The Humors of Falconbridge Part 8

"The deuce! You don't think that, Hall, do you?"

"Faith, I do; but we won't be caught napping. Waiter, bring in a bottle of brandy."

"Brandy?" said Smith, in astonishment. "Why, you ain't going to dive right into it, in that way, are you?"

"Why not?" says Hall. "Brandy's the best thing in the world to settle your nerves after getting half fuddled on Champagne, my boy; just you try it--take a good stiff horn. Brown, you see, has _cut_, we must follow; so let's straighten up and get ready for a start. Here's to 'the loaves and fishes.'" Jones and Hall took their horns of Cogniac, which does really make some men sober as judges after they are very drunk on real or spurious Champagne.

"Well," says Smith, "it's my opinion we'll all be very _tight_ going in this way, brandy on Champagne; but here goes to the fishes and loaves--the loaves and fishes, I mean."

The brandy had a rather contrary effect from what it does usually; it did _settle_ Smith--in five minutes he was so very "boozy" that his chin bore down upon his breast, he became as "limber as a rag," and snored like a pair of bagpipes.

"Now, Jones," says Hall, "let's be off. Landlord, get us a gig, wagon, carriage, cart, any thing, and let's be off; we must be in town immediately."

"Sorry, gentlemen, but can't oblige you--haven't a vehicle on the premises!"

"Why, confound it, you don't pretend to say you can't send us into town to-night, do you?" says Jones, waxing uneasy.

"Haven't you a horse, jacka.s.s, mule or a wheelbarrow--any thing, so we can be carted in, right off, too?" says Hall.

"Can't help it, gentlemen."

"What time do the _cars_ come along?" eagerly inquires Jones.

"About nine o'clock," coolly replies the host.

"Nine fools!" shouted the discomfited alderman. "But this won't do; come, Jones, no help for it--can't fool us in that way--eight miles to the City Hall--two hours to do it in; off coat and _let's foot it!_"

The City Hall clock had just struck 7 P. M., the Tea Room was lighted up, the a.s.sembled wisdom of the munic.i.p.al government had their toadies, and reporters and lookers-on were there; the room was quite full. Brown was there, in the best of spirits, and the locos all fairly snorted with glee at the scientific manner in which Brown had "done" Jones and Hall out of their votes! The business of the evening was climaxing: the whigs missing two of their number, were in quite a spasm of doubt and fear.

The chairman called the meeting to order. The roll was called: seven "good and true" locos answered the call. Six whigs had answered: the seventh was being called: the locos were grinning, and twisting their fingers at the apex of their noses!

"Alderman Jones! Alderman Jones!" bawled the roll-caller.

"Here!" roared the missing individual, bursting into the room.

"Alderman Hall!" continued the roll.

"Here!" responded that notable worthy, rus.h.i.+ng in, entirely blowed out.

"Beat, by thunder!" roared the locos, in grand chorus; and in the modern cla.s.sics of the Bowery, "they wasn't any thing else." The whigs not only had the cut but the entire _deal_ in the appointments that time, and Alderman Brown had a _bill_ at Harlem, a little more serious to foot than the racing of the aldermen to get a chance to vote.

Getting Square.

It seems to be just as natural for a subordinate in a "grocery" to levy upon the _till_, for material aid to his own pocket, as for the sparks to fly upwards or water run down hill. Innumerable stories are told of the peculations of these "light-fingered gentry," but one of the best of the boodle is a story we are now about to dress up and trot out, for your diversion.

A tavern-keeper in this city, some years ago, advertised for a bar-keeper, "a young man from the country preferred!" Among the several applicants who exhibited themselves "for the vacancy," was a decent, harmless-looking youth whose general _contour_ at once struck the tavern-keeper with most favorable impressions.

"So you wish to try your hand tending bar?"

"Yes, sir," said he.

"Have you ever tended bar?"

"No, sir; but I do not doubt my ability to learn."

"Yes, yes, you can learn fast enough," says the tavern-keeper. "In fact, I'm glad you are green at the business, you will suit me the better; the last fellow I had come to me recommended as one of the best bar-keepers in New Orleans; he was posted up in all the fancy drinks and fancy names, he wore fancy clothes and had a fancy dog, and I fancied pretty soon that the rascal had taken a fancy to my small change, so I discharged him in double quick time."

"Served him right, sir," said the new applicant.

"Of course I did. Well now, sir, I'll engage you; you can get the 'run'

of things in a few weeks. I will give you twenty-five dollars a month, first month, and thirty dollars a month for the balance of the year."

"I'll accept it, sir," says the youth.

"Do you think it's enough?"

"O, yes, indeed, sir!"

"Well," says Boniface. "Now mark me, young man, I will pay you, punctually, but you mustn't pay yourself extra wages!"

"Pay myself?" says the unsophisticated youth.

"Musn't take 'the run' of the till!"

"Run of the till?"

"No knocking down, sir!"

"O, bless you!" quoth the verdant youth, "I am as good-natured as a lamb; I never knocked any body down in all my life."

"Ha! ha!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the landlord; "he _is_ green, so I won't teach him what he don't know. What's your name?"

"Absalom Hart, sir."

"Good Christian-like name, and I've no doubt we shall agree together, for a long time; so go to work."

Absalom "pitched in," a whole year pa.s.sed, Absalom and the landlord got along slick as a whistle. Another year, two, three, four; never was there a more attentive, diligent and industrious bar-keeper behind a marble slab, or armed with a toddy stick. He was the _ne plus ultra_ of bar-keepers, a perfect paragon of toddy mixers. But one day, somehow or other, the landlord found himself in custody of the sheriff, bag and baggage. Business had not fallen off, every thing seemed properly managed, but, somehow or other, the landlord broke, failed, caved in, and the sheriff sold him out.

Who bought the concern? Absalom Hart--n.o.body else. Some of the people were astonished.

"Well, who would have thought it?"

"Hurrah for Absalom!"