Part 16

With this, the poor old Frenchman started for his gig, amid the "Haw! haw! haw! and ha! ha! he! he!" of the landlord and lawyer. "That for you," said the Frenchman, as he gave the surly Dutchman-hostler a real half-dollar, took the dirty "ribbons" and drove off. Now, the farmer, one of the three spectators present, had quietly watched the proceedings, and being _gifted_ with enough insight into human nature to see something more than "an old French barber" in the person and manner of the traveller; and, moreover, being interested in the Tavern property, followed the Frenchman; overtaking him, he at once offered him the hospitalities of his domicile, not far distant, where the traveller passed a most comfortable night, and where his host found out that he was entertaining no less a pecuniary miracle of his time--_than Stephen Girard_.

Early next morning, old Stephy, in his old and _shady_ gig, accompanied by his entertainer, rode over to the two owners of the Tavern property, and with them sought the _lawyer_, the deeds were made out, the old Frenchman _drew_ on his own Bank for the $13,000, gave the farmer a ten years' _lease_ upon the place, paid the lawyer for his trouble, and as that worthy accompanied the millionaire to the door, and was very obsequiously bowing him out, old Stephy turned around on the steps, and looking sharp--with his one eye upon the lawyer, says he--

"Sair! Pooh! pooh!--_Booh!_" off he rode for the Tavern, where he and the landlord had a _haze_, the landlord was notified to _leave_, short metre; and being fully revenged for the insult paid his millions, old Stephen Girard, the great Philadelphia financier, rode back to where he was better used for his money, and evidently better satisfied than ever, that money is mighty when brought to bear upon an object!

A Circumlocutory Egg Pedler.

We have been, frequently, much amused with the man[oe]uvring of some folks in trade. It's not your cute folks, who screw, twist and twirl over a smooth fourpence, or skin a flea for its hide and tallow, and spoil a knife that cost a shilling,--that come out first best in the long run. Some folks have a weakness for beating down shop-keepers, or anybody else they deal with, and so far have we seen this _infirmity_ carried, that we candidly believe we've known persons that would not stop short of cheapening the passage to kingdom come, if they thought a dollar and two cents might be saved in the fare! Now the _rationale_ of the matter is this:--as soon as persons establish a reputation for meanness--beating down folks, they fall victims to all sorts of shaves and short commons, and have the fine Saxony drawn over their eyes--from the nose to the occiput; they get the meanest "bargains," offals, &c., that others would hardly have, even at a heavy discount. Then some folks are so wonderful sharp, too, that we wonder their very shadow does not often cut somebody. A friend of ours went to buy his wife a pair of gaiters; he brought them home; she found all manner of fault with them; among other drawbacks, she declared that for the price her better half had given for the gaiters, _she_ could have got the best article in Waxend's entire shop! _He_ said _she_ had better take them back and try. So she did, and poor Mr. Waxend had an hour of his precious time used up by the lady's attempt to get a more expensive pair of gaiters at a less price than those purchased by her husband. Waxend saw how matters stood, so he consented to adopt the maxim of--when Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war!

"Now, marm," said he, "here is a pair of gaiters I have made for Mrs. Heavypurse; they are just your fit, most expensive material, the best article in the shop; Mrs. Heavypurse will not expect them for a few days, and rather than _you_ should be disappointed, I will let _you_ have them for the same price your husband paid for those common ones!"

Of course Mrs. ---- took them, went home in great glee, and told her better half she'd never trust him to go shopping for her again--for they always cheated him. When the husband came to scrutinize his wife's bargain, lo! he detected the self-same gaiters--merely with a different quality of lacings in them! He, like a philosopher, grinned and said nothing. That illustrates one phase in the character of some people who "go it blind" on "bargains" and now, for the pith of our story--the way some folks have of going round "Robin Hood's barn" to come at a thing.

The other day we stopped into a friend's store to see how he was getting along, and presently in came a rural-district-looking customer.

"How'd do?" says he, to the storekeeper, who was busy, keeping the stove warm.

"Pretty well; how is it with you?"

"Well, so, so; how's all the folks?"

"Middling--middling, sir. How's all your folks?"

"Tolerable--yes, tolerable," says the rural gent. "How's trade?" he ventured to inquire.

"Dull, ray-ther dull," responded the storekeeper. "Come take a seat by the stove, Mr. Smallpotatoes."

"Thank you, I guess not," says the ruralite. "Your folks are all stirring, eh?" he added.

"Yes, stirring around a little, sir. How's your mother got?" the storekeeper inquired, for it appeared he knew the man.

"Poorly, dreadful poorly, yet," was the reply. "Cold weather, you see, sort o' sets the old lady back."

"I suppose so," responded our friend; and here, think's we, if there is anything important or business like on the man's mind, he must be near to its focus. But he started again--

"Ain't goin' to Californy, then, are you?" says Mr. Smallpotatoes.

"Guess not," said our friend. "You talked of going, I believe?"

"Well, ye-e-e-s, I did think of it," said the rural gent; "I did think of it last fall, but I kind o' gin it up."

Here another _hiatus_ occurred; the rural gent walked around, viewed the goods and chattels for some minutes; then says he--

"Guess I'll be movin'," and of course that called forth from our friend the venerated expression--

"What's your hurry?"

"Well, nothing 'special. Plaguy cold winter we've got!"

"That's a fact," answered the storekeeper. "How's sleighing out your way--good?"

"First rate; I guess the folks have had enough of it, this winter, by jolly. I hev, any how," says the rural gent. "Trade's dull, eh?"

"Very--very _slack_."

"Dullest time of the year, I reckon, ain't it?"

"Pretty much so, indeed," says the storekeeper.

"I don't see's Californy goold gets much plentier, or business much better, nowhere."

To this bit of cogent reason our friend replied--

"Not much--that's a fact."

"I 'spect there's a good deal of humbug about the Californy goold mines, don't you?"

"The wealth of the country or the ease of coming at it," said the storekeeper, "is no doubt exaggerated some."

"That's my opinion on't too," said the agriculturist. "Some make money out there, and then agin some don't; I reckon more don't than does." To this bright inference the storekeeper ventured to say--

"I think it's highly _probable_."

"All your folks are lively, eh?" inquired Smallpotatoes.

"Pretty much so," said the storekeeper; "troubled a little with influenza, colds, &c.; nothing serious, however."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it."

"All your folks are well, I believe you said?" the storekeeper, in apparent solicitude, inquired, to be reassured of the fact.

"Ye-e-e-s, exceptin' the old lady."

Another pause; we began to feel convinced there was speculation in the rural gent's "eyes," and just for the fun of the thing--as we "were up" to such dodges--we determined to hang on and see how he come out.

"Well, I declare, I must be goin'!" suddenly said the rural gent, and actually made five steps towards the handle of the door.

"Don't be in a hurry," echoed the storekeeper. "When did you come in town?"

"I come in this mornin'."

"Any of the folks in with you?"

"No; my wife did want to come in, but concluded it was too cold; 'spected some of your folks out to see us durin' this good sleighing--why didn't you come?"

"Couldn't very well spare time," said the storekeeper.

"Well, we'd been glad to see you, and if you get time, and the sleighin' holds out, you must come and see us."

"I may--I can't promise for certain."

Now another pause took place, and thinks we--the climax has come, surely, after all that small talk. The country gent walked deliberately to the door; he actually took hold of the knob.

"You off?" says the storekeeper.

"B'lieve I'll be off"--opening the door, then rushes back again--semi-excited by the force of some pent up idea, says the rural gent--"O! Mr. ----, _don't you want to buy some good fresh eggs_?"

"Eggs? Yes, I do; been looking all around for some fresh eggs; how many have you?"

"Five dozen; thought you'd want some; so I come right in to see!"

We nearly catapillered! After all this circumlocution, the man came to the _pint_, and--sold his eggs in two minutes!

Jolly Old Times.

Either mankind or his constitution has changed since "the good old times," for we read in an old medicine book, that bleeding at the nose, and cramp, could be effectually prevented by wearing a dried toad in a bag at the pit of the stomach; while for rheumatism and consumption, a snake skin worn in the crown of your hat, was a sovereign remedy! Dried toads and snake skins are quite out of use around these settlements, and we think the Esculapius who would recommend such nostrums, would be looked upon as a poor devil with a fissure in his cranium, liable to cause his brains to become weather-beaten! We remember hearing of a learned old cuffy, who lived down "dar" near Tallahassee, who invariably recommended cayenne pepper in the eye to cure the toothache! Had this venerable old colored gem'n lived 200 years ago, he would doubtless have created a sensation in the medical circles!

The Pigeon Express Man.

In nearly all yarns or plays in which Yankees figure, they are supposed to be "a leetle teu darn'd ceute" for almost any body else, creating a heap of fun, and coming out clean ahead; but that even Connecticut Yankees--the cutest and all firedest _tight_ critters on the face of the _yearth_, when money or trade's in the question--are "_done_" now and then, upon the most scientific principles, we are going to prove.

It is generally known, in the newspaper world, that two or three Eastern men, a few years ago, started a paper in Philadelphia, upon the penny principle, and have since been rewarded as they deserved. They were, and are, men of great enterprise and liberality, as far as their business is concerned, and thereby they got ahead of all competition, and made their _pile_. The proprietors were always "fly" for any new dodge, by which they could keep the lead of things, and monopolize the _news_ market. The Telegraph had not "turned up" in the day of which we write--the _mails_, and, now and then, express horse lines, were the media through which _Great Excitements! Alarming Events!! Great Fires and Awful Calamities!!_ were come at. One morning, as one of these gentlemen was sitting in his office, a long, lank genius, with a visage as hatchet-faced and keen as any Connecticut Yankee's on record, came in, and inquired of one of the clerks for the proprietors of that institution. Being pointed out, the thin man made a _lean_ towards him. After getting close up, and twisting and screwing around his head to see that nobody was listening or looking, the lean man sat down very gingerly upon the extreme verge of a chair, and leaning forward until his razor-made nose almost touched that of the publisher, in a low, nasal, anxious tone, says he,

"Air yeou one of the publishers of this paper?"

"I am, sir."

"Oh, yeou, sir!" said the visitor, again looking suspiciously around and about him.

"Did you ever hear tell of the _Pigeon Express_?" he continued.

"The Pigeon Express?" echoed the publisher.

"Ya-a-s. Carrier pigeons--letters to their l-e-g-s and newspapers under their wings--trained to fly any where you warnt 'em."

"Carrier Pigeons," mused the publisher--"Carrier--pigeons trained to carry billets--bulletins and--"

"Go frum fifty to a hundred miles an hour!" chimed in the stranger.

"True, so they say, very true," continued the publisher, musingly.

"Elegant things for gettin' or sendin' noos head of every body else."

"Precisely: that's a fact, that's a fact," the other responded, rising from his chair and pacing the floor, as though rather and decidedly _taken_ by the novelty and feasibility of the operation.

"You'd have 'em all, Mister, dead as mutton, by a Pigeon Express."

"I like the idea; good, first rate!"

"Can't be beat, noheow!" said the stranger.

"But what would it cost?"

"Two hundred dollars, and a small wagon, to begin on."

"A small wagon?"

"Ya-a-s. Yeou see, Mister, the birds haff to be trained to fly from one _pint_ to another!"

"Yes; well?"

"Wa-a-ll, yeou see the birds are put in a box, on the top of the bildin', for a spell, teu git the _hang_ of things, and so on!"

"Yes, very well; go on."

"Then the birds are put in a cage, the trainer takes 'em into his wagon--ten miles at first--throws 'em up, and the birds go to the bildin'. Next day fifteen miles, and so forth; yeou see?"

"Perfectly; I understand; now, where can these birds be had?"

Putting his thin lips close to the publisher's opening ears, in a low, long way, says the stranger--

"_I've got 'em!_ R-a-l-e Persian birds--be-e-utis!"

"You understand training them?" says the anxious publisher.

"_Like a book_," the stranger responded.

"Where are the birds?" the publisher inquired.

"I've got 'em down to the tavern, where I'm stoppin'."

"Bring them up; let me see them; let me see them!"

"Certainly, Mister, of course," responded the Pigeon express man, leaving the presence of the tickled-to-death publisher, who paced his office as full of effervescence as a jimmyjohn of spruce beer in dog days.

About this time pigeons were being trained, and in a few cases, now and then, really did carry messages for lottery ticket venders in Jersey City, to Philadelphia, Wilmington, and Baltimore; but these exploits rarely paid first cost, and did not amount to much, although some noise was made about the wonderful performance of certain Carrier Pigeons. But the _paper_ was to have a new impulse--astonish all creation and the rest of mankind, by Pigeon Express. The publisher's partner was in New York, fishing for novelties, and he determined to astonish him, on his return home, by the _bird business!_ A coop was fixed on the top of the "bildin'," as the great inventor of the express had suggested. The wagon was bought, and, with two hundred dollars in for funds, passed over to the pigeon express man, who, in the course of a few days, takes the birds into his wagon, to take them out some few miles, throw them up, and the publisher and a confidential friend were to be on top of the "bildin'," looking out for them.

They kept looking!--they saw something werry like a whale, but a good deal like a first-rate bad "_Sell!_" The lapse of a few days was quite sufficient to convince the publisher that he had been taken in and done for--regularly _picked up_ and done for,--upon the most approved and scientific principles. Rather than let the cat out of the bag, he made up his mind to pocket the _shave_ and keep shady, not even "letting on to his partner," who in the course of the following week returned from Gotham, evidently feeling as fine as silk, about something or other.

"Well, what's new in New York--got hold of any thing rich?" was the first interrogatory.

"Hi-i-i-sh! close the door!" was the reply, indicating something very important on the _tapis_.

"So; my dear fellow, I've got a concern, now, that will put the sixpennies to sleep as sound as rocks!"

"No. What have you started in Gotham?"

"Exactly. If you don't own up the corn, that the idea is grand--immense--I'll knock under."

"Good! I'm glad--particularly glad you've found something new and startling," responded the other. "Well, what is it?"

"Great!--wonderful!--_Carrier Pigeons!_"

"What! Pigeons?"

"_Pigeons!_"

"You don't pretend to say that--"

"Yes, sir, all arranged--luckiest fellows alive, we are--"

"Well, but--"

"Oh, don't be uneasy--I fixed it."

"Well, I'm hanged if this isn't rich!" muttered his partner, sticking his digits into his trowserloons--biting his lips and stamping around.

"Rich! _elegant!_ In two weeks we'll be flying our birds and--"

"Flying! Why, do you--"

"Ha! ha! I knew I'd astonish you; Tom insisted on my keeping perfectly _mum_, until things were in regular working order; he then set the boys to work--we have large cages on top of the building--"

"Come up on top of this building," said the partner, solemnly. "There, do you see that bundle of laths and stuff?"

"Why--why, you don't pretend to say that--"

"I do exactly; a scamp came along here a week ago--talked nothing but Carrier Pigeons--Pigeon Expresses--I thought I'd surprise you, and--"

"Well, well--go on."

"And by thunder I was green enough to give the fellow $200--a horse and wagon--"

"Done! _done!_" roared the other, without waiting for further

## particulars--"$200 and a horse and wagon--just what Tom and I gave the

scamp! ha! ha! ha!"

"Haw! haw! haw!" and the publishers roared under the force of the _joke_.

Whatever became of the pigeon express man is not distinctly known; but he is supposed to have given up the bird business, and gone into the manufacture of woolly horses and cod-liver oil.

Jipson's Great Dinner Party.

"Well, you must do it."

"Do it?"

"Do it, sir," reiterated the lady of Jipson, a man well enough to _do_ in the world, chief clerk of a "sugar baker," and receiving his twenty hundred dollars a year, with no perquisites, however, and--plenty of New Hampshire contingencies, (to quote our beloved man of the million, Theodore Parker,) poor relations.

"But, my dear Betsey, do you _know_, will you consider for once, that to _do_ a thing of the kind--to splurge out like Tannersoil, one must expect--at least I do--to sink a full _quarter_ of my salary, for the current year; yes, a full quarter?"

"Oh! very well, if you are going to live up here" (Jipson had just moved up above "Bleecker street,")--"and bought your carriage, and engaged----"

"Two extra servant girls," chimed in Jipson.

"And a groom, sir," continued Mrs. J.

"And gone into at least six hundred to eight hundred dollars a year extra expenses, to--a----"

"To gratify yourself, and--a----"

"Your--a--a--your vanity, Madam, you should have said, my dear."

"Don't talk that way to me--to me--you brute; you know----"

"I know all about it, my dear."

"_My dear_--bah!" said the lady; "my _dear!_ save that, Mr. Jipson, for some of your--a--a----"

What Mrs. J. might have said, we scarce could judge; but Jipson just then put in a "rejoinder" calculated to prevent the umpullaceous tone of Mrs. J.'s remarks, by saying, in a very humble strain--

"Mrs. Jipson, don't make an ass of yourself: we are too old to act like goslings, and too well acquainted, I hope, with the matters-of-fact of every-day life, to quarrel about things beyond our reach or control."

"If you talk of things beyond your control, Mr. Jipson, I mean beyond your reach, that your income will not permit us to live as other people live----"

"I wouldn't like to," interposed Jipson.

"What?" asked Mrs. Jipson.

"Live like other people--that is, some people, Mrs. Jipson, that I know of."

"You don't suppose _I'm_ going to bury myself and my poor girls in this big house, and have those servants standing about me, their fingers in their mouths, with nothing to do but----"

"But what?"

"But cook, and worry, and slave, and keep shut up for a----"

"For what?"

"For a--a----"

But Mrs. J. was stuck. Jipson saw that; he divined what a _point_ Mrs. J. was about to, but could not conscientiously make, so he relieved her with--

"My dear Betsey, it's a popular fallacy, an exploded idea, a contemptible humbug, to live merely for your neighbors, the rabble world at large. Thousands do it, my dear, and I've no objection to their doing it; it's their own business, and none of mine. I have moved up town because I thought it would be more pleasant; I bought a modest kind of family carriage because I could afford it, and believed it would add to our recreations and health; the carriage and horses required care; I engaged a man to attend to them, fix up the garden, and be useful generally, and added a girl or two to your domestic departments, in order to lighten your own cares, &c. Now, all this, my dear woman, you ought to know, rests a very important responsibility upon my shoulders, health, life, and--two thousand dollars a year, and if you imagine it compatible with common sense, or consonant with my judgment, to make an ass or fool of myself, by going into the extravagances and tom-fooleries of Tannersoil, our neighbor over the way, who happens for the time to be 'under government,' with a salary of nothing to speak of, but with stealings equal to those of a successful freebooter, you--you--you have placed a--a bad estimate upon my common sense, Madam."

With this flaring burst of eloquence, Jipson seized his hat, gloves and cane, and soon might be seen an elderly, natty, well-shaved, slightly-flushed gentleman taking his seat in a down town bound _bus_, en route for the sugar bakery of the firm of Cutt, Comeagain, & Co. It was evident, however, from the frequency with which Jipson plied his knife and rubber to his "figgers" of the day's accounts, and the tremulousness with which he drove the porcupine quill, that Jipson was thinking of something else!

"Mr. Jipson, I wish you'd square up that account of Look, Sharp, & Co., to-day," said Mr. Cutt, entering the counting room.

"All folly!" said Jipson, scratching out a mistake from his day-book, and not heeding the remark, though he saw the person of his employer.

"Eh?" was the ejaculation of Cutt.

"All folly!"

"I don't understand you, sir!" said Cutt, in utter astonishment.

"Oh! I beg pardon, sir," said poor Jipson; "I beg pardon, sir. Engrossed in a little affair of my own, I quite overlooked your observation. I will attend to the account of Look, Sharp, & Co., at once, sir;" and while Jipson was at it, his employer went out, wondering what in faith could be the matter with Jipson, a man whose capacity and gentlemanly deportment the firm had tested to their satisfaction for many years previous. The little _incident_ was mentioned to the partner, Comeagain. The firm first laughed, then wondered what was up to disturb the usual equilibrium of Jipson, and ended by hoping he hadn't taken to drink or nothing!

"Guess I'd better do it," soliloquizes Jipson. "My wife is a good woman enough, but like most women, lets her vanity trip up her common sense, now and then; she feels cut down to know that Tannersoil's folks are plunging out with dinners and evening parties, troops of company, piano going, and bawling away their new fol-de-rol music. Yes, guess I'll do it.

"Mrs. Jipson little calculates the horrors--not only in a pecuniary, but domestic sense--that these dinners, suppers and parties to the rag-tag and bobtail, cost many honest-meaning people, who _ought_ to be ashamed of them.

"But, I'll do it, if it costs me the whole quarter's salary!"