Part 2

"O--hic--certainly, certainly, mi boy; I'll--hic--I'll speak to the gentlemen," says the Don, rising in his chair, and assuming a very solemn graveness, peculiar to men in the fifth stage of libation deep; "Gentlemen--hic--_gentle_men, I'm requested to state--hic--that--hic--a very _serious_ piece of intelligence--hic--has met my ear. This _gentle_man--hic--says somebody's dead in the next--hic--room."

"Not at all, sir; I did not say that, sir," says the clerk.

"Beg--hic--your pardon, sir--hic--it's all right; if it ain't all right, I'll make it--hic--_all right in the morning!_ Gentlemen, let's--hic--us all adjourn; let's change the see--hic--scene, call a coach--hic--somebody, let's take a ride--hic--and return and go to--hic--our pious--hic--rest."

Having delivered this order and exhortation, Don Cæsar arose on his pins, and marshalling his party, after a general swap of hats all around, in which trade big heads got smallest hats, and small heads got largest hats, by aid of the staircase and the servants, they all got to the street, and lumbering into a large hack, they started off on a midnight airing, noisy and rip-roarious as so many sailors on a land cruise. The last words uttered by Don Cæsar, there, as the coach drove off, were:

"All right--hic--mi boy, if it ain't, _we'll make it all right in the morning!_"

"Yes, that we will," says the landlord, "and if I don't stick you into a bill of costs '_in the morning_,' rot me. You'll have a nice time," he continued, "out carousing till daylight; lucky I've got his wallet in the fire-proof, the jackass would be robbed before he got back, _and I'd lose my bill!_"

Don Cæsar did not return to make good his promise _in the morning_, and so the landlord took the liberty of investigating the wallet, deposited for safe keeping in the fire-proof of the office, by the Don; and lo! and behold! it contained old checks, unreceipted bills, and a few samples of Brandon bank notes, with this emphatic remark:--"All right, if it ain't all right, WE'LL MAKE IT ALL RIGHT IN THE MORNING!"

Don't you believe in 'em?

We are astounded at the incredulity of some people. Every now and then you run afoul of somebody who does not believe in spiritual knockers. Enter any of our drinking saloons, take a seat, or stand up, and look on for an hour or two, especially about the time "churchyards yawn!" and if you are any longer skeptical upon the _spirit_-ual manifestations as exhibited in the knee pans, shoulder joints, and thickness of the tongue of the _mediums_,--education would be thrown away on you.

The Old Black Bull

It's poor human natur', all out, to wrangle and quarrel now and then, from the kitchen to the parlor, in church and state. Even the fathers of the holy tabernacle are not proof against this little weakness; for people will have passions, people will belong to meetin', and people will let their passions _rise_, even under the pulpit. But we have no distinct recollection of ever having known a misdirected, but properly interpreted _letter_, to settle a chuckly "plug muss," so efficiently and happily as the case we have in point.

Old John Bulkley (grandson of the once famous President _Chauncey_) was a minister of the gospel, and one of the best _edicated_ men of his day in the wooden nutmeg State, when the immortal (or ought to be) Jonathan Trumbull was "around," and in his youth. Mr. Bulkley was the first _settled_ minister in the town of his adoption, Colchester, Connecticut. It was with him, as afterwards with good old brother Jonathan (Governor Trumbull, the bosom friend of General Washington), good to confer on almost any matter, scientific, political, or religious--any subject, in short, wherein common sense and general good to all concerned was the issue. As a philosophical reasoner, casuist, and _good_ counselor, he was "looked up to," and abided by.

It so fell out that a congregation in Mr. Bulkley's vicinity got to loggerheads, and were upon the apex of raising "the evil one" instead of a spire to their church, as they proposed and _split_ upon. The very nearest they could come to a mutual cessation of the hostilities, was to appoint a _committee_ of three, to wait on Mr. Bulkley, state their _case_, and get him to adjudicate. They waited on the old gentleman, and he listened with grave attention to their conflicting grievances.

"It appears to me," said the old gentleman, "that this is a very simple case--a very trifling thing to cause you so much vexation."

"So I say," says one of the _committee_.

"I don't call it a trifling case, Mr. Bulkley," said another.

"No case at all," responded the third.

"It ain't, eh?" fiercely answered the first speaker.

"No, it ain't, sir!" quite as savagely replied the third.

"It's anything but a trifling case, anyhow," echoed number two, "to expect to raise the minister's salary and that new steeple, too, out of our small congregation."

"There is no danger of raising much out of _you_, anyhow, Mr. Johnson," spitefully returned number one.

"Gentlemen, if you please--" beseechingly interposed the sage.

"I haven't come here, Mr. Bulkley, to quarrel," said one.

"Who started this?" sarcastically answered Mr. Johnson.

"Not me, anyway," number three replies.

"You don't say I did, do you?" says number one.

"Gentlemen!--gentlemen!--"

"Mr. Bulkley, you see how it is; there's Johnson--"

"Yes, Mr. Bulkley," says Johnson, "and there's old Winkles, too, and here's Deacon Potter, also."

"I _am_ here," stiffly replied the deacon, "and I am sorry the Reverend Mr. Bulkley finds me in such company, sir!"

"Now, gentlemen, _brothers_, if you please," said Mr. Bulkley, "this is ridiculous,--"

"So I say," murmured Mr. Winkles.

"As far as _you_ are concerned, it is ridiculous," said the deacon.

This brought Mr. Winkles _up_, standing.

"Sir!" he shouted, "sir!"

"But my dear _sirs_--" beseechingly said the philosopher.

"Sir!" continued Winkles, "sir! I am too old a man--too good a Christian, Mr. Bulkley, to allow a man, a mean, despicable _toad_, like Deacon Potter--"

"Do you call me--_me_ a despicable _toad_?" menacingly cried the deacon.

"Brethren," said Mr. Bulkley, "if I am to counsel you in your difference, I must have no more of this unchristian-like bickering."

"I do not wish to bicker, sir," said Johnson.

"Nor I don't want to, sir," said the deacon, "but when a man calls me a toad, a mean, despicable _toad_--"

"Well, well, never mind," said Mr. Bulkley; "you are all too excited now; go home again, and wait patiently; on Saturday evening next, I will have prepared and sent to you a written opinion of your case, with a full and free avowal of most wholesome advice for preserving your church from desolation and yourselves from despair." And the committee left, to await his issue.

Now it chanced that Mr. Bulkley had a small farm, some distance from the town of Colchester, and found it necessary, the same day he wrote his opinion and advice to the brethren of the disaffected church, to drop a line to his farmer regarding the fixtures of said estate. Having written a long, and of course, elaborate "essay" to his brethren, he wound up the day's literary exertions with a despatch to the farmer, and after a reverie to himself, he directs the two documents, and next morning despatches them to their several destinations.

On Saturday evening a full and anxious synod of the belligerent churchmen took place in their tabernacle, and punctually, as promised, came the despatch from the Plato of the time and place,--Rev. John Bulkley. All was quiet and respectful attention. The moderator took up the document, broke the seal, opened and--a pause ensued, while dubious amazement seemed to spread over the features of the worthy president of the meeting.

"Well, brother Temple, how is it--what does Mr. Bulkley say?" and another pause followed.

"Will the moderator please proceed?" said another voice.

The moderator placed the paper upon the table, took off his spectacles, wiped the glasses, then his lips--replaced his specs upon his nose, and with a very broad _grin_, said:

"Brethren, this appears to me to be a very singular letter, to say the least of it!"

"Well, read it--read it," responded the wondering hearers.

"I will," and the moderator began:

"You will see to the repair of the fences, that they be built high and strong, and you will take special care _of the old Black Bull_."

There was a general pause; a silent mystery overspread the community; the moderator dropped the paper to a "rest," and gazing over the top of his glasses for several minutes, nobody saying a word.

"Repair the fences!" muttered the moderator at length.

"Build them strong and high!" echoed Deacon Potter.

"Take special care _of the old Black Bull!_" growled half the meeting.

Then another pause ensued, and each man eyed his neighbor in mute mystery.

A tall and venerable man now arose from his seat; clearing his voice with a hem, he spoke:

"Brethren, you seem lost in the brief and eloquent words of our learned adviser. To me nothing could be more appropriate to our case. It is just such a profound and applicable reply to us as we should have hoped and looked for, from the learned and good man, John Bulkley. The direction to repair the fences, is to take heed in the admission and government of our members; we must guard the church by our Master's laws, and keep out stray and vicious cattle from the fold! And, above all things, set a trustworthy and vigilant watch over that old black bull, who is the devil, and who has already broken into our enclosures and sought to desolate and lay waste the fair grounds of our church!"

The effect of this interpretation was electrical. All saw and _took_ the force of Mr. Bulkley's cogent advice, and unanimously resolved to be governed by it; hence the old black bull was put _hors du combat_, and the church preserved its union!

Dobbs makes "a Pint."

Dobbs walked into a _Dry Goodery_, on Court street, and began to look around. A double _jinted_ clerk immediately appeared to Dobbs.

"What can I _do_ for you, sir?" says he.

"A good deal," says Dobbs, "but I bet you won't."

"I'll bet I will," says the knight of the yard-stick, "if I _can_."

"What'll you bet of that?" says the imperturbable Dobbs.

"I'll bet a fourpence!" says the clerk, with a cute _nod_.

"I'll go it," says Dobbs. "Now, trust me for a couple of dollars' wuth of yur stuffs!"

"_Lost_, by Ned!" says yard-stick. "Well, there's the fourpence."

"Thank you; call again when I want to _trade!_" says Dobbs.

"Do, if you please; wouldn't like to lose your custom," says the clerk, "no how."

Polite young man that--as soon as his chin vegetates, provided his dickey don't cut his throat, he'll be arter the gals, Dobbs thinks!

Used Up.

I am tempted to believe, that few--very few men can start in the world--say at twenty, with a replete invoice of honesty, free and easy--kind, generous--good-natured disposition, and keep it up, until they greet their fortieth year. There are, doubtless, plenty of men--I hope there are, who _would_ be entirely and perfectly generous-hearted, if they _could_, with any degree of consistency; and I know there are multitudes who wouldn't exhibit an honorable or manly trait, of any human description, if they could. That class thrive best, it appears to me--if the accumulation of dollars and dimes be Webster, Walker, or Scriptural interpretation of that sense--in this sublunary world. Meanness and dishonesty win what good nature and honesty lose, hence the more thrift to the former, and the less gain, pecuniarily considered, to the latter. The subject is very prolific, and as my present purpose is as much to point a humorous _sketch_ as to adorn a _moral_, I needs must cut speculative philosophistics for facts, in the case of my friend John Jenks, an emphatic--"used up" good fellow.

Jenks started in this world with a first-rate opinion of himself and the rest of mankind. No man ever started with a larger capital of good nature, human benevolence, and common honesty, than honest John. Few men ever started with better general prospects, for "a good time," and plenty of it, than Jenks. He _graduated_ with honor to himself and the Institute of his native State, and with but little knowledge beyond the college library and the social circles of his immediate friends. At twenty-three, John Jenks went into business on his own hook.

Of course John soon formed various and many business acquaintances; he learned that men were brothers--should love, honor, and respect one another, from precepts set him at his father's fireside. He formed the opinion, that this brotherhood was not to be alienated in matters of business, for he never refused to act kindly to all; he freely loaned his _autograph_ and purse to his business acquaintances; but, being backed up by a snug business capital, he seldom felt the necessity of claiming like accommodation, or he would have gotten his eye teeth cut cheaper and sooner.

"Jenks," said a business man, stopping in at Jenks' counting room one September morning, "Perkins & Ball, I see, have _stopped_--gone to smash!"

"Have they?" quickly responded Jenks.

"They have, and a good many fingers will be burnt by them," replied the informant. "By the way, Barclay says you have some of their _paper_ on hand; is it true?" continued the man.

"I have some, not much," answered Jenks--"not enough at all events to create any alarm as to their willingness or ability to take it up."

But in looking over his "accounts," Jenks found a considerably larger amount of Perkins & Ball's _paper_ on hand, than an experienced business man might have contemplated with entire Christian resignation. The gazette, in the course of a few days, gave publicity to the _smash_ of the house of Perkins, Ball & Co. There was a buzz "on 'change;" those losers by the _smash_ were bitter in their denunciatory remarks, while those gaining by the transaction snickered in their sleeves and kept mum. Jenks heard all, and said nothing. He reasoned, that if the firm were _smashed_ by imprudences, or through dishonest motives, they were getting "an elegant sufficiency" of public and private vituperation, without his aid. Though far from his thoughts of entering into such "lists," and inclined to hold on and see how things come out--Jenks, for the credit of common humanity, seldom recapitulated the amount, by discounting, &c.--he was likely to be _in_ for, if P. & B. were really "done gone." This resolve, like some _rules_, worked both ways.

As "honest John" was drawing on his gloves to leave his commercial institution, after the above occurrences had had some ten days' _grace_; one evening, the senior partner of the house of Perkins & Ball came in. Greetings were cordial, and in the private office of Jenks, an hour's discourse took place between the merchants; which, in brief transcription, may be summed up in the fact, that Jenks received a two-third indemnification on all _his_ liabilities _for_ the _smashed_ house of P. & B., which the senior partner assured him, arose from the fact of his, Jenks', gentlemanly forbearance in not joining the clamor against them, in the adverse hour, nor pushing his claims, when he had reason to believe that they were down; quite down at the heel. Jenks "hoped" he should never be found on the wrong or even doubtful side of humanity, gentlemanly courtesy, or Christian kindness; they shook hands and parted; the senior partner of the exploded firm requesting, and Jenks agreeing, to say every thing he could towards sustaining the honor of the house of P. & B., and recreating its now almost extinguished credit. Those who fought the bankrupt merchants most got the least, and because Jenks preserved an undisturbed serenity, when it was known that he was as deeply a loser, they supposed, as any one, they were staggered at his philosophy, or amused at his extreme good nature. This latter result seemed the most popular and accepted notion of Jenks' character, and proved the ground-work of his pecuniary destruction.

The firm of Perkins & Ball crept up again; Jenks had, on all occasions, spoken in the most favorable terms of the firm; he not only freely endorsed again for them, but stood their _referee_ generally. In the meantime, Jenks' celebrity for good nature and open-heartedness had drawn around him a host of patrons and admirers. Jenks' name became a circulating medium for half his business acquaintances. If Brown was short in his cash account, five hundred or a thousand dollars----

"Just run over to Jenks'," he'd say to his clerk; "ask him to favor me with a check until the middle of the week." It was done.

"Terms--thirty days with good endorsed paper," was sufficient for the adventurous Smith to _buy_ and depend on Jenks' _autograph_ to _secure_ the goods. When in funds, Bingle went where he chose; when a little _short_, Jenks had his patronage. Jenks kept but few memorandums of acts of kindness he daily committed; hence when the evil effects of them began to revolve upon him--if not mortified or ashamed of his "bargains," he at least was astounded at the results. Brown, whose due bills or memorandums Jenks held, to the amount of seven thousand dollars, accommodation _loans_, took an apoplectic, one warm summer's day, after taking a luxurious dinner. Jenks had hardly learned that Brown's affairs were pronounced in a state of deferred bankruptcy, when the first rumor reached him that Smith had _bolted_, after a heavy transaction in "woolens"--Jenks his principal endorser--Smith not leaving assets or assigns to the amount of one red farthing.

"By Jove!" poor Jenks muttered, as he tremulously seated himself in his back counting room--"that's shabby in Smith--very shabby."

The next morning's Gazette informed the community that Bingle had failed--liabilities over $200,000--prospects barely giving hopes of ten per cent, all around; and even this hope, upon Jenks' investigation, proved a forlorn one; by a _modus operandi_ peculiar to the heartless, self-devoted, _they_ got all, Jenks and the _few_ of his ilk, got nothing!

For the first time in his life, Jenks became pecuniarily moody. For the first time, in the course of his mercantile career, of some six years, the force of reflection convinced him, that he had not acted his part judiciously, however "well done" it might be, in point of honor and manliness.

The next day Jenks devoted to a scrutiny of his accounts in general with the business world. He found things a great deal "mixed up;" his balance-sheet exhibited large surplusages accumulated on the score of his leniency and good nature; by the credit of those with whom he held business relations. A council of war, or expediency, rather,--_solus_, convinced Jenks, he had either mistaken his business qualifications, or formed a very vague idea of the soul--manners and customs of the business world; and he broke up his council, a sadder if not a wiser man.

"By Jove, this is discouraging; I'll have to do a very disagreeable thing, very disagreeable thing: _make an assignment!_"

"Who'd thought John Jenks would ever come to that?" that individual muttered to himself, as he proceeded to his hotel. And ere he reached his plate, at the tea-table, a servant whispered that a gentleman with a message was out in the "office" of the hotel, anxious to see Mr. Jenks.

"Mr. Jenks--John Jenks, I believe, sir?" began the person, as poor Jenks, now on the _tapis_ for more ill news, approached the person in waiting.

"Precisely, that's my name, sir," Jenks responded.

"Then," continued the stranger, "I've disagreeable business with you, Mr. Jenks; _I hold your arrest!_"

"Good God!" exclaimed Jenks; "my arrest? What for?"

"There's the writ, sir; you can read it."

"A _writ_? Why, God bless you, man, I don't _owe_ a dollar in the world, but what I can liquidate in ten minutes!"

"Oh, it's not debt, sir; you may see by the writ it's _felony!_"

If the man had drawn and cocked a revolver at Jenks, the effect upon his nervous system could not have been more startling or powerful. But he recovered his self-possession, and learned with dismay, that he was arrested--yes, _arrested_ as an accessory to a grand scheme of fraud and general villany, on the part of Smith, a conclusion arrived at, by those most interested, upon discovery that Jenks had pronounced Smith "good," and endorsed for him in sums total, enormously, far beyond Jenks' actual ability to make good!

It was in vain Jenks declared, and no man before ever dreamed of doubting his word, his entire ability to meet all liabilities of his own and others, for whom he kindly become responsible; for when the _bulk_ of Smith's _paper_ with Jenks' endorsement was thrust at him, he gave in; saw clearly that he was the victim of a heartless _forger_.

But his calmness, in the midst of his affliction, triumphed, and he rested comparatively easy in jail that night, awaiting the bright future of to-morrow, when his established character, and "troops of friends" should set all right. But, poor Jenks, he reckoned indeed without his host; to-morrow came, but not "a friend in need;" they saw, in their far-reaching wisdom, a sinking ship, and like sagacious rats, they deserted it!

"I always thought Jenks a very good-natured, or a very _deep_ man," said one.

"I knew he was too generous to last long!" said another.

"I told him he was _green_ to endorse as freely as he did," echoed a third.

"Good fellow," chimed a fourth--"but devilish imprudent."

"He knows what he's at!" cunningly retorted a fifth, and so the good but misguided Jenks was disposed of by his "troops of friends!"

But Perkins & Ball--they had got up again, were flourishing; they, Jenks felt satisfied, would not show the "white feather," and the thought came to him, in his prison, as _merrily_ as the reverse of that fond hope made him _sad_ and sorrowful, when at the close of day, his attorney informed him, that Perkins & Ball regretted his perplexing situation, but proffered him no aid or comfort. They said, sad experience had shown them, that there were no "bowels of compassion" in the world for the fallen; men must trust to fortune, God, and their own exertions, to defeat ill luck and rise from difficulties; _they_ had done so; Mr. Jenks must not despair, but surmount his misfortunes with a stout heart and a clear conscience, and profit, as they had, _by reverses!_

"Profit!" said Jenks, in a bitter tone, "_profit_ by reverses as _they_ have!"

"Why, Powers," he continued to his counsel, "do you know that if I had been a tithe part as base and conscienceless as they are _now_, Perkins & Ball would be beggars, if not inmates of this prison! Yes, sir, my casting vote, of all the rest, would have done it. But no matter; I had hoped to find, in a community where I had been useful, generous and just, friends enough for all practical purposes, without carrying my business difficulties to the fireside of my parents and other relations. But that I must do now; if, _if they fail me, then---- I cave!_"

Two days after that conference of the lawyer and the merchant, "honest John" learned, with sorrow, that his father was dead; estate involved, and his friends at home in no favorable mood in reference to what they heard of John Jenks and his "bad management" in the city.

John Jenks--heard no more--he "caved!" as he agreed to.

We pass over Jenks' _Smithsonian_ difficulty, which a prudent lawyer and discerning jury brought out all right.