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diff --git a/25303-h/25303-h.htm b/25303-h/25303-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6969fb1 --- /dev/null +++ b/25303-h/25303-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3270 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Bad Boy at Home, by Walter T. Gray + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bad Boy At Home, by Walter T. Gray + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Bad Boy At Home + And His Experiences In Trying To Become An Editor - 1885 + +Author: Walter T. Gray + +Release Date: May 2, 2008 [EBook #25303] +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAD BOY AT HOME *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img alt="titlepage (32K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE BAD BOY AT HOME, + </h1> + <h2> + AND HIS EXPERIENCES IN TRYING TO BECOME AN EDITOR. + </h2> + <h4> + THE FUNNIEST BOOK OF THE AGE. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Walter T. Gray + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + 1885 + </h4> + <h5> + J. S. Ogilvie & Company. + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>ILLUSTRATIONS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0001"> A Gentleman, Wants to Inter Vuehim. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0002"> I Crep Outer Bed and Lit the Gas. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0003"> It Was Ony the Wurk of a Minnit to Pry Open + The Lid </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0004"> And Rote Bout 10,000 Notes </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0005"> Then I Hawled off My False Mustash </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WHY HE CHEWSES A PERFESSHUN.—HYFALUTIN PROLOG, WITH SUM + BARE POSSIBILITIES.—PROSPECTUS OF THE “DAILY BUSTER.” + </pre> + <p> + Mister Diry: + </p> + <p> + I've been intending ever since I got home from Yourope, to begin ritin' in + a diry, but I ain't had no time, cos my chum Jimmy and me has been puttin' + in our days havin' fun. I've got to give all that sorter thing up now, cos + I've accepted a persisshun in a onherabel perfesshun, and wen I get to be + a man, and reech the top rung of the ladder, I'm goin' to mak' New York + howl. + </p> + <p> + Pa, he wanted me to go to skule, but I culdn't see it a tall, cos a feller + wot's alwus goin' to skule don't never kno nothin' but base-ballin' and + prize fitin' wen 'he gets thru. All them fellers wot rite in dirys begin + by usin a lot of hyfalutin wurds wot sound orful big but don't meen + nothin; so I guess I'll be in the fashun, so here goes: + </p> + <p> + You're only a quire of “common noose” paper, Mr. Diry, so you needn't put + on so menny airs over your cleen wite dress, wot only needs a morocker + lether mantel and gilt braceletts to make you look like you b'longed to + the Astor house dude. + </p> + <p> + We all know you was maid of rags, and them rags might once have bean in + the mazey, lacey laberinths of wite linnin wot audashusly pressed 'gainst + the tender form of Lillyan, the dudine. + </p> + <p> + If you warn't there you mite have ben all ablaze with chane stitches and + crushed oniyun stripes, closely incircling a cupple of been-poles—no, + not eggsactly been-poles, but the sharpley, shadderly lower lims of Sarah + Jane Burnhard, the actress wot got mashed on Dam-all-her. + </p> + <p> + Then, agen, you mite have ben on some infantile prospecktive Preserdent, + but you didn't stay on him long, cos baby's and safety-pins maid you + tired. + </p> + <p> + Enyway you've got a histery, cos them littel black spots on your rite + bussum looks like they mite wunce hav ben part of Mrs. Dr. Walker's patent + backackshun, maskuline, dress-reform trowsers, wot she sent to the + paper-mill to get ground up inter paper to mak books for the enlitenin of + the wimmin of our country. + </p> + <p> + How's that for high, Mr. Diry? My muse come playguey neer running away + with me, so I had to wistle “down brakes,” and slow her up. Now I'll begin + to record my doins on your pages, so that, shuld the toes of my boots be + applide to the patent bucket early in my useful carreer, the hull wurld'll + kno wot a treassure socieaty has lost. I ain't givin you eny biled lasses + candie, but don't you let your memmerizin orgins lose site of the fact + that I, Georgie, the Bad Boy wot's ben to Yourope, ain't no slouch. + </p> + <p> + My pa sez I'm a geneyus. I guess he's 'bout rite, ony he orter sed I was a + buddin' one, 'cos my hankerin' after a perfeshunal carrieer has led me to + axcept a posishun in the publick-opinyun-moldin' shop wots known as the <i>Daily + Buster</i>, Joe Gilley, edittur and proprieat-her. Subskripshun price, $5 + per yare. No trubbel to sine receits. + </p> + <p> + N.B.—Speshell arrangements with ex-Senater Satan enabels us to give + our delinkent subskribers cheap excurshun rates to the Hot Sulfur Baths, + via the Haydies Short Line, our fitin' edit-her corndoctor. This paper is + run on red-hot indypendant principels, in a spicey, sparklin' manher. In + pollyticks our motto is: “Onhest men, regardless of partie, candy-dates + with barr'ls xcepted.” + </p> + <p> + The above is the prospecktus of the journalistick venture in wich I have + mbarked in the capacerty of typergraffickal devil. So now Mr. Diry, look + out for the brakers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HIS FIRST INTERVUE.—WILL THEY BE CONSINED TO A PLACE THAT + IS HOTTER THAN THIS.—A LABER-SAVTN' MASHEEN.—BEER, + GASSERLIN AND PROHIBISHUN. +</pre> + <p> + I've jest got my supper, so I guess I'll tell you 'bout my first day's + xperience on the Dailey “Buster.” I was down to the offis at 7 'clock, and + the mannergin edittur, he detaled me to intervue, the old papers and dust, + on the floor. By the ade of a broom, wot was so old, it was most + bald-hedded, I suckceeded in completely ridden the floor of its surplus + stock of litterature, and terbackhey balls, wot them printers spit out, + wen they warnted to use there mouths, to consine sum feller, wot rote + orful to Hallyfax, or sum other mild climat. + </p> + <p> + I wunder if everybodie, wot them printers dam, goes to Hades, cos, if they + do, and all printin' offisses is like ourn, I guess us fellers wont have + much compenny in Heaven wen we get there. They all ap-pare to have a + pertickler spite 'gainst a Mister Copy, cos I hearn him bein' dammed, more + an a hundred times to-day. I guess the poor feller ain't got no sho a + tall. + </p> + <p> + I never seen the wurkins of a edithers sanktuary before. I useter wonder, + how they rote all them long artickels wot everybodie sed show'd the grate + geneyus of the edittur, but I never knowed till this mornin' bout the + laber-savin' masheen, wot is maid of two peeces of steal, with sharp + points on one end, and two rings on the other, wot slip over the editturs + fingers. Wen he's got them on, he takes off his shoes and stockins, and + waids inter a lot of old noosepapers, clippin' out littel bits here and + there, and pastin' 'em on a sheet of wite paper. The masheen wurked + splendid, and Mister Gilley sez its a sure anty-dote agin skribler's + parallysis, wot all great riters is trubbelled with. + </p> + <p> + Jest 'fore dinner the edit-her begun to get orful dry ritin a artickel + hedded, “Pernisshus Pizen; or, Holesail Slaughter,” caused by the + adulterashun of beer with arsernic, so he sent me down to the barroom next + door to get him a bottle of beer on thirty days time. I'd jest got back to + the sanktum, and was takin' out the cork, wen the Metherdist minnysteer + cum in to arrange 'bout a big prohibishun rally wot comes off next week. + He looked orful suspishus at the bottle, till the edit-her told me to take + that bottel of gasserline, to the forman, and tell him to wash the forms + with it, and be sure not to get it neer a lite, cos gasserline was orful + 'xplosive. + </p> + <p> + I guess it got 'xploded cos, wen the minnyster was gone, I went out to get + it, and I culdn't even find a smell of it, so I had ter go round to the + next block for another, cos the edittur's face wasn't good for morean one, + in the same place, in one day. + </p> + <p> + Say, Mister Diry, did you ever get a whiff of the smell, throne out by the + paste-pot, in an edittur's offis, wot was 'stablished in '49? Cos, if you + never did, you can't apreshiate how deliteful the consentrated 'xtract of + half a dozen glew factorys would be, in comparyson. This afternoon the + edit-her perlitely requested me to consine the contents of ours to their + last restin' place in the ash-heep, in our back-yard. Menny a silent teer + did I shed over the cold and clammy remanes of hundreds of cockroaches, + whose young and usefull lives came to such a sad and untimely end, in + there brave efferts to 'xplore the mystear-ious and fathemless depths of + the “Buster's” paste-pot. + </p> + <p> + I guess I muster forgot to wash my hands 'fore supper, cos pa's down in + the sellar settin' a trap for a polecat, and ma she swares she's goin' to + have a carpinter take up the dinin'-room flure tomorrer mornin', and hunt + up the rat wot crawled under there and died. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE XCHANGE FYEND.—SHEECARGO ALL QUIETT.—THE FYEND GOES + ABROAD.—HIS GRATE SPERIT APALLED.—THE BERRIED HOPES OF A + RUMATIICK POET. +</pre> + <p> + Our offis has got wot is called a xchange fyend wot comes in every mornin + wen we get the male and looks over all the papers, cos he's too meen to + buy his own readin matter. I knovv'd by the way the edittur looks at him, + he'd like to kick him down 3 flites of steep steps, but I guess he + borrowed a dime from him, bout ten years ago, and he's 'frade he'll 'tach + the offis furniture for it. I alwus like to help my 'mployers outer a tite + place, so, this mornin, I run 'cross a paper that was printed this day + sevral yares ago, so I lade it down on the tabil where the Fyend'd strike + it the first thing, and then I got orful busy dustin the book-case. Wen he + cum in, he picked up the paper and looked down the hed-lines. I seen he + was gettin orful xcited, then he snatched up his hat and segar stump, and + run like he was chased by litenin. Purty soon, there was more an 5,000 + peepel on the street in front of the offis, and the edittur got orful + scared, cos he thought they was goin to run him outer town, on account of + the big soshill scandell wot he published yesterday, so he sent me to the + door to see wot they all wanted. Wen I got there the peeple was most + crazey for noose from the Sheecargo fire. I told em to hold on and we'd + hav out an xtra in a few minits, and then I showed the edittur the paper + wot the Fyend was reedin, wot gave a big account of the Sheecargo fire. + Wen we got out our extra, we sold 'bout 10,000 coppies, with a artickel, + wot red like this: + </p> + <p> + “The latest despaches from that city report Sheecargo all quiett, thanks + to the forethort of the Mayor, in swarein in a large number of extra + perlice, for service durin the sittin of the Youmorists Conven-shun, and + the grate precaushuns taken by Common Counsil to see that no lickher was + sold to delergates!” You bet there was a mad crowd, wen they found out + there warnt no fire a tall in Sheecargo. The 'xchange fyend's gone to New + Jersey, cos it'll have time to blow over, 'fore Congres can promulgait a + xtrodishun treety, with that government. + </p> + <p> + This afternoon, I was appalled, my grate big spirit fell down into my + shoes, like a Jump of led. Alass how grate the breech is, tween the + orthor, and the columns of a noospaper, and how short the rode, wot leeds + to the waist basket, espeschially the one, in a printin offis like the + Daily “Buster,” were the basket covers bout a square akrc of flore. I was + put to cleenin up the waste basket, so as we'd hav the paper reddy, for + the junk man, wot calls round with his six horse teem of goverment muels, + once a week, I coldn't help lingerin over the contents, and sying, wen I + thought, of the hopes wot lied burried thare. There was one littel peece + of poultry, rittin on a sheet of 'lectric blue paper, and sented with otto + of roses, and indited to “My dare George.” I wunder if the poultryess ment + me, wen she rote it, cos if she did, she struck it jest rite, for Ive got + it stowed away, in my pants pocket next my hart. + </p> + <p> + There was a nother roll of manerskript, wot wayed a pound, and come by + xpress, without bein pade. I guess the edittur was mad, wen he paid 50 + sents charges, and found out it warnt no berthday present. A note with it, + red like this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My dare Edittur Buster— + + The enclosed storie entitled “Dudish Dick, the Flirtin + Corn-Doctor of Horse-car No. 36,” is wurth $500, but in + complerment of the high standin of your valewbel jurnal, I + will allow you to publish it for notthin, if you will send + me papers containin it. + + Yours trooly, + + Sammy Lane, Author. +</pre> + <p> + Wat unappreciatin beins editturs are! Wen they wuld let a geneyus wot was + capable of pennin the follerin lines go unrewarded: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A big politishun named Kelley, + Had a gripin pane in his belly. + He used St. Jacobs oil, + And now he's nussin a boil, + But his pane has left him by golly. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HE AIN'T NO TYPERGRAFFICKAL CYCLOPEEDA.—SERIUS + COMPLERCASHUNS, WITH A TEMPORY ABBERASHUN.—A PRINTIN' OFFIS + FEED. +</pre> + <p> + I'm in a peck of troubel to-day, wot I'll have ter trust ter Providence to + get me outer. A typergraffickal devil ain't s'posed to know everything, + enyway. Now the hull offis is mad at me, 'cos I ain't a walk-in' + cyclopeeda of typograffickal turm. + </p> + <p> + In the fust place, the foreman of the composin' room's mad, 'cos wen he + tole me to fech him a long stick, I went down street and hunted round till + I struck a house wot was bein plasturd, and brot him back a good lath. Wen + I giv it to him I thot there was a erupshun from a volcano, the way he + swared at me. He sed he'd a noshun to brake it over my back, for not havin + cents enuff to kno that he bot his fire wood by the cord. Y didn't he tell + me in the fust place he wanted that thing wot printers use to set type in. + </p> + <p> + Now the casheer's on his ear, cos he sent me out ter buy a wooden galley. + I know'd very well I couldn't make no mistake there, cos I'm posted on + ship's kichens, + </p> + <p> + so I arst him how big a one he wanted. He sed medeyum, so I went up to + Johnny Roache's ship-yard and had them send a galley down to the offis, + wot would be big enuf for a good sized skooner. You orter seen the + casheer's face, wen the six-horse teem stopped in frunt of the dore. The + driver was goin to leeve the galley enyway, but the Casheer pade him to + hawl it back, and rote Mr. Roache that there boy was laberin under a slite + abberashun of the mind wen he ordered it. But I think its his mind wots + got the abberashuns instead, from sittin up so late with the red-hedded + grass widder wot keeps the bordin house crost the street from our house. + If it hadn't, y didn't he tell me he warnted a galley for keepin type in, + wen the composin stick's full. Fellers like him orter be put on ice, cos + there too fresh to keep long. He only needs a tale to be a thorobred dude, + cos he's got everything else wat blongs to one. + </p> + <p> + On my way home, at noon, I stopped to see a feller wot was sellin prize + packits, at the corner of Nassau street, so I didn't get time to ete much + dinner. I was gettin orful hungry bout 4 'clock, wen the edittur arst me + if I thot I culd clere up the pie wot was on the imposin ston. I didn't + warnt to let him see I was so orful hungery, so I told him I didn't kno. + “Well,” sed he, “there's nothin like tryin; the fore-man'll sho you wear + it is.” I couldn't keep back my grattyfycashun, so I thanked him three or + four times. You bet I was mad, wen I fownd out there warnt no cherry or + mince pie, not even dryed appel, but only a lot of type wot had got mixed + up. I think its reel mene to make a littel boy like me think hes goin to + get a big feed, and then not give him enything but a lot of led wot + nobodie else wuld try to ete. + </p> + <p> + You orter see our imposin stone; it must be orful valewble. Its a grate + flat peece of marbel, tattooed, all over, with funny hyroglifficks. I + guess its one of the old toombstones wot come from anshunt Troy. Its a + wunder the edittur dont sell it to the Smithsoyun institute, sted of using + it for layin forms on, its so orful imposin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A VISIT FROM A DISTINGUSHED ANTY-MONOPERLIST TYPERGRAFFICAL + TOREWRIST.—HE EXPOSES A MURDERUS CONSPIRACY.—A THRETEND + RESIGNASHUN. +</pre> + <p> + This mornin our offis was onhered by a visit from a typergraffical + torewrist, wot in-terduced hisself as John McNamee. He sed he'd just + returned from a xtensive visit in the Western States, ware he'd been for + sum time, for the benefit of his health. He is one of the most + distinguished members of the perlitikel partis, called Anti-Monopolists. I + admire a man wot praktices wot he preaches. Now, this Mr. McNamee has + never been known to contribute a cent to surportin our grate ralerode + mo-noperlists, altho he has travilled all over the United States by rale. + Beside that, he wouldn't axcept any accommodashuns short of a green-line + sleeper. Wen I arst him y he didn't ware his gold watch-chain and silk + hat, like all other pollytishuns, he sed his partie was endevourin to + freeze out the big clothin monopolies by wearin their does till they fell + off. I notissed his bus-sum swellin with pride, as he spoke of the fruits + there labor had brot forth in the failyure of so menney grate clothin + furms. + </p> + <p> + He condersended to thro in sum type, and wen he got thru, him and a cuppel + of our printers adjurned down stares to partake of a shampayne lunch. I + guess he warn't used to drinkin lite wines, cos he's been sleepin under + the paper-cutter all the afternoon, dreemin that he was bein nom-minated + for Preserdent on the great anty-monoperlist ticket. Jest before dinner + the edittur told me to tell the make-up man to kill Lawrence Rickard. Now, + his store is ware my pa buys all his groseries, and his wife and ma's + orful good chums, and b'long to the same sewin' sircle. Mr. Rickard alwus + treeted me rite, and I didn't like to see a cupple of bludthursty villanes + kill him without givin' him tim to say his prayers, so I called inter his + store and told him he'd better skip out or lay lo, cos the edittur was + orful mad at him, and had ordered a nuther feller to kill him. He sed he'd + fix 'em. So rite after dinner a cupple of perlice cum up to the offis and + arrested Mr. Gilley and the make-up man for conspiracy to murder, and they + had to xplane it, and pay all the costs. + </p> + <p> + I took a littel vacashun this afternoon, and went out fishin', cos I + remembured wot pa says after he's kissed ma by telerfone, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Distance lends enchantment to the vue.” + </pre> + <p> + So I thot them two bad men wyld be more enchanted with me if I kep at a + safe distance. I'm orful frade my jurnulistick carrieer's goin' to be + broken off short, but I don't think they orter blamed me, cos the edittur + shutd er told me to tell the make-up man to take out that local notis wot + red: “Fresh vegetabels and grene truck received daily, at L. I. Rickard's + Grocerie,” insted of makin' me tell him to kill Mr. Rickatrd, Well, if I + can't be a jurnulist and make a fortune, I' kno wot I can be, I'll go to + the offis in the mornin', and if there's eny music in the air, I'll resine + and berry my hopes. Then I'll leese Dennis Ryan's old blind muel, wot's + too week to kik, and go to peddlin' fish. The <i>Buster</i> will bust + 'fore they make enything outer this chickin; ain't that so, Mister Diry? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE CLOWD SHEW's ITS SILVER LININ', AND GEORGIE DOES HISSELF + PROUD.—THE RED-HEDDED OLD SNOOZER QUAKES BEFORE THE DEVIL.— + HE'S GOT THE GALL. +</pre> + <p> + To-day has ben a glorius day for me, cos it seems like I'd done sumthin + wot was a onher to the perfesshun. + </p> + <p> + Wen I went down to the offis I felt like my resignashun wuld be + axceptabel, cos my servises could easyly be dispensed with. I left the + door opin wen I went in so as I'd have a avenew of 'scape in case a mine + 'xploded. Jest as I got in the press-room I hearn a muffelled voice say: + “Georgie, my boy, is that you?” I answered: “Yes, sir.” Then I seen the + edittur reclinin' in a recumbent posishun, under the big sillinder press, + lookin'whither 'an a sheet, and tremblm' like he'd seen his grandpa's + gost. I arst him wot was the matter, and he sez: + </p> + <p> + “Georgie, there's a man in the offis wot I sed was a red-hedded old + snoozer wot ort to be run outer town. Tell him I've gone to Coney Ileland + to fite a duhell with Sullivan, or say I'm out takin' my mornin' pistil + practise. Tell him enything, only get schutt of him.” + </p> + <p> + I sez: “You becher life, I'll fix him.” So I went inter the sanktuary, + like I own'd the hull bisness, and I seen his oner walk-in' up and down, + swarin' to hisself, like he was repeetin' the responces in the 'Piscopal + church. + </p> + <p> + Soon as he cot site of me, he sez: + </p> + <p> + “Young man, where am that red-hedded, shaller-braned, lantern-jawd, + squint-eyed, crooked-knoes son of a ded beet? Show me him till I pulverise + him so fine that his remanes wouldn't bring 5 cents if you was to sell em + for pure superfosfated binary bone.” + </p> + <p> + “Wot did you remark?” sez I. + </p> + <p> + “Show me the insignificant littel puppy wot sed I was a red-hedded old + snoozer,” sed he. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you wish ter see the edittur. I'll call him,” sez I. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/034.jpg" alt="A Gentleman, Wants to Inter Vuehim. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + Then I went to the speakin tube wot goes up inter the composin-room, and + sung out orful loud: + </p> + <p> + “Tell the fitin edittur that there's a gentleman, down in the offis, wants + to intervue him. Tell him he'd better lode up his dubble-barrl'd, + breech-lodin blunderbuss with dannymite cartrag cos the gentleman prefers + a-heeted argument.” + </p> + <p> + Then I turned round and told the man that the edittur 'd be down in a + minnit. + </p> + <p> + He cooled rite off and sed: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my boy; there's no hurry; I guess you'll do jest as well. I + only called to pay for your valuabel paper. Tell the edittur my hole + family culdn't get along without it; even the baby lays awake all nite cry + in' for it.” + </p> + <p> + And then he handed me a $10 bill and didn't wate for no change, for he ony + had a cuppel uv minnits to each a trane in. Mr. Gilley was listenin' to + the hull conversashun, an', wen the coast was cleer, he come out from his + hidin' place and patted me on the back and sez: + </p> + <p> + “Georgie, you're a brick; you're goin' to be a onher to your perfeshun. + Sum day you'll be a <i>Pulsitter</i>, cos you've got the gall of a <i>Sun</i> + reporter.” + </p> + <p> + I wonder if <i>Sun</i> reporters swet much, cos I never go golled 'less it + was in summer wen pa maid me play the fiddel with the old buck saw, + gettin' the wood reddy for winter. I guess I must be a hero, cos the + sportin' edittur, wen he hurd wot I did, took me to the fotograf gallarv, + and had my pictur taken, so as he culd pass me off for the new English + prize fiter, wot he's training so as he can lick Sullivan. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HE INTERVUES ELI PERKINS AND GETS SUM POINTS ON JURNERLISTIC + EGGSAGGERASHUN, PREVARICASHUN AND MAGNIFYCASHUN.—Y PULLMAN + STOK IS GOIN UP. +</pre> + <p> + Wen I was round to the hotels, this mornin' gettin the arrivals, I seen + sumthin on the regester of the Grand Pacific wot look'd like a cuppel of + spiders had ben fitin and got there legs in the ink bottel and crawled + over bout a dozen lines. I arst the clerk wot it ment. He culdnt: say til + he seen wot number the wot-is-it had. After lookin over his leger he found + that No. 36 stood for Eli Perkins and a grate big bord bill. + </p> + <p> + I've hurd it sed that it showed enterprise for a noosepaper man to + intervue distinguished guests, so I thot it'd do purty neer as well to + intervue a distinguished liar. So I got the clerk to sho me up to Mr. + Per-kin's room. + </p> + <p> + It feel like I'd got up a rung or two on the ladder alreddy, cos the + edither thot my peece wot I rote bout the intervue was good, and its goin + to be put in to-morrer mornins paper. I rite it down in your pages, Mister + Diry, so as I can look at it wen my hart grows weery strugglin for fame + and wriches: + </p> + <p> + “After xchangin good mornins, the <i>Buster</i> reporter sed: + </p> + <p> + “'Mr. Perkins, youre one of the biggest liars in America, aint you?' + </p> + <p> + “'Who sed I was one of 'em, yung man?' sed he, gettin mad, and comin over + to were I was sittin, like he was goin to formally interduce his patent + lether pumps to the paches wot I sit down on. 'Who sed so? Name him + instanly, and I'll brand him as an infamous liar. Me, one of the biggest + liars in America. It's mene, to, contemtabel. To think that I shuld hav + toiled a life to stablish a reputashun, only to be classed as one of the + biggest liars of America. No, young man, you're rong. I am the grate I am + liar of the unyverse.' + </p> + <p> + “By this time our reprysentative was feelin like he'd mistakin his callin, + but musterin up courage, he sed: + </p> + <p> + “'Mr. Perkins, I'm a yung aspyrant for jurnalistic onhers. Can you give + sum points on the bizness, wot I culd use to advantage?' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes, my son, you becher bottom dollar, I can. Alwus bear in mind that + the three furst principels of moddern jur-nalism is Prevaricashun, + Eggsaggeration, and Magnifycashun. For instance: If Tallmage, in his + sermin, sez he b'lieves there's a hell, you want to be sure to rite it up + thusly: “Rev. Tallmage, havin just returned from a short visit, held his + hearers spellbound for a hour, yesterday morning, by his grand and vivid + discripshun of the mildness of the climat of a salubrous summer resort” + This wuld be a excellent illustrashun of Prevaricashun. + </p> + <p> + “'Eggsaggershun would be like this: If a candydate of the oppersishun + treats a fellow to a glass of beer, you wanter say: The barrel's ben + tapped, and fabulous sums are bein expended to inflooence voters, and + never forget to hed the artickel Fraud, Corrupshun, and Forgerry. + </p> + <p> + “'If a six-pound baby comes to one of your subskribers, you warnter size + the farther up, and if he's good for twenty-five segars the babys got ter + be twelve pounds. If he's good for fifty make it eighteen pounds, and if + he sends round a hole box, with the notis, the baby's got to turn into + twins. This wuld be a case of magnifycashun. It shos jurnerlistick + enterprise. Y, I've known cases where a puny 8-pound boy got to be bouncin + triplets, mother and babies doin' well, all cos their papa had cents enuf + to send sum wiskey 'long with the segars. Those are the principel points + to bare in mind, and if you follow em up rite, you'll become a grate and + good jurnerlist. If you ever run short of sensashuns, get on the track of + the “mercury” liar and foller him up, till you strike his mine of valuabel + infer-mashun.' + </p> + <p> + “'How long are you goin' to be in the city, Mr. Perkins?' + </p> + <p> + “'Only a few days. I'm here fixin' up my fenses, and puttin' in a bid for + the nommenashun for the Preserdency. I'm orful anxyus to run agin' Ben + Butler.' + </p> + <p> + “'Is there enything else startlin' that you know, Mr. Perkins?' queried + our rep-rysentativ. + </p> + <p> + “'Yes, but you musn't give it away, cos I'm short on Pullman stok. Do you + see this?' said he, holdin' up a peece of cotton, 'bout six inches square. + 'Well I come down from Albanie on a sleeper last nite, and this morning I + mistook one of the sheets for my hankerchef, and this thing is the sheet, + but don't menshun it, cos it'll make the stok jump a foot.' + </p> + <p> + “'Good mornin', Mr. Perkins, wenever I run short of lies I'll call agen.'” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A CONVENSHUN OF THE DUDE DEMMERCRAZEY,—A COUNTRY DELEGAIT.— + THE EDITHER GETS NOMMERNATED FOR GOVERNOR, AND GEORGIE + SMOKES A $15,000 SEGAR. +</pre> + <p> + There's something to pay to-day, is wot the edither sed to the casheer + tonite, wen I walked up to the desk for my $2 in munney and a bushell of + gloryfycashun. + </p> + <p> + Yes, it was to pay all day in town, cos there was a convenshun of the Dude + Dem-mercrazey in the Grand Opera House, and the candydates had all the + salloons leesed, and war busy servin out free wisky, like they've got in + O-i-o. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Diry, did you ever see a full-bludded Demmercratic delegait from a + country village? Well, jist immagin a tall, leen, lank indyvidooal, with + long hare, slouch hat, a knoes wot looked like it'd been in collishun with + a elderberrie pie, and a sute of cloes wot was bort wen old Father Adam's + wardrope of fig leeves was sold out by the Sherruf of Eden county. That is + a kyrect pickter of them fellers whose hands is ichin to grab hold of the + desternies and post-offisses of Amerika, and if you'll take my advise you + won't make no closer investi-gashun, lesn you've got munney nuff to spare + to set em up. + </p> + <p> + The aldermen of the city passed a resurlushun closin up the front dores of + the s'loons, cos they was frade if they was left open sumthin mite happin + wot would hurt the reputashun of the partie in the common hurd wot do the + votin. But then the delergates didn't mind circumventin a bildin, as long + as they got a chanse, to circumvent sum hot stuf wen they got inside. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, the Convenshun was called to order, and the boss carpenter + naled a lot of old seccund hand planks togethur, wot they called a + platform. Then the onherabel members, got orful full of 'nthusyasm, cos + the nommernashun for Guvner, was in order, jest then my chum jimmy, wots + workin for the Districk Telergraf Corn-penny come in, and handed the + Cheerman a despach, wot he red out loud. It sed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nommernate Joe Gilley, for Guvner, + and I'll tap a barrel, Sammy Tilton. +</pre> + <p> + The thots of the barrl was too much for the assembelled multertude of the + grate unwashed, and ther was quietness in the Hall, wile vishuns of wiskey + baths, free lunch stands, and clene paper collars, past befor thir eyes. + Then ther was a loud cheir, and Joe Gilley wos nommernated by acclamashun. + The rest of the ticket was put on the slate, by order of John Kelley, and + the delergates adjourned to the <i>Buster</i> offis, were the temperance + edittur regaled em, with a demmyjohn of Appel Jack, wot the committee giv + him sted of cash, last time he lectured, on Proherbishun, in Hobokin. + </p> + <p> + Wen the croud was cleered, Mr. Gilley arst me if I know'd the boy wot + brung the note. I told him he was my chum, and I'd rote the despach for + fun. + </p> + <p> + Then he shook hands with me, and sed I was smarter 'an chane litenin', and + I'd get to be Preserdent sum day, cos I beet all the pollytishuns he ever + know'd at wirepulling. Then he thanked me, and give me a cuppel of segars, + one for Jimmy and one for me, to call it square. We're goin' to save 'em + til to-morrer after dinner, cos it tain't offen boys, like us, get a + chanse to smoke $15,000 dollar segars, and these muster cost that, cos the + evenin' papers says Mr. Gilley pade $30,000 for the nommernashun. + </p> + <p> + He's ben most everything but a demmycrat, but he says he guesses he can + stummick there docktrins 'til he gets to Albany. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE REPORTER INTERVUES A PULITICKEL GOST.—ROS CONKLIN GIVES + HIM SUM PRESERDENSHALL POINTERS, AND VANISHES WITH HIS + BOTTEL. +</pre> + <p> + Yesterday was Sunday, so I didn't mak no entry, cos the corpse hadn't + climaxed. + </p> + <p> + Jest as we was leavin the offis Saturday nite I heerd the city editur tell + the purlitickal repertoriai liar that he wanted him to hunt up a + purlitickal gost, cos the <i>Buster</i> culdn't afford to let a little + one-horsed, two-for-a-cent daily, like the <i>Times</i>, have the + monopolie of the etheriel spirit act, not by a numerous long site. Bout 10 + 'clock in the evenin I saw the reporter passin our house, on his way to + Trinity churchyard, so I run up stairs and borrered one of ma's nite + gownds and nite caps, wot she wares wen she's 'mbracin morfeeus. Then I + tuk a short-cut down to the seminery. I'd jest got there, and was puttin + the last touches to my gostley toilet, wen I seen the reporter comin in + the gate. Wen he got purty neer up to were I was I coffed sort o' loud and + unearthy like. Well, you'd dide to see him drop his note book and get a + fit of Hodeley's shakin malaria. He was jest recoverin and gettin ready to + vacate the premises wen I immertated the voice of the feller wot says the + long prayers at Oshun grove camp meetin, and sez: + </p> + <p> + “Young mortel noosepaper man, what warntedst thou, encroachin on the peece + and quiet of our last restin place, with thy terrestriel note book?” + </p> + <p> + “In the name of John Kelley, the omnippetent boss of the New York + Demmercrazey, who are you? Speak!” said the reporter. + </p> + <p> + “Sinse you command me in the name of one of the gods, I will speak. See + this brillyant plumage,” sed I, placin my hand where I sit down, “now + covered from earthly vue. I am Stalwart Conklin, the stallwart of the + Rerpublikan partie, doomed for a sertain time (till '84) to strut arouad + on the confines of the perlitickel arena, attended by my humbel page + Mctoo.” + </p> + <p> + “Ros, old boy, shake!” sed the reporter, puttia out his baud and givia + mine a urthly pull, soon as he found out he warnt talkin to no angel. + “Who's goin to be the coming President?” + </p> + <p> + “Lissen, and I'll unfold a tail See yonder rooster, all bedecked in gold?” + sed I, pointin to the wether vein on top of the <i>Tribune</i> bildin. + “Well, put your hand to it, and you'll behold the man wot my in-flooence + is going to carry to the Wite House. If you've got eny spare change, put + her up on Winnyfield Skot Hancock, and count Mr. Conklin in Secretarry of + State, but don't yer never giv it away, cos I'm play in' a dubbel game. + Give us a suck of your bottel, and I'll hie myself thitherward for my + nitely game of pennie anty with Genral Grant, who alreddy is awaitin' me + behind yonder cloud of Havannah smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, Ros, leve us a smell,” sed the reporter, as I shoved the bottel + in my pistil pocket, and disserpeered behind a toombstun. + </p> + <p> + This mornin' the intervue come out in the <i>Buster</i>, and the hull + corpse of noosgathururs of the other papers is detaled in divishuns to + wach all the semerneries in the hope of interviewin' the gost of James G. + Blame, and the demmercrazey is wilder with inthusiasm than they was after + Fouracres got drownded in wiskey out in Oio. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HE REPORTS A XERDENT WOT HAPPENED TO J. GOULD AND SETS ALL + NEW YORK WILD.—XCITE-MENT IN WALL STREET.—JIMMY NERVOUS.— + YOU CAN TELL THEM BY THE COMPANY THEY KEEPS. +</pre> + <p> + I never could see y peepel with good cents don't xercise a little jugement + wen they name their baby's, so as fellus like me, wot is a young aspyrant + for jurnerlistic ornhers, wouldn't git mixed up on 'em. + </p> + <p> + Now the citie edittur told me if I ever hurd of any dog fites, or + axydents, to report 'em, cos it'd keep me in practise. So this mornin, + bout 3 o'clock, we was woke up by a orfull loud poundin on the front dore. + Pa thot it was burglers, jest as if they'd nock at the dore if they wanted + to cum in and steel. So ma had to go to the winder, and she found out it + was Mrs. Gould, that's my chum, Jimmie's mother. She was cryin orful, and + wanted ma to come over to her house, cos Jimmy had got the nitemare from + etin too much minsepie, and fell outer bed, and she was frade he'd brok + his kneck, cos he hadn't spok a wurd sinse. I seen I had a chanse to + distinguish myself, so I put on my cloes and run down to the offis. Oll + the editturs and reporthers had gone to bed, cos the paper was jest goin + to press, so I told the foreman all bout the axerdent wot happinned to J. + Gould. He got orful xcited, and sed I orter be promoted, cos it was a + splendid item, and we'd be the only paper wot would hav it, and then he + got the paper reddy for 50,000 extra coppies. + </p> + <p> + Wen I went down town after brake-fast I never seed such xcitement; + hundreds of peeple was at every street corner reedin' the <i>Buster</i> + and discussin' probubillytees of a panic. The noose-boys was coinin' money + sellin' our paper, singin' out “All 'bout the axerdent,” and showin' the + peeple the <i>Busters</i> hedlines, wot red: “Terribel Calamyty! J. Gould, + the Ralerode King, Falls Outer Bed and Sustains Fatul Injuries.” + </p> + <p> + The managers of the other noosepapers was orful mad, and maid all the + citie reporters hand in their resignashuns, cos they wasn't smart enuf to + each the item. + </p> + <p> + Down in Wall strete there was a reglar pannick. The Beers was jest as + happy as they culd be, and most all of 'em maid there fortunes before + dinner, cos all the stock went down like led. Jest wen a lot of the bulls + was goin' to bust up and pay ther creditturs 5 cents on the dollar, who + should walk inter the Xchange but J. Gould himself. You never seen such a + surprised crowd enyw'ere; they all thot it was his gost till he 'xplayned + that it warn't him wot fell outer bed a tail He sed he know'd he was purty + late gettin' down town, but they must 'xcuse him, cos he was kep up purty + late, calkin' up a cask of “Western Union Water” wot sprung a leek. + </p> + <p> + The 'xcitement's beginnin' to ware off now, but you bet the <i>Buster's</i> + got a big lot of free advertising and Mr. Giliey warn't a bit mad, wen I + 'xplained how it all happened, cos the Wall strete beers is goin' to + s'port him for Guv'ner, cos the <i>Buster's</i> made 'em all wrich. + </p> + <p> + Jimmie's allrite agin; he was only stunned, and he got out of bed in time + to get down to the telegraf offis. I feel orful proud of my chum now. I + never know'd how much he was valewd before. You see now, Mr. Diry, wot a + boy makes of hisself when he 'sociates with a risin' yung jurnerlist, like + yours trooly, Georgie. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IN THE ROLE OF DRAMATICK CRITTICK.—“HOSIERY HENRYETTUR, OR + A BOOM IN FANCY GOODS.”—THE HAPPY DENEWMENT. +</pre> + <p> + I didn't write nothin in you last nite, Mr. Diry, cos me and Maria—that's + my gal—was takin in the furst nite at the theatur. + </p> + <p> + Jest wen I was lee vin the offis the edittur called me aside and arst me + if I thot I was capabel to report the furst performance of “Hosiery + Henryettur, or A Boom in Fancy Goods,” cos the dramattick edit-tur had + gone and got mashed on the latest perfesshunal buty from Cleveland, and + warn't fit for duty. + </p> + <p> + I sez: “You becher sweet neck, I can.” + </p> + <p> + So he give me a cupple of “comps” and a led nickle for to buy candie and + peenuts with. Wen I got home I drest up in my Sunday-skule cloes, and went + round and wated wile my gal was puttin on her bandyline and rubbin her + face with a red sawcer wot she sez she uses for newralgy. + </p> + <p> + You bet, this devil felt proud, promerinardin his gal down the ile to the + front orchestrey chares, wots reserved for us rep-rysentatives of the + metrypollyton press. + </p> + <p> + I got out my note-book and pencil, and me and Maria ete candie, talked + sweet, and wated developments. + </p> + <p> + I'll pass over the prolog, and giv you the report jest as it was printed + in this mornin's <i>Buster</i>: + </p> + <p> + “Last evenin, the curtin, in Niblo's theattur, rose to a large, + appreshiativ, and bald-hedded audiense wot sit in the orkerstry cheers. + </p> + <p> + “The play wot come on the staige for the furst time in 'Merica was + 'ntitled 'Hosiery Henryettur, or A Boom in Fancy Goods.' The plot was + novel, romantik, and excrushiatingly interestin. The principal charackters + is Henryettur, a assthetick young ladie, dorter of a Fillydelphy lawyer, + and Augustus Angerlinus Fizzlesprung, a dude, wot wares a eye glass and + carries a gold plaited kane, wot he chews sted of terfaackky, cos his + nerves is week. Henryettur is orful sick 'bout Gussy, and wuld giv her + lock of Horsecar Wild's hare, wot she carrys in her bussum, if Gussy would + ony tumbel and marry her. But Gussy wouldn't tumbel if the hull of + Broadway'd fall on him, cos he's mashed on a lot of dudines wot do the + balleyin act in the academme. The furst act was very utter, in fact too + utterly utter for utteranse. The scenery was grandly sublime, bein a + combynashun of sunflours and Baltymore oysters, wot are sed to be very + assthetick. The seccund scene is more commonplase, cos it reprysents a + green room of a theat-tur with the artists sittin round a tabel, makin a + supper off of Boston baked beens and shampain sawse. Gussy 'pares in the + background and givs the gals $5 to danse a bally for his own speshell + benerfit. Then they all cam to the front of the staige. We guess they + b'long to the femail econymist persuashun, cos they all 'pared to be very + eccornomical in goods wen they maid there skurts, or else they got there + dresses wet, cos they've shrunk way up 'bove their nees, and way down + b'low there necks. The clerk wot sold 'em there stockins must of warrented + them to wash, cos there all colors, and there bout the only part of there + does wots anyways long. The dan-cin' part of the performanse didn't 'pare + to be much appreshyated by the older porshun of the audiense, cos they + shaded their eyes with their opera glasses and blushed on the top of there + heds, were there hare used to grow. The gals then go thru a lot of + moshuns, dansin the racket, and Gussy sets 'em up. + </p> + <p> + “The furst scene of Act III. is in Henryettur's privat boodywar. She walks + round, holdin a big sunflower in her hand, and calls it to witness that if + her dare Gussy don't make up his mind purty soon to marry her, the tender + thred wot holds her to this mundain spere will soon cum to a too utterly + utter, suddint round turn. Then she whispers sumthin to herself, and jumps + bout a foot, and xclaims, in a anty-assthetik voice: 'I will do it! By the + misterious hare, hidden in the opake depths of 10-cent-a-plate ice-creme, + I will do it!' + </p> + <p> + “The scene then changes to a rehursal in the theattur, with Gussy looking + at the bailey. All on a suddint a gal comes dancin out on tip-toes and + movin her hands round like she was playin' skippin'-the-rope. Her close is + purty, ony they're a good deal more shrunken than wot the other gals had + on, and her lower xtremer-ties look like she was smugglin' cotton from New + Orleans. Gussy then gets mashed on her rite away, and she don't 'pare to + mind it a bit, cos she sot rite down on his knee, and they begun a-talkin' + awful soft. Purty soon she jumped 'bout six feet, wen Gussy shoved a pin + inter her stockins. Then he reckernized her as Henryettur, and the bailey + bring on the happey denewment act, by balleyin' round wile Gussy and + Henryettur 'mbrace and kiss each other, and the property man lifts up his + hands and sez: + </p> + <p> + “Henryettur, you had better Go put on your cloesietter, Cos you are too + utter utter, Drest all in your hosieryetter; Gussy, you must let her, let + her, And I'm sure you'll like her better Wen you've settur, settur, + settur, And we've drunk to your dudetter.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A OLD BILL.—THE EDITTUR GETS A FORTUNE FROM OSSTRAILYER.— + SAMANTHY LONGTUNG AS THE BLUSHING BRIDE EXPECTENT.—THE END + JESTERFIES THE MEENS. +</pre> + <p> + The edittur was lookin outer the winder this mornin, wen, who should he + spie cummin up the offis steps, but Miss Samanthy Longtung, that's my + Sundy skule teecher, wots sweet forty and aint never had a mash. He sed, + he guessed he'd better not be to home, so I'd hav to stand her off, cos + she'd cum to collect the quarter, wot he'd forgot to pay, wen he eat that + plate of injy-rubber oyster supe at the church festival, bout a yere ago. + </p> + <p> + Wen Miss Longtung cum in, she reck-ernized me, and congratulated me on + enterin such a onherabel perfesshun. Then she kissed me rite on the mouth, + and sed, she wished I was growd up to be a big man. Then she asst me if + Mr. Gilley was in, and wen I told her “no,” she sed she was orful sorry, + cos she'd cum to collect a littel bill, wot she's gone responsibel for, + and wot was purty neer dew. + </p> + <p> + I told her I was sure Mr. Gilley would be orful sorry, wen he cum back and + found she'd ben to see him, cos I'd hurd him say, he thot she was the + purtist yung ladie, he knowd, n town, and of all wimmin, she was the one + he'd hav, wen he got a wife. + </p> + <p> + She sez, “Do tell, Georgie,” and then she kissed and hugged me, all over, + and asst me how long the edittur would be gone. + </p> + <p> + I seen she was warntin to kno too much & wuldnt stan off wuth a cent. + So I told her that Mr. Gilley wuldnt get back til nite, cos he was up to + his turney's, arrangin bout gettin the big fortune wot his uncle, wot dide + in Osstrailyer, had left to him. + </p> + <p> + “The poor dare man,” sez she; “didnt I alwus tell them yung snips of gurls + at sewin circles that Mr. Gilley'd be welthy sum day, I guess they won't + turn up their knoeses and call me a dride up old made, when Samanthy + Longtung turns inter Samanthy Gilley. I alwus knowd I'd be married fore I + got outer my teens, and to think my darlin Joe was too onherable and + bashful to ask my hand fore he got his fortune. But I spose he was frade I + wuldnt giv this poor hart, to a poor man, wen so menny welthy suters wus + round,” Then she hugged me agin, & told me to tell Mr. Gilley never to + mind bout that quarter, cos she'd advance it outer her own pocket. Seein + she was so orful kind, I told her all bout the fortune; how Mr. Gilley's + uncle was sent out ter rustercate in Bottany Bey by the British Guvment, + but the barmy breezes of the bey didnt agree with his constetushun, so he + resined and took a boat for a nuther ileland, & wen he got there he + borrud sum sheep from a farmer, & them sheep got marreed, & then + there was a lot of littel sheep, wen they growd up and got married, and + kep the ball rollin' even to the 3d & 4th generashun, wen the old man + dide. And now Mr. Gilley was goin to hav them aucshunned off, & he + thot he'd get bout half a millyun for em. Then I show'd her the plans of + the Grammercy Park palace, wot the perlitical edittur is keepin for + refrence, in case he's called on to boom Mr. Tilden for Preserdent, and + told her them was the plans of the reserdense wot Mr. Gilley was goin to + hav bilt to take his blushin bride too, after they got back from a + Yuropeean hunney-moon. Then I maid her promis faithfully that she wouldnt + tell a sole bout the fortune & manshun, cos the Edittur of the <i>Buster</i> + was the maudestest man in New York city. + </p> + <p> + The Jesuites used to say that “The end alwus justerfies the meens.” Sum of + the old Rode Ileland Purytans may say I'm a liar, but I don't agree with + em, cos I've maid too peepel happy. Samanthy Longtung is radient, cos she + walked up the strete like she was tredin on air. And Mr. Gilley acts like + he'd unloded a hull team full of pig led oflfen his mind, cos he knoes + Samanthy'll have the noose of the fortune all over town 'fore nite, and + then he'll be abel to stave off his bills, and run his cheek for wotever + he warnts, for a hull yare to cum. He told me, wen I was cummin home, that + I was a born diplermatist, & ort to hire myself out to King Alfonso, + of Spain, in case he'd get insulted agin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TRAVERLIN IN STILE.—GRAND RECEPSHUNS AND BABY KISSIN + MATTYNAYS.—MISTAKEN FOR HIS AXERDENSY.—A DEDLEY STATE. +</pre> + <p> + 6 p. m., Troy, N. Y. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Diry: + </p> + <p> + You will notis by the above address, that you and me are away from home + to-nite, and I spose you orter have sum xplenashun of our doins. Well, wen + I got down to the offis this mornin, Mr. Gilley told me to go rite home + and put on my Sunday cloes, and be reddy to start for Troy on the leven + clock trane, cos we was goin to opin up the campane there, and he wanted + me to carry his sachell, wot had a demmy-John in. Wen I got back, Gilley + was orful busy with a old pall-bearer of the Demmercratick corpse, from + Shodack, fixin the rate per caperta wot was to be bid for votes. + </p> + <p> + Wen we got to the depot, Vanderbuilt had had one of his spells, and had + been sendin the publick to Haydies, so he wuldn't let the trane wate ten + minnits for a guvmentel candy date. Mr. Gilley was in an orful way bout + gettin left, cos he had to be at Troy to-nite, and there warnt no other + trane wot would get us there, so he pade a feerful big pile of munney for + a speshell. President Arthur, and a lot of other Republercan dudes was + goin to start for Bufflo on a fishin xcurshun at 1 o'clock, so our train + got under way rite off, and every other trane on the rode was sidetracked + to let us get past. + </p> + <p> + There was a norful crowd at every sta-shun, wot had cum from miles round, + to see us distingushed cityzens. We stopped at Yungkurs to water. The town + has got a orful apropriate name, judgin by the way the mothers brot ther + yung curs for us to kiss. I dont care nothin for baby's enyway, but I had + to submit to a lot of slobberin for the sake of inflooensin votes, for my + Candydate. At Fishkill we stopped for refreshments, and was waited on by a + brass band and the Mayor and more baby's. Mr. Gilley spoke a few wurds and + thanked the crowd for their curtesies, and named a few babies. Jest as we + was steemin outer the depot, he dropt his red bandanner handkerchef; you'd + dide to see them yung gals tumbel over each other and scrambel for it. + Before they got it, it was tore all up, in little bits, and most every gal + wot got a peece, unbuttoned there jerseys, and stowed it way in there + bussums. Fishkill, like Yungcurs, has got a purty good name, cos it emits + a perfume, very surgestive of cleenin fish, wot was fresh wen Preserdent + Buckannon was inaugerated. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gilley was feelin orful proud of his recepshuns, all long the line, + & it warnt till we got to Albany that he found out that the peepel + took him for Preserdent Arthur. Then he got orful indignant, & made + the air of the cur smell like condensed sulfur gas, the way he swared. He + sez his xperience of unkindnesses has been purty big in his lifetime, but + that the peepel of New York State shuld take him for his Axerdensy was the + gol durndest unkindest cut of all, and he'd be struck by litenin, with a + asse's jaw, if he didn't make the furst barber he seen shave them + leg-a-mutton sidebords clene off, cos they was bringin his bald hed inter + disgrace. Wen we got to Troy we was met by the Centril Committee, and druv + round to all the salloons, so as we'd see all the sites, & set em up + for the crowd. I heer the band pleyin “See the conqrin hearo comes.” I + guess the populace is waitin for me, so I'll have to stop ritin now. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IMMENSE NTHUSIASM.—SUM POINTERS ON THE TARIFF.—THE OHIO + BABY'S.——POOR LITTLE CAST OFF.—THE FALLEN GRATE. +</pre> + <p> + My bussum swells to-nite with pride cos we've tuk the town by storm. If + peepel warnt all Demmycrats before, they is now, cos our speechyfyin has + struck in purty deep. The meetin was a grand suckcess fizzically, morally, + numerrically, and, I guess, votingly. + </p> + <p> + From the furst, we pollytishuns was received with a perfect ovashun. Chair + after chair rended the air, and the seen was only comparable to the nitely + concerts of the tommas cats and there parrymores on the back fences of 42d + street. + </p> + <p> + The silence was so grate you culd of hurd a dudine smile, wen Mr. Gilley, + in answer to a request to say sumthin bout the tariff, sed: “Gentlemen and + other Demmercrats, I regret very much that I can not axceed to your + request to menshun that all important questshun, the tariff. My hart is + reddy to bust with greef wen I think how menney of you listened last + Thursday nite to that Republercan demmygog, John Sherman, and was + deseeved. I met that gentelman in a hotel in New York the other day. Sum + one axed him if he'd sed enything in his Troy speech bout the tariff. + 'Yes,' sed he, 'I fed them durn country gallutes with tariff taffy til + they was runnin over.' I shall refrane from sayin enythin more on the + subject, cos you want to let your stummacks settel again fore you take a + nuther emettick.” Mr. Gilley finished up his speech, by pointin to the + glorious victory in Oio, and urgin the dem-mercrazey to “wurk, wurk, for + the day is at hand. Look at Oio. A Republican legislatur begat a baby, + & it called it Seccund Amendment Propersishun, it put it up, for the + admirashun of the peepel. The demmercrazy had a baby also, it was + cristened Wiskey, it grew fat, saucy, & popular. Seccund Amendment + Propersishun appared to hav ben a littel too previous, wen it come round, + & grew to be a littel, puney, sickley, child. Wot would eny mother + have done? Wouldnt she have hired a wet nurse? Did the Republican mother + do this? No, gentlemen, not by a long shot she didn't! She got ashamed of + the baby, & abandoned it at the dores of the wimmin of Oio, leavin it + to them, to bring up on the bottel. This was not all, gentlemen, the + hartless mother got jellus, & tride to steel littel Wiskey. But the + grate buxom, german frawleen, wot he had for nuss, couldnt see it a tall. + Too much bottel. Too much W. C. T. U. soothin sirrup, & too many + wimmin, killed the poor littel cast off, Seccund Amendment Propersishun, + and the remanes was berried last Tuesday. Littel Wiskey is growin to be a + big & lazy boy, mother & father doin well.” + </p> + <p> + This was too much for the crowd 'cos they got wild with nthusyasm, & + shoved us in a carriage, & hauled us all over Troy. + </p> + <p> + The luv I bare the grand, anshunt, and onherabel partie of the grate + unwashed, tempts me to pass over, the grand finale of todays proceedins. + But my dutie as a chronickler of actooal events, compels me to menshun the + fact that after our late drive tonite, the select sircle of pollytishuns, + partuk of a banquet, and becom so full of grattytude, sour mash, and old + borbon prinsipels, that they are now, down stares, humbly bitin' the dust + of the dinin room flure, and confessin there mannyfold sins, & + trespasses, to the open and obligin eers, of half a dozen nickel plated + cusspy-dores. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IN A TROY HOTEL.——GRAND REVUE AND MILLYTARY + DEMONSTRASHUN.—THE ATTAK OF THE LEEGUNS.—HOLESALE DETH AND + CONFUSHUN.—THE RECALL. +</pre> + <p> + I feel most too tired to rite in you tonite, Mr. Diry, but I guess I'll + tell you wot made me feel so xerted. After the meetin and banquet was over + last nite, the cullured gentelman, wot was in attendanse, at the hotel, + ushered me up to my room wot was on the skie balconey teer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/072.jpg" alt="I Crep Outer Bed and Lit the Gas. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + I got off my cloes & jumped inter bed, as quick as possibel, cos I was + purty well used up. i'd jest got inter a sleep, & was dreemin I was a + candydate for Preserdent, on the no-nuthin platform, with Benny Butler + hung on the tail of the ticket, wen I was woke up by feelin sumthin like a + lectric shock creepin over me. I begun to get scared, cos I felt like I + was gettin the seven yares ich, so I crep outer bed & lit the gas. On + xammenashun I found a feerful lot of little wite lumps all over my bodie. + Then I looked at the sheets, & a grande site was presented to my + vishun. There on a littel knoll, of the fether bed, stood the + commander-in-chief, surrounded by his staff, issuin orders. Grouped all + round, in regyments, divishuns, & briggades, were comanys of privats + in their full dress parade unyform of scarlet. As each regyment defiled + passed the Commander, the band struck up the Nashunal anthem of:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Bite, Brother, bite with keer + And do your dutie as a bed buggeer.” + </pre> + <p> + The processhun was the most imposin I ever seen. The entire time taken in + passin a given point was two hours and ten min-nits. + </p> + <p> + At eggsactly 2:20 a.m., the army formed in a holler square, with the + officers in the middel. The high priest then passed round them, skatterin + insense all over the soldjers, and xhortin them to stand firm, cos + vick-torie, glory & spoils was rite within there reech. Then he + skattered sum more insense, wot smelt wuss than limbugger cheese, all over + them. + </p> + <p> + By this time it was 3 a. m., and I was gettin sumwhat nervus and cold, in + my abbreevyated costume, my mercyfull disposishun and other considerations + restrayned me from dealin out holesale slorter to the enemy. Wile I was + tryin to devise meens to recapture my fortress, without incurrin the risk + of a eppydemick, I seen the army form, in five divishuns. The one under + Majah Genral Bloodsucker, bein ordered to scale the walls and take a + posishun on the ceelin. The other four divishuns to assume the offensive, + and attack me simultaneously on my flanks. Alas for me, too soon, I seen, + my mercy had ben illtimed, nothin was left me but to make hasty + preperashuns for the defense. Quickly I grabbed the wash basin, and slop + bole, and placed each under a leg of my chare. There was nuthin else in + the room, wot I cud use for a mote, in despyration I seized a copy of the + New York <i>Sun, Presbyteeryan Banner</i>, and a book 'ntitled “Biblikal + Reesons Why.” Placin the <i>Sun</i> and “Biblikal Reesons Why,” under the + remainin unprotected legs of my chare, and holdin the <i>Presbyteeryan + Banner</i> over my bed with a feendish laff, I mounted my fortyfour + cashun, and awated the attack. + </p> + <p> + The corps on the seelin, under Genral Bludsucker, was ordered to take the + inishiativ. + </p> + <p> + Formin in a compact falanx, the band playin the wile, they + simmultaneoushly took the perylus leep, landing rite in the middle of my + defense. Poor fellows! they met the fate of many others. Miscalculate the + distance they had fallen upon the Funny collum of the <i>Presbyteeryan + Banner</i>, and its well known soporiffic effects completely overcom them. + </p> + <p> + Seein the discomfertufe of the Bludsuckers command Genral Robeson + advanced, on the dubbel quick, over my N.Y. <i>Sun</i> barrycade. He had + almost reeched the leg of my chare, wen urgin his men forward he crossed a + line, and rushed rite into deth, yes a suddin and horrybel deth! Poor + fellus! they didnt notis in there hurried adyanse, that they were + attemptin to cross a sarcastick and vengeful dubble ledded editorial, on + the United States navy, by Charles A. Danamite. The survivors will no dout + erect a monument over the remains of there brave and darin comrads, beerin + the inskripshun “Dide of broken harts.” + </p> + <p> + Genral Robert Ingersol, seein the destruckshun of Robesons forces, + determined to advanse slowly, he had jest scaled the back of my barrycade, + and was preparin for a rush, wen his eyes cot site of the title of the + book. He immejiately sounded the retreet. Biblical Reasons Why was too + much for him, and he did not feel like crossin the kasm, and exposin his + men to more numerus and hotter perrils. + </p> + <p> + A counsil of war was then held, and it was decided to get the forces all + together, and make one determined effort, to capture my fortress from the + see. A half burnt mach was obtained, and a company of soldjers embarked + upon it. The ma-sheenary of the transport must of giv out, cos the bote + became unmanageable, and its livin freight, seein there hopeless + condish-un, joined in singin', “We're goin down to Glory.” + </p> + <p> + By this time, the sun streemin thru the cracks of the curtin, warned the + survivors of the approch of day, and a genral recall was sounded, and the + entire force retreeted to there impenetrabel fortresses in the cracks of + the bedsted, leavin me completely master of the situashun. + </p> + <p> + Now, Mr. Diry, can you wunder at my feelin sum wot tired after such a + xperiense, and a tedjus ride down from Troy? Prap's you may consider me a + liar. If you do, you are mistakin, cos every wurd I have rittin in you to + nite is the solium truth, without “any prevaricashun, eggsagerashun, or + magnifycashun, and besides that, every-bodie wot knoes me, sinse I packed + away my petty cotes, will tell you, I'm a littel Georgie Washinton. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HE REPORTS A DRY GOODS OPENIN.—A XPENSIV KOSTUM WOT FINDS + ITS WAY TO THE STABLISHMENT OF A JURNULISTICK MILLYUN-HAIR.— + FEMMERNINE FEMMERNINITY'S, WITH MICE AS APPENDAGES.—THE + NEET THING IN A HAT. +</pre> + <p> + To-day was the grand openin of fall and winter stiles at all the big Dry + Goods and Millernery stores. Clara Bell, wot does up that bisness for the + <i>Buster</i> had gone and got completely brok up on a 50 dollar bonnet, + wot she sed was the cutest little thing she ever seen, so she had to go + rite up to Hackensaw, and see if she couldnt squeeze the munny outer her + old bachler unkel, wot dotes on her. Mr. Gilley wuld of discharged her ony + he'd forgot to pay her sellary up in full for the last six months, so he + had to make the best of it, and send me out ter report it in her place. + </p> + <p> + The followin' is wot'll appear in termorrer mornin's <i>Buster</i>: + </p> + <p> + “The first place our repraysentertiv peramberlated hisself to was Lords + & Tailor's. He was met at the dore by a aggressiv dude, to hoom he + persented his paist-bord, and who immejeatly put him in charge of a + demminutiv casheer, wot scorted him to the maid-up soot department. This + department was feerfully crowded with ladies, wot were passin complerments + on the dresses. + </p> + <p> + “The most expensiv soot on exherbishun was 'mported from Paris, and is + maid with a red and green pettycote, bilt up together so as it'd look like + a checkherbord. Over this pettycote, and runnin down the back, from the + waste, in underlatin hills and valley's, wot was formed of a lot of the + cheep, two-for-a-cent metrypollytan jurnals, was a skie blu sattin + coursage, with a long trane, The front of the skurt was composed of a lot + of curlykues, suspended from the sides, louped up in the middle, and maid + of illushunairy stuff, so you culd see the pettycote. The hull bisness was + blowd up like the upper half of a belloon, ony a little more so. Over all + this was a pollynays, with panyers xtendin from the neck, down to the + waste line and maid titer'an durnashun. + </p> + <p> + “This kostume is the creashun of Wurth, the maskerline millerner, and cost + 5 thousand dollars. It was 'mported xpressley for the wife of a up town + plummer, but since she sent on her messures, she's been living so high + that the steem derrick, wot she bort a purpose, has utterly failed to lace + her korsets tite enuf for her to get inter the dress. Wile our + representertiv was present, the kostume was purchased by the wife of the + milyun-hair editur, of the Sarrytoga <i>Eagle</i> for 48 hundred dollars + cash. + </p> + <p> + “A sweeter'an-a-peech littel dudine, informed us, in reply to our + questshuns, that jurseys, would be worn dubbel brested behind. That the + regulashun bussel wuld containe at least six New York <i>Heralds</i>, + covered over with a Texas <i>Siftins</i>, for the bennyfit of the + occupants of the church pue, in the reer of the warer. That crin-nylines + wuld average 4 feet, six inches, in diameter, and wuld be pervided with + the new anti-ankel-xposin spiral springs. That basks wuld be cut very low, + and filled in with gripher lace. That corsets wuld be pervided with + rachets and set screws, to nabel them to be drawn more titely round the + waste. That owin to the relertiv cheepness of wool, and its qualerty of + xpandin, sted of shrinkin, it wuld ntirely tak the place of cotton as a + indyspenserble adjunct in making up the fashuneebel wimmin. In reply to + our inquisertiv reporters last query, the young ladie blushed way up + b'hind her eers, and xclamed: 'Oh, you horrid noosepaper man! Dont chew + kno, flutin wil allwas remane in stile?' + </p> + <p> + “The hoseery department hadn't opened up wen our reporter called, but he + was allowed to inspect it. It is in charge of clurks of the male + persuashun, cos there sposed to kno better than gurls wot'd look best on + the fare purchasers of these indys-penserbel artikels of femmynine + apparal. The latest noveltie reprysents a littel mouse, wots crawled bout + half way up, and got stuck. + </p> + <p> + “They are in all cullers, and are desined for weerin in wet & slushy + wether. The're called 'Good Xcuse' Stockins, cos they giv the blushin + weerer a good xcuse, for not gettin her skurts wet & muddy. The mouse + looks orful naturel, and sum of these days, we'll heer of sum gallant + corndocktor of the Ell R. R. gettin a kik in his stummik, for grabbin hold + of one, wile he labers under the impresshun, that he is re-leevin the fare + weerer, of a indyskribeibel aggerney. + </p> + <p> + “The neet thing in a hat is a littel bunch of yaller & green velvit, + surmounted by a derminutiv Tommas cat, wots got his back up, and his tale + runnin down the lady's neck. It costs a hundred & fifty dollars, & + the lady's, all say its too sweet for anything. + </p> + <p> + “Wimmin's logic is curius enyway. If there all mashed, so bad, on Tommas + cats, Y, in the name of Pennylope Pennyfether, dont they sit up sum + moonlite nite, at a back winder, armed with a dubbel barrel shot gun, + & slugs? Then they'd get a durn site more'an they'd use in a hull + lifetime. This would 'pare to be more senser-abel than payin Lords & + Tailor's 150 dollars for a little insignifercant kitten, wot aint cut his + eye teeth yet.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DUMMIE “ADS”—WARNTED, A WIFE, BY THE RELIGUS EDDITUR.— + THE CLIMAX.—BABYS, BABYS EVERYWERE.—A HORRID RECH.— + EXPLERNASHUNS AND PACIFERCASHUNS, WITH A TWENTY-FIVE CENTER + AS DESERT. +</pre> + <p> + Since the big reduckshun in price of the mornin papers, them wot didnt cum + down much hav ben usin all sorts of skeems to keep up their circulashuns, + so yesterday Mr. Gilley desided to run a cuppel of collums of free wanted + advertisin. To start the ball a rollin, he maid me rite off a lot of + dummie wants. I put in most everything I culd think of, from the soft and + luvin pursernel to the big & clumsy steem engine. + </p> + <p> + Wen I got down to the oflfis this mornin there was a orful crowd of wimmin + on Park Row, all ranged along the edge of the pavement, with bout a + hundred extra purlice keepin them in singel file. I couldn't for the life + of me imagine wot was up, till I went up steers and seen the per-sesshun + filin in and out the religus edittur's offis dores. Then I remembered the + advertisement I rote, wot red like this: + </p> + <p> + “Warnted, a rotund, bucksom, good-lookin and good-natured madin, suiterbel + for a wife. One wot knowes enuf to put on stile & run a fashernable + stablishment. Apply urley at this offis, to the religus edittur.” + </p> + <p> + Now, our religus edittur is purty sweet on wimmin enyway, so he tuk it all + in good part, and kissed and hugged every one of em, tellin em he'd let em + kno by letter, wen he'd made his choice. They kep swarmin in all the + mornin, til you'd thot all the wimmin in New York was warntin a man. Bout + 11 o'clock we all notissed sumthing shut out the lite of the doreway, + purty soon it turn'd round and cum in sideways and sung out, “Oh, were! + Oh, were! is the bloomin boy wot warnts a rotund, buxom madin for his + wife?” Then we all tumbeled that she was the Bowry Museum fat woman, so I + pointed to the Religus Edittur. Then she grabbed him up in her arms, and + squeezed him, till you could heer his ribs snappin. Wen he got black in + the face she thot she'd made a mistake, in the man, and seized hold of Mr. + Gilley, so I remembered it was gettin on towards dinner time. At the dore + of the offis I met the quire singer in the little Church Round the Corner, + wot the Religus Edittur's ngaged to, and she tole me to tell him he was a + horrid rech, and she was goin to sue him for breech of promis, so she was. + </p> + <p> + On my way hum to dinner, the manergin edittur overtuk me, and laffed and + sed that was a purty good joke I'd fixed up on the religus edittur. I told + him I didnt meen nothin by it enyway, cos I didnt xpect eny gurl'd think + he was good lookin enuf to marry him. + </p> + <p> + Now our mannergin edittur jest got marreed last week, and hee's bordin at + the Metrypollytan hotel. Just fore we got there he giv me a ten-center, + and sed, thats for the laff him and his wife'd hav wen he tole her bout + the joke. + </p> + <p> + I guess he got all the laffin he wanted, cos he'd no sooner got inter the + hotel dore, before every man, woman, and child run up to him, and tride to + giv him a baby, wot they sed was his. Baby's was lyin round permiskusly, + all over the desks, floors, and barroom. The rooms, up stairs, was chock + full of baby's. Xtra cots was lade out in the halls, and every cot, had + half a dozen baby's on to it, and every baby had a card pinned on its + does, wot red:—Tom Wilson, Susie Wilson, Paddy Wilson, Biddy Wilson, + and every Wilson you could think of. Eight pages of the reges-ter was + filled with there names, and every page was hedded with the Editturs own + name, John Wilson, Father. + </p> + <p> + Wen he got to his own room, he found his wife cryin, lik her heart was + brok. Soon as she cot site of him she let out a shreek wot brot everybodie + in the hotel to there room, and sung out: “John Wilson youre a monsteer, + youre a vaggerbone, youre a rech, youre a inferrnus skoundrel. Take me + back to my mama, rite away, and if youve got a spark of manhood about you, + you'll go and make wot little restertushin you can, to the mothers of + these wurse than orfans.” + </p> + <p> + Quicker'an litenin, Mr. Wilson tumbelled, and laffin a fiendish grin, he + sung out in axcents wild: “Get me a Gatlin Gun, and lode it down to the + mussle with thirty-leven charges of dannymite, and let me get a shot, at + that incorragerbel imp of Haydes, the <i>Buster's</i> Devil.” + </p> + <p> + Then carmin down a littel, he took this mornins paper outen his pocket and + red out loud to the crowd: “Wanted; a fine, helthy infant for adopshun. No + questshuns ast. Leeve it at the Metrypolytan hotel for John Wilson, + mannergin edittur <i>Daily Buster</i>.” + </p> + <p> + This put everybodie in good humer agen, and, after settin up the drinks + for the crowd, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson went out to the country to hire a farm + and sum wimmin to take care of the baby's till homes culd be secured for + 'em. + </p> + <p> + I guess him and his wife's sickened on baby's enyway, cos I hurd him + tellin the hotel clurk that they'd had all the baby's round them that + they'd ever have, by gumbo. + </p> + <p> + And now, Mr. Diry, I must close for to-nite, cos I've got to smoke the + 25-center wot the religus edittur giv me for the laff he'd had outer my + joke on Mr. Wilson. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AT THE MASQUE BALL.—FRIVERLUS FIXINS.—A PARISIEN + GREASETTE, WOT MASHED THE MASKULINE CHARACKTERS.—MR. GILLEY + COT IN HER TOILS.—THE DEVIL IT IS. +</pre> + <p> + Last nite Mr. Gilley giv me a invyta-shun to the fancy masque ball, wot + all New York's ben torkin bout for the last six weaks. It was to be a + toney affaire, so wen I got hum I went all thru my wardrobe, but culdn't + find nothin fancyer than the cloes I wore wen I painted the back fense at + our house red with green trimmins. I seen they was hardly prackterkel, cos + there was a feint oder of cows & horses clingin to them wot the heet + of the ball room mite develop in a way wot wuldn't be satisfacktorie to + myself or the delercate knoeses of the other aristocrazey present. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/091.jpg" + alt="It Was Ony the Wurk of a Minnit to Pry Open The Lid " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + So I put em away with a sy, and had jest bout maid up my mind that the + other ballers wuldn't be treeted to my distingushed presense, wen I + remembered the box of cloes wot our dinin room gal, wot was purty fly, + left, wen she loped with the buggler, & all ma's silver spoons. It was + ony the wurk of a minnit to pry open the lid, and a dazzlin array of + butyful & fancy does met my vishun. Then I shed all my things and + commensed the arduus wurk of dressin. I say arduus, cos it was parrylisin, + discom-fertin, & puzzlin. I useter wonder y ma tuk so long to dress, + wen she was goin eny-where, and pa was swarin and hurryin her up. Now, I + wunder no longer cos I kno how tis myself, and after my own xperiense in + pins, buttins, strings, laces, garters, and things, I shall ever look upon + wimmin as martirs. The dress was jest short enuf to show my blu striped + silk stockins, and bout two inshes of mbroidery. The stock-ins was a + littel too big, so I had to fill em up with hankercheefs. The waste jest + but-tened up on me, at the waste line, but it tuk half a dozen piller + cases, and a cuppel of sheets, to stuff the upper part of the front. I had + to put a reef in crinny line, cos it showd, and it tuk ma's pach-wurk + quilt to mak my bussel big enuf for stile. + </p> + <p> + Wen I was all thru dressin, I looked like a Fifth avenue daysy, every + particle of my dress was complete, only I culdnt set down very maudestly, + cos my hoops was too wide. Then ma she fixed up my hare, and maid a masque + for me, and sed I was a true-ter-life Parisien greassette. + </p> + <p> + Soon as I got in the ball-room, every maskerline carackter got mashed on + me, and warnted me for a partner. Every one I dansed with treeted me to + ice creme and carrymels, and I guess, I ete supper bout seventeen times, + in fact I ete so much, that a terrebel strane round my waste, warned that + if I indulged my appytite eny more, a feerful catastrofy, was lierbel to + take place. + </p> + <p> + Bout two o'clock I begun to get tired, & warnted to go home, but my + partner, wot was Mr. Gilley, drest in the costum wot he sent me down to + Ike Israel's on Chattam Strete, to hire for him, and wot the Jue sed, + reprysented Tom Okiltree a Texas Briggand, promissed to get a carrage, and + driv me home, if I'd stay till three. I was 'greed, so I dansed three or + four more sets with him, and ete sum more creme. Then he got a close + carrage, & told the driver to drive orful slow, cos he was frade the + moshun of the carrage'd have a bad effect on my nerves. + </p> + <p> + Soon as we got started he tuk me on his knee, & got to huggin me round + the piller slips & sheets and kissin my left eer, and gettin otherwise + fermillyer, so I seen the moment had cum for me to be myself, so I lifted + up my masque. Soon as he cot site of my face he xclaimed: “Oh! the Devil!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir,” sez I, “tis the Devil.” + </p> + <p> + Then, tellin the driver to stop the horses, he lifted up his foot and gin + me a kick wot landed rite on ma's pachwurk quilt, and sed: “Go to the + devil.” + </p> + <p> + I guess he's mad at me, only he purtends not to be, but that's put on, cos + he's frade I'll gin the hull thing away, and then the religus edittur and + Mr. Wilson'll hav the laff on him. + </p> + <p> + The sosighety edittur's report in this mornins <i>Buster</i> says: + </p> + <p> + “The Parisien Greasette was conseeded by everybodie present to take the + onhers of belle of the ball. The knowin ones claim that it was Miss Ellen + Terrier, the latest artistick importashun from England, and that Mr. + Vandybilt, as the Texas brig-gand, seen her home. If this is a fact, + there'll likely be sum domestick thunder flyin round in a uptown manshun.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE HORSE REPORTER WANTS A COMPAGNON DE VOYAGE.—THE + STRAPPIN YUNG WIDDER, WOT AIN'T ON THE MASH.—SWEET-FORTY + MAKES A NUTHER MINNYSTEERIAL SKANDAL. +</pre> + <p> + Our horse reporter is a reglar wimmin hater, and he'd walk round a hull + blok, fore he'd meet a gal, wat'd try to flert with him. I guess he's a + grass widder that used to hav a woman, wot maid him tow a chock line, and + he aint never got no divorse from her yet. His affeckshuns is all lavished + on good lookin horses, and he'd giv more for one of them, than he wuld for + Lillie Lan-kry or the hull curboodel of perfesshunal buties. + </p> + <p> + I alwus did think it was a pitty, for a good lookin man like him, not to + hav sum wimmin, wot was brakin there harts, and everything for him, so + this mornin I sent out notes to a cuppel of gals, wot I thot was warntin + to get mashed, tellin them to call at the <i>Buster</i> offis, & ast + for the Horse Reporter, 'cos he was ded struk on them, and warnted there + compinny, on a trip to Boston tonite. + </p> + <p> + Bout one 'clock, a grate stout woman, wot looked like a reglar bruisir, + cum inter the offis and enquired for the Horse Reporter. I show'd her into + his room, and shut the dore, just enuf so as I could see all wot went on. + </p> + <p> + “Air yer the spalpeen, wot calls hisself the Maire Reporter? sez she. + </p> + <p> + “I am the horse reporter, madame. Has your mare got the glanders?” + </p> + <p> + “Me ma got the glanders, yer inserlent puppie, is that fhat yer say? Me ma + wots ben neeth the old sod fer ten yers. Don't cast any miscomplementry + reflecshuns, yung man, on my ma wot dide of anty-consumpshun, or I'll + plant the fore end of me toe nales forninst the pit of yer stummick in a + way wot'll mak yer feel like a he muel had bruk loose. Air yer the + in-dyvidooal wot sent me this invytashun?' sed she, handin the reporter + the note. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, madam,” sez he, “there must be some mistak, cos I didn't + never rite this note.” + </p> + <p> + “Yees didn't, yer rech; is that the way your after crawlin outer it, after + try in to ruin a respectibel widdy like meself? Praps yer don't think I'm + good lookin enuf for yer, yer babby-faced, downey-lipped, banged-haired, + slim-legged, tite-laced, corset-cased, monkey-taled sun of a noospaper + doode. If my Pat was livin he'd giv yer a lessin next time yer tride to + mash a yung widdy like meself, moind that now, will yer!” + </p> + <p> + She hadn't hardly got outer the door wen a tall, lone, lank maidin, wot + had seen bout forty sommers and too numerous to menshun winters, cum salin + in, with a slitely ellyvated skurt wot exposed to vue a couple of wite and + blue shafts wot might have been pipe-stems if they hadn't bin her ankels. + Bowin sweetly to the law reporter, she requested to be shown into the + horse reporter's offis. + </p> + <p> + Soon as I'd showd her in she tuk a chare, wot was purty close to the Horse + Reporters, & sed to him: + </p> + <p> + “Here I am Georgie, dere. I do feel so nurvus, you kno. I'm so very yung + and inexperienced, and my ma sez a yung and innocent gal lik me ortent to + trust myself to go to Boston with a man. But then, Georgie dere, you dont + look one bit norty. Wont we have a nice time, darlin.” Then she reched + over and kissed him rite on his mouth, and blushed wen she sed, “Don't + Georgie, yer orternter kiss me till we're better aquainted.” Kissing him + agen she sot rite down on his knee, and ex-clamed, in a horryfied tone: + “You horrid, norty boy, if yer do that again, I'll strik you with a + fether, reel hard, so I will.” + </p> + <p> + All this time the horse reporter was the pikter of despare. Suddenly + espying a up town divine waitin for the Manergin Edit-tur, in the room + opposite, he sed: “My dere madam, your sweetness is all waisted on me, cos + I'm a marreed man, wot had twins last nite. See, in yonder room, is the + Horse Reporter, the man youre looking for.” + </p> + <p> + By the time she was on the preechers nee, and was goin thru the kissing + per-formanse, the Horse Reporter had the hull staff, lookin thru the half + opened dore, and the fust day the <i>Busters</i> stock of scandals runs + out, we hav one all reddy, bout the minnysteer kissin the madin of forty. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE DEVIL IN CHURCH.—A TERRIFICK. XPLOSHUN, AND FLYIN + DEBRIS GIVES MR. TALMIG A XCELLENT SUBJECT.—FASHUN AND + STILE OF LONG AGO.—GET THE BEHIND ME SATAN. +</pre> + <p> + Today is Sunday. I kno I ortenter rite in you today Mr. Diry, but, as I've + had to rite up a serio commick, religus report, I dont see no big + objeckshun ter givin it ter you. + </p> + <p> + Urley this mornin, the Religus edittur called up to our house, and sed + he'd giv me a quarter, if I'd go over to Brooklin sted of him, and report + a surmon, cos he warnted to go to the little church round the corner, and + make it up with the quire singer, wot was goin to sue him for breech of + promise. I was 'greed so I went over, and the ushur showd me inter one of + the front seets, and didn't collect no admishun fee offen me, cos, I guess + he knowd I had a ded hed ticket. + </p> + <p> + Rite in front of me was a corpulent woman, fatter'an a poorpoise, and the + wife of a Brooklyn alderman. She had a hat on wot was as big as a punshun + hed, wot she kept twistin round, so I couldnt see a thing wot was goin on + on the staige. I guess the woman wayed bout 250 pounds, & her bussel + was as big as a Ellerfants. The case was gettin desprit for me, cos I'd + agreed to bring hum a report of the performanse. The furst part was jest + bout over; the blonde artist was singin a solo, and the audiense was so + interested that they all stood up. I seen the time had cum for acshun, so + I stood a pepper box wot I had in my pocket on the seet. Soon as the ladie + went to sit down, she hadnt calkerlated on eny obstercal, and didnt try to + control her gravytal momentum, so she cum plump down on top of the pepper + box. A loud, roarin sound, then a terrer-bel xploshun shuk the buildin, + and the air was filled with flyin debris, woman, pieces of cloes, + hoopskirt, hat, buttins, little bits of rubber bussell, strings, and + things innumer-abel and unmenshunabel. I never seen such a reck in all my + life. The ladie landed right in front of the minister, were sum of the + quire girls run to her rescue and kivered her up with shawls, puttin her + in a carriage and sendin her home. Soon as the reck was cleered and order + restored, the minister sed: + </p> + <p> + “I came here this mornin with no idea upon wot subject I shuld speek, + trustin ontirely to Providense to reveal to the con-gregashun and myself a + sootabel one. You see, my heerers, for yourself, my trustin has not been + in vane. My text will be: 'And Eve bort a Bon Ton System, and maid herself + a fig leef pollynays, cut a la Princesse, and trimmed with dandylion + ruchin and sun-flower brade. Then she fleeced a he ram, and of the wool + thereof she formed a big bussel, and Adam got mashed on her fine does, and + she turned up her knoes at the washerwomans darter wot didnt have on + nothin but a palm leef jursey, wot fit her too soon.' + </p> + <p> + “You ladies are all alike, and you get your line of dress, from a purty + long and direct line of ancestry. I dont think a fine dress is a sinful + appendage to eny lady, in fact I like to see a ladie drest well, but to be + drest well, a lady ort not to practise deceit, or act a lie, for there is + such a thing as actin a lie. Now bussils are the devils perticklar delite, + cos there a form of deceit, in fact, I verily beleeve the devil is in + every bussel, and actin on the Biblical advise, the ladies all say, 'Get + thee behind me, Satan.' Hereafter, air balloon bussles will be considered + contraband, in this church, and ladys suspected of carry in them, will be + subject to a serchin, and rigid xaminashun, before bein admitted.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ROUTS THE REPUBLERCAN RABBEL.—CAMPANE LIES.—THE DEVIL IN + LEAGUE WITH DEMMERCRAZEY.—GRATE WAS THE FALL THEREOF. +</pre> + <p> + Tomorrer is eleckshun day, so tonite the Republercans hav been havin a + gran free strete exhybishun. I'll be orful glad wen the eleckshun is over, + 'cos the xcite-ment, & late hours, attendin the campane, is weerin out + my nurves. Jimmy and I hav jest got in Mr. Diry, and I think paraders are + wonderin wot struck em by this time. + </p> + <p> + Bout half past seven, the torch lite perrsesshun got together, at Cooper + institute, and began the march up town to Uniyun square were the liars was + to hold forth. There was a norful lot in the persesshun, and sum of 'em + had banners, with a pole cat eatin a rooster. I got indignunt, cos they + was ntirely too fresh, so me & Jimmy run on ahed of em, and sprinkled + the strete with torpedoes wot we bort a purpose. + </p> + <p> + You'd dide to seen em marchin rite on to 'em, singing out “Down with + Gilley and the wiskey suckin demmercrazey.” Soon as they stepped on sum + torpedoes, they didn't wate for marchin orders. Cos there was a norful + noise, like the demmycrazey was in leegue with the subterrainon bosses, + and they was celebratin there indypendense day. + </p> + <p> + I was sorry to see them disband, cos they looked sorter purty, and the + band wot they had in the persesshun maid things lively. + </p> + <p> + They had a big platform erected wot was meant for the big guns of the + partie, to fire off lies and ellyquense from, soon as the persesshun + arrived, so me and Jimmie run up there and wated til the crowd wot had got + dermoreylized arrove, and the speekin begun. The fust speeker wot held + forth, was a clerickel-lookin cus, wot peared to be only bout twenty-one + years old. He give a long descriptshun of wot him and his partie, had done + for the country durin the late unplessantness, when the oppersishun + candydate, Mr. Gilley, was to hum, busy weerin out his pettycotes. This + made me madder'an durnashun, cos I knowd the feller wos lying a reglar + baldhedded lie, cos if Mr. Gilley wos weerin pettycotes wen the war brok + out, his pa and ma orter kep on lettin him be a gal, and then, p'raps, his + hare wuldn't all fell out. The peeple didnt pare to xhibit much inthusyism + over the fellers remarks, cos he haled from out in Oio, and citizens out + in such far away and semiuncivylized states, aint sposed to kno as much as + us New Yorkers enyway. A nuther feller got up and sed: “Ladies and + gentlemen, this is the eve of a grate eleckshun. Tomorrer us free men'll + go up to the poles and deposit our ballots inter the box, and thus signify + our choice of rulers. Every one present knoes the disgraceful condishun of + the New York Demmycrazey. Its platform is rotten in every plank. Its + leeder Mr. Gilley is the dubble-extract of rottinness, and the hull rank + and file of the party is in a fit state to be condemned by the fresh meet + inspector. How is the Republican party? Its swete and pure as a new-born + baby. Its leeder is as clene and wite as new milk, and all Hay-dies culdnt + find a flaw in the platform on wich we stand.” Just then I guess the devil + muster taken excepshuns to the remarks, cos I'd pulled the rope wot I'd + fixed to the loose leg of the platform, and the hull bisness toppled over + the speekers and vice preserdents of the meetin, presentin a free + accrobatic tumblin show to the amused and interested audiense. All the + peepel wot was present and seen the platform give way are feelin blu and + superstishus, cos there frade the Devil's in leegue with the Demmercrazey, + and I guess there bout rite; aint they, Mr. Diry? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ELECKSHUN DAY.—THE DUDES PEDDLIN DEMMERCRATICK TICKETS.— + THE METHYDISTS GO BACK ON THE G. O. P.—THE DEVIL AS A + PERLITICKEL WIRE-PULLER. +</pre> + <p> + Mr. Diry, at this ritin, I guess you're safe in hangin out the hemale + chickin, cos all the reports from this city are givin Mr. Gil-ley a + 'normous vote, and you bet this devil is feelin proud, cos didnt he + nommernate the Guvner? And bout tomprro nite the hull Statel kno that he + lected him, too. + </p> + <p> + I was kep orful busy this mornin till all our repeeters had scored there + votes. Them Republercan fellers is orful trickey, and I had to do sum tall + flyin round wile I was watchin them, so as they wuldnt steel our + repeeters, wot we'd imported a purpose from Jursey and Fillydeify, and mak + em vote in a nother preecinct for there ticket. They call that kinder + business equalizin, but, in this case, it didnt equalize wurth a cent, cos + I told them all that they warnted to keep there eyes on them fellers wot + clamed they was Republercans, cos they was Pinky-ton's detecktives in + disguise tryin to hatch up a case of illegal votin agen them. That scared + em off, so they each took there 2 dollars and skipped over to Jersey + Citty. + </p> + <p> + Soon as I got 'em safely off, I seen the Rerpublicans was gettin ahed of + us, so me and Jimmy went down to the offis, and borrered the scientific + editturs 'lectric pen, and rote bout 10,000 notes, addressin them to all + the dudes whose names is in the di-recktary. Then Jimmy went out and got a + lot of other messenger boys to take em round. + </p> + <p> + In less than half a hour the stretes of New York and Brooklyn was crowded + with dudes (reel live dudes, livelier than they was ever known before), + peddlin Demmercratick tickets round, and visertin all the taylors, and + barbers, and thretnin to withdraw there custom if they didn't vote the + strate Demmercratick ticket, and elecshunaire for Mr. Gilley. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/112.jpg" alt="And Rote Bout 10,000 Notes " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + I guess I'll have to be round tomorro nite, cos there'll be sum fun, wen + Lillyun cums out the stage dore cos every dude in New York has got a note + wot red like this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sublime adored one—By the immortal sunflower you ware in + your hallered buttin-hole, and the admyrashun you bear your + asthetick frend, vote for Mr. Gilley for Guvner, cos the + delercate purple tint of his perfume absorbent, is quite + too, too, and his long and shaggy Bur-muder-oniyun cullered + locks are jest too delish-us, and placed in the guvermentel + cheer, will do much towards educatin the common hurd, to a + appresheashun of our assthetick tastes. Besides that, I + think the other Candydate, is too much of a 'orridley + 'orrid, common cad. If you will do this much for me, I will + meet you at the stage dore, tomorrer nite. + + Yours, utterly in luv, + + Lillyun Russell, Dudine. +</pre> + <p> + Then I sent out notes to all the Bank Presidents and clerks, and nost + everyone I culd think of wot had the handlin of other peepels munney. They + wus short and sweet, but sum how they brot out a orful lot of voters. The + notes red like this: + </p> + <p> + If you kno wots good for you, you'll vote for Joe Gilley for Guvner. + Remember. From one who knos you as well as you kno yourself. + </p> + <p> + All the Methydists got notes from the Conferense Committee, sayin that + they'd discovered that the Republican candydate was a rank infydel, and + advisin them all to vote for Mr. Gilley, cos he was goin to donate a big + pile of munney to furrane mis-shuns. + </p> + <p> + Every member of the Society of Hen Pecked Husbands, wot is very strong in + New York, was requested by a letter sined by the President to vote for Mr. + Gilley, cos he had it from good authority that the other feller had greed + to order the legislate to pass a bill legalizin the wearin of the pants by + married wimmen. + </p> + <p> + Then I sent out a circular to every dout-ful German voter, tellin them + that the Republican candydate, wen he was a boy, had licked a duch boy + biggeran him, and called him a puddin'-hedded, pot-stummicked, + pretzel-thievin' son of a beer drinkin' and sour krout etin' duchman, and + the time had cum for the Gurmans of New York to rebuke at the polls such a + flaygrant insult to the most useful and respeckterbel standby's of the + Nashun, the German cityzens. + </p> + <p> + I never seen enything do better in my life. With the excepshun of the few + votes wot the Republercans had fore I got my wurk in, mine captured the + hull cities of New York and Brooklyn, and the beer and wisky wots ben sent + to rural districks, will giv us the hull State by a big majority. Wen I + get big, Mr. Diry, I guess I'll hire myself out for a perfesshunal + pollytickal wire-puller. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A GLORIOUS VICKTORIE.—THE LICKED CANDYDATE GENERATES BLUE + SULFROUS AIR ON ACCOUNT OF THE ACKSHUN OF HIS PLEGED + SUPPORTERS. +</pre> + <p> + Xcitement is at fever heet, and tin horns and bonfires is seen and hurd + everywere. We've swep the hull State like a averlanche, and the + Republercan partie is deder'n a dore nale. Me and Joe Gilley is goin to + run this ere Guvment now for a wile, and you bet we'll run her with + discretion, and make a pile. I'm the hero of the Demmercrazy, and John + Kelley giv me and Jimmy a 5 dollar bill a peece, so as we'd have munny + enuf to hav sum fun with, cos Mr. Gilley sez I've ben workin purty hard, + and he guessed I'd better take a rest tomorrer. + </p> + <p> + The back strete was lined with dudes to-nite, and every one of them + crowded up to Lillyun wen she cum out the stage dore, but she didn't speek + to eny of them. They wus all purty hot, but they don't regret the way they + voted, cos they have the satysfackshun of knowin that the Xecutiv Manshun + 'll hav a occupant wot has a very asthetick blendin of cullers in his mak + up. + </p> + <p> + The Rerpublerkan candy date wot's got licked has gone and got orful mad at + the Methydist Conference and swares, by golly, he'll never donate a nuther + oyster to a church supper, and his remains 'll be smolderin down b'low + 'fore them ungrateful hyppercrites 'll hold a nuther mute soshell in his + house. His wife says she's goin ter sue them for the bord bill of them + hoary hedded old delergates, wots been palmed off on her for the last + fifteen years. She sez she alwuz expected sumthin 'd happen, cos when the + young mens christshun associashun convention cum off, they sent all the + yung and good lookin deler-gates over to Widder Masher's, cross the + street, and didn't giv her eny bodie but a lot of old men, wot was just + walkin round to save funeral xpenses. + </p> + <p> + The members of the Society of Henpecked husbands is looking like theyd + been drawd thru a not hole, cos there wives hav ben wearin the pants + again, and given them a taste of dissyplin for votin for a man wot has as + outspoken anty wimmins rites vues as Mr. Gilley. + </p> + <p> + I peeped in the windys of sevral banks on my way home, and most all of the + clurks has a scart and hunted look in there eyes, but I guess there safe, + cos the one who knoes, don't kno quite as much as they think he does. + </p> + <p> + The Germans is jubilyant, cos they all helped to rebuke a insult I guess + they wuldn't feel so orful proud of theirselves if they'd hurd John Kelley + and Mr. Gilley talkin bout 'em, jest fore eleckshun, wen they was + considered doutful, and Mr. Gilley sed ——— the Duch. + </p> + <p> + Pollytishuns is purty persnickerty, eny-way. I bleive wen I get ter be a + big man I'll start out as a misshunary and devote my 'nurgies to savin the + souls of pollytickel office-seekers and candydates; taint no use tryin to + save there bodies, cos the devil's got a lien on them alreddy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HIS HOLY DAY.—PERSONATIN A DUDE MAKES HIM LOSE HIS TRUST IN + GALS.—MARIA GIVES HIM CLENE AWAY.—TERRERBEL REVENGE.— + HE PROMISES FORGIVENESS ON CERTAIN CONDISHUNS. +</pre> + <p> + I've lost all conferdense in gals and human nature, lost it all at one + fell swoop. Yesterday I'd ben willin to bet a 20-cent seegar that my gal, + Maria, would 'er lep cross one of the flews of Haydies for me. But I was + deseeved; yes, Mr. Diry, I was wonderfully and terribly deseeved in her. + </p> + <p> + As I told you last nite, me and Jimmy got a holy day to-day and $10 to + spend on havin a good time. So this mornin we drest up in our Sunday-skule + cloes, and went down town to the property shop, and each bort ourselves a + false mustash and canes. Then we went up to the barber shop and had our + hare banged. Wen we was thru you wuldnt ben abel to tell us from full + bludded Englush swells. We was just too too, walkin up and down Uniyun + Square, puffin at our 10-centers, like we owned all New York and half of + Brooklyn. You bet we maid sum mashes on the wimmin. Bout one clock we + sta-shuned ourselves where we'd meet our gals as they went to skule. + Jimmie's gal, Josie, and my Maria run together. Purty soon they cum long + together, laffin and torkin. Then me and Jimmy braced ourselves up, and as + they went by we winked. Josie she winked back, but Maria she sed orful + sweet, “How de do?” so we followed em up. Purty soon Maria slowed up & + sed its a nice day. I told her it was, then I sez if she wuldnt like to + take a walk. She sed “she was greed if Josie'd go long, cos if they went + walkin they'd have to play hookey, and one darsent do it without the + other.” + </p> + <p> + After sum persuashun, Josie greed to go long, so I offered my arm to + Maria, and we had a big time til bout 5 o'clock. Then we sez to the gals + if they'd like to go to the theater in the evenin, they thot it'd be or-, + ful nice, but they didnt believe there mas wuld trust em to go with + strange gentelmen, cos it wuldnt be rite. I axt her if there wasnt sum way + to fix it. + </p> + <p> + Maria sed she guessed she culd tell her ma. Georgie was going to take her, + & then Josie culd say, Georgie had a xtra ticket, & warnted her to + go long, so we greed to meet em, at the corner, bout 7 clock. They was + there on time, all drest up ter kill, and we took em down to the Standard, + and had a big time. Wen the show wos out, we went to a resterant, & + had sum oysters. Wile we was etin them, I axt Maria who the Georgie was + who tuk her out. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” sez she, “he's a red hedded devil, wot wurks in the <i>Buster</i> + offis, and aint a bit lik you. Ma likes him, and thinks he's orful steddy, + and she aint frade to let me go eny place with him. He's mashed on me bad, + and thinks I'm in luv with him, so he spends all his munney on me, and I + jest go with him, cos he takes me to ennything wot cums along. It's fun + ter see him, he's so green, and besides, he never fixes up eny, and I'm + gettin most ashamed to be seen on the strete with him.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/124.jpg" alt="Then I Hawled off My False Mustash " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + By this time I was feelin purty bad, but I maneged to keep up and make + blieve I was feerful in love with her, and got her to promis never to go + with Georgie agin. I had a bottel of perfume in my pocket, and jest 'fore + we left the restyrant, I put sum on the gals handkercheefs, then I hawled + off my false mustash, and soon Maria seen, I was her Georgie, and begun a + cryin lik her hart wuld brak. I felt sorry for her, but I told her to dry + up her eyes. I guess I must giv them the perfume out of the assyfitity + bottel, cos, soon as she rubbed her face you never smelt such a overpourin + smell in all your life, we had to keep em at arms length, all the way hum, + and if we'd ben the Zar of Russher, and Queen Victoria, combined, the + peeple wouldnt hav givin us more room on the side walk. I felt sorry for + them, cos they cryed, and felt so bad, all the way home, and, if I coulder + got close enuf to Maria, without bein smuthered I'd kissed and made it all + up. Its a blessin that her ma and pa's got catarrh orful bad, or there + mite be war in her house. + </p> + <p> + I'm goin to send her the follerin note in the morning, and next time I go + to see her I'll fix up a littel, cos a fellow can't blame a girl for goin + back on him if he don't think enuff of her to dress up neet: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dear Maria: I was orful greeved by your conduct, but seein + that you're sorry I'll forgive you for all. I'll call round + in a week, wot'll give you time enuf to smell swete agin, if + you're careful to wash often, give yourself lots of air, and + keep plenty of carbollick acid and cloride of lime scattered + round were you are. + + Beleeve me your ever lovin + + Georgie. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ADVERTISES A ARTICKEL WOT WAS FOUND.—WIMMIN'S WAYS.— + CLAMED.—IN DURANSE VILE FOR STEELIN A SHALL.—HAPPY + EXPLERNASHUN AND INTERESTIN TABLOW. +</pre> + <p> + “The lady wot dropped a artickel of warin appairel in the Post Offis, last + even-in, can have them by callin on the Devil at this offis and provin + property.” + </p> + <p> + The abuv is a advertisement wot I had put in the <i>Buster</i> this + mornin, and all day long I've ben kep busy attendin to the ansurs. The + fust lady wot cum in had dropt a plume outer her hat. She giv me a full + descripshun of it, wot it cost, and said she knowed it was hers wot I'd + found; and then I showed her the artickel and axt her if that was it. She + blushed up orful red, and sailed outer the offis like I'd insulted her. + Yesterday muster ben a orful bad day for wimmin loosin things in the Post + Offis, cos there's bout two hundred ben to the offis. Sum lost there + teeth, uthers there bangs, clokes, slippers, overshoes, gloves, skurts, + hankercheefs, bussels, and most everything wot a woman could pile on her; + and I had to show every one of them the artickel wot was found, and axt + them if that was it, and, curius enuf, every one went off mad and + indignant. On towards nite I was jest beginnin to wonder wether, in a case + like this, onhesty was the best pollysee, or wether it wouldnt of payed + better for me to hav tuk em home to ma; wen a madin ladie, of doutful age, + come in to the offis, and sed: “Yung man, have they got C. D. marked on + the band.” I sed: “Yes, marm.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they must be mine, cos my name's Carryline Duncan, & I alwus + mark my cloes C. D. for short. I didn't kno I'd lost 'em til I got hum, + after I'd ben down to the Post offis sendin a letter to Tom; that's my + feller wots ben to China for ten yeres.” + </p> + <p> + Then I giv em to her, and puttin them under her arm, she walked out as + happy as culd be. + </p> + <p> + I thot I was thru with my trubbel with wimmin's warin apparel for one day, + so I started hum. I'd ony got to the corner of Spruce street, wen a grate + strappin perliceman cum up to me, and clappin me on the shoulder, sed: + “I've got you, sunny, this time; cum along, now, or I'll be after makin + you.” I seen discreshun was the better part of valler, so I let him leed + me. Wen we got to the stashun he preferred a charge of larceny gainst me. + Then they axt me if I had eny bodie wot'd go my bale, so I got 'em to send + for Mr. Gilley. Wen he arrove, he cum up to me, the teers streem-in down + his cheeks, and sed: “Georgie, I'm sorry to see you in such a posishun, + but you'd better pleed gilty, and axe mercy of the cort, cos they've got a + sure case agen you. If you'd ony bin sharp enuf to hide the property, it + wouldn't ben so bad.” Jest then the lady wot the shawl was stole from, + come to identerfy it. Mr. Gilley & me was lookin on. The lady looked + orful close, and sed that looked jest like her shawl, wot was all black, + ony this one didn't hav no yaller stanes on the corner were she dropt the + lemon juce on to hers. Mr. Gilley looked at it close, and purty soon he + sed: “Why, Georgie, that's our offis towl.” Then I seen all thru it in a + minnit, cos there was the towl wot I'd been carryin home to get washed, + and the per-liceman, seein the end stickin out from under my cote, and + knowin that a black shawl had been stole, arrested me as the theef. Then + they had a big laff, and Mr. Gilley set em up for the crowd. He sed he + knowd I was orful honorary, but he never culd b'leeve that I'd steel + enything. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE DELINKENT SUBSCRIBER'S ARISTOCRAZEY IDEAS ON THE + EDITTUR'S DIGESTIV ORGANS.—A NEW WAY TO COLLECT OLD DETS. +</pre> + <p> + There's a lot of fellers wot hav brown-stone manshuns up town, and French + cooks wot dish em up everything good, from frogs' lim—er—leg + to the posterier xten-shun of a eel's spinal collum, frickerseed, with + mushrum catchup sauce. B'sides that, they've got lots of munney in the + bank, and wuldn't think no more of givin sum Anglo Saxton perfesshunal + beggar a thousand-dollar keepsake than they wuld of let-tin there folks go + to Longbransh or Newport durin the all-fired heeted turm. + </p> + <p> + I dont mene, Mr. Diry, that all the welthy people of New York are alike, + but I have refrense to that class of peeple wot are laberin under the + 'mpresshun that editoriel stummicks was patented, and bilt speshelly and + xclusivly for the absorpshun and dijestshun of printin-house paste and + wind puddins, with ritin-fluid sauce as a con-dyment and appytizer. These + are the peepel who alwus allow there noosepaper bills to accummerlate till + they dropoff, and the edit-tur gives them a bang-up introduckshun on there + long jurney, in the hope that the adminnysteers of there estates'll allow + his bill Feint hope that is, cos were was the adminnysteer that was ever + known to acknowledge a noosepaper bill as genwine. They all go on the + princerpel “that all editturs is liars, and all big liars is editturs,” + and take the same deduckshun, wot is alwus this: “A bill persented by a + liar must be a lie, on its face “; therefore, it is unallowable. + </p> + <p> + The reeson I've ben thus sollykisin, Mr. Diry, is, cos the expenses of the + campane hav ben purty hevvy on Mr. Gilley, and yet havin had a chanse to + dip his fingers inter the State Tressurey, he was run-nin a littel short + of funds. So this afternoon he give me a lot of old bills to collect. + </p> + <p> + I found it purty had work, cos every-bodie 'peared to be perticklar fond + of pay-in all there bills next week. I was gettin diseurraged, and I + didn't like to go back to the offis without no munney, so I thot up a + littel skeem. There was a big flour deeler wot owd a bill of $40, wot'd + got outlored. So I went over to his offis and ast the clurk to tell him I + wanted to see him on pertickler bisness. The clurk sed he was orful + 'ngaged, & I'd better call round next week, and praps he'd hav time to + tork to me. I insisted and told him to tell Mr. Paynuthin, that the + bisness wot I warnted to see him on was a matter of immense importanse to + himself. Soon as I got in, I sed: “Mr. Paynuthin, we've got on to sum very + valuabel informashun, wot'll make your fortune, if the other flourmen + don't get it fust. Now, if you'll pay up this bill, I'll giv it to you at + wonce, and you'll get the inside trak on 'em.” I seen he was gettin + interested, so I concluded, by sayin: “Now if you don't get this + in-formashun, it may leed to your ruin.” He didn't say a wurd, but went to + the safe, and got out the $40, and I receeted the bill, and axt him for a + peece of paper, cos he mite forget it if I didn't rite it down. Then I + wrote in big letters: “Owe no man a cent,” and biddin him goodby, I took a + hasty departure. The skeem work'd splendid every place I went, only at wun + old lawyers offis, and he sed: “Yung man, I've been cheetin, fleecin and + beetin everybodie for the last forty years, and there aint no noosepaper + man livin wot can tell me eny eeseier way to mak a fortune. Git out,” and + I got. Mr. Gilley says I'm the boss collecttur, and orter hire myself out + to a Mutual Life and Accident Asso-shiashun as assesment gatherer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MINSE PIE AND DREEMS.—TERRIBLE RETRYBUSHUN.—WOT'LL OVER + TAKE A GOOD MENNY.—VIRTUE RECEIVES ITS REWARD. +</pre> + <p> + I guess the wurry of collecktin yesterday afternoon muster wurked upon my + mind, cos, last nite, I dremt a dreem, wot'd maid each seprate hare on the + heds of every delikent subskriber stand on end, and sing out “Pay up your + noosepaper bill, old feller, if yer dont warnt a skorschin in the dubius + hereafter.” + </p> + <p> + Ma and Pa was out, cos it was prayer meetin nite at our church, so I went + ter bed urley, cos I was frade wen they cum home, they'd miss the hull + minse pie wot I'd ete. + </p> + <p> + I'd just bout got ter sleep, wen I smelt a orful smell, surgestiv of a + straw hat revivin shop, wen they burn sulfir and brimstone, I looked down + and behold, I seen a cort room, with a lot of lawyers and clurks sittin + round a table, and the judge in a pulpit wot over looked them. The peepel + all looked like Barnum's skellyton man, ony they didnt have no skin over + there bones, and there eyes was maid of fire balls and eech of em had a + long tail, like a snake. Purty soon the judge sed the court was open for + bisness, and the sargent at arms brot in a feller all dressed up with a + gold wach and big charm wot I reckernized as one of our ded beet + subskri-bers wot'd dide last weak. + </p> + <p> + The judge looked him all over in a com-plermenterry way, and ast him if + he'd alwus lived a onhest and uprite life. + </p> + <p> + “Yer onher,” sed he, “I've given of my substanse to the poor; I've luved + my nay-bor as myself; I've surved for ten years as Warden of a fashunubble + church, and tride to the best of my knowlege and beleef to do rite.” + </p> + <p> + “Yer onher,” sed the prosercutin turney, wot I reckernized as the + ex-religio-jurnalistick edittur of a defunckted alliance noosepaper, “May + I ast the prisner a questshun?” + </p> + <p> + “You may,” sed Judge Satan, for it was his infurnissimo himself. + </p> + <p> + “Prisner at the bar,” sed the turney, “Did you pay your subskripshun to + the <i>Buster</i> 'fore you checked your baggage thru to Hay dies?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” sed the prisner, “I did not. I never thot it was perticklar, + cos editturs aint like other mortels, enyway, and I never knowd it was a + sin to beet em if you culd.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, yer onher,” said the prosercutin 'turney, “he confesses his + gilt, and I find, by lookin over the reckord, he ows the <i>Buster</i> + offis for 8 years' subskripshun besides a hull string of free advertisin + wot the edittur giv him outer goodness of hart. Not only that, but I notis + in the day book that jest wun week 'fore he departed he ordered his paper + stopped, cos he was opposed to surportin', by his munny, a Dem-mercratick + candydate for Guvner. You see, yer onher, there is nothing left for you + but to pass sentense on the prisner.” + </p> + <p> + “Prisner at the bar,” sed the Judge, “this yere cort sentenses you to hard + laber shuvlin' flames at a tempyrature of 6,000 degrees, for 10,000 yares, + durin' all wich time you will sing 'I want to be a angel, And with the + editturs stand!' Shurruf, conduct the prisner to furnace number 561, next + to Gittoes.” + </p> + <p> + Soon as he'd gone, a cullered gentleman was brot in, and in ansur to there + quest-shuns as to his morral standing he sed: + </p> + <p> + “Jedge I knoes I'se a hard cityzen, and I've done gone and sinned purty + nigh all the sins wot I know'd of. Steelin' fouls, hookin' nickles outer + the contrybushun box, 'propriatin' millyuns wot I'd no legal rite and + titel to, gettin' converted at camp meetin' so as I culd mash wun of. them + purty sistern, and other offenses too numer-ickel to menshun, but if this + yere cort'U giv this nigger a sho, I'll try to leed a dif-frent life.” + </p> + <p> + “Prisner, did you ever tak a noose-paper?” sed the Prosercutin' Turney. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sar; I'se skribed for the <i>Christshun Advercate</i> for 'bout six + yares, and I've payed it up in advanse for most a yare to cum.” + </p> + <p> + “Bobby, my boy,” sed the cort to his rite hand man, “go order the cook, to + kill the fatted ram, and prepare a bang up lay out, cos this here cullurd + brother is a man, molded after my own hart. Shake, my man,” sed he, shovin + his rite boney hand to the cullured feller's, “and after we've feested, + and viserted my privat opra house, and taken in the new skellyton bailey + at-trackshuns, I'll driv yer thru my subteranean domminyuns, fore you tak + the xpress for Skie stashun, and you bet you'll say this here devil aint + as bad as he's painted, cos he knoes how to onher a distingushed guest.” + </p> + <p> + Then the seen vanished from my vishun, and I woke up, hollerin with a pane + in my programme, and ma had ter get me a dose of brandie and ginger, outer + the flask, wot pa carries, when he goes a fishin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AT THE STOCK EXCHANGE.—THE ENGAGEMENT.—FIRE IN THE + SHECARGO UNIYUN DEPOT.—A OFFER FROM JAY GOULD. +</pre> + <p> + This mornin noose was sorter dull, so the city edittur sent me down to the + Stock Exchange for to write up the anticks of the Bulls and Bares. Wen I + got down there I guess the annymiles hadn't got round, but there keepers + was purty numerous, and made a good deel more noise than they would + theirselves. I was showd up to the visters gallary, so as I culd get a + good vue of the fite wot was goin on tween the grangers and coalers. The + way they do there fitin puts me in mind of wen we use-ter go to skule, cos + they chew up a lot of paper, and make spit balls outer it, and then paste + each other on the eyes with them. Jay Gould is the name of a littel bit of + a feller, he aint much in size, but he's hale columby wen it comes rite + down to spit ball fites, cos he pasted old Russel Sage and Vandybilt outer + ther boots, hittin fare in the eyes every time. + </p> + <p> + Wen they was gettin purty well tired out, a lot of fellers wot was “hit,” + cum out, and the other formed rings round them and sung a song wot sounded + like it was maid up of five 8s and three 1/4 s. I shuld think theyd be + ashamed of theirselves, grate big men, spendin there time playin a game + wot Boys, as big as me, wuldn't do for a nickel. I seen they was disgracin + us, New Yorkers, so I thot it was time to put a stop to it, and bring em + down to bisness, so I sung out orful loud: + </p> + <p> + “Gintelmin: Thurs a big fire in the Uniyun Depot in Sheecargo.” Then they + all looked up to see who was talkin, and reckernized me, as connected with + the <i>Buster</i>. You'd dide, to see em flyin round; the fellers wot do + the bullin was purty neer crazey, coverin up there stocks, with margin's. + Stocks come flyin down, like litenin, and the barish porshun of the + compenney, was makin a immense pile of munney. The country lams wot the + Bulls and bares had been fleecin, so as there wives, & gals culd have + wool enuf, to stuff the footstools with, wot they was makin for Chrissmas + boxes, hurd wot I sed, and tumbeled to it, and sold all the Western trunk + stocks. I didn't say nothing till I seen thay'd got a good deal onter the + bulls, then I sung out agen, “Gentelmen, The big fire wot, I sed, was in + the Uniyun Depot, at Sheecargo, is still burnin fiercely, in the heeter, + wots lokated in the seller.” + </p> + <p> + I didn't wate to say good by, cos the fire-like gleem wot gleemed at me + from bout a hundred pares of eyes, boded no good for the <i>Busters</i> + devil. + </p> + <p> + Wen I got back to the offis a note was watin for me, wot red: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dare Devil—You've mistakin your callin. A sensashunalist + like yurself orter stick to the spesshialty bisness. If + you'll quit the noosepa-per perfesshun, I'll form a + syndycate, and run you as a stock hammerer, and gin you half + the proffits. + + Yours very trooly, + + Gould. +</pre> + <p> + I assure you, Mr. Diry, the temptashun was purty strong, but I thot of my + integrity and princerples, and rote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sur—I prefer my present persisshun of hammerin branes inter + the publick to that of hammerin stocks. Not all the + syndycates of 'Merica wuld temp me to relinquish my + onherabel con-necshuns with the <i>Dailey Buster</i>. + + Yours trooly, + + Devil. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HE CALLS ON MARIA AND PRONOUNSES HER FRAGRANT.—AT A CHURCH + SUPPER.—BENERVOLENSE REWARDED.——A EPPYDEMMICK. +</pre> + <p> + Last nite I went over to call on Maria. I thot I'd be prepared, so I + washed myself in ma's lavender water, and sprinkeled oh de coloney all + over my does. Wen I nocked at Marias dore, I stepped down off the steps + and wated for her appairanse. At last she cum, and blushed up orful wen I + ast her if it was all rite. She sed she didnt kno, cos she'd got so used + to it she culdnt tell, but she thot it was all rite, cos she'd ben standin + 'tween two open winders for the weak, and if it warnt gone by this time, + she guest it'd stick to her for life. I walked up a littel closer to her, + and sed: “Maria, cum here.” She cum, and caushusly and carefully I put my + knoes neer her, and sure enuf I culdnt smell nothin but a slite oder of + cloride of lime and a lingerin of carbollick acid. Then I kissed her and + maid her get fixed up, cos we was goin to report a oyster supper wot cum + off at the U. P. Church. Wen Maria and me got there most everybodie had + ete there plate of hot water, wot the church wardin'd had settin down on + one of the oyster stalls at Fulton Market for bout a weak, so as it'd + inhail a sa very flaver. Soon as Maria and me had got thru our plate, the + 'xcitement begun, and the ladies all brot round there books for to hav us + giv em 10 cents, and put down our names for a chanse in the one lonesum + oyster wot the stew had ben maid of. Wen the wimmin had fleeced all the + fellers outer every cent they had, and maid em turn there pockets inside + out, so as to be sure they warnt tryin to keep back eny five dollar bills, + the preecher got up on a platform and draw'd a number out of a hat full, + wot a littel gal held over her hed. 'Fore he red out the number, he called + on one of the deecons to offer up a prayer, that the Lord mite open up the + hart of the lucky drawer, to donate the oyster to the church, so as they + culd hold a nuther supper, without incurrin eny more such 'xtravergant + 'xpenses. + </p> + <p> + Then the minnysteer sed 46 was the number, wot he'd drawed out, and that + it stood oppsite Mr. Wylie's name. Now, Mr. Wylie is a orful rich banker, + and is always donatin things to the church, so he got rite up and sed, + he'd giv it to the good cause. + </p> + <p> + Then there was some cheerin' and every body crowded round the gasoline + stove to wach the cook deposit the oyster in a can, so it culd be stovvd + away in the Wardins Buggler proof safe. After delvin round the bottom of + the pot for sum time the ladel cum up, with its assthetick freight, the + black and green speckled tode, wot I'd slipped inter the stue, wile the + prayer was goin up. + </p> + <p> + Sumthin muster ben Eppydemic in that church, cos everybodie, xceptin me + and Maria, got to coffin and spuein up, and prayin Good Lord deliver us. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE DEVIL'S OCCUPASHUN GONE.—POLLYTISHUN OR JURNERLIST.— + PLANS FOR THE FUTURE.—ADDYOU. +</pre> + <p> + I aint no devil no more, cos this mornin Mr. Gilley informed me that I was + gettin too big for my persishun, and he'd hired a nuther boy to act as the + <i>Busters</i> Devil. He sez I can fuie round and act in the cuppaserty of + missellaneus reporter, and rite up eny thing I think wurth wile, till it + was time for us to go to Albanie and get inaugerated. Then he'd warnt me + to act as his Privat Seckertery, cos he knowed I had his interest at hart, + and was discrete enuf not to give him away. + </p> + <p> + I don't kno yet wether I'd better axcept his offer to become a + pollytishun, cos I've got my mind set on the jurnerlistick perfesshun, and + its bout the eesiest way to mak a fortune and a name wot I culd get. + </p> + <p> + I'll think over the matter, Mr. Diry, and if I can't get a situashun as a + Washinton gossipper or a job on the <i>Herald</i>, to rite up the + abberiginies of Cannadey, I may go on to Albanie, and rite up all the + triks of the pollytishuns, jest to keep myself in pracktiss til we go + outer offis. + </p> + <p> + I must close, Mr. Diry, cos I'm goin down to the hotel to intervue Curnel + Bob, Ingysoll, and see if a feller like me wuldn't stand sum sho to make + munny and a big name, if he was to start out as a “genuine devil” brok + loose from Haydies. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And you, mister, remember if I ain't no longer a + typergraffickal devil, I still am, + + Yours trooly, + + Georgie. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bad Boy At Home, by Walter T. 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