUNSON. My pefc ^^^ fe exploded," h C said. "I am discouraged. I want to die." Then the tears rolled down his cheek. "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 very 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 luck!" 67 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 fatal moment I learned that she hadn't any money to go with her cough, and i 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. BROWN'S BOYS IN NEW YORK. THE TIRING-OUT DODGE. THEY don't have any money themselv.es, -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 one 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- pointment to Sallie Smith. I told her I "meant busi 69 ness " all the time with Julia, and that I knew Brown's Boy was flirting. "Now, Miss Sallie, confidentially, what shall I do?" I 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-out dodge,' " she replied, looking me earnestly in the face, 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, biit 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 spocny fellow, you know. His strength lies in cornering a girl, and coming the sentimental dodge. He won't be able to stand such a 70 siege as this, and I'll bet a dozen 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 which 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 to sit a whole evening with one's overcoat on, and " "Then you are liable to take cold when you go out," suggested Julia, interrupting me. "Especially when one expects to sit and talk for several hours," I continued ; " and when I have so 71 much to say as I have to-night, I don't know when I shall get through." Charley Brown 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?" I asked, remembering how cousin Sallie said I must entertain her, and talk Charley Brown out of his boots. " Jay Gould got shot ! How ? Where ?" exclaimed Julia. " Why, in a Seventh avenue hardware store. 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!" u 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 . , CHARLEY BROWN. off his hair: but nobody heard him. 72 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 creatures ?" "Yes, but, my dear Julia" I talked fondly now, for Charley was gone "you know, my 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 are 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 in 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. 73 "What! you mean 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! RICH BROWN'S BOYS. FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL, ) August i. ) THE rich 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, who really can't do any better, but the good-for- 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. 74 RICH BROWN S BOY. 75 Rich girls "go for" them on account of their rich fathers. They marry them, have a swell wedding, and then spend a lifetime mourning that they did not marry a brave, strong, working fellow, who would have felt rich in their affections, and who, with a little help from father-in-law, would have hewn his way to wealth and position. RULES FOR MAKING RICH BROWN'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's Boy. If carried out they will produce the same result nine times out of ten. I have seen them tried a thousand times : v RULES. First. If your father is rich or holds a high position socially and you are 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. Third. After your wife has nursed you through a spell of sickness, and she looks languid and warn with 76 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, while 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 delirium tremens and shoot myself. This will create a sensation 77 in the newspapers and cause every other-rich 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 her last money a monument to the memory of the man who crushed her bleeding heart. SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF 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. They are a set of husband-hunting young ladies smart, accomplished, and pretty, but with no hearts. They 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 blase. 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 ! U NINETEEN TO-DAY !" 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 79 Four times he came, and I let him put his name on my card then mamma frowned savagely. She said I ought to be ashamed to waste my time with a poof: fellow like Albert Sinclair. Then she brought up old Thompson, that horrid rich old widower, and I 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 the 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 ALBERT SINCLAIR. - - T . . .. - .. , agreeable, Lizzie, for Mr. Ihompson is a great catch." Then Thompson, the stupid 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 supper such an event took place. Albert joined me, and after a lovely waltz we wandered into the conservatory and had a nice 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, ar\d we both like to be near each other that is, I know I do. Albert dotes on 80 Longfellow, and, O, don't I ! I like Poe, and so does Albert, and the little tears fairly started (but Albert didn't see them) when he repeated softly in my ear: ^ " For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams, Of my beautiful Annabel Lee ; And the stars 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, sensible 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 "mamma," 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 such nice words in my ear. He told me how he had longed for an opportunity to speak to me alone, how and then I was so happy, for I knew he was going to say 81 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 then 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 when he came around, ma said, " Lizzie, it looks horrible to be seen dancing with Albert Sinclair all the evening. 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, 1882. 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 de'colleti dresses. THE BLASE GIRL. Why, Bessie Brown wore a dress at a Queen's Draw- ing Room with hardly any body on at all and she had that same dress on last night. Of course 1 could not stand any chance with her, for dfaolleti 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 rouge. 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. 83 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 with Old Thompson No. 2 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, i-f 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 ? O, dear ! ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN. LET ME TELL YOU SUTHIN , ELI. " ELI !" "Yes, sir." "Are you listening?" 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 blow 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 careful. I always owe enough to pay all my debts, and I'd rather CAREFUL ELI. owe a man forever than cheat him 84 85 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 than they do to my 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 when 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 time 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 86 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 an 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." 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 half frightened. "Well, Peter," said the Colonel, as he held the envelope with the money in one hand and the towel in the PETER. 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?" 87 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 834), 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." 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 the old gentleman's almost daily rendezvous. DREW. 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 ?" " 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 89 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 come into the Erie office and ""bore " the 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 borrow of me to pay his income tax last summer, and I lent him 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!" 90 "Of course, the 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!" " Are the* 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. h "'I'm Bill Smith, and I've been whipped almost to death,' said the man in a pitiful tone. 91 " ' Ah, Bill Smith, how could they whip you a poor lone man ?' asked the sympathizing stranger. " 'Why, don't you see? Pm tied: " 'What, 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. " ' But 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, I don't mind if I give you a few 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 Opera House, Fisk took her out to the Park behind his magnificent six-in-hand. 92 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. " C'esf magnifique 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 my cattle and buffaloes, and those sheep over there compose my pet sheepfold," said Fisk, twirling the end of his mustache a la Napoleon. "C'est tres magnifique!" 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 maison, too ?" 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 " that belongs to Mr. Gould r 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 93 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, 'J ames > tne 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' " 94 CHARITY. ONE day a poor, plain, blunt man stumbled into Fisk'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 $5. 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 95 him the first hope his first strong resolve to become a man. 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 FENCE. 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 coupJ. one cold, dreary night on Seventh avenue, and got out, inquired where she lived, and gave a poor old beggar woman a dollar ! 97 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 starviifg children; and, not content with this, the remorseless wretch told the police captain to look after all the poor 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 streaming down her cheeks! Oh ! insatiate monster ! thus to give money to penni- less negro preachers and starving women and chil- dren! REV. ELI PERKINS. 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: My 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 " ANGELS DON ' T WEAR PEARL POWDER " 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 faces 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 of our " shoddy " people. They 99 "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 them 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 t 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 socjal 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. [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 yellow and red or blue afghan, and the coachman wears a gold 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 considered 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. I 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 sick 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. "ERIE DOWN?" COMING up from Broad Street in the cars yesterday I 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 with 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, there may be some happiness left yet. Do not die now," I said. " No, Eli, I am all broken up ruined ! I don't take 103 103 any interest in anything now. My mind is constantly with my poor, angel wife. I 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, Eli. 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 Mumm'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!" 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!" U 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- URE?" 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 Thought 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 rMirrors nowadays are very faulty, Uncle Eli. They don't make -such nice mirrors as they used to when I was young ! 106 107 I 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 when 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 sprinkled 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! 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? 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, tq have and to hold in trust, one half of my right, title and claim and my advantage, in a dance known as the 1 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 109 110 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 js no court, sir. There is no officer." " Yes, Miss Johnson, your father said this morning : 4 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. 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 ft, 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 in 112 the newspapers which were abusing the James Brothers, was the Kansas City Times, but one day the Times said: " It may have been robbery, but 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 Times, 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 me!" 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. I MET a Californian to-day who says he don't be- lieve Chinamen have ordinary common sense. " They haven't ordinary sagacity, Uncle Eli," he said. , "Why?" I asked. "Because," said he, growing excited about it, "be- cause b-e-c-a-u-s-e they haven't." "But why?" I asked. " I 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 a 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 see a two-hundred pound man and woman perspiring around with their pompous 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 can set them down as belonging to the old Tweed-Fisk-Leland-Americus Club school. If you see two heated 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 hop- ping around like Siamese twins with wire springs under them, you can wager they are from Louisville, Memphis, 115 116 or Little Rock. They have the square-hold wrestling step. If you see a young fellow 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 arms, 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! THE MILITARY MAN. THE other day, I took a couple of " swell " young ladies up to the West Point Military Ball. Miss Grace 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 them 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 the 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 Vibbard. "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 ?" "Why, he said he wasn't really in earnest. He 0/tozed, 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 ?' 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's eyes flashed as she said it. 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 New 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! " 120 A FRONTIERSMAN. WESTWARD, westward, westward we have been riding all day over the Kansas Pacific. From Kansas City the road runs straight up the Kansas River bottom and along U PAY YER FAR!" _, . -.--,,, i i t rr i 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 121 "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 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 anybo'dy ? 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. 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?" 124 SEWERS AND SOWERS. THE other day, Uncle Consider and Aunt Patience came down to N983 Ibs. 8 barrels water, . . . for scrubbing floor, . . . 310 Ibs. Hair, paint, cotton, . . for young ladies, .... 988,231 Ibs. 19 carrier pigeons, . . for pigeon pie, 41 Ibs. 12 Ibs. butter for greasing dogcart, ... 9 Ibs. 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 Buckingham 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 opportunity to make his experi- ments with air currents and toll-gates and things. I 228 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 breastpins 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 her 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 at 968 east latitude and 8 degrees ante-meridian. We passed San Domingo thirty- seven miles east of the planet Vesuvius at eleven o'clock 229 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 and 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 $11 if you will join my side." I took the money and joined. Then we pointed our 230 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,- ooo 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. He 231 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, n, 44. THE DAILY BUGLE comes regularly. Adieu ! Warmly yours, ELI PERKINS, Airiant. THE SHREWD MAN. 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- MR. STOUT. 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 pocket, 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 would 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 off 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?" 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. 235 "YOU JUST WAIT OUTSIDE A MOMENT, MR. STOUT." Stout and his honest friend, for a Centre Street restau- rant, 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 $25. " 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 $25. Take it to him, my good man, take it to him, and bring back the papers quick!" HIS GENTLEMAN FRIEND. 336 " 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, I 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." LOST CHILPREN IN NEW YORK. "LOST child!" That used to 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. LOST IN THE PARK. 238 Here you will see a dozen cozy cribs, cradles, and beds for the little lost children and foundlings of the city. Yes, and sometimes for old men and women, too, lost in their second childhood. At the head of this department you will see the 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 name of Tumey, and the children are cared for till the old 239 nurse named " Charity " takes them in a carriage to the foot of Twenty-sixth street and the 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 BABIES. Now we will return to the Police Headquarters and hear what Mrs. Ewing says about the babies. "How many children are lost per month?" I 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- 240 fidence in me, 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 this and I 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 ! I 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.' "'Oh, will he come, sure, will he?' sobbed the little girl 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 fell 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, we've 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 and 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 sobbed and clung to him all the more." "What was the child's mistake about the street?" I asked. " Well, she lived corner of Broadway and Walton L **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 tip 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 crowd 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-hearted policeman picked him up, took him to the station-house, and the sergeant sent him 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 one 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, 243 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. RICH 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. They 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 cheek ; 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 But 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. E wing's rooms at Police Headquarters, on Mulberry street. JOHNNY AND THE BABY. THE ABSENT-MINDED MAN. GEORGE HARDING, Esq., the distinguished Philadel- phia patent lawyer, 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 Sewing- 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. 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 a/iemed 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!" polite confidence 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-money, 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 take a $10,000 fee which Ketchum was to pay him in a mowing-ma- chine case. He says he'd rather pay $10,000 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. 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 may 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 fashions 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 ; 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 houseliold necessity from Rome to the Rocky Mountains, wherever the English or any other civilized language is spoken. CHICKERING & SONS' CIRAND, SQUAEE and UPEIGHT PIANO-FORTES StcurLd.cLrcL ^LCLTLOS of tUe, ~Wo-rlci And accorded the highest honors by LIZST, THALBERG, Dr. MEYER, GOTTSCHALK, JAELL, HALLE, REINECKE, RITTER, and more than 100 other of the world's great artists. They say the Chiclcering Piano is superior to all others. Over 47,000 Made and Sold. (Pianos sold on easy monthly payments, and at regular catalogue prices. Catalogues and price lists mailed free, on applica- tion to CHICKERING & SONS, 11 East 14th Street, New York. Established 1841. HER HI NO'S CHAMPION SAFES, Tried in over 1,OOO Fires and " Proved Trust worthy." Bank Vaults and Safes, CABINET SAFES FOR DWELLINGS, MANUFACTURED BY HERRING & CO., 251 CT 252 Broadivay, New York. 56 6 60 Sudbury Street, Boston. 174 Fifth Avenue, 589 Broadway, Wholesale Department, 132 Mercer St., NKW YORK, HATTERS. English Hats a specialty. Latest styles always on hand. 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, INDIANAPOLIS, PLATTSBURGH, N.Y., Geo. E. Latham. Ed. Hasson & Co. E. Hathaway & Son. ATLANTA, GA., LEXINGTON, KY., POUGHKEEFS1E, N.Y., Lew. H. Clarke. J. B. Richardson. E. Van Kleek. AUGUSTA, GA., LOUISVILLE. PROVIDENCE, C. B. Dodd & Co. G. C. Dubois. Elsbree & Valleau. BALTIMORE, R. Q. Taylor. MILWAUKEE, F. R. Pantke & Co. RICHMOND, VA., 0. M. Marshall. BLOOMINGTON, ILL., Dewenter & Kreitzer. MADISON, Wis., M. S. Rowley & Co. ROCHESTER, Marion & Clark. BOSTON, MINNEAPOLIS, MINN., SARATOGA, Jackson & Co. Fuller & Simpson. A. R. Barret. BUFFALO, NEWARK, O., SAVANNAH, Wm. Wippert. BURLINGTON, VT., O. G. King. NEWARK, N.J., R. B. Hilyard. SPRINGFIELD, MASS., B. Turk & Bro. CHARLESTON, S.C., C. H. Whitney. NEW BEDFORD, MASS.. Sanderson & Son. ST. Louis. Mo., J. R. Johnson. C. M. Haskell. Lewis & Groshen. CHICAGO, NEWBURGH, N. Y., ST. PAUL, James P. Brewster. CINCINNATI, W. J. Whited. NEW HAVEN, CONN., R.A. Lanpher & Co. SPRINGFIELD, ILL., A.B.Burkhardt & Co. Brooks & Co. C. Wolf & Co. CLEVELAND, Jfi. Stair & Co. Crofut & Co. NEW ORLEANS, LA., SYRACUSE, Wm. P. Sabey & Co. DAYTON, O., Henri Brisbi. TOLEDO, O., Aulabaugh Bros. NEWPORT, R.I., M. L. Paddock; DETROIT, Walter Buhl & Co. EASTON, PA., J. H. Cozzens& Co. OMAHA, NEB.. C. H. Frederick. TROY, E.W. Boughton & Co. UTICA, A. T. Drinkhouse. ELMIRA, Stuart & Ufford. OSWEGO, N.Y., Buckhout & Barnes. PARIS, KY., Geo. Westcott & Co. WARREN, O., Adams & Co. E VANSVILLE, IND., G. R. Bell. WASHINGTON, D.C., J. H. Dannettell. PEORIA, ILL., Willett& Ruoff. FORT WAYNE, IND., G. W. H.Gilbert. WATERTOWN, N. Y., Singer & Pyke. GRAND RAPIDS, PHILADELPHIA, W.H. Oakford. McKay & Gennet. WlLKESBARRE, PA., H. D. Wood & Co. PITTSBURGH, G. L. Palmer. HARTFORD, CONN., Fleming & Oglevee. WORCESTER, MASS., James Daniel s. PlTTSFIELD, MASS., Day & Hartwell. HARRISBURG, E.G. Judd. Jas. Clarke. 6 PASSENGER FREIGHT 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, GOOD NOVELS! WE AND OUR NEIGHBORS: or, The, Records of an Unfash- ionable Street. A Sequel to My Wife and I. By Harriet Beecher Stowe. Illustrated. 12mo. Fancy Stamped Cloth. $1.75. " 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 flags 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, Harry 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." Boston Journal. THE ABBE TIGRANE: Candidate for the Papal 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 altogether an original, piquant and readable story. NORWOOD J or, Village Life in New England. A Novel. By HENRY WARD BEECHER. Illustrated by ALFRED FREDERICKS. 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 Evening Journal. TOINETTE: A Tale of Transition. By Henry Churton. 12mo. 516 pp. $1.50. "A picturesque, vivid, passionate story Calculated to entertain and deeply impress. The average novel reader will be delighted, and there is that in it which will attract the most cultivated and fastidious." Cincinnati Times. THE CIRCUIT RIDER ; A TaU of the Heroic Age. By Edward Eggleston. 13mo. Illustrated. $1.75. "The breezy freshness of 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-possession which betrays the presence of the artist's power." N. Y. Tribune. BRAVE HEARTS. A Novel. By Roberston Gray (R. W. Ray- mond). 13mo. 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." Literary World. A GOOD MATCH. A Novel. By Amelia Perrier. 1vol. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50. " A very readable love story, ten- i " The characters appear and act derly told." Hearth and, Home. \ with a real lite." Providence Press. 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, 2'f Park Place, New York. "DOMESTIC" BUILDING, Light Running J Domestic" SEWING MACHINE. 10 THE MUTUAL LIFE INSURANCE OIF 1 2STETW YORK. 140 to 146 BROADWAY. F. S. WINSTON. President. 11 BROOKS BROTHERS CLOTHING HOUSE, Broadway, Corner of Bond Street, NEW YORK. ESTABLISHED 1870. CASWELL, HAZARD & Co., cu~LcL NEW YORK and NEWPORT, R.I., DEALERS IN THE 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 IN THE CHOICEST FOREIGN PERFUMES, HANDKERCHIEF EXTRACTS, &c. Including ^ffendrie's " celebrated Extracts from London, 13 HANOVER Fire Insurance Company OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK. 1 20 BROADWAY, COR. CEDAR ST. Cash Assets (Jan. i, 1875) - - $1, BENJAMIN S. WALCOTT, President. I. REMSEN LANE, Sec'y. THOMAS JAMES, Actuary. C. L. ROE, Ass't Sec'y. AUTOMATIC HEITER & CANS, 349 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. MANUFACTURERS OF THE 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 EVERYWHERE. Patented in England, France, Canada, and the United States. 16 GRAND UNION HOTEL, SARATOGA SPRINGS, J. H. BRESLIN & CO., 1,OOO Rooms! 2,OOO Guests! " The largest watering-place hotel in the world." -N. Y. Herald. " The most beautiful watering-place hotel in the world." N. Y. Tribune. " The most fashionable watering-place hotel in the world." Home Journal. " J. H. Breslin's Grand Union Hotel is the most beautiful and perfect hotel in Saratoga, or in the world." Eli Perkins's letters. " No picture can do justice to this magnificent hotel, and no page is large enough to display its grand balconies, beautiful corridors, and picturesque grounds. Its wonders must be seen." John Paul's letters. " No hotel in Europe or America, from Athens to San Francisco, so grand outside or so admirably kept inside.'' Grace Greenwoods letters. Tills magnificent hotel will be open every year from June 1st to October. 17 ENOCH MORGAN'S SON'S SAPOLIO, For Cleaning and Polishing, There is no Paint, wood or marble, in or about your house that Sapolio will not clean easier, quicker and better than anything known. No metallic surface it will not polish. It costs a few cents. All grocers sell it. Our HAND SAPOLIO is the best toilet and hand soap you ever used. Send for our pamphlet, "All About Sapolio." ENOCH MORGAN'S SONS, 20 Park Place, New York. 18 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SANTA CRUZ This book is due on the last DATE stamped below. 50m-6,'67(H2523s8)2373 3 2106 '00207 5502